Boarlander Silverback (Boarlander Bears #3)(20)

Kirk pulled her in tight against his chest. His arms shook around her, his heartbeat pounding too fast. He should know about the dark parts of her before he picked her, though.

“I barely made it out of there, and after that, I couldn’t go back. I’d compromised all those years of work. I’d failed Riggs. Failed my department. Failed myself. My intel gave the proof to put a lot of the low-level players away, but we didn’t get the big fish because I cracked. I failed my psych evals with flying colors. PTSD was the diagnosis that got my ass dumped onto deskwork, and eventually they got tired of denying my requests for anything else to do, so they sent me here. I’m not here to spy on you, Kirk. This job is my punishment.”

“Why, Ally? Why would you sign up for something like that?”

“Because what choice did I have? I remember my mom. She was beautiful and funny when I was a little kid, but then there were the years of addiction. Of her being on the streets and not at home with me. Of her being strung out, slurring her words, bringing all these guys by, and not caring for me. She had no idea who my dad was, so she had no financial help there. I was taken away from her, and I didn’t know how to feel. Relieved that I would have somewhere safe to sleep? Angry that she didn’t try harder? Sad that I wasn’t enough to keep her straight? She got locked up and the state kept me, and all the sudden, the only person I recognized in my life was one of my mom’s friends, Regina. She visited and gave me letters my mom mailed me from prison. She even tried to adopt me, but she had a criminal record, and it never went through. No one wanted an angry ten year old. People want cute babies to raise, so I aged out of the girls’ home. Do you know what percent of kids go homeless who age out? Go to the streets? Get addicted? It’s a ridiculous number, and I didn’t want to be another statistic. I wanted to do something that could help people. And I know that sounds f*cked up to you, because who was I possibly helping by sitting in that damned drug house bagging up coke? But I was taking major operations off the streets that had ruined my mom. I was the good guy.” She was crying now, punching her words out through her sobs. She hadn’t talked about this with anyone other than her required therapist in Chicago, but this time felt different. She wasn’t having to watch her answers or keep details hidden. She could unload to Kirk because he made her feel safe and he wasn’t going to take her job away if she didn’t give a good enough answer. With every gritty thing she exposed about herself, Kirk hugged her tighter.

“I didn’t have opportunities coming at me from all sides. I had one offer to train for a real, paying job, and I could hold onto it and own it, or I could be just like the other kids who aged out and hit the ground too hard to ever recover. I just thought you should know all of it before you called me your mate.”

“You’re not scared of that word,” he murmured, more stunned statement than question.

Alison sniffed, then laughed. “No. It felt damn good to hear someone pick me. Not because of what I look like or what I could do for them, but just because I’m it for someone. And not just any someone, but you. You feel like mine too, Kirk. And I know how f*cked up that sounds because of the human timeline and all, but every instinct I have screams that you are this safe house for me. Like you could be happiness. Like my road has forked—one path leads off into these haunted woods, one leads off a cliff, and the middle one is you. Hands in your pockets, smile on your face, Boarlander woods behind you, just waiting for me to stop considering the self-destructive paths and choose you back.”

“And do you?” Kirk asked low, like the answer meant something. Like it meant everything.

“Are you sure you still want me after everything I’ve told you?”

Kirk unbuckled her seat belt, slid his seat back, and pulled her onto his lap like she weighed nothing. Burying his face against her neck, he inhaled deeply, then murmured, “Nothing you just told me scares me off, Ally Cat. It only makes me like you more.”

Her face caved, and more tears stained his shirt. What a beautiful thing to hear after everything she’d been through. After all the damage, she was still enough for Kirk. Clutching his shirt and hugging him tight, she whispered, “Then yes. I choose you, too.”





Chapter Eleven


Alison tried not to roll her eyes as the early twenty-something shifter groupies packed in an old Volkswagen van begged for her to let them pass.

Too bad for them, she and Finn had built the road blocks yesterday to keep the boldest of the groupies abiding by the rules.

“Sorry ladies. There is nothing up there for you.”

“False,” the blond with the movie star glasses sneered from behind the wheel. “Bangaboarlander dot com just added three new shifters a couple days ago.”

Alison frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The shifter matchmaking website? Three new males were announced to be looking for mates. Three shifters…” She pointed to her and her two friends. “Three mates.”

“I call Kirk,” a buxom brunette said excitedly.

“No one calls Kirk,” Alison gritted out.

“Yes, I just did. He looks hot as f*ck in his picture. Look.” The brunette handed her phone out the driver’s side window, and Alison squinted at the small, glowing screen.

In his picture, Kirk was looking off to the side, muscular, thick neck flexed, aviator sunglasses blocking his eyes from the sun, lips curled up in a naughty, sexpot smile, with a white V-neck T-shirt under an unbuttoned blue flannel shirt, his muscular arms straining against the thin material. His hair looked windblown and sexy, and if her ovaries were currently doing a fireworks show in her middle, it was no wonder why brunette was calling dibs.