Page 16 of Knot a Tie
Use what you’ve got, Rayne. Do whatever it takes to get out of this alive and quickly.
Looking up through lowered lashes, I give Richard a demure, yet alluring smile. He pulls me closer to him and I raise my gaze, staring into his baby-blues filled with lust and possession.
The rain stops and in true English weather fashion, the clouds clear rapidly to reveal the blue sky and bright sunshine. It’s almost as if the weather is changing with my mood. I’ve hooked him. Now all I need to do is reel him in until he feels enough for me to let me go unharmed.
No pressure. None at all.
Moments later, we’re circumventing London on the M25 and within fifteen minutes, we’re pulling off towards Southall.
Resisting the urge to go full-on nympho on Richard in order to move my plan along, but knowing it will only make him suspicious, I take in all the sights, sounds and smells of the west London suburb before we eventually reach our destination.
Pulling a moue of distaste at the rundown old house we’ve pulled up outside, I make sure that Richard has a firm hold of me when he opens the door. I’m not leaving his side, come hell or high water. Well, until he does what I want him to, and I ditch him to flee back home, of course.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs, lacing our fingers together. “I promise.”
“I’ll be holding you to that,” I mutter back, shivering in the chill breeze on the crooked pavement of this dingy part of the neighbourhood.
He draws me closer to him, protectively and reassuringly.
If this is all an act to getmeonhisside, he should be nominated for an Oscar. Mind you, my own performance isn’t lacking. I wonder briefly if things were different, and we’d met at a time when he wasn’t a party to my abduction, how I’d feel about him. Right now, he is my safety net and my ticket out of here.
Nothing else matters when he leads me up to the front door with the faded, peeling green paint, of the two-storey terraced house. He ushers me inside with my heart hammering in my chest and sweat sheening every part of my body, ahead of the rest of my omeganappers.
ChapterTen
William
It has been forty-five minutes since I rang Jones with the number plate of the A8. We are already nearly back home, but he hasn’t rung back yet. I’m concerned. Marginally. I don’t know this omega, so I have no feelings for her, but she is pretty from what I saw. However, James and Spencer definitely have a thing for her, and Cameron would chase the skirt on a sheep if it suited his mood at the time. Right now, he is being a major pain in the arse.
“Fuck off, will you?” I growl, placing my hand on his face and shoving him gently away from me. He is too close. I dislike anyone in my personal space. I take up a lot of it. I’m not a small man. At six-five and built like a brick shithouse, like my father and grandfathers before me, I try to be as unassuming as possible. I don’t speak much, I try not to cause waves, but I feel strongly about staying away from people. My discomfort comes across as aggression, but it's not really. Most of the time. I can lose it as much as an alpha, but mostly, I’m just trying to keep the focus off me and literally, anywhere else.
I didn’t have a pretty homelife, so at thirty-five, I’m grateful to be away from them and with these arseholes, even if it means being a guard dog to Spence. He has a temper that defies all logic and the rest of the pack look to me to have his back when he does something outrageously unwarranted. I think it’s because I’m the only one that can lift the slighter man off his feet, and sling him over my shoulder to physically remove him from situations he definitely causes. Everyone can see he’s a wildcard and they do their best to avoid confrontation with him. Sadly, he gets off on the conflict and seeks it out wherever and whenever possible. And if it’s not there, he creates it.
“Check your phone again,” Cam harangues me for the hundredth time. “We need to find that pretty omega.”
“We will,” James snaps at him.
I’m thankful for the support. James knows a little bit about what I’m like and tries to respect that. Except in the case of wrangling Spencer.
Glaring out of the window, hunching my shoulders to try to diminish the amount of room I’m taking up, my heart thumps when my phone rings. Outwardly, I don’t show any sign of being startled, I just grunt and answer the phone.
“What?”
“Hello to you, too,” Jones drawls down the line.
“Did you find the car?”
“Yeah, you’re not gonna like it. Put me on speaker.”
Silently, I do as he asks.
“James, you there?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, that car, bad news, pal. It belongs to the leader of the Jets, Mick Savoy.”
I hear James groan and watch him exchange a glance with Spencer.
