Chapter Twenty-Two

Tracy feared her heart might crack her ribs as she walked into the large office building with the Kansas name across the roofline. The lobby was spacious, modern and freezing.

Despite the chill from an excessive air conditioning system, sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades. The receptionist at the front desk had tried to shoo her away, content to run her off as though she were some mistress looking to score off the boss.

However, when Tracy had dropped Richard’s name, when the receptionist had called up to Torrin with that, everything had changed.

Suddenly, two men in black suits with scowls as intimidating as their shaved heads and large frames had shown up in the lobby to escort her in the elevator.

They were both alphas, a fact that might have sent her running just a few weeks prior. She’d have bolted at that scent, at the danger they posed to her. Any alpha would have set her off, but two who glared and didn’t speak more than to tell her to follow were the worst of it.

She wasn’t the same old omega, though. She wasn’t the woman Richard had beaten down, the one Mario thought he could control, and she had all the reason in the world to hold her shoulders back and her head high.

One of the alphas snorted, a soft sound that wasn’t entirely unkind. More subtly amused, as if he didn’t really care what the outcome was but managed to find some humor in it.

They took the elevator to the top floor, and Tracy held it together, even as they exited the doors and passed a large desk with a scowling woman behind it—the secretary, no doubt.

Through the last set of doors—large metal ones with frosted glass—sat a stern-looking man behind a large, dark-stained wooden desk. The office screamed power. Or arrogance. It was hard to tell the difference much of the time.

The man was younger than she’d have guessed, or perhaps he just looked young because it had seemed so long since she’d last seen him, since so much had changed. His blond hair was slicked back from his forehead, and light eyebrows perched above dark eyes. The contrast was strange, the dark-oak eyes paired with the lighter coloring. “Mrs. Pera. You are the last person I expected to see today.”

Tracy turned a gaze on the two alphas still there. “Maybe we should have this talk in private.”

Torrin waved off the suggestion. “These two men have my complete confidence. I trust them far more than I trust you, so I believe they’ll stay.” He said nothing else, sitting back as if he had all the time I the world.

She didn’t.

Tracy took a deep breath, then a step forward to gather her courage, her chin held high. “I have a deal for you.”

“Really? And what is it you think you can offer me?”

“You know about the death of my mate.”

“Yes. If you’re expecting me to shed a tear, you’ve wasted your trip.”

His words surprised her. Then again, she supposed criminals could still hate other criminals. One jackal could loathe another, but it didn’t make either good. Just two different kinds of bad.

“I don’t need your tears. Your protection, on the other hand, is what I’m after.”

“I’m not in the business of protecting random omegas.” His words weren’t mean-spirited. He didn’t gloat, but rather spoke as if it were a simple matter of fact. It was if he was explaining he couldn’t save every single stray, and that while it was sad, the reality was that some perished.

“Richard kept files on all of the questionable people he knew.”

“Questionable?” Up went that blond eyebrow.

Tracy wouldn’t let herself be intimidated, not anymore, and certainly not by alphas drunk on their own power. She pushed forward, selling the bluff with everything she had. This had to work. He had to believe her. “I have all Richard’s files.”

“So? The fact you’re here says you must know how many of the police force are on the payroll of any of your mate’s colleges. You couldn’t take any of those files to the authorities or you would have done so already.”

Tracy took another few steps forward until she stood just before the massive desk. “They may not get any of you thrown into prison, but we both know you don’t want them getting out.”

Torrin didn’t move, not a single reaction. He gave nothing away as he stared back.

Keep going. You can do this.

“How would all the other names in those files feel about knowing everything? Sending it to the police wouldn’t do anything but sending it to—” She pulled memories in, trying to recall names Richard had used. He might not have spoken to her, but he’d often move through life as though she were a ghost, on calls without worrying about her. She took advantage of that, used it to her benefit for once. “Navarro, Tinkman or Harris would cause you a few problems. Not to mention releasing them to new sources. You might have friends in high places, but you know what they say about rats and sinking ships. No one would benefit from those files going public.”

A muscle twitched in Torrin’s jaw, the only proof that he’d heard Tracy. They stared, neither moving, neither giving in.

Torrin leaned forward, setting his forearms on the desk. “You are playing a dangerous game.”

“Trust me, I know. Right now, Mario Navarro has my daughter and my mates, is threatening to kill them, so I understand exactly how dangerous this game is for me. The question is, do you understand how dangerous it is for you?”

Torrin narrowed his gaze further, his expression hard, but Tracy gave nothing away. She didn’t let fear show. She’d spent so much of her life afraid, submissive, willing to go along with whatever was safest. Never again.

“It’s a simple deal. I want protection for my daughter, my mates and myself. As long as we’re safe, those files never see the light of day. If anything happens to any of us, they get out.”

“And if something happens to you that isn’t me?”

“Well, I figure it’s in your best interest to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“And you expect me to first step in and deal with Mario, I suspect?”

“If you want all those files to stay secret, then yes. It’s a small price to pay for your privacy.”

He tapped his fingers against the wooden desk, loud in the quiet room. “And you think this is a good idea? You think you can maneuver me like this?”

She met his gaze and let him see how serious she was, let him see the bone-deep determination built by a life of being run over. This had to work, because if it didn’t? She’d lose everything. “I don’t think I have a choice, and right now? Neither do you.”

* * * *

Dylan wanted Karen out of there. He wanted her miles away and running as fast as her little legs would carry her. Instead, she was still in the room, having absolutely no intention of running.

The damn kid was just like her mother. Stubborn. Difficult. Too loyal for her own good. Worse, with the alphas down for the count, it wasn’t like any of them could muscle her out themselves. Hell, she could have knocked them over with a small shove.

So Dylan used the time to work out his muscles, to try to get them responding worth a damn. Not that it was going well. No matter how hard he tried, his body was about as cooperative as that of an unruly foal. His legs wouldn’t hold his weight and his arms had about enough coordination to manage to punch himself in the face when he was trying to push his hair back.

It was looking more and more like there was no chance of a good escape. Not that Dylan had ever believed in miracles or shit like that. The more he looked around, the more they came up with exactly nothing and the more he had to acknowledge they were probably going to die there.

Which he wasn’t looking forward to, he had to admit. Dylan hadn’t been a man afraid of death, but then again, he’d never had much worth keeping, either. Hard to worry about something like dying when his life hadn’t been anything to write home about.

If he’d had a home to write back to.

Now, though? He thought about not seeing Tracy’s smiling face. He thought about the way she fought with him, the way she squared up those thin shoulders of hers and tried to stare him down. He thought about Karen laughing and the spark in her eyes when she realized she was capable of so much more than she’d known. Fuck, he was going to miss that. He was going to miss the dinners where they all sat around that big table Sam had gotten, where they laughed and settled into such an easy routine that it seemed criminal they’d not been together all along. Hell, Dylan had come to regret the years he’d spent pissed, the ones where he’d held on to anger instead of letting it go and getting the fuck over his pissy attitude.

Didn’t it just figure that, at the end, when he finally found what he really wanted, he’d lose it? Somehow that seemed to fit with his general life and luck.

And, fuck, for the first time, it mattered.

Voices from outside had him twisting his head to listen. Thus far, he’d seen no one else, hadn’t heard anyone. The door had been locked, since Karen had tried it, quietly, to avoid detection.

Sam reacted first to the noises and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Karen, they’re coming, so you need to go, now.”

Again the girl shook her head, her hair swinging around her shoulders. “No.”

Sam managed enough dexterity to grab her hand, squeezing it tight. “You’ve got to, sweetheart. You can go get help, okay?”

Tears swam in the girl’s eyes, but they didn’t escape. No, she sniffed once, hard, and again shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.” Her voice broke, a tiny fissure in the walls she tried to put up. “I’m not going to lose you guys.”

And there it went. Dylan’s heart—useless thing that it was—cracked at the pain in that voice. Even so, she needed to get. The truth was that they weren’t getting free, and any idiot with a brain would know to off the alphas first. While that made him happy, that Karen would be safe, at least for a while, she also didn’t need to see that shit.

Before they could have the conversation further, before they could try to push her to go, the door swung open.

The moment Mario and his two goons walked in, they lifted their weapons at the sight of the alphas free.

Free, but all still seated, which showed more than anything the lack of strength they had. Mario scanned his gaze across them, then let out a soft laugh. “I suppose I shouldn’t have underestimated you. However, even unbound, you don’t seem much of a threat.” He walked forward, making Dylan’s shoulders bunch at the nearness, not wanting the fucker anywhere close to Karen. “I am forever amused that society likes to hold alphas up as something special. Clearly, that is in error.”

Dylan opened his mouth to say something he shouldn’t but snapped it shut when he thought about Karen. She didn’t need to pay the price for Dylan’s big mouth.

Mario cocked up an eyebrow, but let it go. He glanced down at his watch. “Unfortunately, the omega is late. She should have been here five minutes ago.”

“Traffic?” The snark slid from Dylan before he could help it, and his reward was one of Mario’s goons backhanding him. Copper filled his mouth, even though it couldn’t have been much blood. Just a few drops from a sting in his lip where his teeth caught him.

He spat the blood out onto the floor, ignoring the desire to tell the asshole he could barely hit. That would only make things worse, and for the first time, he had someone else to think about. While Dylan would happily suffer a few extra bruises for his difficult attitude, he didn’t want Karen seeing it. She’d witnessed too much shit in her life already.

He turned a glance her way to find her shrinking back, behind Sam, fear painted across her features. He could almost see her back when her fucking father had been alive, her hiding from him with that same face.

He gave her a smile, and while his chin tickled from a drop of blood that made its way down his skin, the smile seemed to soothe the kid.

Mario watched the exchange, gaze careful. He huffed softly, then shook his head. “This is the problem. Alphas do whatever they want, and we allow it. Betas outnumber alphas and omegas four to one, and yet we like to pretend you are special. You are mistakes, evolutionary screw-ups driven by hormones instead of your brains. And yet, even though alphas haven’t shown themselves to be all that vital, we keep setting you on pedestals.”

Dylan had heard such tirades before. Sure, maybe as an alpha, he wasn’t the one to have shit to say about how betas had it, but everyone thought they had it bad. Alphas got blamed for shit all the time, were watched carefully, always suspected first before a beta for any crime. The fact was that there were shitty parts to any designation, and if anything, betas had it damned good. They flew under the radar, didn’t have to worry about shit.

Some just took it to heart, as though it was some personal slight to them. He’d seen it in his stepdad, the way he’d blamed everything on alphas, like they’d personally fucked him over. Mario was the same sort of asshole beta with a chip on his shoulder, always feeling the need to show off that he was just as good as any alpha.

Mario kept speaking. “I told her what would happen if she didn’t show up. Of course, I can’t do away with all my leverage. That would be foolish. I still need her to follow through on her part, but she seemed to need a reminder about who is in charge.”

Dylan didn’t even need Mario to keep going. He knew exactly what was going to happen, and hell, maybe his shitty attitude was good for something. Mario was going to off someone to prove to he was serious, and since Dylan had managed to piss him off already, he was probably the best bet.

Fuck, that was just fine, though. If one of them didn’t walk away, he’d rather it be him. If he could buy the others the time, it was worth it.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sam said, always the one to try to fix shit.

“I really do.” Mario waved his hand toward Sam, and one of the goons lifted his gun.

“So, you get others to do your dirty work?” The words left Dylan before he could help them, desperate to pull the attention back. “Can’t even take care of your own problems?”

Mario’s gaze locked in on Dylan. Here we are, back in the game. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know that you hire alphas to deal with your problems. Doesn’t matter how much talking you do, you’re just a typical beta who hides behind others because you can’t cut it.”

Mario’s face pinched into tight lines before he reached out, snatching the weapon from the other man’s hand. He walked over to Dylan, and when he raised the pistol, the awkward tremble in his arm said he’d never held one before. “One of you dying is as good as any other. While I wouldn’t have minded the detective going first, I’ve got to admit, I like the idea of ending you myself.”

Dylan pulled his shoulders back and lifted his chin, unwilling to even flinch and give the fucker any pleasure of seeing him squirm. Mario’s arm quivered, but he stood there as if he was the biggest, baddest asshole ever, high on his own inflated sense of ego now that he had the gun.

Before he could pull the trigger, something flew at him. A heartbeat later, a call from Sam. “Karen!”

Sure enough, Karen’s thin body plowed into Mario, but due to her tiny size, he didn’t budge. It was enough for Mario to be knocked off course, however, and distracted. He struggled with her but couldn’t pull her off.

The click of her pocketknife’s blade locking into place, a flash of silver, then a howl from Mario.

She’d plunged the blade into his side, and even Dylan winced when she twisted the blade, forcing the wound open wider and causing red to pour like a faucet.

That was enough for Mario to really yank back, to throw her off and deliver a punishing backhand to her face, one hard enough to drive her small body to the floor.

A phone rang in the background, the hulking bodyguard to the right looking at the number, then answering in a hushed voice.

Mario grasped the wound, the gun having dropped to the floor during his struggle with Karen. Blood leaked from between his fingers, staining his immaculate fancy clothing. “You bitch,” he said, voice all hysterical anger.

Karen’s wild red hair hung in her eyes as she pushed to her hands, picking herself up. Strong girl. Mario would have been down for the count after a hit like that.

Mario bent forward, gasping in pain as he grabbed the gun. He pointed it toward Karen, and Dylan moved.

Despite the weakness, despite the drugs still in his system, he moved. Seemed the gas couldn’t quite overpower basic biological urges, like the one that told him to fucking keep that kid—my kid—safe. Because, she was his kid. Blood didn’t matter, because he’d claimed her mother and that meant he claimed her, too. The feeling was strange, the knowledge of this ready-made family, the sort of thing he never figured he’d get, but he was done fighting it. Even if he died there—and it was looking pretty likely—he was going to die knowing he had something worth a damn.

He didn’t throw himself at Mario. He had no chance at doing shit to him, not in that condition, but at Karen. He threw himself over her, shielding her body with his.

“Wait.” The gruff voice was new, and Dylan lifted his head, expecting to see someone else in the room. Instead, it was the henchman who had answered his phone. He fired his pistol, but the bullet tore through the chest of the other guard, not one of the alphas.

Mario yanked back, too startled to lift his weapon at the bodyguard. “What are you doing?”

The bodyguard appeared unconcerned with the room, as though nothing there mattered more than whoever spoke on the phone. “Yes, Mr. Kansas.”

“Kansas? You’re working for Torrin?” Mario’s cheeks went red.

None of it meant much to Dylan, beyond a possible chance at making it out alive. Of course, whoever wanted Mario out of the way might not have any better plans for them than Mario did, but hell, hard to get worse than where they were right then.

The man focused on Mario for the first time. “These people are under Mr. Kansas’s protection.” He held the phone out, finger pressing a button. “You are on speaker, Mr. Kansas.”

An authoritative voice came through the line, one that held actual power rather than the pretending Mario liked to do. “You are supposed to contact others before taking action like this on your own, Mario, especially when they might affect more than just yourself.”

“This wasn’t about you. It was about me. I couldn’t just let this bitch have those papers on me! They could send me to jail.”

“She has agreed that no file will come to light in exchange for the protection of herself, her child and those alphas. I agreed to this arrangement and already informed a few of our mutual acquaintances. We have all come to a consensus that this is the safest course of action.”

“You can’t do this,” Mario whined, having gone from an overconfident asshole to a child whose toy was being taken away.

“I can. Are the hostages unharmed?”

The bodyguard answered. “One alpha has a split lip, and they are recovering from the gas used to sedate them, but otherwise unharmed.”

“The child?”

“Mr. Navarro struck her.”

Silence crackled. No one drew breath, as though the voice across the line could reach out through the distance.

“He struck her?” Had any words sounded so dangerous, rumbled out slowly?

“Yes, sir. Hard enough to knock her to the floor.”

An unhappy sound, not quite a growl but close, before Torrin answered. “He behaves like a wild dog and should be put down like one.”

“Understood.” The bodyguard pulled the trigger twice, delivering two rapid shots to Mario’s skull, the skill at which he fired them frightening, even to Dylan who was no stranger to guns.

Mario’s body fell to the floor, and for all his posturing and threats, he’d been reduced to nothing with only a moment’s thought.

Dylan kept Karen’s face shielded from the body, didn’t want her seeing that. She trembled beneath him, but he wasn’t about to stop shielding her. This Mr. Kansas, this bodyguard, they might not want to kill them right then, but that didn’t mean he trusted any of them.

The voice from the phone started up again. “My employee will escort you all to your home, and I will have your omega meet you there shortly. You are all under the same agreement as she is. As long as those files never get out, as long as none of you breathe a word of what is in them, I can assure you, you will remain perfectly safe. It was nice doing business with you.”

The line went dead, and Dylan turned his head to view each of the others in the room.

What the fuck had just happened?