Chapter Two #2
Ford let his eyes rake over every inch of Lucky, from the piercing green eyes, blond hair tied into a ponytail that fell down his spine, long-sleeved crop top, tight black jeans and chunky ankle boots.
Lucky was uniquely attractive, in a world where omegas had become obsessed with social media’s idea of beauty.
He was pale skinned, with curves it would be a joy to hold, and marks he rarely saw.
Omha’s Sigils were a special type of tattoo given only to omegas, but few were traditional enough to mark themselves as loyal to Omha.
Lucky was shorter than he thought, maybe because Lincoln was short for an alpha, meaning that Lucky’s five-foot-six looked taller in comparison.
Lincoln was a useless alpha, but even Ford couldn’t believe that he’d let Lucky walk off with another alpha while he mingled with lowlifes. He recognised the alpha from the newspaper, and found it ironic that perfect Chase Walker would brazenly lead the omega astray.
That was a problem for later.
Ford took advantage of Lucky leaving and crossed the street.
The tracker he’d slipped into his pocket while passing him on the street had a built-in microphone and he now knew more about the omega than anyone would expect.
If Chase’s game of ten questions continued while Ford was with Lincoln, he’d have even more leverage.
Ford adjusted his gait, sinking lower into his knees, dropping his shoulders and adding a hint of swagger. He approached the group and tipped his chin at one of the new lot, who nodded like they had any idea who he was.
“Lincoln,” he called, stopping at a distance.
Aware that Lincoln was desperate to fit in with the big guys, Ford glanced around as though paranoid and waited. Curiosity should buy him a few minutes.
Lincoln exchanged an elaborate handshake with Jack, the hanger-on Chase had complained about, then sauntered over. “Who are you?”
“We have a mutual friend who asked me to drop by. From Club Madin.” He’d plucked the club from his surveillance, three days ago. Lincoln had been walking Lucky home and mentioned visiting the club for ‘business’. As usual, his hunch paid off.
Lincoln held out his right hand. “How much did you get?”
“Not so fast.” Ford didn’t even twitch. “I been hearin’ nought but complaints about how much you’re wantin’ and whatcha gonna pay.”
“Pay?” Lincoln laughed, then stopped when he realised Ford was serious. “I don’t pay.”
Ford raised an eyebrow, stunned he’d be so brazen.
“Everybody pays, kid. No matter what you want, whatcha needin’, you pay.
Don’t matter whether it’s in blood, cash or kind.
” He made that perfectly clear, because no one, especially in the criminal underworld, would give something for nothing.
If Lincoln was getting drugs, like Ford suspected, he was definitely not getting them for free.
“You need to borrow cash?” Ford guessed, surprised.
Under normal circumstances, the arrogance that made him believe he’d get freebies would get him shot.
“I ain’t got nothin’ to give ya till you pay.
Ya go to Introductory College, don’tcha? ”
Lincoln narrowed his gaze, like he was starting to suspect Ford wasn’t who he said.
“What days d’ya go, numb nuts?”
“Every day except weekends. Why?”
Ford removed a beat-up flip phone from his pocket, the kind that lasted forever but didn’t need any fancy shit. It made calls, took texts and did the job. “What times ya free? I can stop by this week, ’cause if you ain’t coughed up by end of the week, I got other ways I’m meant to get paid.”
Lincoln swallowed, likely conjuring up a thousand ways he might be forced to repay his debt, which confirmed another of Ford’s theories—this wasn’t the only delivery he’d expected to get for free. “How much can I get for three hundred Omhns?”
That wasn’t what most kids his age would pay for drugs, especially the illegal ones.
He couldn’t even get the ones meant for studying for that amount.
What was he buying? “You joking? For three hundred, you get one dose.” Ford gauged the answer was innocuous enough that Lincoln wouldn’t question it.
He bobbed his head and licked his lips. “I can maybe get that much by Thursday.”
Fucks sake, he doesn’t even have three hundred? Then why ask?
Lincoln wasn’t far from pissing his pants.
Whoever he was in debt to wasn’t a nice person, or his debt had grown so high that he expected to repay with broken limbs.
Ford made Lincoln hand over his mobile number, then told him he’d text when he was on campus on Thursday.
“Even if you gotta skip class or bolt outta there in the middle o’ an exam, you come when I call ya, d’ya hear? ”
Lincoln bobbed his head before he’d even finished.
Ford didn’t bother with niceties. He walked away, dismissing Lincoln, then lifted a hand to his right ear to tap the button that played the live feed from Lucky’s mic.
He’d listen to the recording later, a everything went straight to his phone, including Lucky’s every move until he found or lost the tracker.
Right now, he mined the unsuspecting omega for information.
* * * *
Ford headed to his car and shut the door just as a light rain became a deluge. He tugged his collar up, switched on the heating and grabbed his phone.
“This is Sykes.”
Ford grabbed the bag from the passenger footwell to rummage through. “I’mma need an ID card. Introductory College. TA or an advanced student. I need it available for pick-up by Sunday, for use on Monday.”
Sykes hummed, the sound of a pen scratching over paper on the other end. “The Roach says he can get it done for pick-up on Friday, if that helps.”
That was quicker than he’d hoped, but better. Ross ‘the Roach’ Rose was a talented, if mouthy, little shit.
Ford scrambled through the gear in his bag until he found the coffee flask and set it on the passenger seat.
“I want a phone chip ready, and two tracker chips.” The phone chip would give him access to the data on whatever phone it was attached to, and he could get his hands on Lucky’s phone easily.
If luck was on his side, he’d get Lincoln’s too.
“Gotcha.” Sykes sounded curious, more casual than tense, which meant he was trusting Ford to do this right. “How will you swing the college ID? You’d need someone on the inside, to make sure you aren’t outed when you step on campus.”
Ford removed a vial of liquid from his bag. “A professor owes me a favour.”
“Anything else you need?”
“No.” He hung up, because he didn’t need pleasantries with Sykes, and now Ross was on the case, he could be sure the job was done properly.
Ford put the vial aside and cracked open his coffee for a drink.
He flipped his phone to the audio file from Lucky’s tracker and saved it, then tapped open the auto-transcript app and gave it a minute to scan the file.
Within two minutes, he had a complete transcript of everything Lucky had said since Ford had placed the tracker.
He’d read the transcript when he got home, in case there was anything useful. The more he was learning about Lincoln, the more he sensed that Lucky was the key to getting this job on track.
Getting his cooperation would be the hard part.