Topping the Alpha: Trident Security Series

by Samantha A. Cole

  He took a deep, shaking breath and ran a hand through his hair, while Nick fought the urge to touch him the way he wanted to, in comfort and support. “Anyway, after my senior football season was over, I had more free time and started exploring places to meet guys where no one knew me. By that time, I knew girls weren’t doing it for me, but there was no way I was coming out. Not to my family or my friends. I was too afraid of their reactions.” He paused and, for a moment, Nick thought he might not continue. “I…uh…I started doing community service at a food pantry during my sophomore year to pad my college applications. It’s where I met Max…Max Sterling. He started volunteering there just after New Year’s my senior year and became my first real boyfriend—you know, not just a one-night-stand or a friend-with-benefits. He also became my first Dom.”

  Nick’s head whipped up and he stared at Jake in shock. “You-you had a Dom? I mean, you were a submissive?”

  A low chuckle emanated from Jake chest. “What? You think Doms just wake up one morning and decide to be one? Think they instantly know how to be one?”

  Shrugging, he responded, “I never really thought about it.” And it was true, he hadn’t. And now that he had the idea in his head, he wondered if either of his Dominant brothers had been subs when they’d first started the lifestyle.

  “I know what’s going on in that mind of yours, Junior, and those are your brothers’ stories to tell—if they choose to. But I will tell you this, any Dom worth knowing has been a submissive at some point. They’ve at least submitted their way through a limit list. If a Dom hasn’t had it done to himself, then he shouldn’t be doing it to his submissive.”

  Nick’s jaw was now almost on the floor. He shifted in his seat until he was facing Jake. “You’ve been whipped?”

  “Several times. As a submissive and as a Dom, although it’s been a while.”

  A bolt of possessiveness passed through the younger man. He practically growled. “Who?”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Who what?”

  “Who fucking whipped you?”

  Faster than a cobra striking, he grabbed Nick’s jaw and held him firm. The younger man tried to pull back, but it was useless. Jake’s angry green eyes were fixed on a pair of startled blue ones. “My past Doms and submissives are not up for discussion, if that’s where you’re going with this. We’ll have to be a lot further along in a relationship for that. I only brought up Max because…fuck, I don’t know why I brought him up. But as for the last two people who whipped my ass, they were Master Carl and Mistress China. It’s been a long time since I’ve been a submissive, but getting whipped every once in a while reminds me of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. Now shove that jealousy back down where it belongs, Nicky-boy.”

  Shit, he’d fucked up big time. Jake had actually been opening up, but now he was pissed and shutting down again. Abruptly, the Dom stood and jerked a thumb toward the front of the cabin. Cain was stirring in his seat, so it was just as well their conversation was over. But he couldn’t let it end this way—he didn’t want Jake mad at him. Before their third impromptu teammate could get up to join them, Nick tilted his head up toward Jake and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally a jealous person. I took that too far.”

  * * *

  A terse nod was Jake’s only response, but then he realized it wasn’t enough. This was going to be hard for the new submissive. He’d always been a non-lifestyle top, and learning to submit, without fighting it, was going to go against a lot of his ingrained emotions and practices. Yeah, Jake was a little pissed at the moment, but he had to set the rules and parameters before he expected them to be followed. “Yeah, you did. But we have other things to worry about at the moment, so we’ll shelve this discussion for later.”

  As Cain stood and stretched, Jake turned and strode into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He needed a few minutes alone to get his head back on straight. What had he been thinking bringing up Max? After all these years, he still had affectionate feelings for the man who’d led him down a path of new discoveries. And what was it about Nick that made him want to spill his guts and bare his soul all of a sudden? He’d tried to bury his emotions and just state the facts about his background, but it was fucking hard to do. It’d been a long time since he’d talked about his past to anyone, and no one, not even his team or his brother and mother, knew the entire story. Splashing cool water on his face, he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and forced the ghosts of his past back into the far reaches of his mind…where they belonged.

  CHAPTER 8

  A little after eleven a.m. on the outskirts of Pueblo, Colorado, Slim Daniels reached for another Budweiser from the cooler and handed it to his best friend, Wally Dunn, before taking one for himself. That was the great thing about fishing, it was never too early for a beer. The current of the Arkansas River was a little calmer today than it had been a few days ago when they had taken Dunn’s little boat out, so maybe today they would catch a few—not that it mattered. As the saying goes—a bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work.

  The fourteen-foot boat bobbed up and down in a soothing rhythm as Slim cast his line toward a deeper part of the river, where the two of them had successful catches before. They’d tied their towline to one of the pylons holding up the small bridge above them. In addition to being a man-made anchor, the overpass gave them shade from the sun. Slim’s face was leathery enough from years of working outdoors in his landscaping business.

  “Norma’s been pissing me off lately,” Dunn grumbled. “I just finished renovating the damn bathroom and now she wants the fucking kitchen redone.”

  Slim snorted, but didn’t answer. Dunn’s wife had been pissing him off since the day they met over thirty years ago. Today was nothing new.

  Overhead, the occasional car passed by, but the bridge was two stories high, and after a while, Slim was able to tune them out. It had been a good ten minutes since he’d noticed the last one and another vehicle was just now making its way across the river. But instead of passing over them and continuing on, this vehicle stopped. Stupid idiot, Slim thought to himself. The bridge wasn’t that long, so the driver could’ve made it to the other side easily if he needed to pull over. A tug on his fishing line grabbed his attention and he forgot all about whatever was happening above him. Reeling the line in a bit, he felt the weight of the fish as it fought the hook in its mouth. It didn’t feel like a keeper, so it would probably get thrown back after he got it aboard the boat.

  Beside him, the other man casted upriver a bit. The quiet surrounding them was broken by a loud splash followed by Dunn cursing. “What the fuck?”

  Slim looked over his shoulder to where his buddy was staring at something bobbing and floating toward them in the water. “Did some fucking jackass just toss his garbage off the bridge?”

  “Close, looks like a rolled up carpet.”

  As the large mass got caught up in the current, the speed with which it approached them increased. Dunn used his fishing rod to hook onto the rug, dragging it closer to the boat. It wasn’t until it thudded against the hull that they saw long black hair sticking out of one end. Both men stared at it, then glanced at each other in horror. It was obvious today was one of those times that a day of fishing wasn’t going to be better than any day at work.

  * * *

  The moment Jake walked into Pete Archer’s two-bedroom condo in Colorado Springs, Alyssa threw herself into his arms and began sobbing hysterically. It was obvious her tears were a continuation of her earlier crying on the phone. Her eyes were red and puffy, and snot was dripping from her nose. Despite her current appearance, she was pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way.

  They were in the foyer and blocking the front door, so he picked her up in his arms and carried her into the living room. Behind him, Cain and Nick entered the first floor unit before Pete shut the door. While the three men introduced themselves, Jake sat down with Alyssa on his lap and rubbed her back
and arms, trying to soothe her. “Shhh. I’m so sorry about your mom, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Shhh. Calm down.”

  As Jake continued to murmur words of sympathy to the teenager, something inside Nick stirred. He’d never seen this tender, comforting side of Jake, and a part of him melted at that moment. There were still many things he didn’t know about the man, but he couldn’t wait to find out more. Pushing the wayward thoughts from his head, he turned to Pete. “Anything new since Jake spoke to you?”

  Forty-year-old Pete Archer was about an inch taller than Nick, but not as broad. Due to a receding hairline, he kept his head shaved and reminded the younger man of the guy from the Mr. Clean commercials. He shook his bald head and indicated for the other men to take a seat, grabbing a recliner for himself. “No, not really. My buddy stuck around as long as he could without raising suspicions. Like I told Reverend, there was no body and with the place trashed, it’ll take some time before they find any evidence, if there is any. Alyssa thinks the two men had gloves on, and my buddy overheard bleach was used to hide the DNA.”

  Cain spoke as he sat on the room’s other recliner, leaving Nick to take the couch with Jake. “So this wasn’t random and it seems the husband found them. But how?”

  Cocking his head toward the teenager, Archer replied, “Alyssa has no idea. She said they were careful and followed all the rules that group of women gave them. I dumped her cell phone after I picked her up just in case they manage to get the number and track it. The Canon City cops are looking for her and saying she’s a missing person of interest at the moment. I thought of calling my cousin—he’s a cop here in Colorado Springs—but he’s going to want to know why I’m asking questions about a crime scene in Canon City, so that’s out. At least until she’s out of the area. Then I can honestly say I have no idea where she is.”

  While calming Alyssa, Jake had been listening to the men’s conversation. Now that her crying and sobbing had quieted some, he eyeballed Pete. “Will you be able to nose around and keep us informed? I want to get her to a safe-house ASAP.”

  “Sure, no problem. But can you fill me in a little more, so I know what I’m looking for?”

  Jake helped Alyssa off his lap and turned her toward a hallway. “Go to the bathroom and wash your face, sweetheart. We’ll be leaving for the airport in a few minutes.”

  Nodding, she silently left the room, and then Jake continued. “I’ll have Ian email you the file, but put it this way—Alyssa’s father has money and connections. He’s not afraid to use both to find and kill her. If she tells anyone he’s been sexually abusing her since she was twelve, he’s ruined, whether the cops believe her or not. And she’s too scared to go to them. In the beginning, I tried to gather evidence, but without her testimony, there was little to go on.”

  Pete glanced over his shoulder and made sure the bathroom door still closed, before lowering his voice. “Are you positive she’s telling the truth about the abuse?” When Nick growled, the other man held up his hands. “I’m just asking, man. She wouldn’t be the first girl to claim it for some other reason.”

  Jake waved a hand at Nick, signaling him to calm down. “It’s all right. I know where he’s coming from. When I first joined Team Four, one of the guys was falsely accused of rape by a seventeen-year-old SEAL bunny. It was hell for him until NCIS located a home surveillance video—two weeks later—that proved he was across town, jogging alone on the beach, when it allegedly happened.” Nick knew all about SEAL bunnies—they were status seekers, just like rock-star groupies. Jake turned back to Pete. “And yeah, I’m sure. The group that helped her had her examined by a GYN. She needed to be tested for diseases and shit. The doc said there was signs of long-time abuse, and not just in one area, if you get my drift. The mother also confirmed she was assaulted any time she tried to intervene.”

  “Fuck!” Pete spit out, yet keeping his voice down. “Do you mind if I go kill the mother-fucker first?”

  “Stand in line.”

  Jake looked at Nick and nodded his agreement. “Nick’s right, there’s a line and it’s growing. But for now, we have to figure out what the hell is going on. I need to know how he found them, and I hope it’s not because of a weak link in the Friends of Patty system.”

  The bathroom door opened and Alyssa walked out on wobbly knees. “Where are we going to go?”

  Jake stood and pulled her into his arms again. “We’re going to a place where you’ll be safe until we can figure things out.”

  “What about my mom?”

  Pulling back so he could see her face, Jake cupped her chin. “There’s nothing we can do for your mom right now except take care of her daughter for her. When this is all over and you’re safe again, we’ll do what we can to find your mom and give her a proper burial.”

  The young girl nodded and bit her bottom lip to keep from crying again. “I’m all alone now.”

  Standing, Nick took a step toward her, without getting in her personal space, and gave her a small, reassuring smile. “No you’re not, sweetheart. You have us.” He glanced at Jake, saw his nod of approval, and felt the warmth of his gaze. He hadn’t said it to please Jake, but knowing it did made him want to keep pleasing the man. Damn, he had it fucking bad.

  * * *

  A half hour later, they were taxiing down the runway in Chase Dixon’s plane once again. Jake had brought a wig, hat, sweatpants, and T-shirt that Ian had loaned him from Angie’s closet so they could disguise Alyssa until they were safely out of the area. On the way to the airport, Foster ran into a deli and grabbed everyone some subs to eat during the several hour trip to Spartanburg, South Carolina, where the pilot would drop them off. From there, they would drive an hour and a half to Trident’s safe-house in Maggie Valley, North Carolina. Even though there were closer airports to their final destination, the team always took extra precautions to ensure they weren’t being followed or tracked.

  When the plane leveled off, everyone unbuckled their seatbelts and settled in. Jake grabbed a blanket and pillow from a closet by the pantry and brought it to where Alyssa was sitting somberly on one of the jet’s couches. “Lay down, sweetheart, and try to get some rest. It’s a little over three hours before we land and we have a bit of a drive after that.”

  Alyssa’s adrenaline crash had her sound asleep within minutes of getting comfortable. The men took seats on the opposite side of the jet and pulled out their sandwiches. Foster handed Jake and Nick some napkins from the bottom of the bag. “All right, we’ve got the girl. Now what? I’ve got to learn to start thinking like an operative, instead of a fed. I think I’m going to like not having all the bureaucratic red tape to deal with.”

  Jake snorted as he unwrapped the white paper from his roast beef sub. “It does have its advantages, I’ll tell you that. I gave Carrie Wagner’s cell phone number to Ian, so Egghead can trace her activity, along with Alyssa’s. I know she said they followed the rules, but I want to make sure there were no slip-ups. When we get to the safe-house, I’m going to call my contact in Friends of Patty and see if she can trace which network contacts were used to get them from Florida to Colorado. But I don’t know if it can be done. From what I understand, the first contact passes the ‘package’—that’s what they call the women—to another contact. After that, the first contact has no further knowledge about where the package goes. Each contact only knows who they got the package from and who they handed it off to. That way only one person knows the final destination, and anyone searching would have to go through a hell of a lot of people to find the package. The contacts randomly pick who they pass off to, so there’s nothing routine.”

  Swallowing a mouthful of food, Nick washed it down with a swig of soda. “What about Wagner himself? There’s got to be a way to put him behind bars for this without her testifying. Maybe there are other victims—I doubt she was the only kid he did this to.” He glanced at Alyssa to make sure she was sleeping, but lowered his voice just in case. “Did she ever say if there were p
ictures or videos? Most of the cases like this I’ve read about, the fucking perverts like to have souvenirs.”

  Sighing, Jake nodded. “Yeah, there are. Nothing we’ve been able to find on the internet—I had Brody do a search—but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. The geek was able to get on a bunch of private pedophilia and snuff porn sites without leaving a trace he was there and he wasn’t happy about it. I think he took a three-hour shower afterward and then got drunk.”

  “Don’t blame him,” Cain mumbled.

  “Neither do I. Anyway, the photos and videos Wagner took are somewhere…my guess is in a safe at his house. And at this point, I highly doubt we’ll be able to get a search warrant.”

  Finished eating, Nick crumbled up the empty paper which his sub had come in. “Too bad we don’t know a cat-burglar who knows how to crack a safe.” Jake froze with his almost finished sub halfway to his mouth and Nick stared at him in confusion. “What?”

  A shit-eating grin spread across Jake’s handsome face. “I like the way you think, Nicky-boy. And I know just the right person to contact. If he can’t do it, he’ll know someone who can.” He stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth and brushed the crumbs from his fingers before grabbing the jet’s phone. Dialing a number every member of the team had memorized, he relaxed back in his seat. When the call connected, all he heard was the usual short beep sans greeting. “Dude, it’s Jake. I’ll be landing in Spartanburg in about three hours. Give me a call because I need your super-spy skills. Ciao.”

  Hanging up, Jake proceeded to fill Cain in on the team’s good friend and U.S. black-operative, T. Carter.

  CHAPTER 9

  Oliver Wagner stared at his right-hand man with fury written all over his face. “What do you mean she got away? Those shit-for-brains idiots I hired were supposed to kill both of them, then get rid of the bodies! I can’t have either one of them popping up again!”