Page 157 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
“More porn?” he whispers when I pull back.
“Don’t judge me. What else am I supposed to do while you’re all gone?”
“You don’t even watch the beach show, do you?”
I bristle and step back. “I do, for a little bit.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m going to go before I’m too hard to think straight.” He dives in for another kiss, and I giggle, pushing him toward the door.
“Good luck,” I sing-song.
The door shuts with a soft thud behind him, and I deflate, all of my elation draining out of me when the silence of the house settles around me.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I could go outside.
Eyeing the door, I contemplate if I can sneak around back without anyone noticing.
That’s a bad idea. The guys would be so upset.
Grumbling to my inner voice of reason, I go back to drying dishes.
This sucks.
* * *
After about an hour of working on a shiny blue Chevelle, I set my tools aside and curl up on the couch. The beachfront renovation show wasn’t doing it for me so I switched it over to old faithful. Bob Ross puts me into a peaceful sleep, but I wake up with a jolt. I grab the remote, but the show is on auto pause after cycling through who knows how many episodes. Slowly sitting up, I glance around to figure out what woke me. Nothing fell over. I eye the curtains which are firmly shut, blocking out most of the sun and any Omega Council prying eyes. I won’t be able to relax until I look outside. Fear churns in my gut as I rise from the couch, taking tentative steps toward the window, half expecting the door to be kicked in.
Grabbing the soft fabric, I pull it a few inches to the side and take in the quiet street. Everyone is either at work or school. One lone car drives by, but the driver doesn’t even do a double take. With a chuckle, I shake my head at my paranoia and let the curtain fall back into place. I lick my dry lips and grab some water. Mid drink, I hear footsteps in the hallway. The sound sends a surge of fear through my nervous system, and I grab a knife from the butcher block.
“Who’s there?” I ask, setting my water down and switching the knife to my dominant hand.
Silence.
The hairs on the nape of my neck rise, like the hackles of a cat, and I take a step back. I’m cornered, but at least I know no one is behind me. Another soft footstep.
“I have a knife, and I’m not afraid to stab you,” I warn, tightening my grip.
A man wearing all black and a face mask rounds the corner. He sets the sight of his rifle on me and takes the safety off. “We can do this the hard or easy way, omega.” His eyes are nearly black and void of emotion.
“Camila sent you?” I flick my gaze over him. Black fatigues. Heavy duty boots. A gun at his hip and the hilt of a knife sticking out of his boot. There’s no other explanation. My mother could never afford to hire someone like this.
“Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot you. My orders are dead or alive, you get to choose which option I pick.” His voice brokers no argument.
He’s an alpha.
I lower my hand and place the knife on the counter. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not hurting anyone.”
The guy walks toward me, the barrel of his gun pointed straight at me. I take quick steps back to avoid it but my back hits the wall. Pressing the metal into my shirt, he leans closer.
“Dead or alive.” His eyes bore into me, stripping away all hope. This man will kill me, but isn’t dying better than being sent back to Camila?
My chest tightens, and my heart pounds against my ribcage while my mind races through the decision. The pack. If I die, it’ll destroy them. I could fight and die, but the men will be ruined. As much as I want to save myself, I can’t do that to them.
“Fine.” I glare at him and place my hand on the gun, pushing it to the side. “I’ll go with you.”
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Grinding my jaw, I do as he asks. I wait for cuffs, but something pricks my wrist. “Ow, what the fuck?” I look over my shoulder, and the guy tosses a used needle onto the counter. “What did you do?” My vision starts to blur, and the last thing I see are those beady eyes staring at me.
