Knot Without You: An Omegaverse Romance

Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

I‘borrow’ a couple of sprays of one of the club sluts’ cheap-ass perfume after I ran out of time before Rex was yelling we were rolling.

It was pretty lucky I’d managed to change my jeans and put on a clean black t-shirt and even pack a few things, but a shower would have to wait. And considering we were going to be riding for a solid day, Maverick’s lingering scent on my dick would be a constant reminder of why I wasn’t putting a bullet in the back of Rex’s skull right this very second. The reasons why seemed almost cowardly but it was pretty simple too, we weren’t ready.

Either way, planning a dozen or so different ways to kill Rex is a solid distraction. Even after hours of thinking, I’m wavering between making it really fucking obvious or leaving it a mystery to haunt the club for years. Both have solid merit, and both bring me closure.

I’m grinning so hard for most of the ride that my jaw aches from trying to stop smiling or laughing. Although I was already in a good fucking mood, ecstatic really, because us riding out meant the girls had more time to hide before the hunt for them started. There was no sugar coating that. Rex wouldn’t stop looking for them, he’d make it a fucking game or some shit.

Like I knew another showdown waited when we got back and Rex was told his other son had won an award with a tonne of money. Rex would be down at the hospital waiting for his slice of the pie. In some ways that confrontation worried me more because Tyson had been done with Rex and his bullshit for a while now. And once Ty has made a decision, he’s a stubborn bastard, which makes me anxious as hell because I know how fucking far Rex will go to get his way.

It’s clear that the fantasy of killing Rex may eventually be our only option as a way to escape him. Until then we all need to keep our heads down and our guards up.

Towns flash in a blur as we gun through them in typical Rex-is-the-best formation, everyone protecting him. By the time we were pulling into the house of the local Chapter, my back and legs are screaming to be stretched out. But any sign of weakness is not an option with this company.

“I’m taking a piss, then you and me are out for a bit,” Rex says before spitting at my feet with a sly tip of his lip.

Sure thing, cunt.

I climb off my bike and go round the back of the house without saying hello inside, the walk doing good for my temper and my legs. And since Rex is already holding the stage inside, I take a piss behind a tree and shoot off a quick text wishing Mav luck in his upcoming fight.

Mav is a hard one. I can’t fucking think of this world without him by my side, I need him like I need air to breathe but asking him to do this whole happy-ever-after thing with me is like wearing a necklace made of boulders… I mean, what have I got to give him? A whole lot of fucking trauma is it? I haven’t got one fucking dime to spare, no real education. I’m good at fixing shit with my hands, but Maverick is built for better. And even though it hurts me in the solar plexus whenever I think about him not being around, I don’t want to hold him back either.

Lighting a smoke, I sit on my bike waiting, wondering what sort of dodgy shit Rex has got lined up for us. A poor little rich boy needing some muscle behind him is nothing new, but it feels like Rex is hiding a whole lot of the details from the Death Riders.

He comes out, a new slut climbs on the back of his bike, and he guns it again, expecting me to follow. His taillights and the low thump of his exhaust mark my way. I come to an idle but don’t turn my bike off when he stops out of the front of a dive motel and I blatantly ignore the slut’s open invitation for me to join her and Rex, delivered when she flashes me her naked gash. Never been so put off by pussy in all my life.

I get waved up next to him and he shouts over the rumbling bass of our bikes, “This kid has got cops in his pocket, and his contact will be there.” Of course, Rex hands me over his collection of weapons and the packs of blow and smoke. I ride off when he tries to pass over a black dildo. His malicious laughter eventually gets drowned out when he roars past me again.

We pull to a stop in front of a house that screams money and power, the egotistical fuckers even have a family crest on their gate. I climb off my bike and follow Rex as he goes down the side of the house. Obviously he’s been given directions. We’re met at the front of a pool house that’s bigger than any house I’ve lived in by an all-American pin-up boy.

“I’m Reid Anders,” the pretty boy snaps. His entitled ego stinks as much as Rex’s does.

“Let’s talk inside,” Rex says, walking through the space.

Inside the walls are covered in photos of all different politicians posing with an older couple, Senator Anders and his wife. The air is still stained by a woman’s expensive perfume which in itself lets us know they’re all in this together, whatever this is.

“This is Steel.” Rex points at me and he never does that shit. Instantly I’ve got a sick feeling in my guts. But Reid doesn’t acknowledge me or the introduction. Instead he points to the table and a pile of photos.

“Beer?”

“Scotch,” Rex demands, chuckling as he passes over a photo of King Grady, The Fallen’s President, to me though his eyes stay on Reid when he speaks, “You know this prick?”

“A long time ago. You can do what you want with him but touch his daughter and you’ll wish you’d never been born.” Reid smiles like a crocodile and sits down in the seat opposite, a new bottle of scotch on the table along with three crystal glasses.

“Who is she to you?” Rex pushes, with an oily laugh.

“Not your business,” Reid answers, shutting down any further discussion on the matter. He lounges back in his seat waiting while Rex sorts through the images.

While Rex studies the photos of half of The Fallen, I study Reid. Not sure I’ve ever seen someone who’s walking around and talking like he owns the world, while looking like a fucking blonde-haired, blue-eyed zombie. Something is seriously wrong with him, but ‘not my circus, not my monkey’ circles through my head.

Rex holds up another photo. “You didn’t tell me Siderno’s involved. Ima have to charge you extra if he is.”

“Whatever.” Reid stands and goes back behind the bar, bringing back two packages. “I take it you know how to press clothes?”

“What for?” Rex reclines back in his seat and kicks his feet up to the chair next to him. He purposely drags the Scotch across the polished surface of the table before he drinks straight from the bottle.

“I thought it was quite obvious. You can go by the name of Police Chief Rex for all I care, but you will show up in these police uniforms and you will cause a distraction. A couple of service revolvers are also included. It’s up to you whether you use gloves or not.”

“See… you never told me I was playing dress up. What other surprises you got up your expensive trousers.” Rex lets his Alpha dominance out, the threats become designation driven and it’s almost clockwork the way Reid does too. I barely hold back my bark of laughter at the two of them posturing. Fucking turkeys. They both think they’re bigger and badder than each other, it is fucking embarrassing, especially when they’re both such poor representations of how powerful a real Alpha is.

I swallow my drink in one gulp and stand up while the two of them keep staring at each other and discussing the finer points of the job. I sort through the photos. There’s a lot of photos of a woman around my age, she’s got an obvious scar running down one side of her face, pretty enough, but she ain’t my type. And then there’s a dozen or so more of all The Fallen along with Siderno. Out of all of them, King is a concern for obvious reasons but so is Siderno—international weapons trader with lots of connections with bad people around the globe. The power emanating from the photo should be evident to both of these two clowns; they should be more concerned, but it’s clear neither of them can see past their own awesomeness.

But maybe that’s the answer to my problems too. Getting Rex to focus on anyone but King is going to be near impossible, but the involvement of Siderno is a connection I might use down the track.

Reid stands up, effectively putting a close on our meeting. “I’ll call you when things happen, but I suspect a couple of days and I think the open piazza…”

“What the fuck is a piazza?” Rex laughs, but it’s not funny the level of contempt he throws at Reid. It’s offensive.

“Does the public open space work better for you?” Reid snaps sardonically.

“How bout you say what block it is and I’ll work it out, huh?” Rex leans towards Reid, his lips twitching in his attempt to hide his anger.

“Look up Birdie. It’s an Omega store…”

“Now ya fucking talking, boy. I need a few of them.” Rex chuckles.

“Your focus is on The Fallen. Once you do the job I’m paying for I don’t care what the hell you do.”

“Tone down the way you’re speaking there,” Rex warns, his voice drops low and he talks slowly.

Reid ignores him and rattles off the address before sliding over a piece of paper with it on.

While these two keep snapping and snarling at each other, I reach over and take the two bundles of clothing. Rex reads it as a sign the catch up is done and he caps the bottle of Scotch, waving it over his shoulder as he walks off. “All you need to do is call, pretty boy, and me and Steel will be there.”

My stomach drops. I thought we were going to be here overnight, or just long enough to get the details sorted.

“Now I’ve got some of your city’s dirtiest pussy waiting in my room to taste and you’ve got some extra funds to sort out for me.”

“What for?” Reid splutters like a fucking toddler about to have a tanty.

“Danger money, insurance, however you want to put it, Reidy. I’d hate to lose some of the gear I brought with me. The El Demonio boys get feral real fucking fast when friends betray friends. So, since me and you are now buddies, if I get raided or stopped while I’m here, I’ll be taking you with me when I go visit my friends down south. Yeah?”

“Please, a little trust,” Reid hisses back, affronted.

“Trust? Ain’t never had that. But see, I also reckon you got none too, ’cause I’d bet my ride your Mommy’s got you filming our little interaction.” Rex smirks before pulling out his phone. “But I got my own copy of our agreement too.”

Fuck my life, that’s all I need being recorded as being here with these two clowns. No shit, it’s pretty easy to read I’d be fucked over quick as a flash before either one of these took the fall.

I follow behind Rex and Reid as they keep up pretending they’re friends, but I keep my mouth shut and my head down. While they’re shaking hands, I transfer the drugs from El Demonio back to his saddle bags, and as soon as I get the signal, I ride off in the opposite direction of him. He’ll call me when he needs me, in the meantime there’s no fucking way I’m hanging anywhere near him.

I ride until I find a busy truck stop on the edge of the industrial area and pull in. Thankfully it’s one of those that has a hotel attached. I take off my cut and pull on one of Mav’s old training hoodies not needing the fucking judgement that comes from riding a bike but also probably needing the comfort Maverick’s scent brings too. Checking my phone, I nearly fucking sob like a baby in relief when I read Tyson wired me some money. He’s smart not sending a shit load but he sends enough for me to get one of the cheap ass rooms I’m walking towards, and enough food for the time I’m going to be holed up here. The super short text that we have to ‘talk’ is old news.