Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The apartment smelled like strong coffee and printer ink when we walked in. Papers were spread everywhere—construction permits, photographs, blueprints covering every inch of our new dining table’s surface.
Dominic’s dark henley stretched across his chest and shoulders in a way that made my mouth go dry, sleeves shoved to his elbows exposing the muscled forearms that had pinned me to our new mattress just last night.
The top two buttons at his collar hung open, revealing the hollow of his throat.
Those steel-gray eyes locked onto me with an intensity that sent heat pooling low in my belly.
Pregnancy hormones were a hell of a thing.
Blake had abandoned his usual suit jacket, working in just his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up in a way that told me they’d been holed up together for hours, plotting something. He wore the faintest hint of that “I’m totally innocent” smugness that immediately made me suspicious.
My hand drifted to the bump beneath my loose sweater as I watched them exchange a loaded glance—the kind of silent alpha communication that meant they’d done something they knew I wouldn’t like and were trying to decide who had to tell me.
“You’ve been busy,” I observed, keeping my tone light.
“Katherine pulled the construction permits and inspection records for the preservation projects underway during the time Thomas went missing,” Blake said, not looking up from his tablet. “Public records, mostly, but illuminating.”
“Abigail’s been cross-referencing them with the copies Mayor Fairfax gave you from the Historical Society archives. We’re building our own timeline,” Dominic explained, moving to pull out a chair for me. “Since Hawkins can’t share everything from an active investigation.”
“Any news?” I repeated. “He can say if he has any leads, right?”
Blake’s lips curled into an amused smile. “Dom and the sheriff are giving each other the cold shoulder at the moment.”
“What happened?” I asked, a knot of anxiety forming in my stomach.
“After you had lunch with Vicente at Bella Vista,” Blake said, his tone almost conversational, “Dominic had what I would diplomatically call a ‘passionate discussion’ with Sheriff Hawkins.”
I turned to my alpha slowly. “What kind of ‘passionate discussion’?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened, and through our bond I felt a flash of guilt mixed with defensiveness. “I may have… expressed concern about your safety.”
“He threatened to sue the department for failing to adequately protect a pregnant omega from organized crime threats,” Blake supplied helpfully, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Had Katherine on speaker phone drafting the complaint right there in Hawkins’ office.”
“Then when Hawkins tried to call his bluff,” Blake continued, clearly enjoying himself, “Dom here very calmly pulled up the sheriff’s reelection schedule and started googling potential opponents to fund. Mentioned something about billboards and attack ads.”
“Blake,” Dominic warned.
“And when Hawkins still wouldn’t cooperate,” Blake added, his grin widening, “Your alpha pulled out his phone and said he had several major news outlets on speed dial who would be very interested in a story about local law enforcement obstructing a concerned mate’s attempts to protect his pregnant omega from mob violence. ”
“You did what now?” I asked, equally shocked and mortified. This is going to be THE town gossip in Millcrest for the next three years! Oh my God.
“They’re very responsive to stories about omega rights violations,” Dominic said.
“You have a CNN producer on speed dial?” Penny asked.
“I have a lot of contacts,” Dominic said. “In my defense, I have recently experienced significant bond-stress. My cortisol levels and protective instincts were somewhat elevated—”
“He told Hawkins, and I quote, ‘I’m patient, I hold grudges, and I have excellent records retention,’” Blake said, absolutely delighted. “The deputies had to physically escort him out before he could file the lawsuit, make any campaign donations, or actually call CNN.”
“Will you give it a rest?” Dominic’s lips curled back, exposing his sharp canines as he glared at his cousin.
“What? As a fellow alpha, I thought your commitment to your mate’s protection admirable,” Blake said, his baby blues twinkling. “Though I personally would have led with the media threat and saved the lawsuit as the nuclear option, but that’s just me. You went full scorched earth immediately.”
Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. “Scorched earth, huh?”
“I was… not at my most rational,” Dominic admitted. “You’d just had lunch with a man whose family makes people disappear. I needed to know if you were in danger.”
“So naturally, threatening law enforcement was your first move,” I said.
“Second move,” Blake corrected. “His first move was waking me at two in the morning—after he waited for you to fall asleep—to demand I use my ‘connections’ to verify Vicente’s whereabouts in 1973.”
“It was a reasonable request—”
“At two AM,” Blake repeated. “On a Tuesday. I had a board meeting at eight.”
Blake’s gaze fixed on me. “All while you—the source of all my woes—snored blissfully away in dreamland.”
“I don’t snore,” I said defensively. As if that was the part I should be objecting to.
“Did you get the information?” Penny asked, clearly fascinated by this glimpse into their behind-the-scenes panic.
“Eventually,” Blake replied. “After I got Katherine to intervene so we could conduct an actual investigation instead of whatever cowboy nonsense Dominic was planning.”
He pulled up the documents on his tablet and handed the device to me. Penny and Jake pressed in on either side, their breath warm against my neck as they peered at the tablet.
“Katherine pulled Vicente’s travel records from June 1973,” Blake explained. “Hotel receipts from Chicago, supplier meeting notes, airline manifests from that era.”
“And some things we acquired through… let’s call them creative channels,” he added.
My eyes widened. “You broke the law?”
“Katherine navigated certain gray areas of information acquisition,” Blake said with the kind of careful phrasing that absolutely meant yes. “But we were very discreet about it.”
“Very illegal, you mean,” I said, mentally picturing Dominic and Blake in black ski masks hacking into databases. The mental picture was so absurd, I let out a chuckle.
“Also that,” Blake agreed cheerfully. “But we verified Vicente was in Chicago the entire weekend Thomas disappeared. FBI and the IRS were tracking him at the time, trying to get something on him that would stick. He couldn’t have killed Thomas himself.”
I felt relief wash through me, followed immediately by suspicion. “What else? What else did you do without telling me?”
Blake and Dominic exchanged another one of their loaded glances that meant I was about to learn something I wouldn’t like.
“During the apartment move,” Dominic began carefully, “we may have implemented some enhanced security measures.”
“What kind of enhanced measures?”
“Additional cameras,” Dominic said. “Upgraded the biometric locks. Extended protocols with Marcus and the security team—”
“You’ve been tracking me,” I said flatly.
“Stalker!” Penny burst out, pointing accusingly at Dominic. “I knew Marcus was being extra attentive! You’ve been having him report our every move!”
“Not every move,” Dominic defended. “Just… location updates. Periodically.”
“How periodically?” I asked. I bet it wasn’t just ‘occasional’ check-ins. These two looked way too guilty for something that innocent.
“…Hourly,” Dominic admitted.
“HOURLY?!” Penny’s voice went up an octave. “We’ve been tracked like FedEx packages!”
“In our defense,” Blake said, still looking far too amused by all this, “you were staying in my building. I was going to know where you were anyway. We just… streamlined the process.”
“Streamlined,” I repeated. “Right.”
“Made it more efficient,” Blake offered.
“Stalked us,” Penny corrected. “The word you’re looking for is stalked.”
“Protected,” Dominic said firmly. “After you sat down with a known crime family associate—”
“Who you just said wasn’t the killer!” Penny inserted.
“—we didn’t know that yet,” Dominic said. “And I wasn’t taking chances with your life. Any of your lives.”
Through our bond, I felt his consternation and the underlying terror that had driven him to Hawkins’ office. He’d been scared, and his response was to try to control the situation.
Classic Dominic.
It was exactly the kind of thing that would have made me furious weeks ago. The kind of overprotective, controlling behavior that had led to our massive fight over the Vertex situation.
I’d decided—chosen—to forgive him for that. To move forward. Starting another fight over this felt exhausting and pointless when I could feel through our bond that he’d genuinely believed he was protecting me.
My hand drifted to my belly, and Dominic’s eyes tracked the movement immediately. His nostrils flared slightly, scenting the shift in my emotions.
Pick your hill, Leo.
I took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Okay.”
Dominic blinked. “Okay?”
“I’m not having another Vertex-sized fight with you over this,” I said. “I understand why you did it. But no more tracking without permission. Understood?”
Dominic studied my face, clearly surprised I wasn’t angrier. Through the bond, I felt his relief mixed with chagrin. “Understood,” he said quietly.
“Good.” I turned to Blake. “And you’re just as guilty. Stop enabling him.”
“Remember, two AM? I was sleep-deprived,” Blake protested, though his smile was genuine.
“I can’t believe you’re not more mad,” Penny said, staring at me. “They tracked us like we were tagged wildlife!”
“It’s not that bad,” Jake murmured, his gaze falling to his fidgeting hands as his shoulders lifted in a slight shrug.
“I’m too pregnant and tired to care,” I admitted. “And we have bigger problems.” I gestured at the papers spread across the table. “Like figuring out who actually killed Thomas.”
“Speaking of which,” Jake said, clearly eager to move past the stalking conversation, “what else did you find?”
Blake took his tablet back and pulled up more documents, his expression shifting back to business mode.
“The FBI investigation into the Antonelli family is ongoing, but it’s focused on current operations—Vicente’s nephews and cousins are running the organization now.
Money laundering, racketeering, things of that nature. ”
“Vicente himself can’t be charged,” Dominic added. “Statute of limitations expired decades ago for the crimes he was involved in. But the current generation? The ones Jake witnessed committing murder? They’re who the FBI is building their case against.”
“So Jake’s still in danger,” I said, understanding settling in.
“From the current Antonellis, yes,” Blake confirmed. “Not from Vicente specifically, I think. He’s been out of active operations for years. But his nephews? They’re dangerous. Especially Vito. Which is why you’re both staying here until the FBI concludes their investigation.”
“Katherine’s been building profiles on everyone who had access to the construction schedules at the time.” Dominic leaned back in his chair, stretching. The henley strained across his chest, the fabric clinging to every contour of his muscled torso. My mouth went dry.
“Paula doesn’t think her father was involved,” I said, my eyes drawn to the unbuttoned V of his shirt where the faint purple-tinged mark from my teeth still decorated his collarbone. “She’s absolutely convinced.”
I need to bite him again.
“It was an active construction project with multiple contractors,” Blake said. “Vicente’s crew did most of the heavy work. Robert Winslow managed the pharmacy business but wasn’t necessarily on-site every day.”
“So someone from Vicente’s crew could have done it,” Jake said. “Like that foreman you mentioned?”
“Thomas disappeared June fifteenth,” Blake said, pulling up the timeline. “Concrete was scheduled to be poured June eighteenth. That’s a three-day window—a lot can happen in that time.”
“We know five people who definitely had access,” Dominic added. “Vicente, Judge Whitmore, Henry Fairfax and his son, and possibly Constance Whitmore, but she would’ve had to research it herself.”
“Constance is alive,” Blake said. “Living in Connecticut. But she’s declined to cooperate with Hawkins’ investigation. Her lawyers shut down any attempt at an interview.”
“So we’re left with theories,” I said.
“For now ,” Blake agreed.
The room grew quiet, heavy with unspoken theories and dead ends, until Blake leaned forward, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his tablet. “So, the memorial speech, how’s that coming along?”
The weight of it settled on me again. I’d agreed to stand in front of Thomas’s family and honor a man whose killer would likely never face justice. “It’s coming along…”
Penny’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe someone who knows more will finally come forward?”
“Maybe,” Dominic said, though his tone suggested doubt.
Whoever knew the truth had managed to keep it buried for half a century. In all honesty, they may not even be alive…
“I’ve been watching these true crime documentaries lately. Killers—they can’t help themselves.” Blake examined his perfectly manicured cuticles, looking almost bored. “They return to the scene... or they show up at funerals or memorials.”
A sudden sharp, electrical current of rage prickled across my skin. Dominic couldn’t have transmitting the emotion more clearly than if he’d shouted it aloud.
I caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. He had the grace to look slightly abashed.
“No more tracking,” he promised.
“Unless there’s an actual threat,” Blake added.
“Blake!” I admonished.
“What? I’m just being realistic about his capacity for keeping that promise.”
Dominic moved closer, his hand covering mine on my belly. “I know I went overboard,” he said quietly. “But when I thought about what could have happened—”
“I know,” I interrupted. Despite my exasperation with his methods, my omega purred at the evidence of how desperately he wanted to protect us.
This was my life now—a rich, overprotective alpha with stalkerish predilections and his equally rich, enabler cousin.
I should probably be more concerned about that.
But I couldn’t quite manage it.
At least my life will never be boring.