Adrenaline Rush: M/M Mpreg Alpha Male Romance (Never Too Late Book 2)

by Aiden Bates

  "How? How is this different? It's my choice."

  "It really isn't. Not anymore." Ozzy pointed at the bassinette. "You have her. You have me. You have people who depend on you now. You don't get to just turn your back and say whatever, it's art to us!"

  Pete stiffened his back. "Actually I do. And that's not what I'm doing now." He closed his eyes. "I'm showing my daughter, our daughter, that I'm not going to live a life dictated by fear, or by anyone else. I make my own decisions. When she goes to school, and the teacher says, 'What do your daddies do?' she's going to say, 'One catches bad guys and one shows the truth to the world.' Not, 'One catches bad guys and one hides in the basement from his own shadow.'"

  He took a deep breath. "And you don't depend on me. Marissa depends on me. You don't. You come crawling home at midnight, you leave before six, you don't even eat here on the weekends anymore. The house is just a place to store your stuff."

  Ozzy staggered back. Pete could have stabbed him and it probably wouldn't have hurt that bad. "How can you say that? Everything I'm doing I'm doing for you, to keep you safe!"

  "Except you could literally lock me into a closet somewhere and I still wouldn't be safe. This guy has a wide network that's going to take a long time to dismantle." Pete closed his eyes. "I think you must be pretty unhappy here, or else you'd be more interested in what's going on here than what's going on down at the station." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not looking to pick a fight with you. I know that you want this to work as much as I do. I just… I think that if it was working, you'd be here."

  Tears rolled out of Ozzy's eyes. "Pete, come on. I know it's been rough, but it's just until we catch Sierzant. Once we get him, things will get better."

  Pete sighed. Everything he'd said had just gone in one ear and out the other. "Sure, Ozzy." He headed for the walk-in closet and got changed into pajamas. "I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day."

  "Oh. Yeah. Good night, Pete."

  Ozzy didn't come to bed that night. Pete found a blanket on the couch when he got up the next morning.

  Pete's family was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd tried to express his concerns, and might as well have saved his breath for all that Ozzy had listened. Ozzy hadn't even noticed the weight that Pete had lost, the way that Pete had been unable to eat much at all since Marissa was born. If Ozzy wouldn't even listen to Pete about staying in the workplace, or about Pete's need for him at home, he certainly wouldn't listen to him about how Pete was feeling about himself.

  Ruth didn't say anything. Pete didn't expect her to. They worked well together, and he knew that she cared, but they didn't have that kind of friendly relationship.

  Pete didn't completely discount everything Ozzy had said about Sierzant, just because they disagreed about the response. Pete knew that he wasn't safe, and he was less safe given that the alpha whose investigation caused him to be targeted wasn't paying enough attention to know what was going on. He made a point of being extra aware of his surroundings. He tried to avoid going alone into secluded locations for shoots.

  And he made more of an effort to bring Ruth to Weston.

  Ruth hated Weston. She didn't hide it well, getting tense and quiet as soon as they crossed the town line. She acceded to the plan more readily once Pete explained himself to her, though. "Look. Ozzy's right to worry, even if I don't think that he's right about how to handle it. If something happens, I want you to take Marissa and get to safety. My mom's got this giant gate around her property, and it's electrified when she wants it to be."

  "I see." Ruth nodded. "That's actually kind of genius."

  "I have my moments."

  If Cynthia suspected the reasons that Pete insisted on bringing the nanny on visits, she didn't express them. When Pete insisted on leaving a cache of formula, diapers, and clothing changes at the house, she did raise an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise, my dear?"

  "It's not what you think, Mom." He stood up straight. "It's in case something happens to me or Ozzy, and one of us or Ruth has to run with Marissa. Your house is the most secure."

  "Ah." She pressed her mouth together. "You know, I thought you'd have been claimed by now. How old is Marissa now? Nine weeks?"

  He wouldn't react. He wouldn't rise to the bait. "Something like, yeah."

  "Hm." She shook her head. "Well, I do hate to be an I-told-you-so. Is he still sharing your bed at least?"

  "Mother!" His cheeks burned. Then he hung his head. "No. I don't… He doesn't want to. He's been on the couch."

  Cynthia threw her arms around him, the first time she'd done that since Pete had been a small child. "Oh, Peter. I'm so sorry. Come home. Come home, and live here again. Don't live someplace where you have to be reminded of him."

  Pete let the tears leak out of his eyes. Could he truly give up on Ozzy, and on their life together? Was there anything of that life to cling to? "I'll think about it," he promised, and he meant it.

  "Excellent."

  He cleaned himself up and even managed to have a civil conversation with Angus before he and Ruth packed Marissa up to go home. He felt a little bit better for having admitted to his mother that things were going poorly. Cynthia hadn't ever been the kind of mother that a person confided in, but she'd been supportive when he needed her just now. She hadn't judged him, and she hadn't really judged Ozzy either. She'd just offered him a space to go where he didn't have to be reminded, and if things were truly over that was what he needed.

  When they pulled into the driveway, the house was dark. That wasn't unexpected. The house was usually dark when Pete and Ruth were both out. Pete sat in the driveway for a long moment, trying to figure out why something seemed amiss. The front door was closed, the window treatments looked as pristine as they always did, and there wasn't anything outward to signal what was wrong.

  "The patrol car," he said, snapping his fingers.

  Ruth twisted her body around to try and get a look behind herself. "The one that usually sits across the street?"

  "Exactly. It's not there." He licked his lips. "Your phone is paired to the Bluetooth in this car, right?"

  "Yeah." She nodded, eyes wide. "You made sure of it yourself. You don't really think there's a problem, do you? It's possible that he got called away by something major, like a big accident or a bank robbery or something."

  "It's possible." He gripped the wheel for a moment. He should just turn the car back on, throw it into reverse, and head back into Weston. He didn't give even half a crap if he looked ridiculous. He cared about his daughter. He cared about Ruth. He wasn't a court of law; he didn't need proof right now.

  If he spooked, though, he'd have to talk to Ozzy about it. He wasn't ready for that yet.

  "Have 911 pre-dialed and be ready to run," he warned. "I hope that it's nothing, and I'm probably being absurd. Postpartum depression, right? But I'd rather be too cautious than not cautious enough."

  They got out of the car together and headed toward the kitchen entrance, the one they usually used. Pete opened the door cautiously and inched into the house. He didn't smell anything different, or anything special.

  The fact that the presence of his alpha now qualified as something different and special almost knocked him to his feet with grief.

  He paused after a few steps into the kitchen. There weren't any new scents. He couldn't see anything special in the dark house, either. Not right away. He held up a hand, and Ruth froze in her tracks, creating perfect silence.

  A floorboard creaked. Pete turned his face to look in that direction, and he saw a glint of metal.

  "Run!" he barked to Ruth. "I'll hold them off!"

  The door slammed as Ruth raced back out the door. A gunshot exploded, the muzzle flash bright and beautiful in the darkness just before searing pain ripped through Pete's arm. He cried out and clutched at the arm, ducking close to the ground before he raced for shelter.

  Liquid, hot and sticky and bad, pumped out between his fingers. That wasn't good. He tried not to
think about it as he duck-walked toward the living room. If he could make it out to the front door, maybe he could make it out of here alive.

  "Ah, ah, ah!" called a voice that Pete didn't recognize. "I don't know if anyone ever told you, what the boss wants, the boss gets. And the boss wants you." Another gunshot echoed through the house. Pete heard it embed itself in the drywall. I hate spackling, he thought to himself with a semi-hysterical giggle. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

  He heard the attacker's heavy boots stomp past him and into the living room. Well, crap. Maybe he could find his way to safety through the kitchen. He crawled out from hiding and made a beeline for the back of the house, staying as low to the ground as he could.

  Blood loss was already making him dizzy, which wasn't good. Hopefully Ruth had gotten away. Hopefully she'd called 911, but the important thing was that she'd gotten away. Marissa being safe was the only thing that mattered right now.

  He fumbled with the back door and stumbled out onto the deck. He'd almost made it to freedom. If Ruth had called 911, he'd be safe just as soon as the cavalry got here. Assuming, of course, that the cops who showed up were clean.

  He didn't have time to be chilled by the thought. Russ stood at the foot of the deck stairs, shaking his head. "Your boy doesn't know when to quit, does he?"

  Pete didn't know what else to do. He threw his head back and screamed.

  A light went on at the house next door.

  "Ah crap." Russ shook his head. "Here we go." He hefted Pete into his arms and made a face even as the other assailant ran out the back door. "Hey dumbass, shooting him was brilliant. He's bleeding all over the place. Our orders were to bring him in alive."

  "Yeah, well, if we get him to the car I'll patch him up. I got a kit in there." Pete could see the attacker clearly now. He wore a state trooper's uniform. "If you hadn't run, I wouldn't have shot you."

  Russ carried him, huffing and puffing the whole time, over to Pete's detached garage. When the assailant threw open the door, Pete's heart sank.

  No one was going to save him. Not only was his attacker in uniform, he drove a state police cruiser. In fact, he was the guy scheduled to sit outside Pete's house.

  The trooper opened the trunk and cut off Pete's shirt. Then he slapped a piece of gauze down onto the wound, pressing hard, and wrapped it in more gauze. He taped that gauze in place. Pete was already woozy from blood loss, which he could see now was substantial. When they tied his wrists and ankles, he didn't have the strength to resist them.

  They folded him into the trunk and closed the lid. Ozzy's final thoughts, before pain, panic, and blood loss caught up to him, were about how no one would think twice about letting a cruiser through, in any direction.

  ...

  After the fight about Pete staying home, when Pete decided to be a stubborn ass and then accused Ozzy of staying at work so late just to avoid him, Ozzy found himself at a loss. For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do. He decided to sleep on the couch, so that he wouldn't wake Pete up. Obviously Ozzy waking up so early was having a kind of negative effect on Pete, making him overthink the whole thing with Ozzy's schedule. If he wasn't confronted with it, then he wouldn't think about it.

  For a while, Ozzy thought that it must be working. At least, he didn't have any way of knowing that it wasn't working. He didn't see much of Pete, at all. At least before, he'd been able to see Pete when Pete was sleeping, to hold him close and breathe in his scent. Now he couldn't even do that, and he knew on some level that was bad. It was going to take a lot of work to fix their relationship, and to get some things through Pete's head.

  God, but he missed Pete. He missed Marissa, too. He missed their alone time, those late night feedings. It would all get better, he told himself, once they'd nailed Sierzant to the wall.

  Devlin was the one who first tried to clue him in that things might not be as great as he wanted them to be. He called Ozzy into a meeting, first thing in the morning because the guy was a sadist. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

  "Yes, sir." Ozzy nodded. "The case is moving along. We've found what Parzych was hiding. He's been working for Sierzant for five years, helping him to run drugs from Springfield to Worcester. And I've got a full name for the guy who accosted Pete and his buddy in Deerfield." Mentioning his omega's name gave him a pang, but he pushed through it. "Russell Meyrick, formerly of the Massachusetts State Police and now the proud owner of a whole row of buildings in the Back Bay."

  Devlin whistled. "Yeah, sure, that money's clean. But that's not what I called you in to talk about. You're here from six o'clock in the morning until well past eleven at night."

  "Oh, that's okay, sir. I've never needed much sleep." Ozzy shook his head.

  "That's fine for you. But you've got an omega now. You have to take care of him, Ozzy." He folded his hands on his desk.

  "Oh." Ozzy blushed. "I haven't claimed him yet."

  Devlin drew his brows together. "Oh. Well that's interesting. Can I ask why not?"

  Ozzy frowned. "There's a case, remember? I have to focus on the case. That's my job."

  "Sure, it's your job. But you're supposed to be in love with him, right?" Devlin sat back in his chair, waiting for Ozzy's answer.

  "Of course I'm in love with him. I'm just waiting for the case to be over before I claim him." Ozzy bit the inside of his cheek. "He's not ever going to be safe until I finish this."

  "Okay. But you do get that he has other needs too." He cracked his knuckles. "Did they talk to you about an omega's needs, postpartum?"

  Ozzy stood up. "Sir, Pete's a big boy. He'd tell me if he were sick, if there was an infection. He'd go to the doctor."

  "It's not like that. Pregnancy changes a body, and a lot of people feel very uncomfortable with their bodies after they've just had a baby. Those that have partners need to feel that their partners still love them, still want them, and are still attracted to them." He leaned forward. "I know this is a delicate subject, and I normally would never want to even briefly think about my subordinates in anything resembling a sexual context. Ever," he added with a shudder. "But here's the thing. The man I saw when he was here the other day did not look healthy. He's not taking care of himself. And there's no one around who's making sure that he eats or sleeps.

  "If I didn't know that he has an alpha, Ozzy, I'd say that he was alone. I'd go so far as to suggest that he'd been abandoned by his alpha. Now I know that none of my detectives would abandon an omega."

  Ozzy rolled his eyes and leaned on the wall. "Sir, with all due respect, I feel like you're overreacting a little. It's hard to be a parent. It's harder to be a parent when the other one's working overtime, okay? He's doing all the work, getting up for all of the late night feedings and everything, while I'm here. We've got a nanny; I'm not sure what she's supposed to be doing. But it's just until the case is over."

  Devlin blinked at him. "Ozzy, there's always a case. We're detectives. When there aren't any more cases, we're out of a job."

  He shrugged off Devlin’s comments, moved on and kept working, trying to narrow down enough on Sierzant to get a warrant. They would have to move against the dirty cops all at once, and Amos was reluctant to do it now. He was sure they could catch more if they kept digging, and he wasn't wrong. The question was, was it worth it to keep digging at dirty cops or would it be better to go after the mud puddle that soiled them?

  Robles tried to say something to him about Pete too. He came up to Ozzy about a week and a half after the fight and bent down at his desk, speaking to Ozzy in a low voice. "Hey, man, are you and Pete okay?"

  "We're fine." Ozzy shrugged. "No problems. Why?"

  "Because Ryan's freaking out. He says that you haven't claimed Pete, even though it's been eight weeks since Marissa was born, and now Ryan's scared that I'm going to abandon him too." Robles rolled his eyes. "I know, right?"

  Ozzy scowled. "What the hell is this, abandon crap? I haven't abandoned anyone. I still live there. I'm sleeping on the cou
ch so that Pete doesn't wake up when I come home or when I wake up. I haven't claimed him because I need to finish the case first. That's all. Did he use the word abandoned?"

  "No, man." Robles held up his hands. "No. Ryan did. I mean, Pete's looking kind of bad, I think Ryan can be forgiven for thinking that. But it's between you guys. You still do want him, right?"

  "Of course I do!" Ozzy thumped the desk. "Why do people keep asking me that?"

  Robles turned bright red. "Um. Ryan asked him if sex is any different after the baby than it is before, and Pete told him that you haven't wanted it since Marissa was born." He held his hands up again, in a kind of warding gesture. "I mean, again, that's between you guys. Not my business, but hey, you asked."

  "Why the hell is Pete talking about this with Ryan and not me?" Ozzy looked up at the ceiling.

  "Um." Robles looked down at the ground. "Don't shoot the messenger, but according to Pete, he did."