Loveless: The Alpha Series, Book 2

By Brooklyn Knight

What does a girl do when love hurts? She becomes ‘Loveless’.

My sister, Sasha, says she’s in love with Remi Moretti, but there is no way it can be true. I’ve protected her since we were kids in foster care, so nothing will stop me from rescuing her...

Except, maybe, the man who answers the door when I arrive at the mansion.

Vince Moretti is long, and lean, and impossibly sexy; and he is... doing something to me. I’m supposed to be loveless, yet when this man touches me, my body and soul erupt. I used to think that Loveless was the answer, but suddenly, I’m not so sure.

What does a boy do when he finds the girl of his dreams? He makes her fall in love.

There is a woman standing at the front door of the mansion, and immediately, I know she belongs to me. In fact, Shenique Wilcox is the woman I have been waiting for my entire life. But there is something about her aura. It is angry and closed.

It is just like mine.

When Shenique reveals a plot to separate my brother from his mate, it does not take much for me to get onboard. Love has hurt us and retribution is in order. But as our undeniable passion waxes stronger, suddenly our objectives become blurred. Now, it is not my brother I wish to defeat. It is Loveless itself.

**READER ALERT**

Loveless can be read as a standalone; but for maximum enjoyment, consider reading Book 1, in the series first - Torn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brooklyn Knight
• Release date: May 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005820695

Brooklyn Knight

Brooklyn Knight is a romance enthusiast who lives in the island of Bermuda and has been writing stories since she was a little girl. Over the years, her gift for designing and bringing characters to life has evolved, and she enjoys creating vivid, memorable characters and unforgettable situations. Her characters are thought-provoking and evocative; and they will draw emotion out of you like water from a well.

Book preview

1

Shenique

‘Kidnapped’

The patient sealed her eyes, just as I was about to slide the end of a very long needle into the vein I’d forced to pop out. Then, without warning, she started to shake and rattle on the bed.

I stood back, and pinched the bridge of my nose. Mrs. Ingram, are we really going to do this? Every time you come in here? My voice was tender; bedside manner, on point; but it was all a farce. What I really wanted to do was pin Mrs. Ingram to the bed and force her to keep her ass still, so I could stick the goddamn needle into her arm and draw her goddamn blood.

But I didn’t. Instead, I patted her arm, the way one would touch the head of a spoiled brat, and waited for her to self-regulate. There you go, Mrs. Ingram. Just like that, I coached her. Breathe in and out. Hold the breath on the in, and –

Dr. Sherman poked his head into the examination room and immediately, my brows pulled in. Three lines were carved into the center of his forehead, and though Dr. Sherman was in his late fifties and wrinkles were a part of his everyday façade, these three were deeper and longer than any of the others.

He cleared his throat. Nurse Shey, there are some… people here to see you, and you need to speak with them immediately. I will finish with the patient while you tend to the matter.

I blinked a few times, still patting Mrs. Ingram’s arm. Okay, I’ll be right out, I promised. Let me just finish drawing Mrs. Ingram’s bloods and –

No. Dr. Sherman strode into the room, closing the door behind him, but not before I caught a glimpse of three men, dressed in black, standing in the reception area.

My stomach dropped into my clogs.

Dr. Sherman took the needle, rested it on the metal tray, and pulled me to a corner of the room. A look of relief washed over Mrs. Ingram’s face, as I was dragged away.

Now, Sherman’s grimace had deepened, and his mouth sagged with concern.

Who are those people out there? I asked folding my arms over my chest. They don’t look like patients.

That’s because they’re not, he answered. It’s the FBI.

The who? My neck jerked forward and my eyes stretched. Why the hell is the FBI at the community clinic? I demanded, as if he knew the answer. And why do they need to speak with me? My heart drummed in my chest as multiple answers flooded my mind. I was lying. Not multiple answers; only one.

Baby Jesus in a manger, don’t tell me that something had happened to Sasha? Four months ago, she had been kidnapped, and to make matters worse, the perpetrating asshole had chased her from Italy to Miami. I was in Chicago, so I hadn’t been able to monitor her, the way I normally did, but I had told her to ignore his ass, not give him the fucking time of day.

Had she listened to me? Did Sasha ever listen to anything I said?

The FBI’s presence was a clue to the answer.

My eyes shifted to the door and I ran my hand over the front of my scrubs.

Dr. Sherman ogled me. You need to talk to them, Shey, he insisted. They look serious.

They always look like that, I suggested. Haven’t you seen the movies? I huffed and marched for the door. Mrs. Ingram, Dr. Sherman is going to take it from here.

Oh, thank God, she breathed.

I ignored her, and threw the door open. I didn’t have time for this shit. It had already been a long day, and it was only ten-thirty in the goddamn morning. The FBI dropping in was the last thing I needed.

I stepped into the lobby, and the three men I’d spied before Dr. Sherman had sealed the door, turned to face me like synchronized swimmers. Dark aviators concealed their eyes, even though they were inside. Outside was no brighter. It was raining.

Miss Wilcox?

The patients who were waiting for their appointments had their noses buried in magazines, but when I noticed one patient, whose reading material was upside down, I gritted my teeth. I turned my attention to the Men in Black. That’s me, I answered. How may I help you?

The one in the middle stepped forward, extending his hand. My name is Agent Dunbar. My colleagues and I were wondering if we could have a moment of your time. We have a few questions for you.

About what?

About a woman named Sasha Wilcox, Number One answered.

Suspicions confirmed. Instant rage rose in my throat, until the urge to vomit almost consumed me. It took a few seconds for the sensation to go away.

They waited. Patiently.

I cleared my throat. What happened to her?

That’s what we’re here to ask you.

What the fuck do you –

One of the patients dropped his magazine, and I bristled.

The Men in Black did not move.

Is there somewhere else we can have this conversation? I asked, rubbing my brow. Without waiting for answers, I stomped in the direction of the lunch room, and the men followed. Once we were all inside, I closed the door and spun around to face them. What the fuck do you mean you’re here to ask me what happened to her?

Number Three opened his lapel and pulled out a picture of my sister, as if I didn’t know what she looked like. He dropped it onto the lunch table.

I picked it up, glaring.

Your sister has been missing for a few weeks, he revealed.

You’re kidding, right? My hands shook, and my fingers tightened around the flimsy piece of paper. Why am I just hearing about it? Whatever happened to the first forty-eight hours?

Perhaps missing is an inaccurate term, Number One clarified. She’s been… unavailable.

Did you call her job? I asked. She works for a guy named Dylan Hamilton at an insurance company called Hamilton Associates.

We spoke to Mr. Hamilton, Number Three answered. He said she quit about a month ago.

My chest tightened. Baby Jesus in a… My thoughts were frantic. There’s a man… what was his fucking name… I snapped my fingers, trying to remember. She had mentioned him once or twice, and I had instructed her to stay the hell away from him too. She didn’t need any men in her life, I’d said. The only thing she needed to be worrying about was getting over the trauma of being kidnapped by international war criminals.

Suddenly, his name popped into my mind. Stefan, I blurted peering at each of them. His name is Stefan Miller. What about him? He’s her boyfriend. If anybody knows where she is, it’s him.

We spoke to him as well, Number One responded, and he’s extremely tight-lipped. Said he has no idea where she could be.

My jaw jerked.

Number Three reached into his jacket again, and produced another photo. He slammed it down on the table. Your sister, Sasha, was last seen in the company of this man, he said. His name is Remi Moretti. We think she might be with him, and as far as we know, he’s left the country.

My eyes dropped and pinned on the picture.

Was this the thug that had kidnapped her in France?

Of course it was. The malice and terror flashed in his emerald-green eyes, even on paper. His jaw was chiseled and tight. And he was hulking.

Now, everything was becoming clear. This asshole had hunted her down, accosted her again, and dragged her off, kicking and screaming, back to Italy.

My sister had been kidnapped.

Horror seized me, and I started to hyperventilate. The words I’d uttered to Mrs. Ingram flew into my mind, and I started to take deep breaths.

In and out. Hold on the in…

So she’s in Italy… I queried.

Perhaps, Number One said, but we were unable to access her travel documents.

What the hell? I shouted, slamming my hand down on Remi Moretti’s face. Isn’t that like a standard procedure? Criminals try to flee, you take their passports!

Miss Wilcox, this isn’t a criminal investigation, Number One clarified. No warrants have been issued in this matter. But… there’s more.

I jerked my eyes in his direction and braced myself.

Remi Moretti does not appear to be a… normal man…

What the hell does that mean?

"It means we have reason to suspect that he’s otherworldly," he answered, and I gasped.

Instantly, my thoughts wandered to the crazy-ass Brothers Grimm fairy tales my friend, Julian, had been fascinated with since we were kids. He was consumed with the shit, so much so, he believed in werewolves, and witches, and vampires. He’d tried to get me to drink the black Kool-Aid, but it was too intense for me. I would never go as far as believing in the crap that Julian did, but there was no way I could deny that at least one of his theories held water…

Loveless…

I shook the thought away.

Number One continued, ripping me out of my thoughts. Unfortunately, ma’am, the information is classified, which means there’s not very much we can share with you, he said. Just know that we need to speak with your sister about him.

Baby Jesus in a manger, I muttered, jaw tight. I pressed my hands against the sides of my face, pulling my eyes down. My sister, she could be in serious danger! Trying to think of on-the-spot solutions, I ripped my cell phone from the pocket of my scrubs.

I’ll call her, I said quickly. My fingers shook as I punched her cell phone number into the device.

Her phone rang.

It’s ringing, I announced, tapping the speaker phone icon.

The Men in Black stood staring, faces as blank as slate.

I covered my mouth with my hand and paced the room. Bitch, pick up the phone… I muttered, and suddenly it clicked over. I jerked to attention. Sasha, it’s Shey! Where are y –

I didn’t complete the question. Instantly, the sound of deep, guttural groans and grunts filled the lunch room.

Fuck! It was a man’s voice. "Fiore!"

A wail followed. It was my sister.

I held the phone away from my face and screamed at it. Sasha! I yelled.

More growls.

She doesn’t realize that the phone is on, Number Two commented, a grin spread over his face. Number One jabbed his elbow into Number Two’s side, and he corrected his posture.

I yelled at the phone some more. Leave her alone, you deranged animal!

Suddenly, the phone line went dead, and dread consumed me. I glared at the Men in Black. It’s them, I confirmed. He’s torturing her! He’s trying to kill her!

With his cock, Number Three muttered.

My mouth wrinkled with rage. He’s raping her? I shouted. We have to find her. You have to do something.

Regrettably, Miss Wilcox, our hands are tied, Number One informed me, and my neck jerked forward.

How could your hands be tied? I demanded of him. You’re the goddamn FBI, this is what you do – you rescue kidnapped people. You apprehend international terrorists.

We have no evidence that your sister has been kidnapped, he responded.

Of course you do, I snapped. She’s not here. You’re looking for her. You just heard her, screaming in terror and pain!

Number Two chortled.

What else do you need to know?

She quit her job and sold her condo, Number Three said.

She did fucking what?

For all we know, she could be on vacation with this guy. You suggested that Stefan Miller is her boyfriend, but we have reason to believe otherwise.

And what reason is that?

You mean other than the sounds we just heard? Number Two asked, as serious as all get-out.

I glared at him.

Number Three cleared his throat. When we caught up with Mr. Miller, he was preparing to go on his honeymoon.

What the hell?

My hands balled into fists. It was a ruse, I thought. It was all part of the kidnapping. That fucking kidnapper had blackmailed my sister, forced her to quit her job, made her sell her condo. He’d told her that if she didn’t, he’d rape and murder everybody she loved. He’d rolled up on her, just like he had when she was in France attending her friend’s wedding, and snatched her in the dead of night. Sasha was petrified – just like she used to be when we were little girls in foster care. She hadn’t known what to do. She was probably bound and gagged somewhere, scared shitless, calling out for me in her mind, praying to baby Jesus in a manger that I’d realize she’d been abducted.

In fact, it was all starting to become clear. For the past few weeks, I’d been trying to call her, but she hadn’t been answering. Well, that part hadn’t been out of the norm. Sasha always avoided my calls. She said I was overprotective, but there were reasons for my behavior, her recent abduction, being the latest one. The part that was different was the fact that she hadn’t called me back, even though I’d been leaving messages.

I glared at the Men in Black. They were useless. They had come to ask me questions, and I didn’t have any answers for them. According to them, there was little they could do.

But there was something I could do, and I’d be damned if I sat back and did nothing.

I straightened my shoulders and glanced at each of the men, wishing I could see their eyes behind those stupid aviators.

I’ll find my sister, I said. The words slid between my clenched teeth. And when I do, I’ll make sure she answers any questions you have about Remi Moretti.

The men nodded in unison.

Please keep in touch, Number Two recommended.

The men opened the door and walked out of the room.

Now alone, I turned to look at the two photos, which were still on the lunchroom table. I glared at my sister, with her goddess braids cascading over her shoulders, and then I looked at the green-eyed-monster.

I needed to get to Julian, I thought. If this… man was, indeed, otherworldly, Julian would know exactly what we should do. In fact, I already had some ideas.

Don’t worry, Sash, I muttered to the photo. I’m on my way to Italy, and trust and believe, there is no way I’ll be leaving without you.

2

Vince

‘One Day’

‘R emi!’ I shouted the thought to my brother, but the only sounds to come back were the grunts, growls, and whimpers of him, his fucking wolf, and his mate. My teeth gritted as I slammed the front door of the mansion to a close and glared up the steps, towards his bedroom.

Remi! This time, my voice rang through the house, but even that did not matter.

Remi was balls deep in his female, and it was obvious that no amount of shouting would unstick him.

I scrubbed my hand over my face and marched up the steps. I stomped past his bedroom, even as the erotic sounds rang in my ears, and marched past – up another flight of stairs, and down a long hallway.

Father’s bedroom was on this floor, and I needed to speak with him before he left for France with his woman. He would be the only one to knock some sense into my brother’s goddamn head, whether it be literally or otherwise.

Since Remi had returned from Miami with his mate in tow, he had not been the same man. He used to be stoic and motivated by the day-to-day affairs of helping Father manage the Moretti Empire, running the business. He used to be laser focused, his senses sharper than a razor. If an intruder even set foot on the edge of the property, his wolf would be the first to smell it.

But things had changed.

Remi was still laser-focused, but now, it was on his mate’s titties and her pussy; and the only thing his fucking senses were good for, was smelling the scent of her arousal.

And I was sick of it.

Shit was going down the tubes, and it was obvious that he did not care. Things had even changed between us, but that was minor, compared to all the other things he was letting fall to the wayside.

I stood in front of Father’s door and drew in a deep breath.

Oh Remi… Sasha’s voice rang through the halls like a fucking dinnertime bell.

The bed creaked and banged against the wall.

"Oh, fuck, Fiore…" my brother grunted out.

That was we he called her. His fucking flower.

I grunted.

She was a flower. She was a rose; a rose with fucking thorns, that pierced my human flesh every time I saw her walking through the mansion. I could not deny that Sasha was a beautiful female, and I could not blame my brother for being smitten by her. But of course, it was more than this. Sasha was Remi’s fated mate, and the minute he’d seen her at Dylan Hamilton’s wedding, he’d coveted her. We were supposed to be kidnapping her and her friend, but behind closed doors, he had been fucking her.

And he was still fucking her. Senseless.

I could hear it.

My jaw clenched and I lifted my fist to knock on Father’s door, but before it landed, he answered. Come in, Vince.

Without hesitation, I pushed the door open and took a firm step inside. My eyes took in the master bedroom, which was four times the size of mine or Remi’s.

Anthony Moretti was a man who spared no expense. He believed in buying the finest of everything. The entire room was white: the carpet, the drapes, and the furniture. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, and in front of him, stood his woman, Eliza Hamilton – the woman he would, and had, killed for.

She was being outfitted by a team of seamstresses, but there was a distinct grimace on her face. Despite their history, she still had not warmed up to him, and I could not say that I blamed her. Father had been relentless in his pursuit of her. He had concocted a mastermind plot to have her in this very position – standing in his bedroom, although if he could have his way, she would be wearing even less than the thin robe she now donned. Clearly, it would take even more than that to get her into his heart.

But that was his problem. Both him and Remi had problems with females. I thanked the Holy Mother that I would never be concerned with such bullshit.

Fasten her robe, Father commanded.

Eliza rolled her eyes and spread her arms. The seamstresses hastily tied the silk belt around her small waist. When they had finished, she marched for the door, but when she reached Father, she leaned close to his face. Her mouth was wrinkled, and her eyes flashed. Don’t think, for one minute, that this trip to Paris will change anything between us, she snarled at him.

Father stared into her eyes, seemingly unfazed, but the way the muscle in his jaw twitched would not go unnoticed by me.

"How long will it take, Tesoro?" he whispered, allowing his gaze to soak her in.

My ears pricked.

Forever, the belligerent woman snapped in response.

Father observed her. Then I will wait patiently for that time to arrive.

Eliza’s mouth trembled, but she jerked the robe closer and stalked out of the room, with three female attendants trailing.

The