Slick (The Grayverse #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There's only one fucking way my mate ended up in Rowan Vale’s hands. Lily Luscious abducted her, probably snatching her from the hospital when her beta lapdog – Dexter Roberts - was looking the other way. The question is whether Vale is working with his boss, or if he's using Diana as leverage. Given the bitch’s reputation, my guess is the latter, but I need to be prepared for anything.

Including getting that jumpsuit back. If it has my blood on it, like Moore said, then it has to be the one Diana was wearing when I last saw her.

Did she take it off willingly? Or did someone strip her down, maybe taking a little taste for themselves in the process?

The thought brings a feral growl rumbling out of my chest, and Moore shoots me a warning look. We’re seated in the back of his car, and it’s disturbing how quickly I got comfortable being back in his fancy world. It must be the whiskey going to my head, because not that long ago I swore to never ride in a cage again, let alone step back into his life.

It’s been nearly a year since I took off once and for all, either riding with Fox and his boys, or going nomad when their company pissed me off. I never patched into the Jackals, but Fox found me useful to keep around, sharing what was his in exchange for my particular skillset. It was a rough and dirty life, but it was better than staying put and kicking Moore’s ass – and probably strangling his bitch in the process.

We don’t talk much until we pull into the Richardson Hotel parking lot, and then I only open my mouth to tell him to stay put. He rubs the new creases in his forehead like he’s getting a migraine. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just gonna sniff things out.”

He knows me well enough to recognize the shorthand. A little recon, a little bribery, and maybe the odd punch to the face here and there. “Fine. Just… don’t get arrested.”

I lift a lip at him. “I’m a private citizen checking out the hotel for a romantic staycation.” I gesture down at myself, encompassing my grimy jeans, black leather coat, and shitkicker boots. “Who the fuck’s going to get in my way?”

He’s still rubbing his head as I close the door, and I do two circuits of the garage before moving to the elevators. They take me up to the lobby, and I ignore the twitchy looks I get from reception, following my nose down a corridor to the kitchens.

Jackpot.

It’s the first whiff of my mate I’ve had in days that didn’t come from the scrap in my pocket, and I steady myself against the wall. The trace is faint – barely noticeable over the fancy sauces bubbling on the stovetops – but it’s fucking supreme. There’s an extra kick to it, a spicy undertone that makes my mouth water. I suck it down, my heart rate instantly smoothing out and my cock plumping happily in my jeans.

When a big guy with a cleaver and a fancy hat steps in my path, I’m feeling almost mellow.

“You can’t be here,” he says in a tone to match his hat. “Guests are not permitted.”

“What about cute little pornstars?” Because, yeah. I’ve seen my share of Rowan Vale skin flicks, and I bet he caused quite a flutter when he came through here. “Just show me the route he used to get up to the governor’s suite, and I’ll be on my way.”

The chef looks me over and clearly decides not to stir this particular pot. “Franz, show our guest the way to the service elevator.”

Moore told me on the drive over how Vale and his security crashed his breakfast, and I scowl as the terrified kitchenhand points out the elevator, scuttling away before I can ask any questions. Not that I need to. It’s a short ride to the suite, and there’s not much to see, the evidence of Moore’s stay already cleared away in preparation for the next guest.

I’m not really surprised to find a pair of security guards waiting for me when I return to the parking garage. They’re both alphas, but one whiff tells me they’re barely a step up from rent-a-cops. “Sir, can I have your name and room number?”

I can see Moore’s car idling a few rows back, but of course the fucker doesn’t get out to help. “No, and I wouldn’t stay in this shithole if you paid me.” They shuffle their feet, and I give them my least wholesome grin. “But you can give me your names for my report.”

“Report, sir?”

It’s the smaller of the two, his brains clearly in his head and not wedged in his roided-out neck like his partner. “I’m Governor Moore’s security. He was ambushed at breakfast this morning, and I want to know who to include when we sue the ass off this hotel.”

They exchange a panicked look, and I flick a thumb over my shoulder at Moore’s car. He’s conveniently rolled his window down, nodding at the guards when they look his way.

“Sorry, sir.” It’s the smaller one again, while the bigger guard starts to slink away like I can’t see his six-foot ass. “We’ll need to call our supervisor before we can give you any information.”

I take a threatening step towards him. “While you’re at it, ask him to pull up the security footage of the kitchens, suite, and all entrances and exits. Send it straight to the governor’s office in the next twenty, and maybe I’ll convince him to keep your names out of the lawsuit.”

“Of course, sir. And please apologize to the governor on behalf of the hotel.”

I leave them bowing and scraping, giving Moore a dirty look as I slide in beside him. “Thanks for backing my play.”

He doesn’t blink at my sarcasm. “Find out anything interesting?”

“My guess is they came by cab or on foot, but I’m getting the video sent to your office.” He nods, but I turn so quickly, he only gets his hands halfway up before I pin them against his chest. I grind my elbows in a little, just to really make a point. “When were you gonna tell me the little pornstar is in heat?”

“What?” He tries to shove me off, but I lean all my weight on him, and he finally gives an exasperated sigh. “Can you please get acquainted with body wash the next time you decide to accost me in an enclosed space?”

I’d smirk if I wasn’t so pissed. I smell like an alpha’s supposed to, which isn’t hair gel and dry-cleaning fluid. But instead of pointing out his shortcomings, I shove him aside, buzzing down the window and whistling for the little security guard. He scuttles over, bobbing his head at Moore, and I snap my fingers to get his attention. “You got heat suites in this place?”

“N-no, we don’t,” he stutters, sounding even more apologetic. “But there are other hotels nearby that do.”

“What’s the closest one?”

He glances behind him, like his gutless partner might suddenly materialize with a tourist brochure. “I’d have to check, but I think the Clarence does.”

“Send me a list in five minutes and I won’t come back and kick your ass.”

When we leave the parking garage, I direct the driver to the Clarence Hotel, while Moore glowers at me from the corner. “I didn’t know,” he says quietly. “He smelled sweet, but I was… confused. I could smell Lily on the jumpsuit…”

He breaks off as I give him a death glare, and we lapse into a seething silence. The urge to shake him is always there, bubbling away under the surface, which is why I had to put a lot of distance between us after our last fight. I’ve spent my life protecting his ass, so it would be kind of hypocritical to try to kick some fucking sense into his thick head.

When he pulls out his phone to read a message, I feel my lip curl into a sneer. “That Her Lowness checking in?”

He bristles, but swallows down a sharp retort as he slides his phone back into his pocket. “No. She’s giving me the silent treatment.”

I laugh, although the sound is so bitter it burns my throat. “Trouble in hell, Governor?”

“Marcus – her security guy – said she took a tumble at work. Not enough to go to hospital over, but she’s asked me to give her a couple of days to heal… What?”

“Just wondering when the sharp-as-shit guy I grew up with started believing in fairy tales.”

“Fuck off, Kane.”

We lapse back into a hostile silence, both of us watching our phones like hawks. When we reach the Clarence, I leave him in the undercover garage again and take a quick tour of its facilities. It’s a small, boutique hotel, so the quivering desk clerk personally walks me though their two empty heat suites. When I make it back to the car, the rent-a-cop from the Richardson has sent me through the names of the other hotels, and I flash the list at Moore. “Any ideas?”

“The Aviary,” he says, sounding more confident than he has since our reunion. “It’s the best in the city, and I’m pretty sure Rowan Vale did a magazine spread for them last year.”

I leer at him. “Been checking out omega porn, Governor?”

“Not that kind of spread. Jesus, Kane, can you dial back the barbarian for just a minute?”

Once upon a time, Moore liked my brutal streak, but I guess those days are in our rearview mirror. “Not if it means wearing shit suits and eating tasteless pussy every day.”

He’s not stupid enough to lunge for me, but he gives me the cold shoulder until we reach the Aviary. Instead of waiting in the car, he climbs out, murmuring something to his driver, but his head snaps up as I stride straight over to an SUV. I run a hand over the cool metal, peeing through the tinted window at a heavy tarp in the back. “Run this plate, Jake.”

He doesn’t comment on the name slip, taking out his phone and dialing a number. When it connects, he explains what he needs, and a moment after feeding them the plate, he gives me a sharp nod. “It’s licensed to Kennedy Vale.”

“Then we’re in the right place.” I follow my nose across the garage to a service entrance, but as I hit the button for the elevator, Moore grabs my arm. “You can’t go storming into a heat suite.” I beg to differ, but he starts tapping something into his phone. “We’ll call her. Tell her we’re waiting to speak to her in the lobby bar. She’ll either hole up, try to run, or come down to sort things out.”

“If she runs?”

“Lukas has called my security guys. They’ll cover the exits.”

I sneer. “I hope that’s the backup to your back-up plan.”

He lifts a judgy brow at me. “I wouldn’t have to resort to Plan B if you had cared enough to stick around.”

I open my mouth to remind him it wasn’t a lack of caring that drove me away, but he tugs on my sleeve, dragging me into the elevator. We take it up to the lobby, although we have to walk past some maintenance rooms to get to the public area. Moore swishes ahead of me in all of his governor glory, and as soon as we make it to the fancy cocktail area, I stomp past him to the bar. The bartender looks me over with subtle alarm as I nudge a stool aside and order two whiskeys.

“If you’d like to sit at a table, sir, I’ll bring them to you.”

I ignore him, making a circuit of the bar and foyer, trying to pick up on Diana’s scent. I saw the inside of countless places like this back when I was Moore’s security, and they all have the same glossy veneer, with lots of marble, shiny surfaces, and annoying piano music. I like the wood and leather chairs, but the rest of it makes me think of an OCD convention.

Moore is finally done shaking hands and kissing asses, and I join him at a booth that gives me a clear view of the exits. Our drinks are brought over, the bartender smiling at Moore like he’s flattered just to be in his presence. They chit chat for a second, and I feel my anger spreading under my skin like a virus. “They stole her memories, you know,” I mutter as soon as we’re alone.

Moore is fiddling with his cufflink, but now his head snaps up. “What?”

“Fox told me about it. His VP’s sister was taken and then married off to some old fuck once the factory drained her dry. The Jackals tore the prick to pieces, but her mind was broken. Didn’t even know her real name or remember her brother when she saw him. Fox has been after the Carrillos ever since.”

Moore looks troubled, which is about fucking time. “Did Fox tell you Diana was in this facility?”

“Slick factory,” I correct him, because let’s call a shithole a shithole. “Nah. That was dumb luck. I stopped at a gas station in their neighborhood and a guy walked by. He was in one of their uniforms and I smelled her on him.” Hate twists my belly as I think of the pricks with their clipboards. The collector at the gas station never made it home, but I got plenty of intel from him before I turned him over to Fox.

“And you didn’t think it was Lily?” Moore asks quietly. “If they smell that much alike…”

I shrug, because of course it flashed through my mind before the pieces started to fall together. It never made sense why my best friend was so gone over the bitch while I couldn’t bear the fucking sight of her.

When I don’t answer, Moore goes back to his phone, and I do the same, although I’m jumpy as hell. What if Kenndy Vale just ignores us? This place has a lot of exits and she’s had time to scope them out. What if we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses while she drags Diana off to another location?

I’m just about to leap to my feet when the alpha female steps out of an elevator and heads over to our table.

Thank fuck.

I did my own investigation into Rowan Vale’s twin when I was raking through the muck on Lily Luscious. She's had a one-client career, but all the rumors are she knows her stuff. I size her up as she saunters over, close to six feet, with dark red-gold hair, and pretty in a don’t-fuck-with-me way. Her gaze flicks between us before settling on Moore. “What happened to the two guys I put on the floor?”

“You mean the babysitters?” I clarify before Moore can jump in and defend his sub-par security. “I'm in charge now, and I only get on my knees for pretty omegas.”

I give her my best smile, but she doesn't look impressed. “Say what you want to say, Governor, so I can leave you to your business.”

“Our business is that you came into my hotel suite this morning and threatened me,” Moore says quietly.

“We only threatened you with the truth.” Her gaze flicks between us again, her eyes hard and accusing. “It would make sense. You two cutting out the middleman so your omega can have all the slick she wants.”

It takes me a moment to sort what she’s saying, and my disgust is visceral. “I have nothing to do with that bitch.” Moore scowls at me, but that’s nothing new, and I cock a brow at him. “If she’s here to blackmail us, she should know that you’re a dumbass, but you’ve got nothing to do with that slick factory. I did my research before I went in there, and it’s all the Carrillos.” Moore’s face has darkened, but I turn my attention back to Kennedy. “Diana was shot. Upper arm. Is she alright?”

My biggest fear is that knotting her didn’t heal her all the way, and she’s still hurting somewhere, waiting for me to come and make her better.

Kennedy’s silence is enough to make me thump the table. “What's stopping me from putting you on the floor, taking your key card, and heading straight upstairs?”

Her hand twitches, probably in the direction of the gun under her jacket. But her expression is bland as she waves at two older guys sitting at a corner table. “Reporters.” She directs the word Moore’s way. “My guess is they wouldn’t turn down a scoop, especially if it involves the governor.”

Moore shoots me a hostile look, no doubt thinking of his precious reputation, before turning to Kennedy. “I just want some information, Ms. Vale. Your brother made some pretty troubling accusations this morning. Are you prepared to answer my questions so I can determine my best path forward?”

Steel glints in those pretty alpha eyes of hers. “That depends. Are you prepared to put your girlfriend behind bars when the truth comes out?”

I swivel towards Moore, because I wouldn’t mind knowing this myself. “That depends on the crime, same as for any other citizen of this state.”

It’s a bullshit politician’s answer, but Kennedy doesn’t push it. “And what about the Carrillos?”

Moore sits up straighter, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “I've already booked a meeting with the Attorney General and the Head of Organized Crime. If there’s a case there, they’ll open a full investigation.”

It’s my turn to shoot him a death stare, but I don’t bother arguing. He can call all the meetings he wants, while I go off and do what barbarians do. But first, I want up in that heat suite.

I tap the table, bringing her attention back my way. “Is it really the best place for Diana if your brother is in heat…?” The little flicker of confusion on her face hits me square in the gut, and I suck in a raw breath. “Not him. Her. ” I don’t realize I’m on my feet until Moore’s hand circles my wrist, but I can barely feel him. “ Diana’s in heat. Has she asked for me?”

Kennedy’s lips thin, no doubt to hold back the answer she doesn’t want to give me, and a growl rips out of my throat. “Diana’s my mate . I would’ve claimed her all the way if I didn’t have a bullet hole in my gut. You have no fucking right to keep me from her!”

Moore is still gripping my wrist, but instead of jerking me back down, he rises at my side. “You can’t keep him out, Ms. Vale. Not when they’re mates.”

Kennedy puts her hands on her hips, unrepentant. “She’s unmarked. Unregistered. There’s no legal bond here.”

I feel fury ripple across my skin like a desert wind. “Fuck legal . She’s mine .”

“Or mine, if that argument works better.” I don’t know who gapes at Moore harder – me or Kennedy - but he just shrugs at the alpha female. “You accused Lily of stealing her slick. If that’s the case, Diana is my scent-match, right? Because I’m one hundred percent certain that the omega I smell on Lily is mine.”

“That’s bullshit. Given what she’s been through, the legal argument is flimsy, at best…”

She’s still glaring at us, but she doesn’t sound as certain as before, and I laugh, slapping Moore on the back. “He was a lawyer before he became governor. Good fucking luck winning this argument, Vale.”

She glares at me, but Moore is all business now. “You can’t have it both ways, Ms. Vale. If Lily has stolen her scent, then I deserve at least a conversation with Diana. And if she’s in heat, she should be with her alphas. Unless you have some claim we don’t know about.”

A growl rumbles in my chest, but Kennedy waves me off. “It isn’t like that, but she’s not alone, either.” She raises her brows at Moore. “And she’s being taken care of, I can promise you that.”

Jealousy bites me, hard . Who the fuck is up there with my mate?

Her brother? That useless beta? Some ring-in with a big knot, or one of those omega clinic hard-ons?

“The law is clear on this,” Moore goes on, as if unaware of my growing rage. “I can get a judge on the phone if you need to hear it from someone else.”

“Scent-matching doesn’t mean you get to touch her,” Kennedy replies, but I can hear the waver in her voice, and I try to rein my anger in. If she’s going to bargain with us, now is the time. She’s losing the legal argument, but she knows we’re both invested. I wait for her to demand money, a confession, maybe even a way out from under her brother’s bitch of a boss, but she just takes a step back. “Give me an hour and I’ll get back to you.”

“You have ten minutes,” Moore says in his clipped, this-meeting-is-over voice. “Omegas need their alphas, Ms. Vale. We shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

Kennedy grumbles something and runs a hand over her face, looking like she hasn’t slept in a week. “A conversation,” she says slowly. “I might be able to do that. Wait here.”

She turns and strides off, and it takes everything in me not to stalk after her. But the reporters in the corner are watching us, and the bartender looks like he’s about to lunge for a panic button. I grip the edge of the table, trying to breathe around my thrashing heart. Moore doesn’t sit back down, but he does sip his drink, his gaze on his phone. I can’t tell if he’s waiting for a text or counting down the minutes. “So, you believe us about the bitch?”

His eyes flick up to mine, and anyone who didn’t know him well would probably think he was as cool as the ice cubes clinking in his glass. “I’m… taking it under consideration.”

Fuck me. If I ever wanted to strangle the guy, now’s the time.

“But this isn’t about me,” he says quietly. “If she’s really your mate, then she needs you. And there’s not a force on this earth that should be allowed to keep you from her.”