Page 130 of The Alpha's Second Chance Mate

It was like I’d told him his house was on fire. Before I realized what had happened, his seat was empty and I was gaping at the door. I’d expected a hint of recognition, at best. What I hadn’t bargained for was the terror I’d seen on the poor guy’s face.

I caught Trent’s eye, and he nodded at Langston. The three of us met outside and exchanged what we’d learned.

“When I mentioned Kyle’s name, the guy I was talking to turned white as a ghost and couldn’t get out of there fast enough,” I said.

Trent shrugged. “The woman I talked to was only passing through on her way south. Meeting some friends in New Orleans.” He chuckled. “She gave me her number, though.”

“Ever the playboy,” Langston teased. “Like those ladies in Tokyo when we were on leave that one time?”

Trent laughed. “Not quite.”

I chose to ignore the story. “Did you get anything, Langston?”

“Unfortunately not. My interaction was more in line with yours, though,” he said, nodding to me. “I mentioned I was supposed to meet a potential business partner in town, but my phone had died and I needed directions. When I mentioned Kyle’s name,she clammed up. Didn’t sprint out the door like your man, but she excused herself to the bathroom. She never came out. Now, unless she’d had some bad tacos last night, I doubt she needed to spend fifteen minutes in the bathroom. It’s strange.”

We spent the next hour doing the same thing around town, with no success. In fact, word may have spread that three strangers were asking questions because even though it was early afternoon, the streets had become almost eerily deserted.

“Well, this is getting us nowhere,” Trent said. “Should we start knocking on doors? We could say we’re missionaries or something.”

“Right.” I snorted. “I’m sorry, do you have a few minutes to talk about our lord and savior, Kyle?”

“Screw it,” Langston said. “Let’s head back to the car. We can regroup at Avery’s. See if Zayde found anything.”

We’d crossed the street and were opening the doors to the truck when an elderly woman came hurrying down the street.

“Excuse me? Boys?” she called.

I glanced at her. She was a tiny little thing, old enough to be my own grandmother.

“Yes, ma’am?” I said.

She didn’t speak again until she was right next to us, glancing up and down the street to make sure no one was around. “Are you the boys looking for that rat bastard Kyle Alexander?”

I gaped at the venom and hatred in her words. She looked like the type of woman who would think saying the word “crap” was a mortal sin.

“We are,” I admitted, speaking slowly. “Sounds like word has spread?”

She glanced around again, fear painting her face a pale white. “You won’t hearanyonesayanythingabout that man.”

Intrigued, I leaned close, keeping my voice low. “Why is that?”

She swept an arm behind her, gesturing to the entire street. “He’s got the whole town paid off and threatened to keep quiet. Hell, the bank would have closed up shop a couple years ago had he not floated them a loan. Everyone is too scared to step on his toes to say a darn thing about him.”

Well, that explained Mr. Bank Man in the coffee shop clamming up as soon as he heard Kyle’s name. What was going on here?

“I don’t understand,” Langston said. “Why is everyone afraid of this guy? From what my friends here say, he’s some sort of loan shark. He shouldn’t have the kind of pull to intimidate, finance,orterrorize a whole town.”

The old lady gave her head one quick shake, keeping her eyes locked on Langston. “If you think Kyle Alexander is some small-time loan shark and nothing else, then you’re in for trouble. People are terrified of him. He has the power to wipe us all out if he pleases.”

Trent, Langston, and I shared a look of pure shock. I’d known Kyle was dangerous. Hell, he’d murdered a good man in cold blood—of course he was dangerous. But lots of men were dangerous. The thing was, very few men inspired the kind of broad terror we were seeing here in North Crest.

“Is Kyle in town now?” Trent asked. “Do you know?”

“No. He’s somewhere else. No one has seen him for days. But—” she held up a finger and cast another furtive glance behind her “—if you come back on Thursday, you’ll get a good look at some of his goons. That’s the day they collect his taxes.”

“Wait,” I said, holding a hand up. “I thought he paid the town off to stay quiet?”

She gave me a bitter smile and shook her head. “Yeah, he did. Swooped in with a big smile and a firm handshake, telling you thatout of the goodness of his heart, he’d gone ahead and paid off your mortgage, or tax bill, or medical debt. No more worries. Then, he shows up a few weeks later, saying that now you had to pay for his generosity. Prick charges more than what the original payments were. Except now, instead of worrying about foreclosure or bankruptcy if you don’t pay, you’re worried someone’s gonna put a bullet in your head while you sleep.”

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