Buried Passion: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance (Never Too Late Book 1)

by Aiden Bates

  "Actually I do. See, this is why I tried to have myself removed from this case. Twice, already. It didn't have anything to do with the material in the case. It had everything to do with you. You have no idea how to work with another human being and you're completely incapable of respecting an omega. You never saw me as a partner or as an equal. I've been a detective for longer than you have, buddy, and I've solved more cases too."

  Ryan was shaking by now, and he didn't know if it was from adrenaline or rage or fear. "Oh, and who is it who got that confession just now? Was it you with your nasty words, and your slamming things on the table just like his brother? Or was it the guy who made him feel like it was safe to speak freely? Hmm?" He pointed to the door. "You're right. You don't need me anymore. You got what you wanted out of me, and now you can just toss me aside. Go. Get lost."

  "You're going to regret this," Nick vowed.

  "The only thing that I regret was not resigning before they put me back on the case with you!" Ryan shouted. "I am every bit as good a detective as you are, you wouldn't be at this point in the case without me. If you can't accept that, get out of my office. I am not obligated to make myself lesser to boost your ego."

  First one person applauded. Then another joined in. Ryan heard the rustle of fabric as the other people in his unit rose to their feet. He couldn't believe it. They were giving him a standing ovation, complete with wolf whistles. His whole face burned, but a little place inside of him glowed.

  Nick glowed too, but it wasn't with pride or joy. "We'll talk later," he vowed, and left the room.

  Ryan sagged down into his desk chair as the other members of his unit surged around him. "That was incredible." Lt. Frisk patted him on the back and seated herself on the edge of his desk. "Come on into my office, Ryan. Let's have a little chat."

  Ryan swallowed past the lump in his throat and followed his supervisor into her office. He was still shaking. He still wasn't sure what had just happened back there, but he was pretty sure it was bad. Had he and Nick just broken up, or had they merely had the fight of the century?

  Frisk passed him a bottle of water. "So," she said, "that was intense. I thought you guys were working better together for a little while."

  "So did I." Ryan felt something hot behind his eyelids, but he pushed it away. He didn't need tears right now. "Apparently he isn't a big fan of using honey to catch flies."

  "Did I seriously hear him say that you weren't a good detective?" She shook her head. "I'll have his badge for this."

  "Please don't." Ryan looked across the desk at her. "The job is the most important thing in the world to him and his family. He can't lose it."

  She harrumphed. "His omega should be the most important thing in the world to him."

  Ryan choked on his water. "You know?"

  She gave a mirthless laugh. "I know women get branded as gossips, but it's alpha men. They're the absolute worst. They're like celebrity magazine social media sites. They never stop." She took a deep breath. "Ryan, I am so, so sorry."

  Ryan blinked to force back the tears. "I shouldn't have let it happen. I mean, yes, I wanted it, he wanted it, it was totally mutual, but I'm still the one on the hook." He set his jaw. "I'm not going back, though. You can take my gun and my badge. I'll mail you the uniform. I'm not going back to work in that kind of an environment."

  "No. You are not." She laid her hands on the table. "You weren't named to this project just because they wanted a token omega, or a token Asian guy, Ryan. That played some role. You weren't even named to this investigation just because it looked likely that expertise in child abuse was going to be useful. You were named to this investigation because I needed to name a successor. The higher ups wanted to see proof that you could stand up to people in other departments, to include people who imagined that they might have some authority over you."

  Frisk reached into her drawer. "I'm sure that there will be some kind of promotion ceremony or something. There usually is. Effective immediately, however, you're being promoted to the rank of Detective Sergeant. There is a raise, of course, and there will be a corresponding rise in responsibility for some managerial functions."

  Ryan accepted the envelope she held out with shaking hands. "But—but I'm pregnant!"

  "I'm sure the salary bump will be helpful when you're looking for child care." She winked.

  "Thank you?" He couldn't have been more shocked if he'd touched a live wire. "Yeah. Thank you. Thank you so much, Lt. Frisk."

  "Thank you, Ryan. You've done an incredible amount of work. I'm proud of everything you've done so far, and everything you're still going to do. And I'm proud of what you've done on the Townsend-O'Neal murders. Do you know, I've heard from Rosa Townsend Acker, and from Leanne O'Neal? They've both had glowing things to say about you." She reached over the desk and squeezed his hand. "You're very good at what you do, Ryan. For now, though, I think you should go ahead and take the rest of the day off. It's been a long one, and you've earned it."

  "I promised Steven's lawyer that I'd look in on him," Ryan demurred.

  "I'll take that on myself. I know what he did, I saw your initial report when you went after the warrant, but he should still feel safe here. And besides, we still need him." She jerked her head toward the door. "Go on, get."

  Ryan did leave, eager to let the fuss die down about his altercation with his alpha. He looked in on Steven before he left, but Steven seemed to be doing fine. He was sitting in his cell, writing on a legal pad with a crayon. Ryan chatted with him for a moment before taking his leave.

  The news of the promotion, and the amount of trust that his supervisor had in him, gave him some lift on what would otherwise have been a terrible day. It was the second time since he'd taken the case on that he stripped himself down and crawled into bed, exhausted past caring that he was naked and alone and it was only the afternoon. All that he cared about was the fact that unconsciousness beckoned.

  He had a hard time answering the call. He'd changed the sheets since Nick's last visit, but he imagined that he could still pick up his alpha's scent underneath the fabric softener. Would he ever see the man who inspired such surrender in him again?

  And what the hell was wrong with Ryan, anyway? Why couldn't he just bow his head and accept Nick's anger? Nick felt strongly about what Steven had done, and to be honest a lot of that was justified. Steven had done some terrible things. It was a good thing that Nick couldn't feel the same kind of all-consuming guilt that went along with being responsible for someone else's death.

  Ryan knew that Nick wasn't mad at him, not really. Nick was just lashing out because he was upset at the O'Neals' crimes, and he found the idea of empathy with someone like that abhorrent. Ryan had some issues with that, but that wasn't why they were fighting. At least, it wasn't why Ryan was fighting.

  Ryan was fighting because he'd been going along believing that Nick had finally accepted him as an equal, when in reality that would never happen. Nick had protested up and down that he was open to working with Ryan, and that he accepted Ryan for himself, but at the end of the day he'd still viewed Ryan as a rookie, or a student. He'd expected, or even demanded, that Ryan defer to him as the lead investigator on the case.

  That wasn't what Ryan had signed up for. And he didn't think that he was being arrogant when he refused to tolerate it. At home, they could do the traditional alpha and omega thing all day. It was fun to pretend, or even to give in, for a little while. It was different when they were at work.

  He finally fell into a fitful sleep. He woke up at two o'clock in the morning when his phone rang.

  He grunted into the phone rather than answering it. At two in the morning, whoever called him deserved what they got.

  "Sargeant. Tran? This is Trooper Williams in the holding unit at Headquarters."

  Ryan sat up. If the holding unit was calling him at this hour, they must have something important to say. "What happened?"

  "I'm afraid to be the bearer of bad news. Steven O'Neal was found
dead in his cell just a moment ago, sir. All efforts to revive him failed. He, ah, he left a note. It was addressed to you."

  Ryan covered his mouth and waited for the nausea to subside. "Okay," he gasped after a moment. "Okay. Thank you for letting me know. Has anyone notified Detective Robles from Cold Case yet?"

  "No, sir. We saw that you were the ranking officer on the case, and the suicide note was addressed to you, so we decided to hold off."

  A little stab of vindictive pleasure gleamed through the whirlwind of grief that threatened to wash over him. That promotion was going to piss Nick off no matter what, but the fact that he'd thrown his weight around as being the detective actually assigned to Cold Case meant that he'd be furious that he'd lost out here. Given that Steven might be alive right now if Ryan could have overruled him then, Ryan would take it. "Excellent," he said. "I'll be there as soon as I can. I'll take care of notifying Detective Robles once I know more."

  "See you soon, sir."

  "Yeah. See you soon, Trooper." Ryan hung up the phone and searched for clothes to wear.

  ***

  Nick jumped out of bed when his phone buzzed at three in the morning. He had the presence of mind to check the caller ID. Ryan, great. After their two spectacular blowout fights today, Ryan was just about the last person that Nick wanted to speak to right now. Ryan hadn't ever struck him as the kind of guy to do the drunken phone call at three a.m. thing before, but then again he'd been wrong about Ryan.

  Wait, Ryan was pregnant. Ryan shouldn't be drinking.

  He answered the phone. "What the hell are you doing drunk?" he growled.

  Ryan was silent and speechless on the other end for a moment, and Nick wondered if he'd fumbled the phone or maybe butt-dialed him. Then Ryan's crisp, cold voice came through. "Not drunk, although it's interesting that your mind went there. Steven O'Neal was found dead in his cell an hour ago. I thought you might want to be here, as you made abundantly clear this is a cold case and not related to Abused Persons." He hesitated for a moment. "I can ask someone to pick you up, if you need it."

  Nick bit back his temper. "I'm sorry I accused you of being drunk. I wasn't expecting to—never mind. It doesn't matter." He closed his eyes. Everything he said was coming out wrong today, especially when it came to Ryan. He should just stop speaking.

  He forced his muscles to unclench. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  He threw on something vaguely professional-looking and drove into the office. He headed down to the holding cells, but the trooper on duty directed him down to the crime lab and the ME's office. He fumed a little bit at that. When he got there, he found Ryan lounging in a chair, waiting for him. The icy look on his beautiful face terrified Nick.

  Even Ryan's scent seemed diminished, and that just made no sense at all.

  "What's going on here?" Nick couldn't let himself be distracted by the tattered state of his relationship with Ryan. There was still a case here; he still had to solve it. They could work on themselves when it was finished, and see if they could salvage what they had. "Why was the body removed? And why did they call you instead of me when he's my prisoner?"

  Ryan snorted. "Okay, so you feeling territorial is more important than the fact that a man is dead?" His eyes were absolutely flat. "They moved the body because there are other people in the holding cells, and it's just not nice to leave dead bodies lying on the ground, Nick. I'm not sure how they handle things in Brighton, but in Lowell we like to handle our dead with an eye to sanitation and respect. They called me because his suicide note was addressed to me, and because I'm the ranking officer listed on his file."

  Nick's jaw dropped. "You're making that up."

  Ryan looked over at him, and he suddenly looked profoundly exhausted. "Believe it or don't, Nick. I don't actually care."

  Nick closed his mouth and glanced over at the technician watching the scene. "Is there a conference room or something, someplace that we can go to have a semiprivate conversation?" He turned to Ryan. "Assuming that you're willing, of course." He knew that he was exaggerating his politeness for that line, but he didn't care anymore.

  "Fine." Ryan's mouth tightened.

  The technician led them to a room that looked like someplace they usually used for families. It came complete with several boxes of tissues. Then the technician backed away slowly, like he didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.

  Ryan left the door open. "All right, Nick." He tried to rub some life back into his face. "What did you want to talk about?"

  "What's this crap about you outranking me?" Nick sat down in one of the chairs and sprawled out.

  "It's exactly what it sounds like. My superior called me into her office and gave me the promotion." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Not long after you left, in fact."

  "Why would she do that? Was she kicking you upstairs?" Nick scratched his head. Then he saw the look on Ryan's face and stopped. "I did it again, didn't I?"

  "You did." He shook his head. "This was one of my biggest concerns, right from the start, you know. I knew you didn't respect me as a detective. And they forced me to work with you, and we were getting along, and I thought, Hey, maybe he's getting better. But no. Even though I've performed time and time again on this case, you still take every opportunity to try to tear me down."

  "No, I don't! It's just that you're sloppy." Nick bounced his leg up and down. "You don't work the case the way it's supposed to be worked, and you don't find things the way they're supposed to be found. You just draw conclusions willy-nilly and sure, they happened to have been right in this case but that doesn't work most of the time."

  "My record says otherwise." And there was that frigid tone again.

  "I can't believe that. Not with the way you go trying to cuddle the suspects and be their friends and crap." Nick wished he could stop, but everything was pouring out and he had no way to stem the tide. "I love you, but I hate the way you work cases. It's bizarre, and it's sloppy, and it's wrong."

  Ryan pursed his lips for just a second. "So, I don't work a case the way that you work a case, so you get to dismiss my entire record, all of the work that I've done, and you get to tell me that I should really be pulling speeders over."

  Nick squirmed. "Look, when you put it like that you make me sound like an ass."

  "Good." Ryan stood up. "Good talk. Now let's get down to this case, which I'm not even supposed to be working because I told them that I'd turn in my gun and badge before I worked with you ever again. I made you a copy of Steven's suicide note. The original is in evidence, because that's just how it works. A man is dead tonight, Nick, and you had a huge hand in it."

  Nick jumped to his feet. "You're not laying that dirtbag at my feet."

  Ryan's eyes blazed. "I think that if we'd put a suicide watch on him, like I said, he'd still be alive today. I think that if he hadn't had someone in his face screaming his greatest sins back at him, he might have had a fighting chance."

  "No." Nick shook his head for emphasis. "Hell no. That guy made his own choices and they were bad ones. This was just one more."

  "And it was one that two people who were with him saw coming, and could have prevented." Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. "Why is this so hard to grasp? He was a human being. He deserved a chance to pay for his crimes and then move forward with his life."

  "No. You don't pay for murder. There's no payment for what he did to them. There's no damn price. Sure, he was distraught, and he offed himself, and I don't care." Nick waved his arms. "There, I said it, okay? I don't care. The guy was a useless ass, he killed two people, and I don't care that he's dead."

  Ryan sucked in his cheeks for a minute. "Okay. I'm actually really kind of horrified by that, but look at the practical side of this for just a minute. Steven O'Neal knew where his brother is. I was hoping that he'd tell us in the interrogation room, but your outburst put a stop to that."

  Nick couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What, while the two of you were singing Kumbaya?"

 
; "Yes. He was feeling very open and willing to share. The only other person that we know has the location is Joe, the son, and he'll be a much tougher nut to crack. But good luck with that. I'm sure the yelling and screaming will get you there eventually." Ryan walked toward the door.

  "Ryan, wait." Nick reached out, but pulled his hand back before he could make contact. "Look," he said, trying to keep the waver from his voice. "Listen," he tried again. "Don't take this the wrong way. I love you, I do. I just… I don't think we can see each other until the case finishes playing itself out. It makes both of us too angry."

  Ryan snorted. "Because you don't respect me as a professional. Yeah. I think you're right. We should step away from each other."

  "Just until the case is over." Nick stepped toward his omega. "You know that, right?"

  "Sure thing." Ryan's expression didn't change.

  "I'm getting the impression that you're not sold." A cold, icy fear gripped Nick's heart.