Chapter Eight

Standing behind the counter at work felt like a punishment to Alex. He had only managed to snag three hours of sleep after... He touched his shoulder as his face heated.

When he and his mom had decided to move to Midnight Falls, Alex had no clue how drastically his life would change. He was still trying to catch up to everything that happened. Had all that happened over just two days?

Alex remembered standing right where he was standing now when Dreamboat had walked in with Tattoo Sleeves.

Slater's smile alone had blown Alex off his feet and made him want to fan his face. His bullish body stuffed into that blue uniform had been a treat for the eyes, and the color of his uniform only made his bluish-green beauties pop even harder.

"I really need to stop thinking about him and focus on getting some work done," he muttered.

With a yawn, Alex left the counter and began to clean. It was tedious work, but it helped distract him from his thoughts.

If he worked slowly enough, maybe he could stretch it out through his shift until it was over. On the other hand, if he worked too quickly, Gary would have the cleanest store within a one-hundred-mile radius.

But even as he worked, fatigue began to creep up on him. Being with Slater had thrown off his entire sleep schedule, leaving him yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open.

The rows of candy and chips blurred together on the shelves, and the gas pumps outside looked like menacing metal monsters in the dim light.

Holy crap. He really needed some sleep if the pumps resembled monsters. Aside from those three hours, when was the last time he'd slept? His brain was too sluggish to figure it out.

"Wake up," he muttered to himself. "You have seven hours left."

Seven painfully long hours.

When you were exhausted, seven minutes was too long. By the end of his shift, he might have to smack himself around to stay awake.

As he passed by the coffee station, his nose twitched with the lingering smell of stale coffee from earlier.

You're telling me you would choose gas station coffee over freshly ground and brewed coffee?

Alex grinned as he remembered Slater's lecture. The guy had been so passionate about it.

You can smell how fresh the grounds are as it brews.

What Alex wouldn't give for a cup or ten of Slater's coffee right now.

"No," Alex scolded himself. "Stop thinking about your mate and focus on work."

Slater had asked Alex to think of him that way. His mate. While they lay cuddled earlier, he'd kept asking Alex to say "my mate" over and over again, and every single time, Slater's eyes filled with happiness.

Alex rubbed his chest. He didn't want to be at work. He wanted to be with Slater. Since that wasn't possible, he dumped the old pots of coffee, rinsed the carafes, then went to work cleaning the Slushy machine.

When he pulled the tray out, Alex jumped back as the liquid sloshed toward him. "I hate this goddamn machine. Everyone always lets the Slushy mix run into the freaking tray," Alex huffed. "Some people are just pigs. I bet they wouldn't do this if they had a machine at home."

His exhaustion was turning him into Mr. Cranky Pants.

Carefully holding the tray, Alex walked it to the sink in the back, but the side of the tray caught the lip of the utility sink and splashed some on his work shirt.

"Gah! Gross." He dropped the tray in the sink and quickly grabbed some blue paper towels off the stack on the shelf to his left.

He could wipe until the planets aligned and he wasn't getting the sugary mess out of his shirt until he washed it.

"I hate this night," Alex groaned as he looked toward the ceiling.

Snatching the tray out of the sink like it was the piece of metal's fault, Alex returned it to the machine then wiped up the spilled liquid that managed to splash on the floor and counter.

Just as he tossed the paper towels into the trash, he heard someone enter the store. At least helping a customer would kill two minutes of his time.

As he headed toward the front, his steps slowed and his heart pounded when he saw who was standing by the counter. The metallic tang of fear flooded his mouth, making it difficult to swallow.

"Hello, Alex."

The man who had caused so much trouble just a few nights ago was now standing before him, his presence casting a dark cloud over the store.

"What do you want, Mike?" Alex asked, trying to hide the fear in his voice. He wished he was still behind the counter, where he could have hit the panic alarm or the switch that would have engaged the magnetic locks on the doors before Mike even had a chance to enter.

Mike reached into his back pocket, causing Alex to tense up until he realized it was just an ID. "I wanted to show you this so I can prove I'm old enough to buy that beer."

Alex didn't like the sinister smile on Mike's face.

"I don't want to see your ID," he managed to say firmly, despite the fear crawling over him. "You should have shown it three nights ago when you tried to buy that case of beer."

Mike stood in front of the counter, rotating his ID between his fingers, tapping the card on the surface with each flip, as he radiated pure hatred toward Alex. "And you refused to sell it to me," he said in an eerily calm tone.

The Mike from the other night had been an entitled brat, but this version was so much scarier. "You even rejected my friends' driver's licenses.

"I was just doing my job," Alex defended, feeling a sense of dread and unease in the pit of his stomach.

"And what did doing your job get me? Arrested for simply walking out with a case my friend tried to pay for." Mike tapped his ID one last time before taking a menacing step closer.

"You kept the money and tried to walk out with it. That's not paying for it," he said, trembling with unease. "How was it my fault that those two deputies showed up before you could leave?"

"Look at my fucking ID, Alex," Mike growled, his eyes burning into him with intense hatred.

Alex swallowed roughly as his throat filled with knots. He wished like hell the deputies would have perfect timing again, because he could really use his mate right now.

With only one lesson of self-defense—where he'd accidentally kneed Slater in the balls—he was no match for Mike's athletic build.

Alex was getting blamed for this because Mike couldn't possibly take responsibility for his own actions. That would be admitting fault, something he clearly couldn't handle.

He was just another version of Alex's father. Too bad the sheriff hadn't kept the entitled douchebag locked up in jail.

As Mike charged forward, Alex frantically backpedaled until his back was against the wall. He shoved his ID right up to Alex's face. "Tell me my goddamn age," he seethed, his nostrils flaring.

Alex's heart thundered violently as he tried to focus on the small print of the birthdate, but his mind went blank. The numbers scrambled in his head, making it impossible to do the math. "I-I don't know."

"A public education will fuck you every time," Mike scoffed.

Alex ground his teeth. Once again, he was being treated like he was beneath this privileged son of a bitch.

"If you knew how to perform basic subtraction," Mike sneered, "you would see I'm twenty-three years old."

He shoved the ID hard into Alex's face, causing his head to hit the wall behind him with a thud. "Your fucking stunt cost me a lot! You just had to drag my father into this." He clenched his jaw.

Mike's rage toward his father seemed to be transferred onto Alex at that moment.

"You're nothing but a piece of shit!" Mike slammed his palm into the side of Alex's head several times, causing Alex's head to snap sideways. A metallic taste filled his mouth from Mike's blows. "Some pissant who makes shit for a living, so you decided to take it out on an upper-class guy by trying to teach me a lesson!"

White-hot rage exploded in Alex. He shoved Mike back and then delivered a swift knee to his groin. Mike howled as he bent over, grabbing his crotch.

Terrified, Alex raced toward the counter and was able to hit the panic alarm before Mike grabbed a fistful of his hair, violently yanking him backward with a deep, menacing snarl.

Alex slammed into a metal rack of chips, the sharp edges digging into his body. Crying out in pain, he crashed to the floor, along with the rack, the taste of blood filling his mouth from a split lip.

Oh god! He wasn't going to survive this. Mike was filled with too much rage and misplaced blame. From what he'd said, he'd lost a lot that night.

His father must have taken Sheriff Harper's words to heart. Either Mike was enraged because he'd been held accountable for the first time in his life or his father had gone overboard in his punishment.

But none of it was Alex's fault. He didn't deserve to be attacked like this. If Mike wanted to release his rage, he needed to direct it at the person truly responsible.

Himself.

Adrenaline surged through Alex as he scrambled to his feet and ran down one of the aisles, desperately trying to get away from the lunatic.

But he took the corner too fast around the shelving and slammed into one of the cooler doors. Mike caught up to him and slammed his body into Alex's.

The force of the impact caused a large crack in the glass door. Alex hit the floor once again, but this time, Mike jumped on him, raining down punches with all his might.

The guy was grunting and cursing, fury burning in his eyes. His veins were bulging in his neck, a dark sneer on his face.

There was no way to escape. Alex had to lie on the cold floor and deflect the blows with his arms as best he could, which left him powerless to try and get to his feet.

"Goddamn it!" Alex gasped for air as he frantically thrashed and twisted against the weight pinning him down. He finally managed to knock the psycho off balance and send him flying into the shelf in front of him. The forward momentum lifted Mike's ass off of Alex enough to wriggle free. Wasting no time, he bolted down the automotive aisle toward the exit, but quickly remembered how Mike had bounced off of the sliding glass doors three nights ago when they didn't open fast enough.

Alex didn't want the same thing happening to him, so instead, he snatched the handle of a one-gallon bottle of windshield washer fluid when he shot past it.

"You're going to pay for making me lose my money!" Mike shouted from behind him as he gave chase. "He cut off my fucking trust fund!"

As soon as Alex had enough space, he pivoted around with all his might and slammed the weight of the container into Mike's head.

The force of the impact was like using a baseball bat and Mike's head was the goddamn ball. He flew off his feet and collided with the deli sandwiches display, shattering the glass above with his head.

Horrified, Alex stood there frozen as blood poured from Mike's scalp and covered his face. The bottle slipped from Alex's grasp and hit the floor with a heavy thump as Mike dropped to his knees, screaming and cradling his injured face.

Snapping out of his shock, Alex raced behind the counter and called for an ambulance just as flashing lights appeared in the parking lot.

It hadn't been his intention to seriously harm or kill Mike. The only thought in his mind as he swung the bottle was to knock the jackass unconscious or, at the very least, on his ass so Alex could get the hell out of the store.

Just as the doors swished open, a wave of dizziness hit Alex. He held on to the edge of the counter before spinning around and throwing up, his head throbbing with pain.

"Alex!" Slater rushed around the counter, panic evident in his voice. He placed a hand on Alex's back, waiting for him to stand up straight.

When he did, Slater gasped in shock.

No doubt Alex looked like a mixed bag of hell. He'd been unsuccessful in blocking all the punches Mike had thrown at him, or stopping him from hitting Alex's head.

And his damn lip throbbed painfully, as did his side from crashing into the chip rack.

"Hummingbird," Slater whispered, pressing featherlight fingers to Alex's face. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry this happened. I was coming to check on you after the call I had to go on."

The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving Alex shaking. He leaned against his mate's chest, and then strong arms folded around him, wrapping him up in the safety Alex so desperately needed to feel.

But he wasn't crying, and that was most likely due to shock.

Mike had every intention of inflicting maximum damage or possibly even killing him.

It was nothing short of a miracle Alex was standing while the paramedics took care of Mike as he lay on the floor, the sounds of his cries echoing through the store.

It had almost been the other way around.