Chapter 15 - Bridget
As soon as I got home from work, I used the same fake email to contact the other subjects that I’d used to fill out the Axion Biostorage website form. It seemed efficient.
After I sent the email, I sat in front of my laptop, my heart in my throat, expecting the incriminating responses to come rolling in at any moment.
My phone chimed. Anything yet? Nathan texted me. I ignored the little flutter in my chest that we were now on texting terms. I reminded myself we were coworkers and, now, co-investigators. Nothing more.
Not yet, I replied.
But a moment later my computer pinged. A subject, Julie Schmidt, had emailed back.
“I haven’t paid for my treatment. How much do I owe?”
I swallowed my annoyance. One negative response meant nothing.
After an hour, though, I had six more emails from subjects confirming they had not, in fact, been asked to pay to take part in the study. The others hadn’t responded, so I wouldn’t give up hope, but the numbers weren’t in our favor.
Had Andrew and Gabriel lied to me? Why would they? Granted I didn’t really know them, but Andrew seemed vastly different from other Alphas I’d met. I couldn’t help but remember him purring for me, the gentleness and strength in his arms. Or the protective light in Gabriel’s eyes.
But maybe my instincts weren’t unbiased.
I looked at the text thread with Nathan, typed and deleted a message several times, then just called him.
He picked up on the first ring.
“What did you find out?” he asked.
“It’s bad news. Or, good news I guess.” I outlined the responses I’d gotten.
He was silent for a long moment. I was sitting at the small desk in my room, my knees pulled up to my chest in the wooden rolling chair. My computer screen blacked out while I waited for him to respond.
“Do you still believe them?” Nathan’s voice was steady, but I could sense his tension.
“I still can’t think of a reason they would lie.” I wouldn’t tell him about my gut feelings; Nathan didn’t seem like the type of person to appreciate intuition over deduction.
“If they can show receipts or invoices for the payments, that should be good enough to go to the IRB.” There was another brief silence. “Would you be willing to ask them for that kind of evidence?”
“Of course,” I said, too quickly. I closed my eyes against the rush of embarrassment.
I didn’t want Nathan to know how the prospect of an innocent reason to call them filled me with giddy anticipation.
But I couldn’t call them from my bedroom again.
I needed backup. “I’ll call tomorrow; we can talk to them together. ”
“Agreed,” Nathan said. He paused again. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.”
“Yeah, definitely. Sleep, um, well.” I pictured Nathan at that moment. In my mind, he was laying in bed wearing a t-shirt, his usually perfect hair disheveled. Maybe he wasn’t even wearing a shirt and had all those hidden muscles on display. My face flushed bright red.
“Yes, you too,” Nathan said, his voice stiff.
I hung up before the awkwardness got any worse.
The weather was turning a bit towards spring. Even though it was still cold, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cruel wind threatening to sweep me away.
I’d watched The Big Sleep with Bogart and Bacall the night before to prepare me for any possible espionage. I’d also put on more makeup than usual and dressed with a bit more care. I pretended it had nothing at all to do with seeing Nathan.
As I crossed the street towards the train station, I thought about my approach for the day. I’d received emails from the remaining subjects overnight, confirming they had not been asked to pay for inclusion in the study, so Andrew and Gabriel’s proof would be crucial in proving our case to the IRB.
The thought of calling them again filled me with excitement and dread. Maybe we needed to meet up in person, actually. Nathan would probably want to come, but if they had valuable information, he might forgive them for jeopardizing my career, even inadvertently.
These distracting thoughts meant I didn’t notice the man waiting on the corner until he fell into step with me. My steps faltered as my heart immediately kicked into high gear. He stopped, too.
He was young, probably in his early twenties, with ashy brown hair and brown eyes.
His black puffer jacket, remarkably similar to mine, was shiny with wear at the elbows and his jeans were genuinely ripped, not bought that way.
He was unremarkable, except that he didn’t fit with the residents of the neighborhood around the Center.
They were all, without exception, very wealthy.
His scent hit me. Even though he was a Beta, it was strong and reminded me of damp earth. Like when you turn over a rock and mud-dwelling insects crawl deeper to escape the light.
Should I run? Or was that silly? It wasn’t his fault he smelled musty.
“Hey,” he said in a polite voice.
“Good morning,” I replied, unable to stop myself from the ingrained reaction my parents had always insisted on. I started walking again, but he cut me off. Not so polite after all, then.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been asked out by a stranger on the street, but it was the first time it had happened so close to home. I was more annoyed than I expected.
“You had a busy night,” he said with a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. Now that I looked closely, there was nothing friendly in his expression.
Uneasiness grew in my stomach. “Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else,” I said, keeping my voice light.
“I don’t think so, Bridget.”
I should have run when I had the chance. I glanced back over my shoulder towards the Center. Could someone see what was happening? But we were too far, just around a curve in the road that blocked the view of the cameras mounted on the Center's fence. This man knew exactly where to wait for me.
Before I could run, he grabbed my upper arm.
“Hey, I learned something interesting today. Did you know your IP address is stored each time you fill out a form on a website?”
Scream, my brain insisted. Scream, now.
“And with the right resources, you can easily match up an IP address to a physical address. Did you know that, Bridget? I guess not, right?”
My mind ground through the panic, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“And then you emailed people?” He shook his head like I had disappointed him. “Stop playing detective. Stop contacting members of the study. In fact, you should probably just find a new job, cause I don’t think you’ll have this one for much longer.”
If I was small and quiet, maybe it would end soon.
“You’re fucking with the money, now. And they don’t like it when people do that.” He squeezed my arm tighter until I winced. “Understand?”
I nodded.
The hand that wasn’t gripping my arm emerged from his coat, just enough to show me he was casually holding a gun, as if he threatened women all the time. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and the rush of my breath sawing in and out.
“Good, cause my next visit won’t be so nice. I might even go see Anvi. Doesn’t she have a baby niece?”
“Please,” I whispered.
“I’m glad you get it.” He squeezed my arm once more, and slipped the gun back into his pocket before releasing me. I hugged myself tightly and fought the whimper in my throat.
His expression of boredom slipped, and for a moment he looked much younger. But then he hitched that dead-eyed smile back on his face.
“Let’s keep this between us, okay? Be good, Bridget. Or I’ll be seeing you soon.” He feinted towards me with a mocking laugh at my flinch, then turned towards the train station and disappeared.
I was fifteen years old again, my father’s face a mask of anger as he berated me for “not conducting myself properly” at the coming-out ball of one of his friends’ daughters.
“Who will ever want you when you act like a fucking child, Bridget?” he hissed, his hand tight around my upper arm. His white-blond hair was disheveled, strands spilling across his forehead, and he bared his teeth like an enraged animal.
That night, I had avoided the advances of one of those “friends” — a man his age who led a pack of high-ranking Alphas — who had asked me to dance several times. I’d escaped to the bathroom for the last hour of the party.
I wasn’t sure if these were the men my father intended to bond me, but it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t them specifically, it would be someone just like them.
His packmate, Domenic, watched from three steps behind, his dark, nearly black eyes burning with a suppressed something that scared me more and more with every passing day.
“Answer me,” Sebastian yelled, shaking my arm savagely. We were in his study, a room that I only saw when being punished. The dark leather furnishings and dim lighting made menacing shadows on the walls.
“I’m sorry. I was nervous,” I said, barely above a whisper. My arm burned under his hand. I knew what to say to make it end. “I’ll be better.”
Instead of defusing my father’s anger, my comment had the opposite effect.
He growled and switched his grip from my arm to my throat.
He squeezed hard enough to cut my airflow to a trickle.
I tried to suck in a breath, and my head went light from panic.
I wanted to scratch at his arms, to fight back.
“I’m sick of the excuses. When an Alpha asks you to do something, you do it.
When you’re bonded, that is your duty as an Omega.
If you can’t even follow simple requests now, you will be useless to your pack.
” My father eased the pressure on my throat, but didn’t release me fully.
“This is for your own good, Bridget. You know that, don’t you? ”
Tears streamed down my face. Even though I could breathe again, I still felt choked. “Yes,” I whispered.
Domenic stepped forward then. There was a strange excitement in his expression. He stroked the side of my face before murmuring, “You are so beautiful, Bridget. It would be a shame for such beauty to go to waste.”
My skin crawled under his touch.