Heated Conspiracies

by Aiden Bates

  The list was penned on motel letterhead. Morning Wood Motel—he hadn’t been kidding about staying in questionable accommodation. In neatly looped cursive, he’d written out what he needed.

  It was a big ask, but we might be able to swing it. Might being the key word.

  “This’ll mean a trip to Arlington General. They’re pretty state of the art, for the size that Fort Greene is. The community college could cover some of this too—they’ve got a transfer program to USC, which means their labs aren’t all that bad. But this will mean calling in some favors on my end.” I sought out Derek Stillwell’s eyes again, trying to find some flash of brief triumph in them. Some last-minute clue that he was actually fucking me around here—that buying into his bullshit was writing a check I was going to regret cashing. Instead, all I saw was desperation. Need. And beneath that…fear. Plenty of it. He knew that he’d stepped in some real shit, getting messed up with Bicroft and Josh’s investigation. And now that said shit had hit the fan, he needed me. Needed Harper and Nick, Ernesto and his boys—all of us.

  Which was handy, in a way. Because whether I liked it or not…

  If I wanted to track down the bastards behind this madness, I needed Derek, too.

  “I won’t let you down, Detective,” he told me, reaching out like he meant to take my hand. He thought better of it mid-reach though, pulling back and resuming his blushing all over again. Under any other circumstances, it might have been cute. Hell—it probably still was. “I, uh. Sorry. I want to do my part in this. Not just for the Omegas that Bicroft’s pills have fucked over but…well, for Josh, too.”

  I felt a lump rise in my throat at the mention of Josh’s name just then. I swallowed it back down, feeling that old wound reopen like Derek Stillwell had just nicked my stitches with a pocket knife.

  No matter what we did on this case, it would never bring Josh back to us. But the fact that Derek wanted to do right by my brother meant more than he could have known.

  “You, ah…you know Josh well?” I tilted my head back, sizing him up again. Handsome Omega. Nice eyes. Elegant cheekbones and a cute nose. I didn’t know why it hadn’t struck me before that maybe Derek had come to Fort Greene for more than just saving his own skin. Maybe there’d been something there between them.

  Like he was reading my mind, Derek’s flush intensified. He looked away, cheeks turning hot pink. “I didn’t sleep with your brother, if that’s what you’re asking, Detective. He was a good man. I got to know him when he and Adrian pulled me in on his story, is all. You King boys might be lookers, but I promise you that our relationship was strictly professional.”

  “Hey—no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, feeling like an asshole. Of course, I’d meant it exactly like that—but it was shitty of me to draw that kind of conclusion. “And drop the Detective thing, okay? This isn’t like television. I’ve got no jurisdiction here in Fort Greene. If you and I are going to be working together on this, call me Kaleb. Okay?”

  Derek hesitated for a moment, but when he turned his gaze back on me, his eyes were bright with hope. “You mean you’ll help me then?”

  Maybe against my better judgment, I nodded. “I’ll help you. Me, Harper, Nick—even our buddy Ernesto and his security firm. You’ve got us all on your side now, Derek. If this hunch of yours is correct, it’ll be you that’s helping us.”

  “I…thanks. That’s a relief.” Derek still didn’t look entirely sure about that, but to be fair, he’d put a bad taste in a lot of powerful people’s mouths when he took that vial. “And if…if Bicroft gets to me before I can process this—”

  “No.” I cut him off before he could even begin talking like that again. “I don’t want you worrying about that. From now on, I’m gonna be with you day and night.” I patted the gun at my hip—the one I’d been pointing at him barely half an hour ago. “You’ll be safe. You have my word.”

  A little smile played on Derek’s lips. “Well…if I have your word…”

  I struck my hand out, and he took it. Firm grip. Soft skin. Two shakes.

  “Come on. Let’s get you introduced to the rest of the team, then.” I held tight on his hand as I rose, helping him up out of his chair. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

  “Yeah,” Derek said with a tense laugh, using my grip as leverage to pull himself up. “You’re telling me.”

  3

  Derek

  Harper King, two years younger than Kaleb, still moving with care from the wounds that a gunman had put in his body for sticking his nose into Josh’s story. Nick Paulson, who Harper had introduced as his Omega—then, a beat later, had patted Nick’s stomach and introduced me to their future child together as well. I met them both in the living room of Nick and Harper’s home, along with a towering dark-haired man with the sounds of Havana still on his tongue—Ernesto Alvarez. Along with Ernesto’s “boys”—the men he employed in his security firm—this was the team that Kaleb and I would be working with if we wanted to get to the bottom of what Joshua King had started.

  I looked them all over again as they discussed next steps and found my chest flooding with a cool wave of something close to calm. Not quite relief—that wouldn’t come until this entire conspiracy had been put to bed—but something akin to it. After Adrian had dropped off the map, I’d been terrified that I’d be dealing with the consequences of stealing from Bicroft all on my own.

  But here in Harper and Nick’s place, I couldn’t have been further from that fate. Adrian’s tip had paid off. The King brothers had my back on this—at least, for as long as I could maintain their trust.

  Which meant my fate was in their hands now.

  “Ernesto, you mind parking one of your men outside? Now that Derek’s here, I think we’d be better off if we had eyes on the place.” Kaleb spoke with authority. I guessed the badge in his pocket and the title of detective to his name probably helped with that.

  “Brock. You’re on.” With an inclination of his head toward the door, Ernesto sent a thick-necked, muscle-bound guard out through it. “Anything suspicious, you text Kaleb first, then me. Clear?”

  “Crystal,” Brock agreed, shutting the door gently behind him.

  “That just leaves accommodation then.” Kaleb had already briefed everyone on what I’d told him, which I was grateful for. My story felt like it had a hell of a lot more credence coming from his firm, well-shaped lips.

  “You’ll stay here, obviously.” Nick shot a playful glance at Harper. “We’ve already, ah, scoped out the quality of short-notice accommodation Fort Greene has to offer. It’s not much, and we’re already a pretty full house now that Ernesto’s boys have started moving things into the baby’s room, but—”

  “You can take the couch then.” Kaleb nodded to the plush navy sofa before us. “I’ll set up camp on the floor.”

  Harper cringed slightly. “You sure that’s a good idea? I don’t mean to disrupt the little commune you three are trying to set up here, but camping out in the living room isn’t going to exactly be a thing of comfort.”

  “I won’t take up much space,” I blurted out, embarrassed enough for the space I was taking up as it was. I’d come to Harper’s hoping for resources. Kicking Kaleb to the floor was the last thing I wanted. “But if it’s too cramped, I’ve got cash on me still. I could get a room—”

  Kaleb waved the offer away. “It’ll be fine. The important thing right now is keeping you safe in case Bicroft comes sniffing around. We know that either Carver Media or American Families First have their eyes on Fort Greene already.”

  “And all signs point to these heavy hitters being in bed together,” Harper admitted with a groan. He bore a strong family resemblance to Kaleb in the face, especially when he looked annoyed like that, but he didn’t share in Kaleb’s dark hair or marbled hazel eyes. “As for us, the only bed we’ve got free in the house is the baby’s crib.”

  “But Derek’s going to be a hell of a lot more difficult to protect if he’s in some sh
itty motel across town,” Kaleb pointed out. “So, I’ll take the floor. Derek can take the couch. That okay with you?”

  He turned to me, a stern look in his hazels that told me he was asking as a formality, not as a chance for me to say no.

  I sighed. “I’m just grateful that you’re all willing to help. But you should take the couch—I’m fine with the floor.”

  “No,” Kaleb said, chest rising as he prepared an argument to the contrary. “You’ll take the couch, and I’ll take the—”

  “Oh, why don’t both of you just can it?” Harper rolled his eyes. “I’ll pick up a couple of mattresses tomorrow and you can stop fighting over who’s more chivalrous. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect, Harper.” Ernesto clapped Harper, then Kaleb on their shoulders before rounding up the rest of his men. “Meanwhile, the boys and I will head back to KPS. It seems that the house is full enough now without us trudging around inside it too.”

  There was a twinkle in Ernesto’s eyes as he and the other KPS men took their leave. When they were gone, there was an awkward silence that it took Nick to finally break.

  “And I’ll order pizza. Anyone opposed to anchovies and pineapple?”

  “Salty and sour. If this baby’s not a girl, I’m going to eat my own damn boots.” Harper threw up his hands, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as he pulled out his phone and Kaleb chuckled.

  “Pregnancy cravings again?” Kaleb guessed.

  Nick echoed Kaleb’s laugh. “Harper’s about sick of them, but yeah. We’ll get a pepperoni too. Just because I want to eat weird shit doesn’t mean the rest of you have to be subjected to it.”

  I watched them disappear out into the kitchen to call in the order, not missing the way Harper kissed Nick’s forehead as they went.

  “How long have they been hitched?” I asked Kaleb.

  “They’re not—yet, anyway. Already act like an old married couple though, don’t they?”

  I smiled softly. “Yeah. Yeah, they do.” I paused, glancing at the couch again. “You know, I really don’t mind the floor. You were here first, and—”

  “I’ve slept on worse,” Kaleb assured me. “Don’t be an idiot. Take the couch. There are better things to argue about than who’s sleeping where.”

  “Split the difference?” I suggested.

  Kaleb snorted. “This ain’t King Solomon and the baby, Derek. Nick’s gonna be pissed if you want to cut his couch in two.”

  I laughed. “No, I mean, why don’t I take half the night, you take the other? Sleeping in shifts isn’t a bad idea if there are armed gunman wandering around town, right?”

  “Sounds like a good way to make us both miserable.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, but then we’ll be equally miserable, at least.”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to keep fighting me on it. I was quickly learning what kind of man Kaleb King was, and so far, his primary trait seemed to be stubborn. But a glimmer in his eyes told me that my suggestion had amused him more than anything.

  “Equally miserable then,” Kaleb agreed, spitting in his hand and striking it out for me to shake.

  I hesitated for a moment. Where I was from, handshakes didn’t usually involve mingling saliva. But obviously, things were done a little bit different in the King brothers’ neck of the woods. After a beat, I spat in my hand too and curled my fingers around his.

  This time, when we touched, there was a strange electricity between our palms.

  Mixing spit with a handsome, dashing officer of the law will do that, some obnoxiously horny part of my brain piped up. I shoved it back down, though—the last thing I needed was to complicate things between Kaleb King and me by thinking with my dick.

  When he released my hand, I wiped my palm on my slacks. Kaleb, apparently more well-versed in the etiquette of hand-spitting than I was, didn’t make any motion to do the same.

  “So…I really am safe here then.” I glanced to the locks on the door and the red light of a security camera mounted up in the corner. “Thought I was paranoid, coming here the way I did, but from the looks of things…”

  “Paranoid implies delusion,” Kaleb said sagely, crossing his arms over his chest. “Taking caution with good reason—that’s just smart. But yes—you’re safe here. Or as safe as anyone can be, given what you’ve gotten yourself into by stealing that vial. For now, that’ll have to be enough.”

  I let my shoulders slide forward as I nodded. “I hope you’re right.”

  Kaleb held my gaze sternly, but there was a note of vulnerability in his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

  4

  Kaleb

  The next morning, I woke up with a crick in my neck and the cold, hard floor beneath me. Derek had insisted that I set an alarm for halfway through the night, but as soon as he’d passed out on the couch, I’d reset it for seven so he could get a proper sleep. A glance at my phone told me I’d beaten it by ten minutes—typical for me. It was like my body knew something was going to startle me out of a good dream sooner or later and decided to ease my brain up into consciousness on its own instead.

  I turned the alarm off and looked up to Derek as I pulled myself upright. His thick, golden eyelashes were still closed, eyes moving gently beneath his eyelids—the telltale flicker that he was dreaming his own dreams. Good. That meant he was sleeping soundly. After what he’d been through, I figured he needed it.

  Trusting Derek might’ve been a bit of a long shot, but my intuition hadn’t fucked me over yet. I’d honed it for years now as a cop, to the point where I could spend ten minutes talking to someone and have a pretty good sense of whether they were lying, conniving, or preparing to stab me in the back. And as wild as his story was…

  Derek shone with honesty through his very pores. He was scared, which was natural. Brave, which was less common. But if he was a liar, I’d turn in my gun and badge as soon as I got back to DC.

  Of course, if he was lying, getting back to DC was the least of my worries at that point.

  I pulled myself to my feet, feeling a little queasy as I headed out to the kitchen. One thing was for sure—last night was the last time I tried one of Nick’s pregnancy craving pizzas. Just one slice of pineapple and anchovy had been just about enough to turn me off pizza for good.

  Turning to the coffee maker, I determined that caffeine was the cure. Nick hadn’t been keeping coffee on hand since he’d gotten pregnant, and in an effort to show solidarity, Harper had joined him in abstaining. But God bless Ernesto—as a Cuban-American, he practically bled coffee, and had been kind enough to bring over a spare from the King Private Security building. I filled the machine with grounds and water, pouring myself a piping hot cup before I slipped on my boots and trudged out into the brisk autumn morning to see if Ernesto’s morning watchmen wanted any.

  “Heya, Gabe. How’s your morning going?”

  Through the rolled-down window of his beat-up Crown Vic, Gabe forced a smile. “Better now that you’ve shown up with liquid reinforcements. Took over from Brock at six, but ever since…”

  Gabe grimaced, and I didn’t blame him. The same men that had kidnapped Nick and shot Harper had knocked him out cold to do it. The KO hadn’t been what had been eating at him, though—no, it was the fact that he’d been taken out by one of Ernesto’s own men that was probably making work a little more difficult these days.

  “You been sleeping all right?” I asked, pouring rich, hot dark roast in his Thermos to the brim.

  Gabe shrugged. “With one eye open—but yeah, otherwise not too bad. Once I finally got down, I ended up oversleeping a little, though. Didn’t have time to grab my caffeine fix from the Sunaco before I came over.”

  “Happy to provide then. You know how much Harper and I appreciate you keeping an eye on the house.”

  “It’s not a problem. Way I figure it, I owe it to Harper and Nick after that fucker pulled one over on me.” That fucker—Michael Shane—was no longer mentioned by his name within the KPS circle. That bast
ard or that no-good lowlife were the preferred titles for Michael now that he’d betrayed his own in favor of a payout. “What are y’all up to today? Anything you’ll need my help with?”

  “Heading over to the hospital with our new recruit. Derek needs lab supplies to process that sample he brought with him, and I’ve got a contact over at Arlington General who might be willing to help.”

  Gabe raised both of his bushy eyebrows. “That contact wouldn’t be Justin Carlisle, would it?”

  I nodded. “Only man in the hospital who I know for sure we can trust.”

  Gabe chuckled. “Shit, Kaleb. You’ve got some balls on you, asking favors from your ex like that. Last time I asked Danny if he wouldn’t mind dropping my spare keys back off at KPS when he got off work, he told me I could go fuck myself. Ended up just getting the locks to my place changed instead.”

  “Danny cheated on you with three other Omegas, man. Can’t imagine he’s exactly looking forward to facing you again.”

  Gabe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good point. But you and Justin—you’re still on good enough terms for you to bring some hot new Omega around begging for lab equipment?”

  “Good enough.” I cracked a grin. “Derek Stillwell’s been here for less than a day, Gabe. I’m not exactly introducing my ex to a new boyfriend or anything.”

  Gabe laughed. “You obviously haven’t seen the way Derek looks at you, then. But hey—your funeral, man. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Any time. Text if you need anything. My phone’s always on.”

  I patted the top of the Crown Vic and headed back inside. My coffee had cooled off just enough to drink. Not exactly a gourmet cup of joe, but it would wake me up all right. Black coffee was going to turn my stomach to a roaring vat of acid if I didn’t pad it out with some breakfast, though. Raiding the fridge, I turned up some eggs and bacon—which was lucky, since that was about all I was able to make without setting fire to the damn place.