Nineteen
NINETEEN
Nat
IT WAS MONDAY MORNING , and instead of getting ready for a day off from running a successful restaurant with my talented wife, I was psyching myself up to meet with reporters from multiple publications. I actually hated this kind of shit, even when it was the standard ‘local lifestyle’ fare. When it came to floating unlikely sounding conspiracy theories about sabotage, street gangs, and money laundering, I had absolutely no idea how the meetings were likely to go.
Five a.m. was early for a gym visit, even for me. But I hadn’t been able to sleep, and I suspected I’d need all the endorphins I could get in the coming hours. So, here I was, exhausting myself on the treadmill before tackling the weight machine circuit.
One thing about it; I had the place almost completely to myself. A couple of guys and a woman had trailed in over the course of the last half hour, heading for the free weights and the elliptical machines, respectively.
I finished my cool-down on the treadmill, enjoying the feel of my blood pumping through my veins even as my calves burned. After finishing five sets of lat pulldowns, I was adjusting the weights on the chest press machine when a fifth person came in. I spared him a quick glance, only to do a doubletake when the impression of ‘ huge, musclebound Black guy’ coalesced into recognition.
I froze in place at the same moment his eyes passed over me and held.
“Oh,” Emiel said. “Hey. Didn’t know you were a member here.”
I unstuck my tongue, reassured that he apparently wasn’t harboring any repressed urges to pound me into the floor on Mia’s behalf.
“Yes, for a few years now,” I replied cautiously. “I’m not usually here this early, though.”
He nodded, as though this made perfect sense. “Mm-hmm. Me neither.”
And with that, he proceeded to ignore me in favor of doubling my weight totals on the first machine in the circuit and settling in for his workout.
Aware that I was staring, I dragged my attention back to my own business. As a beta, comparing strength and fitness with an alpha, especially a male alpha, was a quick trip to an inferiority complex. Which wasn’t to say I hadn’t struggled with that kind of comparison when I was younger—yet another unwanted legacy from my adopted father.
Keep slingin’ those dumbbells around, boy. Maybe you’ll eventually grow enough muscles to be a real man .
I’d been in college when a girl I’d been dating had said something that really stuck with me. She’d pointed out that beta women and omegas felt the same way around beta men that beta men felt around alphas. There were individual exceptions, of course—but in general, there was a physical power imbalance between the two groups that crept into nearly every interaction between them, consciously or unconsciously.
She’d told me she wished every beta man would stop and ask themselves whether they’d treat a male alpha the way they were about to treat a female beta or an omega. At the time, it had resonated with me, making me think about things in a whole new way.
What beta dude would walk up to a male alpha they’d never met and put a hand on his lower back to move him out of the way? Or tell him that smiling would make him more attractive? Answer—one with a death wish.
However, that didn’t stop me from sneaking the occasional glance, because damn . Not for the first time in my life, I was thrust into the familiar conundrum of trying to decide if I found the man attractive, or if I was just jealous of that amazing physique.
I was resigned, at this point, to the idea that I wasn’t as straight as I’d always assumed I was. Would I have been happier never learning that about myself? Yes. Was the genie thoroughly out of the bottle after letting a hot guy ream my ass on three separate occasions? Also yes.
Redoubling my workout efforts, I told myself firmly that I would not be getting a hard-on at the gym while thinking about male alphas. For one thing, my primary emotion during both of my previous meetings with Emiel had been a not-completely-irrational fear of getting punched in the face.
Even now, I could make out the faint shadow of bruising along the alpha’s cheek and jaw. Unless he’d been mugged or something, this was a man who had experience with flying fists. He moved like a boxer; it wouldn’t have shocked me to learn that he fought professionally.
We finished our parallel workouts in silence. I hopped in the shower and then grabbed my bag, ready to head home for breakfast and a change of clothes. The alpha’s deep voice stopped me.
“You wanna grab a coffee or something?” he asked.
I paused, taken aback. “Um... sure?” I said, aware that the only thing we had in common was Mia. If he wanted to talk to me about something related to her, I needed to hear it. Especially after the disaster of a conversation I’d had with her the previous day.
He nodded, as though to himself. “Give me ten minutes to get changed. I’ll meet you in the coffee shop next door.”
Ignoring the hint of trepidation niggling at the back of my mind, I nodded and shouldered my workout bag, heading one door down in the strip mall to the conveniently placed twenty-four-hour coffee and donut shop. I recognized business acumen when I saw it—the place sucked up all the gym’s morning business, part of a virtuous cycle where tired gym bros felt entitled to a donut after burning all those calories on the weight machines, while also ensuring that they’d stay loyal to the gym to prevent the fat and sugar from ending up around their waistlines.
There was a line, even at this early hour, so I settled in to wait. I’d just reached the counter when the door jingled, admitting the alpha who might or might not harbor ambitions of breaking my nose.
“I’m just ordering,” I called to him. “I’ll get yours, too. What do you want?”
“Small iced caramel macchiato and a bear claw,” he said.
“One large black coffee, one small iced caramel macchiato, and one bear claw for here,” I relayed to the bored-looking barista.
“Name?” she asked.
“Nat,” I told her, paying and adding a generous tip to the jar.
Emiel had claimed a table in the back corner of the little shop. I joined him a bit warily.
“What do I owe you?” he asked, reaching for his wallet. He was dressed for work, apparently planning on heading straight to the youth center from the gym. By contrast, I was wearing a faded T-shirt and sweats.
I waved the offer away. “Don’t worry about it.”
He didn’t argue; just settled back in his chair, watching me with dark eyes. “Thanks. Weird that we go to the same gym, huh?”
“Order for Nate!” called the barista.
I sighed and shot him a wry look. “That’s probably me. Back in a second.”
Returning with the drinks and pastry, I set everything down and popped the lid off my coffee, breathing in the rich scent.
“Would’ve thought you’d go to one of those upscale gyms near Ladue,” I ventured, taking a cautious sip to gauge the temperature.
Emiel shrugged. “It’s on the way to work. Cheaper than anything close to home, too.”
That, I could well imagine. I filed away the fact that he apparently wasn’t rolling in money as being mildly interesting.
“Mia says you and the others run a center for at-risk teenagers?” I offered, still trying to navigate this unexpected conversation.
“Yeah. In East St. Louis. Trying to keep kids out of the gangs.” He took a sip of his macchiato, then set it down and wiped foamy milk off his upper lip. “You and Mia must’ve talked, right? She needs to steer clear of the gangs, too. You both do.”
An unpleasant little jolt of adrenaline pinged through me at the reminder of what we’d decided to do.
“She wants to fight this battle,” I began slowly. “And I don’t think she’s wrong. We’re taking the story to the press.”
Emiel didn’t look happy about that answer... but to be fair, he wasn’t exactly a happy looking dude at the best of times.
“Think that’s gonna stop them from going after you?” he asked.
My expression turned sour. “I’m hoping the U.S. Attorney’s Office in the Eastern District of Missouri will stop them from coming after us. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
He tore off a corner of the bear claw, fiddling with it rather than eating it. “You ain’t stupid. And I know you care about Mia. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have showed up on our doorstep when she was in heat.”
“I’d like to think so,” I said. “On both counts.”
“So, I know you know how long that legal shit is likely to drag on for, if the feds even decide it’s worth pursuing in the first place.”
I winced, unable to hide it.
“I do, yes,” I admitted. “Which is why we’re going to the press as well. If the story’s out in the public sphere, and something else bad happens, it’ll be pretty obvious who’s behind it.”
Emiel quirked an eyebrow. “An’ you’re willing to risk your employees on that assumption? You’re willing to risk Mia?”
The bitter coffee churned in my stomach.
It took me a few moments to marshal the right words. “The staff are in the loop regarding what’s going on. We’ll be relying on them to keep an eye on things and make sure there are no more ‘ accidents .’” I hesitated, the next part resting heavy on my tongue. “And as for Mia, I’m afraid I’m not in a position to make these kinds of decisions for her. Not that I ever really was. She might be an omega, but that doesn’t mean she can’t make her own choices about her safety.”
A flicker of frustration swept across the alpha’s stony face, although I wasn’t sure if it was because he disagreed with what I’d said, or because he agreed with it.
He downed the rest of his drink and wrapped the remnants of the bear claw in a napkin.
“Well,” he said. “Guess I can’t exactly stop either of you. Gimme your phone for a minute. I’ll put my number in your contacts. You should have it. Y’know, in case you need it for something.”
Blankly, I unlocked my phone and handed it over. He efficiently entered himself as a new contact and handed it back.
“Text me, so I’ve got yours, too,” he said, and I did. He nodded and rose, scooping his half-eaten pastry into one massive hand. I couldn’t help staring at the scarred and swollen knuckles—proof that those fists had pounded plenty of punching bags—or possibly faces—during his life.
I rose as well, putting the lid back on my coffee and picking up my bag.
“Maybe I’ll see you at the gym again,” Emiel said, and headed for the door without a backward glance—a broad-shouldered figure in a well-cut navy suit.
“Yeah,” I said to his retreating back. “Maybe so.”