Logan's Alpha (Evan's Alphas Book 3)

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Logan's Alpha (Evan's Alphas Book 3) Page 17

by D. J. Heart


  “I didn’t want to worry you. I wasn’t sure if they were actually going to prosecute me, or if they were just trying to rattle me. Anyway, Merchant made good on his promise. He got me out and came to pick me up.”

  “Well, honey, I’m glad that you told me now. You don’t have to protect me from this kind of thing. I don’t want you to. You’re my son; I’m always going to want to know what’s going on in your life. I’d rather worry than not know, okay?”

  Logan bites his lip in consternation. “Actually, Mom, that wasn’t what I need to tell you.”

  His mother sits back with a wary expression. “It’s not.”

  “No. I told you it was a good thing, remember.”

  His mother nods.

  “Well, after Merchant took me home, we were both pretty emotional. He felt that someone had tried to take me away from him, and I was feeling rescued… we sort of let our instincts get away from us.”

  “What does that mean?” his mother puts both hands on the table, palms flat like she’s steadying herself.

  “He asked if he could claim me and I said yes.”

  Logan’s mother just looks at him. Her face is blank, and he has no idea what she’s thinking.

  “Show me your neck,” his mother demands. Logan lifts his chin and pulls his shirt down, revealing the scar sitting at the junction where his shoulder and neck meet. His mother gasps.

  “You mated him,” she says, her voice low. Logan nods.

  “I wanted to tell you, I just… it happened so fast, and then I felt bad that you hadn’t met him first. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Logan ducks his head.

  “Are you happy?”

  Logan nods.

  “Is he nice to you?”

  Logan smiles, unable to help himself, and nods again. His mother takes a deep breath and nods her head.

  “Then I’m happy for you,” she says, getting up and walking around the table to give him a hug. He stands up, letting her hug him for as long as she wants. When she pulls back she holds him at arm’s length.

  “I want to meet him. The two of you can come over for dinner this Saturday. I’ll tell your sister to come, too.”

  “We’ll be there,” Logan promises. He kind of has to.

  “Look at you,” his mother says. “A new job and an alpha mate. Who would have thought?”

  Logan laughs, ducking his head. A lot has happened in the past month, but he can’t bring himself to regret any of it.

  “I know, right?”

  Logan feels a million pounds lighter. Now that his mother knows and everything is out in the open, he can finally relax.

  ***

  “So you don’t mind?” Logan asks Merchant later that day as they’re cleaning up after dinner.

  “Having dinner with your mother and sister? No, of course not. I’ll even dress up if you want me to,” Merchant says, grinning at him.

  “Dress up?” Logan asks. He’s never seen Merchant in a suit, but he imagines the alpha would look amazing.

  “If you want,” Merchant says, putting down the pan he’s been cleaning and leaning in to kiss Logan on the cheek.

  “That would be nice,” Logan says, picking the pan up and drying it off with his dishtowel. His skin prickles where Merchant’s stubble touched it.

  “I can be very nice,” Merchant says, moving behind Logan and pressing him into the counter. Logan’s breath stutters when he feels Merchant’s cock pressing into his ass. “Want me to show you?” Merchant’s voice is low and hot.

  Logan nods. “I… yes, please.”

  Merchant laughs. “Please. I like that,” he says, grinding his hips forward. “Say it again.”

  Logan smiles, doing as he’s told. “Please, alpha,” he makes his voice breathy, “show me how nice you can be.”

  Merchant’s chest rumbles in pleasure when Logan calls him alpha, and Logan can feel the way his cock throbs.

  Merchant puts his arms over Logan’s shoulders and hugs him close, grinding into him, before releasing him and spinning him around. Logan expects to be pushed to his knees, his mouth already watering for Merchant’s cock, when Merchant surprises him and sinks down on his own knees instead.

  “What are you—”

  Logan is interrupted by Merchant pulling down Logan’s zipper and freeing his cock, taking it into his mouth.

  “Fuck!” Logan cries, abs clenching in pleasure at the warm heat of Merchant’s mouth. Logan’s cock isn’t big like an alpha’s, just under five inches or so, and Merchant has no trouble swallowing him down to the root.

  Resting his hands in Merchant’s hair, the soft strands too short to get a proper grip on, Logan leans against the counter for support as Merchant sucks him off. It feels amazing, and Logan knows that he’s going to blow any second.

  “Merch, fuck… I’m gonna shoot,” he warns when he can feel himself hovering right at the edge. Merchant keeps on sucking him, pushing a finger under his balls and rubbing his taint with firm little circles before moving back and pushing for entry into his ass.

  Logan comes before Merchant can breach his hole, but that doesn’t deter the alpha. Merchant drinks down Logan’s come like he’s greedy for it, pushing his finger into Logan’s ass and rubbing his prostate right as his orgasm is winding down. The stimulation of his internal gland is like a second wind, and Logan sees stars.

  “Merch, I can’t… it feels so good,” he mumbles, almost unintelligible. When Merchant has sucked him dry, his cock a twitching, spent mess, he pulls off Logan’s cock and stands up.

  “Good?” he asks, leaning in for a kiss. Logan can taste himself on the other man’s lips.

  “So good,” he says when they pull apart. Looking down at the huge bulge against Merchant’s left thigh, Logan grins.

  It’s his turn to make Merchant feel good.

  ***

  The next morning, Logan wakes up alone. Merchant is off doing something with his friends, and Logan plans on spending the day lazing around the apartment and doing nothing. He has only three days left before he starts work, and he wants to enjoy them.

  After taking a long shower and eating breakfast, Logan is just about to turn on his favorite trashy reality TV show when his phone rings.

  “Hello?” he answers.

  “Logan Barnes?” a distorted voice asks. Logan turns off the TV and sits up straight, on high alert. Someone calling him and masking their voice can’t be good.

  “Who is this?” he asks.

  “I have information about the accident that sank The Pink Lady. I need to meet with you in person.”

  Logan takes a deep breath. He knows what this is about. The Pink Lady was a yacht that went down after an explosion during a fundraiser for the West Coast omega rights activists.

  Logan never worked with the West Coast activists, not having anything to contribute in their quest to disrupt the online activity of anyone in the omega trade, but he hadn’t been surprised when he heard they were dead. While Logan has always fought for omega rights, he’s never outright challenged the alphas that oppress them.

  The West Coast activists did. Big time.

  “What kind of information?”

  “Meet me in the northeast corner of Brenno’s Park in two hours exactly, by the fountain. Come alone, and don’t tell anyone I called. I’ll approach you.”

  The line goes dead, and Logan is left staring at the phone. He immediately calls Merchant, but the phone goes to voicemail. He doesn’t leave a message.

  What is he supposed to do? Even if there is proof that the sinking of The Pink Lady wasn’t an accident, does Logan really want to go up against alphas that use mass murder to solve their problems?

  Picking up the phone again, Logan calls Chad. The call goes to voicemail, and Logan curses under his breath. This time he leaves a message.

  “Hey, Chad,” Logan says, talking fast. “I just got a call from someone saying they had information about the omega rights activists who died in that boating accident last year. I’m meeting the
m by the fountain in the northeast corner of Brenno’s Park at three p.m. Please call me when you get this.”

  Logan hangs up and stares at the phone, wondering if he should go through with the meeting. If it were just him, he wouldn’t. But now that he’s working with Chad… his new partner might be able to actually do something with the evidence. If there is proof out there that someone killed a whole group of omega rights activists, doesn’t Logan owe it to them and to himself to help them get justice?

  By the time two thirty rolls around, Logan has made up his mind. He’s going to the meeting. Tugging on his shoes and jacket, grabbing his wallet, he makes his way outside.

  If he walks quickly, he should be able to get to the fountain in time.

  ***

  Merchant leaves the bar a little after five, taking a deep breath when he gets outside. He stuffs his hands into his pockets to protect them from the cold. He’s spent the day renewing and maintaining his contacts in the criminal underbelly of the city, while at the same time letting them all know that he might be moving on and taking a new job.

  Merchant, acting as a front for Peter, has paid a lot of money over the years in exchange for favors and information, and he’s a cash cow that’s going to be missed.

  Taking his phone out of his pocket, Merchant is surprised to see that he has seven missed calls. Frowning, he pulls up his menu and sees that he’s accidentally set the phone on do not disturb.

  The first call is from Logan, and the next six are from Peter.

  Fuck.

  Merchant calls Peter right back, hoping the alpha won’t be too mad. Peter is not the kind of man to try to reach someone six times without a reason.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” Peter snarls when he picks up the phone. Merchant swallows, heart sinking.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize my phone was off. What do you need?”

  “Your little beta left a message for Chad saying he had a meeting with someone who could provide information on the boating accident that killed all those omega rights activists last year. I need you to find out who he met, what he knows, and contain it.”

  Merchant feels frozen to the spot, the implication of what Peter is saying making him feel slow and light-headed.

  “What are you saying?” Merchant asks. He’s clutching the phone so tightly it might break, and his voice comes out as a low growl. There’s silence on the other end of the line.

  “Deal with whoever talked to Logan, and make sure Logan doesn’t do something stupid. I’ll deal with Chad.”

  “Does Chad know that you…?” Merchant is smart enough not to say “killed a bunch of omega rights activists” over the phone.

  “He knows. It wasn’t… it happened by mistake,” Peter says. Merchant wonders if that’s the truth, or just what he tells Chad. He knows that Peter can be absolutely ruthless when it comes to dealing with the people who oppose him. “We don’t even know what they know. Call me when you’ve talked to Logan.”

  Peter hangs up, and Merchant takes a deep breath to calm himself. At first, when Peter said “contain it,” he’d thought the alpha meant for him to deal with Logan like he would any other loose end. That Peter trusts him to handle Logan without resorting to drastic measures is a relief.

  He calls Logan, but the phone goes straight to voicemail. Getting on his motorcycle, pulling on his helmet and gloves, he tells himself that it doesn’t mean anything.

  Chapter 16

  Logan sits on the couch, his back straight, and wonders what the fuck he’s supposed to do now.

  The meeting in the park did not go anything like he’d thought it would. Instead of being handed information on who assassinated the West Coast division of the Omega Rights Advocacy Group, Logan was asked to entrap his mate and extract a confession where Merchant admits that he is the killer.

  It just doesn’t add up.

  There’s a buzzing sound coming from the table. Logan flinches and looks at his phone vibrating across the glass surface, ignoring Chad’s call. It’s the twelfth one in the last hour.

  Could it be true? Could Merchant have bombed a boat fully loaded with omega rights activists, financial donors, caterers, and crew, just to make life easier for one of Peter’s clients? It doesn’t make sense.

  Logan knows that Merchant is dangerous—that he operates in a very gray area of the law—but he’s not a mass murderer. He can’t be.

  Staring at the folder in his lap, Logan tries to steel himself and flip it open, but he can’t. The beta from the park—who’d refused to give a name, lower his hood, or take off his sunglasses—had said that the folder contained evidence that Merchant is the person Peter goes to when he needs someone to disappear.

  Killed, he’d meant. Logan isn’t stupid. The beta thinks that Logan’s mate is an assassin and a murderer, and Logan hates himself for not immediately dismissing the idea as a lie. He should throw the folder away without even thinking of opening it, but he can’t.

  The truth is, he and Merchant don’t really know each other. They’re mates, and they have a soul-deep chemistry, but beyond that they’re strangers.

  There’s a sound coming from the door, and Logan jumps. He clutches the folder in his hands, staring at the door as he listens to his pulse thumping in his ears.

  “Logan?” Merchant calls, and a second later he’s walking into the room. He’s still wearing his leather jacket and motorcycle boots, and he’s got his helmet clutched in one gloved hand. If nothing was wrong, he wouldn’t have rushed into the living room without putting away his clothes in the front hallway closet.

  “Is it true?” Logan asks. Chad must have told Peter where Logan was going, and then Peter must have called Merchant.

  Merchant’s face falls and Logan feels like his whole world is falling apart.

  “One of Peter’s team leaders ordered it,” Merchant says, walking carefully into the room and coming to stand in front of Logan on the other side of the coffee table. “He acted without Peter’s approval. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and Peter dealt with it.”

  Logan stares at Merchant, incredulous. How is the fact that Peter wasn’t the one who ordered the bomb supposed to make him feel better? It doesn’t make Merchant any less guilty.

  “Why would you even say that?” Logan asks, confused. Merchant was supposed to deny the whole thing, not confess and say that it had been dealt with. What’s wrong with him?

  “This person you met with,” Merchant says, ignoring Logan’s question. “What are they planning?”

  It takes Logan a few seconds to process the question, and when he gets what Merchant is asking, he snarls, “What do you think? They’re going to expose it.”

  Merchant closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. “What exactly do they know?”

  Logan swallows, his mouth dry, and doesn’t say anything. Merchant can’t seriously expect that Logan will help him cover this up, can he?

  “Logan,” Merchant says, moving around the coffee table and crouching down right in front of him. “I need to know what they know, and everything you can tell me about them. We need to make sure this never gets out to the public, do you understand?”

  Logan doesn’t reply. He feels like the world has turned upside down, and nothing's making sense. Merchant sighs and takes the folder, prying it away from Logan’s clenched hands. He flips it open and reads through it.

  “Why did they give you this?” he asks. He sounds confused. When Logan stays silent, he sighs again.

  “Logan, I know that this is hard, but I need you to talk to me. Who are these people?”

  “I don’t know,” Logan says, unable to keep denying an answer to his alpha’s question. He shudders. Merchant hasn’t used his alpha voice yet, and if he does, Logan doesn’t know if he would be able to resist telling Merchant everything he wanted to know.

  The people who contacted him can’t have known that he’s allowed himself to be claimed by Merchant.

  “Let’s talk about the pict
ures in the folder,” Merchant says, putting his hand on Logan’s thigh. Logan looks down at the leather-clad hand and feels trapped under its weight. Merchant rubs him gently and Logan hates the shudder of pleasure that runs down his spine.

  “I know it looks bad,” Merchant says, choosing his words carefully. “And it is. I have no excuse, but I swear to you that I haven’t done any more work like that since we got together.”

  Logan doesn’t know what to say to that. He has no idea what’s in the folder, but now he wants to know. He takes it back from Merchant and flips it open, staring at the first picture. Merchant was right; it does look bad.

 

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