by D. J. Heart
His heart was racing so hard it felt like he’d run a marathon.
Washing his hands, Mason pulled up his sleeve again to make sure he wasn’t bleeding through the Band-Aid. A small red dot colored the middle of the brown tape, but it didn’t look like it was going to be a problem.
Looking over his shoulder at the stall where Blake was hiding, Mason realized that he’d never be able to live with himself if he didn’t tell him what the implant was and help him get it out.
“Hey, Blake?” he said, walking up to the door. “Can I come in?”
Before Blake could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and John’s voice.
“In you go. Get some sleep and stop making such a fuss,” he said. There was a sound of a sniffle, and then the door closed.
Thinking that John had left, Mason was caught off guard when the alpha barged into the room and grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the wall.
“I said no talking,” he growled, squeezing Mason’s throat so that he couldn’t breathe. “Do you understand? I hear everything that happens in this room. Every second of every day, I’m listening.”
John dropped Mason’s throat and knocked his fist on the door to the cubicle where Blake was hiding.
“That goes for you too,” he barked, slamming his fist on the door again. Blake made a strangled sound, like he was trying to hold back a cry of terror. Mason held his breath as John shot him a parting glare and stomped out of the room.
How had John known that they were talking? Had he just heard them when he came in, or was the dorm and bathroom bugged.
Mason couldn’t risk telling Blake or anyone else about the implants if their every word was being recorded. His whole plan rested on the fact that no one knew he didn’t have an implant anymore.
Breathing hard, feeling helpless and guilty, Mason left the bathroom. The new arrival—the omega that had been in the cage to Mason’s left—was sitting in the corner of the room with his knees pressed up to his chest and his face hidden in his arms.
Mason looked at him for a while, and then decided that if he couldn’t say anything to comfort him, he could at least show him that he wasn’t alone. Moving carefully, he moved next to the younger omega and sat down, so that they were sitting with their sides pressed together. He lifted his hand and carefully patted the omega on the back, trying to comfort him.
A while later, Blake came out of the bathroom and joined them. He sat down next to Mason, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.
A while later John came back with a fourth omega, and though he gave them a considering look, he didn’t object to their huddle.
“No talking,” he reminded them, staring at each of them in turn. None of them answered.
Mason hated him.
***
Chapter 7
The day after talking to Emily, Chris walked into his boss’s office intending to ask for some time off, but he knew right away that it wasn’t going to happen.
Marlow looked furious.
“What do you want?” Marlow barked, glaring at him. Chris looked back, unruffled. Marlow was a big man, with broad shoulders and massive biceps, though with age he’d gotten fat.
“Nothing, just wondering where you want me today,” Chris said. Asking for time off when Marlow was like this would only get him a lecture.
“We had an incident last night,” Marlow said, his voice calm even while his body remained tense. “One of our clients had an overdose. They had to take him to the hospital—along with the omega still hanging off his knot. He’s telling the cops he got the drugs here and that we said they were legal. Now I’m down one omega—fucking social services—and I’ve got my contacts in the precinct telling me they can’t make this go away. I need you to find out who the hell is selling drugs in my business and take care of them. Can you do that?”
Chris frowned. He had a pretty good idea of what happened in the club and brothel, and he hadn’t seen or heard anything about drugs.
“You really think someone here is selling drugs? Sounds to me like he brought them with him, and now that he got caught he’s trying to pass it off like he didn’t know they were illegal.”
“You think?” Marlow asked, frowning. Chris shrugged.
“I’ll look into it. If someone here is selling, I’ll find them. Either way, you might want to think about pinning this on the client. If he says he bought the drugs off-site, the cops can look the other way.”
Marlow looked like he was considering it. “Think you can make it happen without word getting out that we leaned on him?”
Chris grinned, the idea of fucking up one of the assholes who frequented the brothel not bothering him in the slightest.
“Won’t be a problem.”
“You’re a bloodthirsty son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Marlow asked, grinning. “Fine. I’ll have Dexter email you everything we have on the client and the investigation so far.”
“I won’t let you down,” Chris promised.
***
After reading through the information Marlow’s assistant sent him, Chris got on his bike and headed to the hospital. He was looking for a James Finster, and after flashing a fake badge to a rather flummoxed receptionist, he was pointed in the right direction.
Dressed up in a slick biker jacket, tight jeans, and a neat button-down shirt, Chris did not look like someone you’d want to mess with. No one ever questioned his use of the badge—even when they themselves were real cops or detectives.
Finster was in the nephrology ward, so that’s where Chris headed. He walked to the nurses’ station, scanning down the corridor to see if there were any cops standing guard outside any of the rooms.
There weren’t, which made Chris’s job much easier.
“Excuse me, miss,” Chris said, speaking to a nurse with her head bent over a chart, a frown on her face.
“Just a second,” the beta said, not looking up. Chris crossed his arms and waited, more amused than annoyed. It wasn’t often betas were dismissive of him, but when it happened it was usually a harried nurse.
At least that had been the case when he was active duty. The betas who had treated him then had taken no shit, and Chris had appreciated the tough professionalism.
“How can I help you…?” the beta looked up, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Chris standing before her.
“Officer Carver. I’m looking for a patient. James Finster. Would now be a good time to talk to him?” Chris held up his badge as he introduced himself. The nurse studied the badge, and after a few seconds she nodded.
“Now should be fine. He’s just finished eating breakfast. He’s a little tired, but the doctor looked at his chart this morning and he’s doing better than expected. He’s in room 3024. It’s down the hall to the right.”
“Thank you,” Chris inclined his head and walked away, tucking his badge back into his pocket. He found Finster’s room without any issue, letting himself in and locking the door behind him.
Finster was lying in bed, watching TV.
“Can I help you?” he asked, giving Chris a confused look.
Chris walked toward him without answering, taking the string Finster could use to summon the nurse and putting it out of reach.
“What the hell?” Finster cried, sitting up. “Who the fuck are—”
Chris grabbed his throat and pressed him back down to the mattress, squeezing down until Finster was red in the face and clawing at the sleeve of Chris’s leather jacket.
Chris studied him, his gaze cool and assessing. Finster was in his early forties, and he was in surprisingly good shape. He had a lean, wiry body, and an angular face with a flat nose and a large chin. Under normal circumstances, he might have been able to hold his own against Chris for a few seconds, but now he was completely helpless.
“You overdosed on Rut at Rover last night. I need to know who sold it to you.”
Chris kept his voice conversational, his tone at odds with the
violent way he was choking the alpha beneath him. When it looked like Finster was about to pass out, he let go of his throat.
Finster gasped for breath, but when he tried to sit up Chris pushed him back down.
“I don’t know. Just some guy who worked there. He said it was strong stuff, but I didn’t listen.”
Chris narrowed his eyes, leaning forward so that he was looming over the smaller alpha.
“Are you lying to me?” he asked, baring his teeth. He put his hand back on Finster’s throat, squeezing down just hard enough that he could feel it. “Because I don’t give a shit where you got it, but if you’re lying to me I’m going to break every bone in your fucking body.”
“You can’t—”
Chris laughed, pushing his hand over Finster’s mouth. He pulled the sheets over Finster’s body down to his thighs, exposing his bare torso and boxers. As Finster tried to push him away, Chris grabbed his balls through his boxers and squeezed.
Finster spasmed, and even though Chris was gagging him, the sound he made was loud.
“I’m not a cop, James. I’m someone who’ll enjoy hurting you, whether or not you give me a reason to,” Chris said, taking great pleasure in the weaker alpha’s misery.
After a few seconds Chris stopped squeezing, but he kept his hand in place until he was sure Finster wasn’t going to scream.
“Now, are you telling me the truth, James?” Chris removed his hand.
“I…” Finster was crying, his face wet with tears and his voice cracking. “I bought it from this guy in my building. His name is Cooper. I can give you his number, just don’t—”
“I don’t care,” Chris interrupted, sneering. “Call the detective on your case and tell him. I’ll wait.”
Chris took the phone lying on the table next to the bed and handed it to the sniveling alpha, along with the business card the detective had left behind lying next to it.
Finster sat up and took the phone and card, but he hesitated before dialing. Chris stepped forward and gagged him again, pushing him down flat. This time when he squeezed his balls, he didn’t hold back.
Finster thrashed and tried to get away, but Chris held him down easily. When he thought that the asshole had had enough, he released his crotch and leaned down so that he was staring right into Finster’s eyes.
“You’re pissing me off, James. I swear to God that unless you stop fucking with me I will pop one of your nuts right here. Do you understand?” Chris’s voice was hard and mean, and he meant every word. He felt cruel and strong, and he hated how good it was. How deep down, this felt like someone he could have been if only his life and upbringing had been different.
Lifting his hand, he waited for Finster to nod.
“Good boy. Now make the fucking call.”
Chris stood back as Finster dialed the number on the card with shaking hands, listening as he told the detective about where he’d really gotten the drug and then telling him exactly how to find his dealer.
“You don’t come back to Rover, and you never talk about this to anyone. Follow those rules and you never have to see me again, do you understand?”
Finster nodded, and Chris narrowed his eyes. He loved the way even a small change of his expression could make the alpha in front of him flinch.
“Good.”
Chris straightened his jacket, checking his hair in the mirror over the sink before unlocking the door and leaving the room. Once he was in the elevator, he called Marlow and updated him.
“Good work,” Marlow said, sounding happy. “Be back at the club by four. We’ve got a guest tonight and I want you on my security detail.”
“Will do,” Chris said, groaning internally. Being on Marlow’s security detail while he had guests was boring and exhausting. He had to be constantly on his guard in case the guest tried something, while also looking stone-faced and intimidating.
Hanging up, Chris put the phone back in his pocket and walked out of the hospital. Since Marlow didn’t need him until four, he had some time to himself before he had to head back to work.
Just enough time to do some research on Vincent Conroy.
***
Chapter 8
Mason looked up at the sound of the lock turning in the door, his heart speeding up as he wondered what could be happening now. All six of the omegas that had been in the cages were now in the dorm, huddled up together in the corner in one big pile of hugs and comfort.
John entered the room, closing the door behind him and crossing his thick arms over his chest. Everyone stared at him with nervous expressions.
“All right, everyone. Time for bed. Get undressed and leave your clothes by the door. Anyone who isn’t naked, in bed, with their head on their pillow in two minutes is in trouble.”
Nobody moved, and John’s lip curled. He took a menacing step toward them.
“Move!” he growled, pushing the redheaded omega sitting closest to him away from the wall with his boot. The omega fell to his hand and knees, and quickly scrambled away from the alpha towering over him.
Everyone got moving. As he got undressed, Mason looked at the Band-Aid covering his arm, relieved when he saw that he hadn’t bled any more after he pulled down his sleeve earlier.
Naked, Mason climbed into the bed closest to him and pulled the scratchy polyester sheets up over his body. His head hit the pillow and he waited.
The tweezers were still in his pocket. Mason’s heart started galloping, and he wondered what would happen if they were found.
Hopefully the clothes were being thrown away.
“That’s good. You can leave your beds to use the bathroom, but no talking. In the morning you’ll all shower, have breakfast, and get some exercise. In a few days you’ll be moved to the regular dorms to join the rest of the omegas living here. You’ve all been good so far, and I expect it to stay that way. Have a good night everyone.”
John shut off the light and exited the room, leaving behind an eerie quiet. Mason opened his eyes, and they took a few seconds to adjust to the dark. There was enough light coming through the crack under the bathroom door that they wouldn’t trip over themselves if they had to use the toilet during the night.
Mason spent a few minutes wondering if he should get up and retrieve the tweezers from his pocket, but it didn’t seem worth the risk. Before he could make up his mind, he fell asleep.
***
The next day was as stressful as it was uneventful. Mason and the other omegas showered, after which they got dressed in identical outfits that looked more like pajamas than anything. The thin cotton drawstring pants and T-shirts were comfortable enough, but the way they draped over his ass and clung to his shoulders felt almost indecent.
Their old clothes had been removed while Mason was in the shower, and with them Mason’s chance at removing the tweezers and disposing of them.
It was probably for the best. And even if his captors had found the tweezers, their first thought probably wouldn’t be that Mason had removed his implant. There were tons of reasons why an omega would be carrying around tweezers. Weren’t there?
Mason wasn’t really sure.
After showering and getting dressed, Mason and his fellow omegas were led out of the room and walked through a series of corridors until they came to a large dining room. They sat down at a table close to the door, after which the alpha chaperoning them pointed at Blake and the redhead and told them to follow him.
“Everyone else stay here and don’t move,” the alpha warned. Mason had been a little surprised when someone other than John had shown up in the dorm that morning, but he guessed he shouldn’t be. This was obviously a big place, and it made sense that the alphas who guarded them worked in shifts.
The new alpha hadn’t introduced himself, and Mason wasn’t about to speak without permission to ask him his name. The new guy was about the same height as their previous guard, and he was just as muscular. Mason wondered if that was a coincidence, or if there was a height and build requirement to wo
rking as an omega trafficker.
Again, he wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that his usual sharp tongue and sarcasm would do him any good with these alphas. His best chance of getting through this was to lie low until an alpha bonded with him.
A minute later, Blake, the redhead and their guard came back with breakfast. They ate in silence, after which they were taken to a fenced-in yard and told to walk calmly around the perimeter and stay quiet.
Walking outside, Mason was surprised by how warm it was. The sun tickled his bare arms, and as he started walking he closed his eyes and imagined he was back home, going for a walk on the hill behind his house in the summer.