Chapter 42
When Grant handed him the tablet with the message on it, Rafe had nearly collapsed with relief. If it weren’t for the presence of the fussy beta, he would have slid to his knees, declaring his gratitude. And joy. And terror at what might happen next.
And now alone with the precious tablet clutched to his chest, he had the leisure to parse all those feelings and sort out where he went from there.
It all depended on Grant. And on what he wanted from Rafe.
Annoyance flickered. Why couldn’t the man have been more precise? The message on the tablet screen shone clear in Rafe’s memory:
Password 1883$!dCy3. Keep tablet—return case. Get yourself out after dark. I’m waiting. Sorry.
So few words, but so many questions! The man said he was waiting. What did that mean? Waiting to take Rafe to prison as a hacker and a kidnapper? Or waiting to be the wheel man in the getaway? And the one-word apology: Sorry. Was that Sorry I didn’t believe you? Or maybe, Sorry I have to turn you in? Or hardest of all, Sorry you’re not going to be mine?
Frustrated with his speculations, Rafe accepted he’d have to wait until he got out and faced the alpha. Nonetheless, he still couldn’t stop wondering what might happen then.
If Grant showed up with restraints, Rafe would find a way to escape and start over somewhere far away. His shoulders sagged. A solitary life spent in hiding, unable to trust anyone, condemned to loneliness. Could he do that anymore? Was it a life worth living?
On the other hand, Grant might be facing prison himself for trying to rescue Rafe. Maybe the two of them could go on the run together, hiding out and living by their wits. A fugitive life with Grant was better than living alone, but still Rafe wanted a home. And security. And children.
Of course, the rosy dream he was indulging in assumed Grant wanted him. True, when Rafe had tried to impale himself on the alpha’s cock, the man had been aroused and eager. At least for sex. But what if that was all? If Rafe became nothing more than a possession, an omega prize, he’d come to hate Grant just as much as he hated Tommy Morton.
The only acceptable outcome would be a partnership. Not total equality, of course—alphas always needed to think they were in charge. Rafe would settle for a voice in decisions affecting them both. He mentally grinned as he added to his list of requirementsthe option to argue about the rest
Whatever happened, it would all depend on Grant.
That realization stung. After twenty-eight years of fighting for autonomy, a damned alpha would be calling the shots after all.
He lowered his head to hide the rueful smile forming on his lips. As long as the alpha was Grant, Rafe might be okay with it. 23
In the parking lot outside the auction building, Grant battled with himself as he sat in his vehicle with the engine running. Leaving was part of the rescue plan, but the idea of abandoning his omega had him writhing with guilt. Added to that was his alpha side bellowing refusals to go. A glance at the clock warned him he was long past the safe zone of normal behavior for sitting in a car going nowhere. If security was watching and suspected anything, it would be Rafael who’d pay the price.
Not acceptable.
He jammed the shift lever into drive, hit the gas pedal hard, and turned the car in the direction of the Omega Council offices. Rubbing the back of his neck, he imagined the delicate dance he’d have to do to get through this. But he needed help.
On the way downtown, he called ahead to the only beta member of the Council. The man, Walter Siegel, had been chosen to be the cold voice of reason in a room filled with hot-blooded alphas. Acknowledging the possibility they might follow instinctual drives instead of logic, the alphas had granted the beta veto power over them. That precaution might serve Grant well.
Twenty minutes later, he parked and made his way to Siegel’s office, all the while praying the man would support Grant’s claim on Rafael.
The smiling secretary who had welcomed him moved to the inner office door, poked her head in, and announced, “Director Tenereth is here.”
The gray-haired beta came out and greeted Grant with a warm hug. Leading the alpha inside, the man waved a hand at the leather couch. “Sit down. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chat.”
“Yes, sir. Too long.” Siegel was an old friend of the family, and Grant had grown up trusting the man.
The beta used the armrests to ease himself into the chair opposite Grant. “Damned arthritis.” Once he was settled, he grinned and said, “So, I can’t wait to hear the story. On the phone you called it a ‘disastrous pile of wonderful’? What’s going on?”
Praying he was doing the right thing, Grant told his story. He downplayed Janet’s role, hoping to shield her from any criminal consequences. And he tried to gloss over the more salacious parts of his and Rafael’s encounters. The knowing look on Siegel’s face told him the older man was having no trouble filling in the blanks. Grants cheeks heated as he continued under the rapt attention of those sharp eyes.