He dropped a coin into the phone and dialed. It rang and rang and rang.
“Hello?” It was Hollis.
He’d been holding his breath, but Hollis answering made it easier. “Hollis?”
The line crackled. “Who is this?”
“It’s me,” he murmured, clearing his throat.
“Jesus Christ! Mal? Is that you?” He sounded muffled. “It’s Mal. On the phone.”
“I need pickup,” he said. “I’m in Alaska. A truck stop. Honey’s Diner.”
“Alaska?” Hollis repeated. “We’re on the way. It’s damn good to hear from you. Damn good.”
“Plus one,” he said. “We have a new pack member.”
There was silence.
“Tomorrow will be her first change,” he added.
“Got it,” Hollis said. “We’ll get there as soon as we can. What’s the number?”
Mal read the numbers off the payphone. “Thanks.”
“We didn’t know, Mal. Jessa thought you were dead. We all thought you were dead.” The anguish in Hollis’s voice clutched at Mal’s heart.
They did miss him. There was that.
“Not your fault,” he said. Finn was the Alpha. He should have known, should have sensed it. If something happened to Olivia Mal would know. Because, for now, he was her Alpha—it was his job to know. As much as he wanted to forgive Finn, he didn’t know if it was possible. The betrayal was so deep he wasn’t sure he could truly be a part of them anymore. Guess he’d find out soon enough.
“Any threat in the area?” Hollis asked, clearly relaying from several voices in the background.
“Thirty-four hours ago. Left them unconscious in a house in the middle of nowhere, miles from here.”
“Good,” Hollis said.
He hesitated briefly before adding, “Cyrus said he has someone there, with you on the inside, Hollis. Any ideas?”
There was a long silence. “No. Maybe he was just trying to get in your head?”
The motherfucker had definitely gotten in his head. Maybe Hollis was right. He sure as hell hoped so. “Maybe.”
“We’ll call when we’re fifteen minutes out. See you soon.”
“Soon,” he said, hanging up the phone. He felt it then: the pack. That internal leash tying him to them. Irritated or angry, betrayed or furious, it didn’t matter—they were still a part of him. Even if he wished that weren’t the case.
“How’d it go?” Olivia asked, leaning against the wall behind him. “Are we meeting them somewhere?”
“Finn will fly in,” he said, glancing at her. It had been the two of them until now. Since she was his responsibility, he owed her some information. “We should talk.”
Her brows rose. “We? You mean, you’re going to talk?” She smiled. Then she frowned. “Wait, is this a good talk or a bad talk?”
Watching her was fascinating. Her features were fluid, revealing her thoughts before she said a thing. And she said plenty. But it was his turn. When she opened her mouth to say more, he pressed his fingers to her lips to stop her.
Touching her mouth was a bad idea. Her lips were silky soft. The shudder that rippled from her head to her toes told him she was eager. She’d said she thought about his kiss and wanted more. This touch, light as it was, was all it took to warn him he might want the same thing. He traced the shape of her mouth, the line of her jaw, cursing his stupidity but unable to stop touching her.
Her hand fastened around his wrist, holding on to him. She wanted him; he wanted her. But his wolf—her wolf—complicated things.