21. Sawyer

21

Kyrian produces a low growl that seems to wrap around my spent cock, even as Roman releases it and rises to his feet, shoving a hand through his short dark hair.

And Archer says, "It would have been much better if I'd had a hand fisted in your hair and fed my cock together with yours into Roman's filthy mouth."

Holy shit. The image… Shit.

Roman is smirking down at me, his lips reddened and cheeks flushed, but looking otherwise unruffled by what just went down.

They are all watching me now, unabashed and keen, not red in the face and breathless like me. Oh, and with my cock still hanging out.

I stuff my cock back inside my pants, zip up, and tug on my shirt. It's an illusion, but I feel more in control with my clothes straightened up.

After all, I wasn't the one on my knees, right?

No, you were clutching the counter and moaning like a whore at the back of your own café, as a handsome beta gave you a blowjob.

Jesus.

"Now that you're more relaxed," Roman says, "can we talk?"

"About? What were we talking about? Oh, right… Brinlee."

He blinks. "Right… I meant, can we talk about us?"

"Us?"

"Well, us." He gestures at the two alphas, a flush rising to his cheeks. "Not you. But okay, you, too. Of course, you, too. I?—"

"Roman, breathe," Archer says.

I'm frowning. "I don't understand. What about you? Or me? I thought we were talking about how to help Brinlee."

"Oh, for fuck's sake…" Roman shoves his hands into his pant pockets and steps away from me. "Fine, let's talk about the girl."

"What the hell, Ro," Kyrian mutters. "You're the one always going on about her."

"He is?" I breathe.

"Yeah, well, today wasn't supposed to be about…" Roman sighs. "You know what, whatever. We like Brinlee. What are you thinking, Sawyer?"

He winks at me, and I lose my train of thought again.

Goddammit.

Folding my arms over my chest, I scoot back and park my ass against the counter. "We were talking about how she seems to be hiding something, how she seems to be… on edge all the time. It makes me fear that she's in trouble."

"And off you will go into the sunset, to rescue her?" Roman mutters.

I narrow my eyes at him. "What's the matter with you now?"

Muttering something else I don't catch, he walks out from behind the bar to join his pack mates on the other side. My brows are climbing to my hairline, but nobody is commenting on Roman's mood, so… I must be missing something?

"Did she ever mention any place where she hangs out?" Archer asks, ever the practical alpha, manager of clubs and situations.

"The library," I say. "I've seen her there at least once. And here."

"No other place?"

I give this some thought. "Hang on," I mutter, "hang on… She mentioned something called the Alpha Cat. It sounded like a place. A bar, maybe?"

"Could be." Archer nods. "Cat, huh? Sounds like a nightclub to me."

"I'll find it, head over." I grab my phone. "I'm calling Bee to come take over for a bit."

"Are you really going after her?" Kyrian asks. "Now?"

"I'm going after her, too," Archer says.

Kyrian scowls. "The fuck, man. We still haven't had that pack talk."

"I'm not claiming her for the pack," Archer replies. "I want to make sure she's okay."

"Who cares?"

Acher grunts. "Oh, man, come off it. I can see right through you, Ky. You care."

"Nonsense."

"You're the one who came telling us how tired she had looked," Roman says, and it seems like he's over his little funny mood from before. Then his words sink in.

"You did?" I turn from Kyrian to Roman. "Where did you guys see her?"

"Outside the omega shelter." Roman turns back to Kyrian. "I know you. You care about everyone, let alone girls who got your dick hard."

"She didn't."

"You almost poked my eye out with that thing."

I glance from one to the other, nonplussed. "Kyrian cares about everyone?"

"He's a softie, really," Roman says, and now I'm staring at him. He laughs. "It's the truth. He's the one who got us to help at the omega shelter."

"He did?"

I'm a parrot now, apparently, repeating everything they say, and goggling at them like an idiot. Kyrian likes Brinlee? Likes people? What is going on here?

Just because he rearranged your books, because he doesn't like books, doesn't mean he's a bad person, Sawyer. There you go again, with your book-related prejudices.

It's not just that, though. He's a hulking, grumpy alpha.

And that means he has no heart?

Damn.

"Are we going, then?" Roman says, and it takes me a moment to pull myself out of my head and understand the words and their meaning.

"What?" I glance from him to the two alphas. "You're coming with me?"

"We've already established that I'm kind of obsessed with your girl, Sawyer," Roman mutters.

"She's not my girl," I whisper.

"Not yet. And we've established that Kyrian has a serious hard-on for her, and Archer, well… How do you feel about her, Arch?"

"She's ours," he growls, "so let's go get her."

"Whoa, what? Ours? Are you serious?" I glare at him. "Here I am, practically telling you she means something to me, and you plan on stealing her for your pack? What the fuck?"

"She's not the only one I'm planning on stealing," he says, his voice dropping into an even lower growl, like a wolf's, lifting the hairs on my arms, raising goosebumps. His eyes bore into me. "Get me?"

I'm not sure I do, though a weird flutter inside my stomach tells me that my body got the message before my conscious brain had a chance to. The flutter turns into a tightening of my balls, and here I go, getting hard again.

Because as my brain finally starts to catch up, I draw a jagged breath and… What the fuck, wait… Is he talking about me?

Bee sends Kaden because she can't make it, and I should be worried about having a bull in a china shop, my shop, but I can't even work up any concern.

I'm dazed, and not just from the release Roman dragged out of me.

Was Archer serious? Did I misunderstand him? That was pretty damn vague. But I don't have time to ponder it more as Roman calls an Uber to take us to the Alpha Cat.

Which is, as it turns out, a real place indeed, and possibly a club, too. Archer was right.

The evening closes in around us as we roll slowly through the busy city streets, the sky darkening. Shop signs flash by, people walking, phones pressed to their ears.

What am I doing? What are we doing, going in search of this club, barging into Brinlee's life uninvited? It seemed like a good idea, back at the café, given how my mind is stuck on her, how worry twists my thoughts every time she's not around.

But now, seated in the Uber with these three men, I wonder if I've finally lost my marbles.

Breach of privacy, that's what this is. And that's if she's even there. Chances are, it's a club where she hangs out sometimes. Doesn't mean she'll be there tonight.

Or that she'll be glad to see us. What if she's there with her friends?

What if she's there with her boyfriend?

Fuck.

"Relax," Archer says, his shrewd gaze on me, seeing right through me. "Everything will be okay."

"You don't know that," I mutter.

Kyrian shakes his head with a snort. "I swear, you're the most wound-up fucker I've ever met, always tapping and humming and cleaning stuff."

"OCD," I mutter.

"What?" His gaze swings back to me, brows knitting. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter. Are we almost there?"

"Yeah, baby," Roman says with a snicker, "almost there. Calm down. Need a pacifier to suck on?"

Now my face is flaming again because I know exactly the sort of pacifier he has in mind. "Shut up."

"There it is."

Indeed, the pink neon sign flashing on the building we're speeding toward says we've found the right place.

I'm too wound up, just like Kyrian said, to ponder more the name, the flashing pink sign. I shouldn't have come. This was reckless, thoughtless.

The Uber stops, and Kyrian opens the door. We climb out of the car and stand in front of the club's entrance.

Pink velvet carpet covers the steps leading up to a set of heavy, black doors. The club's logo is stamped on the center of each of them. They are open.

The logo is a cat, predictably. A very female-looking cat, with a long cigarette in her mouth.

Huh.

"You look like you've never been to a strip club," Archer says.

"Strip club. No, I haven't. Wait. This is a strip club?"

All three of them laugh as if I've said something funny, and start up the steps.

What the fuck.

Roman turns and gestures for me to move. "Come on."

"This is a bad idea," I say.

"Relax for two seconds, will ya? It will be fine."

"What if she's not here?" I ask.

"If she's not here, then we'll have a couple of drinks. Have a guys' evening out."

"I'm not dressed for an evening out," I protest, not even aware of what I'm saying, my mind stuck on the ‘strip' in the ‘strip club,' and not sure I want to know what Brinlee is doing here.

"You look great, trust me." His gaze roams over me. "You look hot. Truth is, you always do."

I don't know what to say to that. He chuckles and gestures again for me to enter.

Flustered and distracted, I climb the steps to join their small group as a bulky alpha half-leans out and frowns at us.

"We aren't open yet," he says.

"Archer McGraw," Archer says, his voice low and thick with that growl. "Manager of the Alpha Bet and top alpha of the McGraw Pack."

The bouncer stills, then steps back inside and we hear hushed voices. He returns. "The bar is open for drinks, if you want to wait until the show begins." He eyes my clothes critically. "You're tittering on the boundaries of smart casual, but I'll let you pass. Pay the entry fee. I trust you know the rules. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen." He tips his head in Archer's direction. "Mr. McGraw. An honor, sir."

Well, damn.

"I didn't know you were famous," I mutter.

Archer's mouth pulls into a lopsided smirk. "Top alphas are generally known in town, plus I'm not merely the manager of the Alpha Bet. I'm also a major shareholder."

"He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's like a rockstar," Roman says, winking at Archer. He likes winking, it seems.

It shouldn't send those waves of heat through me.

Archer pays our entry fees, and then leans close to the ticket lady, saying in a conspirational whisper, "We're looking for a girl."

In a similar whisper, she replies, "Isn't everyone?"

"I'm not," Kyrian says. "Guys do it for me just fine."

She nods at the hulking alpha. "Power to you, my good sir. In this club, most men come looking for girls. We do have some delicious men, though, as well, so I believe you will be satisfied with the show."

"We're not here for the show," Kyrian says. "We're here to find Brinlee."

Roman elbows him. "What he means is that of course we're here for the show, our friend Brinlee told us about it, that's all. She's?—"

The woman nods. "Brinlee Grissom? Baby Doll?"

"Baby Doll?" I repeat, my voice rising a little. "Who's Baby Doll?"

"Brinlee. Didn't she tell you her stage name?"

"Oh, no. This must be a mistake." I shake my head. "No. Brinlee just hangs out here, she's not?—"

"She works here?" Archer asks, his voice sharp.

"Sure does. Pay for a drink and watch her do her thing. She's a natural. One of our best pole dancers."

"Pole dancers." Some weight lifts off my chest, allowing me to resume breathing. "She's a dancer."

"Yeah, she has refused to take off her clothes for money so far, but it's a waiting game in this business."

"Meaning?" Kyrian bows over her, and Roman pulls him back. "What the hell do you mean?"

"You're not allowed to speak to me like that," the woman hisses.

"That's right, Ky, no more." Roman steps in front of him. "But the question is valid. What do you mean?"

"What I mean, sweetheart," the woman says, "is that mostly everyone working in a club like this, sooner or later, will strip and lap dance and do anything for a bit more of cash. People working here aren't exactly swimming in money. They're here because they need the cash. And the boss won't let anyone remain just a pole dancer forever. Her time here is tick-tocking away fast, unless she says yes to the boss. She already started with the lap dancing, if I'm not mistaken."

The growl coming out of Archer's throat is pure animal, but I'm surprised to find a softer growl coming from me, as well. In fact, as I realize, all four of us are growling.

The woman rolls her eyes. "What is this, some pack routine? Or a dispute? Behave, or you'll be kicked out of here before you can blink, is that clear? Now go before I call Blake back to do just that."

She's got balls of steel, this lady. I can't imagine the sorts of people she has to deal with every night in this club, with all the bared flesh being paraded, the sexual tension, and the assholes who might think they own the place and everyone in it.

Swallowing the growl stuck in my throat, I tug on Archer's sleeve. "Let's go find her." I glance back at the lady. "Is she here?"

"Baby Doll? She should. She was in late a couple of times and I covered for her, but do tell her that this can't keep happening. She's a sweet girl, but she's an employee just like everyone else."

"Got it."

"Our girl, lap dancing?" Roman hisses, and now we're all growling again, dammit.

I can't deny that despite my doubts and my worries, despite my confusion at this point about what the other guys want, in my heart I've known it from the start:

I want her.