The Alpha Men's Secret Club 3: Fallout: A Scorchingly Hot BBW Shifter Romance (5 page)

10

It just took an amount of Googling, which Carlo was extremely good at. Additionally, he now had a co-conspirator.

Fiona Montgomery got up from his bed, naked and with her hair tousled.
So he had caved in and finally slept with her. Partners in crime made great partners in bed, but he certainly wasn’t going to tell her that. Fiona was someone you had to keep on her toes or she would run riot over you.

H
e certainly wasn’t going to tell her that he fantasized he was fucking Kate Penney in her place either. Some things were best left quiet from the unpredictable likes of Fiona.

Fiona slid her sharp nails across his well-formed chest.

“What are you looking for?”

He couldn’t tell her about the shifters, of course.
But he had heard rumblings about the O’Brien family in New York. About how Rust’s father had given up his private practice to work in Bellevue, and how he had once been investigated for the strange goings-on in there.

Carlo had extremely sharp ears in his job as a glorified ‘waiter with extras’,
and he had picked up a lot of things in the ALPHA MEN’S CLUB. All these things were kept under wraps within the shifter community, of course. No one wanted to call attention to their circle.

But Carlo
was not thinking rationally anymore. His quest for revenge was distorting his judgment and everything he knew to be right.

Who said you needed to be a billionaire to make things happen?

He said to Fiona, “Rust O’Brien has gone back to New York.”

“H
e forced you out of a job. I heard that little tramp went with him.”

Carlo bridled at the word ‘tramp’
used in context with Kate. Kate was pure and unsullied before she met Rust. Kate had only been claimed by Rust and no one else, as far as he knew. So the word ‘tramp’ was not technically correct, especially coming out of the mouth of Fiona.

He composed himself and said, “
The O’Briens have secrets. They are a very rich, very private family with a lot of skeletons in their closet.”

Not o
nly the obvious one, of course, but the rest of their secrets were all derived from the main branch – like offshoots from a great, secret tree.

“
Oooh.” She pulled up a chair beside him. “And you’re going to expose some of them?”

“I’ve heard rumblings. And I remember seeing an article from some time ago . . . I need to dig it up now.”

That was what was bothering him. He couldn’t remember the reporter’s name, and he usually had a memory for such things. But he typed ‘O’BRIEN’ and ‘BELLEVUE’ in the same sentence, and out came an article from five years back.

‘BELLEVUE PSYCHIATRIST QUESTIONED IN SPATE OF INMATE DEATHS.

By Rita Cunningham.’

Rita Cunningham.
That’s right
, he thought triumphantly.

“Hey, is that Rust’s father?” Fiona said.

Inset was a photo of Connor O’Brien. He was the spitting image of his son, only older. His face was lined and weary, as though he had been working too many late nights.

“Yes.”

“Handsome. I’d do him.”

You’d do anyone, Carlo thought in disgust.
Now Kate . . . she was a different matter. She wouldn’t do just anyone, and Carlo respected her for that. His heart ached with the thought of how much he actually loved her – a realization which had crept up on him suddenly.

Carlo had read that article before when he was younger, but didn’t register it much.
Now he avidly perused every word. Certain phrases leapt out at him:

‘ . . . Connor O’Brien denies that electroshock therapy had been used extensively on the inmates.

“
ECT is a well-accepted form of treatment for severe psychotic depression. The inmates who died had pneumonia and other pathologies,” Dr. O’Brien explained.

When queried about the autopsies
conducted on the deceased inmates, Dr. O’Brien said, “You can request them from the morgue and study every detail of them yourself. We at Bellevue have nothing to hide.”’

Carlo sat back.

Nothing to hide, huh?

“We’ll see about that,” he said aloud.

11

The SATURDAY MORNING
dress was a lovely lavender sundress with a tie-died skirt which deepened into a dark velvet at the hem. Kate donned the amethyst earrings and a matching necklace which showed off her pale skin to good effect. The dress had an apparent lack of cleavage, and the skirt came down to below her knees.

Kate was intrigued. What did Rust have in store for her?

She went down to the reception. Hector was down there waiting for her.

“Are you ready for brunch, Ms. Penney?”

She was famished. She didn’t have breakfast because she was wanted to be hungry enough for brunch with Rust.

Once again, she was disappointed when Rust wasn’t in the limo, waiting for her.

“Where are we going?” she asked Hector.

“To the O’Brien
estate, Ms. Penney. Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien have invited you for brunch with the family.”

*

If Kate hadn’t been nervous then, she was sure as hell nervous now. Why didn’t Rust prep her for this? She was going to meet his parents! That had to be significant, right? What sort of guy took someone he was going to dump to meet his parents?

Unless . . . they wanted to view the ‘goods’ he was bringing to their Gathering tonight. Yes, that had to be it. She could well imagine the conversations they were having over her:

“But Rust, darling, she is merely a miserable
human
being.”

“We eat humans, son, not bring them to our events.
She’ll be mincemeat by nightfall!”

“But, oh, if you must .
. . let us meet the wretch before you send her to her demise. She has already cost you your job. What more havoc can she wreck on our lives?”

Hector could sense her growing apprehension.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Penney. I’m not allowed to talk much about the O’Briens, but I can assure you they treat all their guests with care.”

Do their guests actually make it back alive?
she wanted to ask, but thought that it would be crass.

The ‘estate’ finally drew up.
Rust’s parents actually lived in New York State and not in Manhattan, and so they had to cross the Lincoln tunnel. It would make sense, Kate thought, if they were shifters and they needed the cover of woodland. Rust didn’t seem to need it though.

A pair of wrought iron gates barred their entry. These were emblazoned with
motifs of tigers. Kate wondered if Hector knew their significance, and he was probably wondering if she knew it as well. The grounds were surrounded by six foot high walls. Kate wondered how much they extended into the hills which could be clearly seen beyond.

How much of this prime land belonged to Rust’s parents anyway? Why were they even working at all?

The gates opened, and the limo purred in. The driveway was long and fringed by flowered gardens which were obviously well tended to. Kate caught sight of marble fountains and statuary which seemed to be broken off in several places. She didn’t know if that was the intended effect or if the statues really had been broken in some shifter skirmish.

The house finally drew up.
It was a very imposing affair – a red brick double-storied mansion with several wings and ivy climbing all over its walls. Several cars were parked in a covered parking lot beside the mansion. Kate wondered if one of them was Rust’s. Surely he wouldn’t leave her alone with his parents!

The limo rolled to a stop. Hector came around to let Kate out.

“Ms. Penney? After you.”

Hector sprang to the door and rang the bell.
It seemed to Kate that they waited for an eternity before someone came to the door.

It was Rust, looking red in the face
. He looked marvelous, of course – but he was flushed and angry, as though he had just been in an argument with someone. Kate wondered if that someone was his father.

When Rust saw her, a smile immediately
wreathed his beautiful features.

“Kate, I’m sorry I was held up last night. But I’m glad you are here.” He held his arms
out and she went to them happily.

Hector politely closed the door behind him.

Rust held Kate for a moment longer than she’d expected. He buried his nose in her hair.

“You look lovely,” he said. “Do you like the dress?”

“Yes. It’s very . . . demure.”

“That’s because you’re meeting my parents. But when I have you alone . . .
later
,” he growled.

Were these the words of a man who was getting ready
to dump her? But then, you never knew about Rust. Just like this trip to New York – it was sprung upon her from out of the blue.

“Are you going to introduce us, Rust?” said a voice from behind them.

Rust broke the embrace. A well but simply-dressed woman stood at a doorway to what Kate presumed led to the dining hall. The woman was blonde and very beautiful. Only slight creases around her eyes belied her age. She was dressed in a tailored suit which was more appropriate for the office instead of a light brunch.

“Mother,” he said, “this is Kate Penney.
Kate, my mother, Moira.”

Kate’s blood congealed in her veins – she was that nervous. So here she was, meeting Rust’s parents in a significant step. (OK, maybe she was reading too much into everything.)
Moira O’Brien was so beautiful, so glacial, so composed. Her ice blue eyes raked Kate up and down in a collected gesture which could be interpreted in so many different ways. Kate remembered that Rust’s mother was a private psychiatrist, and therefore, entirely practiced in maintaining a public mask.

Moira held out her hand and smiled warmly.
“Hello, Kate. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. O’Brien.”

“Call me, Moira, please.” With a studied gesture, Moira slid her arm around Kate’s waist and led her to the dining room. “Are you hungry? We have prepared a sumptuous brunch for you. Rust’s father and I are so happy to meet you.”

Moira was speaking as though Kate was a prospective bride for Rust. Kate darted frightened eyes at Rust, who simply nodded.
Play along
, his gaze said.

Play along with what? Kate wondered. There seemed to be secrets in every
corner of the large, handsomely decorated lounge. Secrets like invisible balloon captions in the air.

The dining hall opened out to a
verandah which overlooked an infinity swimming pool. The table was spread with more food than twenty people could eat. There were crispy bacon and different kinds of crusty loaves and cheeses and a salad bowl you could mix greens and nuts in.

A man who looked exactly like what Rust would resemble in thirty years
stood up. He held his hand out. “Hello, Kate. I’m Connor, Rust’s father.”

Kate took his hand and gazed into his blue eyes, the spitting image of Rust’s. Just like Rust’s, those eyes held
mysteries.

“Please,” Connor said, “have a seat.”

Kate took a seat beside Rust.

“Orange juice?”
Connor said, holding up a decanter.

“Yes, please.”

He poured her a glass. Beside her, Rust was equally ill at ease.

Moira said, “Rust has never talked about you before to us.”

“But that’s not saying much,” Connor added, “because he never talks to us about anything.”

Moira tittered.

Rust said, “You know how much I hate being referred to in the third person when I’m right here.”

“Well, if you came home a little more often, maybe we don’t have to
keep talking about you as if you aren’t here. Your father and I have gotten quite used to it by now.”

“Mother.”
Rust flashed her a pained look.

Kate didn’t know where to look.
She helped herself to some salad for the sake of something to do.

Moira smiled. “We must be frightening the poor girl.
”

Oh yes, Kate would
attest to that.

“So you know about us, Kate,” Connor said.
His voice was mild, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Rust said,
“I thought we weren’t going to bring this up.”

Was that why Rust’s parents invited her here?
To threaten her?

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Kate squeaked.

“If you’re going to insult my girlfriend, we’re leaving,” Rust added.

Girlfriend
. So that was how he described her to his parents. Her heart leaped with elation.

“I’m not insulting
you, Kate.” Connor flashed her a smile. “I merely made a statement. So you know about us. You’d have to . . . going in tonight.”

Kate
didn’t know what to expect for tonight. “Are you coming?” she asked timidly.

“No. Moira and I are
– ” he exchanged a knowing look with his wife “ – a little too old for this kind of stuff.”

“Though we’ve had our days when we were younger,” Moira said.
“We were mated at such a Gathering.”

“I’m sure Kate doesn’t want to know the details,” Rust put in
quickly.

Kate stole a glance at him. He was actually flushing! And no wonder – no son wanted to know what his parents used to do during a rave.
That went both ways, she supposed. But this was a shifter family, and shifters – she gathered – were a more uninhibited bunch. Why else were Rust’s parents talking openly about matings and such?

So were she and Rust to be mated tonight? Was that the version of shifter marriage?

Moira smiled at her again. “I can see you have so many questions. The less you know going in tonight . . . the better. Gatherings are for the young. They are a time to sow seeds when seeds should be sown.”

“It’s time we changed the subject,” Rust said.

“Ah, yes.” Connor turned to Kate. “I brought up the prospect of Rust coming home to work with me in Bellevue again.”

Kate glanced at
Rust in dismay.

“I haven’t made a decision
yet,” Rust said firmly.

“
There’s always the option of joining my practice,” Moira said.

“He belongs in Bellevue,” Connor argued.

“He’s a grown man. He’s free to do whatever he likes.”

“And that might not including discussing my professional life in front of our guests,” Rust said acidly.

“Then what can we discuss it?” Moira demanded. “Every subject seems to be taboo when it comes to you, Rust.”

Rus
t threw down his napkin. “This was a bad idea, and I only consented to Kate coming here because I let you talk me into it. You’ve met her. So, fine. You know now she’s human and she’s good at keeping our secrets. So now we’re going to go to the Gathering in peace.”

“Oh, no, don’t leave just yet
.” Moira was distressed.

“Let’s go
, Kate,” Rust said firmly.

Kate dutifully rose to her feet
and threw Moira and Connor both an apologetic look. She barely had anything to eat, but she had lost her appetite.

Connor stood as well.

“Please, son . . . don’t go. Your mother and I apologize . . . to both of you. We’re not used to having guests who know about us and what we are. We’re trying, all of us. Don’t leave . . . please.”

Kate darted frightened glances at eac
h of them. Moira and Connor wore genuinely pleading expressions. Rust’s face was masklike, but his mouth twitched. It was amazing how much he resembled his father and how obviously stubborn and headstrong every member of his family was.

Rust pulled in a deep breath.

“Fine,” he said, sitting down. He glanced at Kate and nodded for her to sit too. “But we’re changing the subject. Nothing about sex or mating or any jobs you might have lined up for me. We clear on that?”

“Fine,” Moira said.

“Fine,” Connor echoed.

Kate let out a secret sigh of relief. So this was a truce. How long would it last?
She had to hide a smile of chagrin. Rust seemed so young in the presence of his parents. Or maybe everyone seemed that way in the presence of their parents.

To Moira and Connor’s credit, they managed to change the subject to more pleasant and less touchy things.
Throughout the rest of brunch, Kate learned bits and pieces of what it was like to grow up in a shifter family.

It was not quite what she was expecting.
Maybe she had expected something really bizarre, like a modern fairytale version of ‘Beauty and the Beast’. Or maybe even ‘The Jungle Book’. But Rust’s family seemed to be driven professionally to make it in the human world, and they were not far different from clusters of human minorities who were determined to make their mark. The only difference was that they had money. Lots of it. But that didn’t stop them from being purposeful and guided by their own structured compasses.