Page 28 of Hunting the Alpha

ChapterEleven

SAVANNAH

Icouldn’t settle.

Last night, Donovan had tied me up in so many knots I could barely see straight.

I wanted to call my uncle, to hear his voice, and reaffirm I was doing the right thing. But I didn’t.

There was no way out. No one I could turn to. Will had a gun aimed at his head, and if I screwed up, Gideon would pull the trigger. I had no choice but to go through with this.

And besides, even if I were Savannah Bellows, the woman who’d gotten stranded in this quiet town, I wouldn’t trust Donovan as far as I could throw him. He must be in his mid-thirties, and in a small town with limited women, surely he would have picked someone to settle down with by now?

Then again, if Ihadmet him by chance, I would have taken advantage and slept with him, keeping my heart out of it. And why not? He had great moves. And if he had sex like he kissed, then I’d be in for a treat. But he also had a hidden agenda, and he didn’t strike me as a man who looked for love. He probably had women throwing themselves at him, stroking his damn ego.

Growling at myself for harping on about the slick son of a bitch, I grabbed my purse and jacket, unable to stay in the room any longer. I’d left a note for Lilly last night, telling her I wouldn’t need breakfast this morning.

I aimed to go into town, visit the library, and maybe go to the diner. Even if Grace wasn’t there to talk to, I wanted to be around people. The chatter would quiet my thoughts and the guilt that hovered in me like poison.

Using Grace’s car to get around, I began with the hardware store—too late for breakfast, but too early for lunch. And after the meal last night, I could skip breakfast while I bought a few supplies. Maybe even loan a book from the library.

Tom, the owner of the store, had a decent selection on his shelves. Not that I could opt for the paint set as I craved to, but I found a sketchpad and a range of pencils I could use. Doodling would help pass the time.

Tom, the sweetheart, had set me up a tab, assuring me I could pay it before leaving. He wouldn’t take my cash when I tried to hand it over. He was all charm, unable to help me enough. The kindness of it warmed me in ways I never would have thought possible. He also spoke highly of Donovan, and the guilt increased.

Soon I’d be taking him from them. From the town.

Stop it.I stomped toward the library.You’ll help him get back. You won’t see him fall.

The little reassurance sounded false to my ears, so I shoved it down and continued my tour of the town. Even without tourism, they kept the town modernized and well maintained. The library itself, a granite building with a slate roof and twists of architecture reminiscent of the past, had sash windows, shutters, and arched doorways, carefully maintained with tended surrounding gardens.

I shoved my way through its cardinal red doors and felt the warm embrace of shelves and shelves of books bringing me home. I took a moment to appreciate it all, no longer clutched by the loneliness. If only for a short while.

Delilah, the chief librarian, warmly introduced herself, providing me with a brief tour of the three-floor building. She left me at the section that included the history of Moonlight Creek. It spoke proudly of their heritage, so much jumping from the framed paintings of the buildings and documents held in glass cases. She told me to take my time, look around, and that Grace had already called ahead to confirm it was okay for me to loan out any books on her card. I could hug that mechanic. But first, I threw myself into the small town history of old deeds and books.

Finding the town’s registry, land, and tenancy agreements—all proudly frame behind locked glass and from sixty years ago—I squinted at the signature.

Donovan Darman.

Did Warren take over Donovan Darman’s identity when the man died?Was there something more sinister behind him doing so?

No assuming, remember.A mantra I lived by: following the facts, seeking the truth, but never assuming. Unless it came to my love life.

Rummaging through a few more books, papers, and blueprints, I found references to the people of Green Springs. Elusive information, but it was a connection to Gideon. Especially when he had a casino of the same name. Everything else seemed ordered, normal for a relatively new town, and Donovan had a hand in everything.

I shuddered at the thought of how the man had sworn to do anything to protect his town. And I still had to drug him and drive him back over six hundred miles. Or at least half the distance if I could negotiate it. There, I’d risk calling Gideon for him to travel with Will the rest of the way. All without Donovan killing me for what I was about to do.

Tears welled and a disbelieving laugh escaped at what I had planned. I was way out of my depth and I knew it; lost with no one to turn to. I couldn’t even confess all to Donovan.

Or could I?

No. If he threw me out on my ass, I’d have nothing, and I knew enough about Gideon to understand his threats weren’t empty ones. If I failed at this, my uncle’s blood would be on my hands.

Needing some escapism, I disappeared into the fiction aisle and found my favorite books where I could lose myself for a couple of hours. Balanced, and refreshed, I’d have a better perspective, and what better way to gain that than losing myself in some historical romance?

Once I’d checked out the books, I waved goodbye to Delilah and rushed out of the library.

I staggered to a halt. Donovan waited there, leaning against my loaned car, holding a flower in his hands. Just one. A white cabbage rose, tinted with pink.