The Alphas Wonder Land Phoenix Mountain Book 9
Chapter 5

I check myself in the side mirror of my rental truck. Fix my hair and check my black button down.

I spin on my toes and stand in front of the tall condo building.

“OK, Heartbreaker. Let’s get this mission done.” I reach into the open window and bring out a bouquet of white roses.

I run up the stairs and smile into my reflection of the mirrored door before I open it. Got to make sure that smile is sexy enough.

I walk into the lobby and to the elevators.

I’m sweating buckets, but I can handle this. I walk onto the car and ride it up.

I walk down the quiet hall and replace Damica’s door.

Hiding the flowers behind my back, I knock and pump myself up as I wait for the door to open.

I’ve been on countless missions. None of them made me break even the tiniest sweat, but right now this one has me sweating buckets.

I hear soft shuffles inside and the door unlocks. She opens it slowly and her beautiful brown eye scans me up and down. I grin a big toothy smile. “Hi.” I say quietly.

She opens the door a bit more and smiles back. It’s a great smile. I love it.

“Hello.” She says softly. She slips out her apartment and locks her door. “So. You’re early.”

I eye her slimming, black dress that is the perfect length on her thighs and though it rides high on her chest, I still think she’s looking hot. Her strappy heels bring the whole thing together.

“You look so…” I couldn’t replace the words without sounding like a creep.

She tucks her soft hair behind her ear and her cheeks flush a soft pink. It almost highlights her freckles. “Thanks.” She breathes.

I was lost in admiration until I remembered my surprise. “Oh…um…” I produce the roses. “These are for you.”

She looks at the flowers and looks at my idiot smile. I feel like I’m 14 again.

“Oh. White.” She takes them from me.

My smile fades a bit. “You don’t like white roses?”

“No…it’s…it’s…it’s not...AH-CHOO!” She lets out a huge sneeze and her head almost hits the roses.

I jump back and cringe a bit as I shoot her a concerned look. “OH!...Um…Bless you?”

“Thanks…AH-CHOO!” She sneezes again and some of the roses petals break off.

“Damn.” I look at her stunned. “You ok?”

“No…I…I…AH-CHOO!” I cringe a third time and scrunch my brow.

She wipes her nose. “I’m allergic to white roses.” She says in a nasally voice.

“Oh!” My brows shoot up. “Shit!”

I grab the flowers from her and quickly look around. I spy a shoot that says laundry. I rush over and throw the roses into it. I slam the door closed and spin on my heels.

I cringe my face. “Damn. I’m sorry.”

She wipes her nose again. “It’s OK. At least you didn’t buy me red.”

“Why? What happens with red?” I ask as we head down the hall.

She tilts her head to me. “I swell up to three times my size and turn redder than a lobster.”

I look ahead and my face drops. “Damn.” I say in astonishment as the visual hits my mind.

I look at her and shake my head. “Let’s just say no to flowers.”

She giggles. “Good idea.”

****

We’re at a local bar, posted up at a high top table.

Damica is looking fabulous in the dim lighting. I feel my insides start to warm as we talk over drinks. Her hair, her eyes, her soft pouty lips. I’m not making it through this night without tasting her.

“So, Damica Fox.” I grin.

“Sawyer Dawn.” She smiles.

“Were you born in Washington?” I ask as drink my pint.

“Don’t know.” She answers. “I was adopted as a baby. My birth parents were military and were both killed in action. The Fox's adopted me shortly after."

I lower my head. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “It’s OK. I don’t know anything about them or remember them. My parents are the only ones I’ve ever known.”

She lifts her wine. “What about you?”

I smile. “No. I’m from out of state.”

“Family?” She asks.

I shake my head. “None worth talking about.”

“Oh. Now, I’m sorry.” She shies away.

I wave her off. “It’s fine. My brother lived like a bastard and died like one. I won’t shed a tear for him.”

“That’s so sad.” She mumbles.

“If you knew my brother, you wouldn’t think so.” I smirk.

She sips her wine. “So what does Sawyer Dawn do for a living?”

“I’m military. Not as exciting as museum curator. You must see some crazy stuff.” I play with the rim of my glass.

“Most days it’s not…” she starts.

“But others?” I arch a brow.

“Pretty exciting. Some pieces you replace are so exciting you can’t put them down. You just have to replace out more.” She smiles.

“Like the railway tie.” J smirk.

“Yes. That thing.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s special.”

“Really? How?” I lean on the table. I’m interested to replace out what a human could get from the piece without our knowledge and tech.

She plays with her glass. “It has a bunch of weird properties. My tests are inconclusive, but I know eventually, I’ll replace out what it is.”

“Interesting. I hope you do.” I smile.

The noise of the bar seemed to slip away as the silence set in.

I watched the lights dance in her dark brown eyes. My eyes took in her slender fingers on her wine glass. I listen to her heart as it beats a little fast. Her skin almost sparkles in the dim lighting.

I feel myself starting to feel something that I know would be not good.

“Sawyer?”

I snap out of it. “Yes…um…yes, sorry.” I adjust myself and sit up.

“I have to freshen up.” She giggles as she watches my awkwardness.

“Sure. Yes. I’ll be here.” I grin.

I watch her walked to the washroom hall and go into the ladies room.

I look at her wine glass and back at the ladies room.

I smirk and arch a brow. She may be absolutely amazing, but I still have a job to do.

I look around to make sure no one is paying attention.

I pull out a small vial with a dropper. I opened and quickly put one drop of wolfsbane in her wine. It won’t hurt her, but it will make her lower her guard enough to allow me to convince her to take me to the piece.

I drink my beer and wait. She’s been gone for a while now. I’m growing concerned.

I get up and start for the washrooms. Before I get to the door, Damica bursts out. She looks freaked.

“Damica?”

“I’m sorry, Sawyer. I have to go.” Her voice sounded urgent.

“What? Why?” I follow.

“Thanks for the date.” She says as she rushes out of the bar.

“Damica!” I call to her back.

Traffic whizzes by as we both exit bar.

She runs to the road and throws her hand in the air. A cab pulls up and she gets in.

“Damica!!” I rush the cab.

It drives off and she left me in the road.

I’m completely confused. Did she get an emergency call? Did someone say something to her? Did I do something to scare her?

I walk back into the bar and walk to the ladies room.

I stand in the empty washroom. I walk over and check the stalls. Nothing.

I walk to the sinks. In one sink is a tube of lipstick. I pick it up and it’s the color Damica was wearing. I’m so confused. My eyes lift to the mirror in front of me.

I look back down at the lipstick. “Damn.”

I walk out and grab my coat.

I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, it scared her bad.

I won’t be getting the piece now, but it’s the furthest thing from my mind. Right now, I want to know why Damica left in such a rush. I need to know what scared her so bad in that room. She looked terrified. The stench of fear was so thick on her, I could almost feel it myself. Whatever scared her was something major to her.

I head back to my hotel room and when I’m in my room, I sit at the desk. I pull up my laptop and try to replace answers.

I type in her name and I’m bombarded by news articles.

I open one.

“Authorities baffled by the disappearance of 5 year old, Damica Fox.” The headline reads.

“Police are still investigating the child’s disappearance. With no evidence, they’ve now asked the public for help.

The 5 year old was alone in her room when she went missing shortly after midnight Sunday night.

Police have questioned her parents, Patrick and Cindy Fox, and have concluded they are not suspects in the child’s disappearance.

Authorities tell us there was no signs of a struggle and say the child was unharmed when she was taken.

Her parents plead to the kidnappers for Damica’s safe return.”

My brows cinch together as I scroll further down.

I click another link.

“Mystery surrounds the return of missing 5 year old, Damica Fox.”

“Police continue to be baffled as they announce the safe return of Damica.

Shortly after 2 am Wednesday, three weeks after the 5 year old went missing, Damica was found by her father, Patrick Fox, in her bedroom. The same room she was taken from.

Authorities are speaking with the child, but her parents have requested privacy at this time.

Speaking with the chief of Police, William Brent, he told this reporter, there’s no evidence that Damica was hurt in any way and they still don’t have any evidence as to how the child was returned.

The investigation continues, but her parents tell us that they are just glad they returned their child to them.”

I scrolled through more pages and they all say the same thing. Damica was kidnapped and returned three weeks later and no one knows how or why.

Apparently, interviews with Damica gave police nothing to go on. Which is extremely weird. From what I read in these articles, Damica was traumatized. Which doesn’t surprise me one bit. You’d have to be a real dickhead to take a kid. It’s good they didn’t hurt her at all. But why take a kid, hold her for three weeks and bring her back?

Does it still affect her now? I mean, that’s really scary for a baby, but would she still harbor the fear 25 years later? I imagine it does still haunt her. Looking at her, though, you wouldn’t know it.

The fear I smell off her is real. Not only that, but it’s real time fear. Meaning, she’s putting off the emotions like she’s living it all over again.

Maybe she had a flashback. Maybe she remembered something and it freaked her out somehow.

It makes sense. She got hit with a memory of her trauma and ran from me. I just hope it wasn’t me that triggered her.

I lean back in my chair and bite my cheek. She has no reason to come to me with this, but in the tiniest part of my brain, I kind of feel hurt she didn’t run to me. It’s stupid, I know. I’m a stranger to her. Why would she do that? I don’t even know if she feels what I feel right now.

What do I feel right now?

The sexual attraction is there. That’s a given. But there’s something else. Something slowly gnawing at me. It’s telling me this thing between Damica and I is far from over. That I need to help her with whatever she’s dealing with.

In order to do that, I need more answers.

I shoot up out of my chair and pack up. I need more systems better than Google. I need Phoenix.