Chapter Twelve
The next day: Tuesday
Ford
He pulled over outside a quaint house in a quiet street, his stomach churning. He got out of the car and tugged the collar of his jacket around his neck as Lucky stepped out with a yawn and Chase followed.
Walking up the path, he knocked on the red door and waited. Lucky slipped up beside him, slid his hand into Ford’s, then turned the handle on the front door, which opened.
“You don’t lock your door?” His ORT instincts told him to be horrified, while the man behind the badge, who had literally saved Lucky from the Market, marvelled at Lucky’s distinct lack of fear.
“We live on Rosenthal Cresent, which is listed as the nicest, safest street in all of Threnul Province. Every house on this street is run by a stay-at-home omega, with a security system on every doorway.”
Ford looked to Chase for help.
“Not for all the money in the world.” Chase raised his hands and stepped into the house.
He shook his head, leaving this argument for another day and followed Lucky inside, surprised to find that the house was empty. “Is this normal?”
Lucky laid his bag on the sofa before sinking into the cushions. “I only texted them two hours ago to say we were allowed to come home. Papa is probably at the library. My father is still at work.”
“Sit there while I make sure the house is clear,” Ford decided, unable to rest until he’d made the house safe. He couldn’t forget that those assholes who had worked with Lincoln were still on the loose.
“Fine.”
He raised an eyebrow at Lucky, who lay there with his eyes shut. Ford refocused on the job—he called out and checked the kitchen, satisfied everything was as it should be. He was surprised to find the back door locked.
Returning to the living room, he stopped halfway to Lucky and folded his arms. Lucky looked peaceful and calm, while Chase was texting on his phone, lounging on the armchair. “If you’re gonna live in a house without a locked door, you need to learn howta fight.”
Lucky groaned, opening his eyes to pout. “Why?”
Ford raked a hand through his hair, breathless and fucking turned on by the slow smile Lucky let slip.
Grabbing the bag from the side of the sofa, Ford tossed it onto the empty armchair by Chase and stepped closer to Lucky.
“You’re a gorgeous, feisty omega, but you should still know how to defend yourself. ”
Lucky rolled his eyes but let Ford pull him to his feet and slip the jacket from Lucky’s shoulders.
Gods, he was a temptation.
“Ford, I love that you want to take care of me, but I’m an omega.
” Lucky cocked his head at Ford, like he didn’t understand how to be more clear, though he wasn’t really getting the point.
Being an omega just made him more likely to get hurt.
“I learned a long time ago that the best way to beat an alpha was to use his massive ego against him. There are two extremely successful techniques. You win a physical fight, which my father has been training me for since I could walk, or you add a touch of lust, flirtation, and a whiff of slick. Do that and any alpha, young or old, will hand over their will as easily as any Liner jonesing for their next fix.”
Ford couldn’t have been more proud of his sweet but feisty omega for being brave enough to put him in his place.
He might be an arrogant alpha ORTa, who thought he knew everything, but he drew Lucky in for a quick kiss, an apology on the tip of his tongue for forgetting that Lucky dealt with this shit every day.
As their lips slid apart, Lucky took a slow, soft breath.
“I’m an omega. My entire life is about protecting myself from alphas who can’t keep their hands to themselves.
” He gazed at Ford with such sincerity and vulnerability that his heart raced.
“I know you want to protect me, but you can’t wrap me up in cotton forever.
Alphas will always be a threat, long after I’m bonded and mated. ”
Ford let his hand slide from Lucky’s hair to his neck and pressed his forehead to Lucky’s, breathing him in. “I can try,” he argued, not mad, but disappointed that Lucky knew the risks and had accepted his fate. The fate of all omegas.
“Right.” Chase stood and clasped his hands.
“Since your parents aren’t home yet and you’ve been through a brutal week away from them, I’m pretty sure your papa will want to fuss over you, and your father will hate that you’ve found two mates he didn’t get to run background checks on first.” Chase brushed at the loose hair draped over Lucky’s shoulder.
“Rest. When they come home, you can explain everything.”
Lucky laughed, probably objecting to the massive responsibility of calming his parents.
Chase didn’t give him a chance to interrupt. “Ford and I will organise dinner, see if we can buy ourselves some brownie points.”
Ford dropped a quick kiss to Lucky’s forehead. “Good plan. We’re gonna need all we can get, considering you’ve got the hottest alpha in town, and an ORTa who is six years older than you, as your mates.” He tutted, teasing him for that complex combination.
Lucky crossed to the armchair Chase had vacated and slid the blanket from the back. “I’m sick of sleeping, but I’ll agree to rest.”
Ford watched him walk off, partly amused and partly disgruntled and settled onto the sofa. On the way to the kitchen, he congratulated Chase for his quick thinking. He might not be the best cook, but he could whip up something good enough to impress Xavier Darro.
* * * *
Chase
Cooking with Ford was surprisingly fun. They made a simple pasta and salad, with a sauce Ford made from scratch, while Lucky binged a tense drama that had him arguing with the main character.
“Where did you learn to cook?” Ford asked, while Chase gathered the ingredients for a homemade apple pie.
“I learned it was better to buy the cheapest ingredients at the store that would make something to last me three days than to go dumpster diving, but you lived in a fancy house with a maid and a personal chef.”
Chase laughed, flicking sprinkles of flour at Ford for the unintended insult.
“My mother didn’t get to bond much with her kids until I came along and this became our thing.
” Wynna Walker was responsible for Chase learning how to be what Lucky called ‘a decent alpha’, who respected omegas.
He’d learned to cook, to braid hair, to care for an omega.
“While my siblings have their own personal chefs and order in takeout because they can barely boil an egg”—he grinned at Ford as Chase gathered ingredients—“I’m gonna blow your mind with an apple pie to die for. ”
“You do that, meda.” Ford looked pleased. It must have been the mate bond, because it was the same look he’d given Lucky when he’d patiently revealed the reality of omega self-defence.
“You could help.”
“Nah.” Ford folded his arms over his chest and focused on Chase’s hands.
Since he wasn’t helping, he ignored Ford, gathering the apples to peel, quarter, core and slice, ready for the baking tray.
By the time he was halfway through the pastry mix the front door opened―directly across from the kitchen door that Ford had propped open for the heat―to a harried, wet man beneath an umbrella.
Keeping the umbrella outside, he shook it rigorously, then folded it to set into the holder by the front door.
The TV went silent just as Xavier Darro gasped. “Lucky! Sweetheart!” He was on Lucky in a split second, smothering him with a hug and fussing over him, just as Ford had guessed.
Chase was surprised when Lucky sat up to hug his papa and started crying. He’d gone through all of this alone, without the care or guidance of his parents, and he’d been strong, but maybe seeing his papa reminded him of how much worse it could have been if Rafe hadn’t been ORT.
The alternative didn’t bear thinking about, but Chase had been forced to face that reality days ago, while Lucky had been sleeping off the OX. To realise his mate could have been taken by the Market, shipped to Sikka Province, without anyone knowing, had been terrifying.
“Rest. I’ll make you tea.” Xavier left Lucky, despite his protests.
Chase had a momentary panic about the mess he’d made and hadn’t had time to clean up.
Xavier went straight to the kettle―this forty-five-year-old omega, barely five foot four, wearing a pair of dungarees over an off-white T-shirt covered in paint, and a pair of thick work boots.
He was so busy making tea that it was only when he stopped to put the spoon in the sink that Xavier noticed Chase.
“Chase! Darling, look at you!” Xavier bustled over to brush what must have been flour from his cheek, then squeezed him in an unexpected hug.
He grabbed Ford in a similar hug, which Ford tolerated with a tense smile.
“Look how thin and pale you both are. It must have been difficult for you. Don’t worry.
Now Lucky is home, you can dote on him all you want.
I won’t get in your way.” Xavier winked, then grabbed the tea.
“Come through and join us when you’ve tidied up. You’ve both done a wonderful job.”
As Xavier left the kitchen door wide open, Ford sagged against the counter. “I thought he’d never stop talking,” he murmured, apparently a strong, stoic ORTa, except when faced with the sunshine of Xavier Darro.
Chase grabbed the bottle of beer they’d been sharing and took a sip, leaving floury fingerprints behind.
“I told you, I don’t want or need tea!” Lucky complained, hissing the two words that caught Ford’s interest.
“Take it anyway, darling. You never know.”
“I do know!”