Chapter Eighteen #2
He shoved open the door to the main offices.
“I ain’t putting up with this shit. It’s been a week since Lucky got taken and ain’t nobody got any answers while I were gone,” he barked, heading for his desk and stopping two steps into the room when a newbie stepped in front of him. “Whatcha gawking at, rookie?”
The young alpha startled and ducked his head to walk around him.
“Don’t terrorise the recruits,” Wynna said on a harried sigh. “I rather like this new lot. They have more balls than the last few we’ve let go. Shockingly, they rather remind me of you. Why that would be a good thing, I’m not sure.”
Ford grabbed the back of his office chair and let her words wash over him.
He wasn’t yet obsolete and he wasn’t overreacting.
“Ross can’t even track these bastards that Lincoln got involved with.
Until we find them, Lucky ain’t gonna be safe,” he explained, feeling like a whiny child complaining to his mother.
He rummaged through the paperwork on his desk to find his access code for the internal system.
Wynna hummed, her voice echoing from a distance. “Not there, sweetheart. Lower or you won’t reach it, next time.”
“You got me on speaker with the monster running loose?”
Wynna laughed, water splashed in the background. “I’m afraid I had no choice. My hands are full. I’m covered in dough. Philip kindly answered the call for me. Don’t worry. He’s heard worse from his parents, when they were arguing,” she admitted, rueful and disappointed.
“They ain’t his parents no more,” he growled in objection.
“You have been a thorn in my side since I met you,” Wynna retaliated with a distinct lack of bite, “but you have endured more than most and still have your sanity. You remain a fully functioning alpha, with no lasting psychological harm, though I imagine your body would have thanked you if you hadn’t been so aggressive on missions. ”
The criticism wasn’t unfounded. Ford had a fucked-up shoulder, a knee that gave out with excessive exertion, and had been warned that one more close explosion or head wound would have him suffering severe consequences later in life.
Ford found his access code and propped his phone between his shoulder and cheek. He swiped the mouse to start his screen and opened the confidential files.
A smile entered Wynna’s voice as Pip sang in the background.
“You are and have always been my best agent. You are the alpha I see my son becoming, and I couldn’t be prouder of him for that evolution,” she said, startling him with the comparison.
“You’re right. It’s taking too long to find these thugs.
I’ll check in with the team this evening and get back to you. ”
Water ran on the other end of the call, as he printed the documents he needed to settle his mind about the future.
“Thanks.” As the printer spat out three sheets of paper, he lifted them and logged out for the day.
“Will ya put the monster on?” He grabbed his phone with one hand while he folded the papers and tucked them into his back pocket.
Wynna huffed as he lifted his jacket off the back of his chair. “Philip, sweetheart. Ford would like to talk to you.”
A click suggested the phone had been picked up, or switched from speaker to a private call. “Hello, sir.”
Ford headed out the building, waving to colleagues who called a goodbye. “I was jus’ teasing ya ‘bout that,” he admitted, though it was cute he’d done it.
Pip giggled a happy, light sound.
“How ya feelin’?” He juggled his jacket and the phone as he reached the front lobby. As it was pissing with rain, he stopped inside the entrance and wrangled his jacket on as they talked.
“Okay.”
“You got any other words?”
Pip was quiet, then mumbled, “Um…better?”
He fished his keys from the jacket pocket. “Better is good.” That was a good answer. He sauntered to his car and pressed the key to unlock it. “You wantin’ Lucky as your omega, ain’t you?”
“Yes.”
For a kid of five, he was surprisingly gentle and quiet, but Ford understood, because he’d been the same—afraid of strangers, barely speaking because nobody wanted to hear what he had to say. “Use your words. I ain’t gonna be mad, no matter what you say.”
“I like Lucky a lot. He’s nice to me.”
Ford slipped into the driver’s seat and brushed rain from his hair. Taking a breath, he stuck the key into the ignition. “Then you’ll get what ya want.” He removed the papers from his back pocket to lay on the passenger seat.
“I will?”
“Lucky and Chase, they’re my boys. I love them so much it hurts. D’ya know how that feels?”
“That’s how much I love Tiloo and Uncle Chaun,” Pip replied, in a hushed voice.
That was a good example, and exactly what he needed to hear. “Legally Lucky ain’t allowed to adopt you until he’s had his first heat, you understand?”
Pip didn’t sound happy. “That’s why Tiloo said I have to wait,” he said, so disappointed it made him smile.
He really had made his mind up—he’d accepted his parents were no good, that Lucky was the kind of parent who would make him happy, and he’d get the best of both lives with him.
He could keep Wynna and Chase in his life, one as grandparent, the other as his parent, and gain Lucky.
Ford started the engine to adjust the heating. “Lucky’s gotta wait, but there ain’t nothing stopping me, and you’re my boy now, monster. Ain’t no one taking you away from us.” Once he made his mind up he never backed down, and this was one thing he was sure about.
A hiccup preceded a light bang and made him check his phone. He put the call on speaker and set it on the dock on the console.
“What did you say?” Wynna demanded, startled and confused.
“Don’t matter. What’s up?”
“He’s crying.”
With a nod of understanding, he refused to apologise. “Ain’t easy knowing the folks who’re meant to love you don’t. He shouldn’t hafta learn that so young.” Stabbing the button to hang up, Ford left the parking lot to head home, with a few pit stops along the way.
He parked two streets from the police station and walked a circuitous route to get into the back door. Some rookie was out the back smoking, with the fire exit standing open so that no one could shut him out.
Ford shook his head, tossed a can across the alley and watched the cop snap to attention to go investigate, gun out of the holster and everything.
Fucking rookie. He slipped in through the fire exit, working from memory to get into the third office from the exit.
He slipped into the room and shut the door behind him before the man sitting at the desk stood up.
“Ford. What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to give you a briefing about Lucky’s case.” He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be saying those words, but there was no rule or law he wouldn’t break to keep his mates safe. Right now, Wynna was only willing to grease the wheels of justice. Ford wanted to light a fucking fire under them.
Detective Darro looked surprised, but sat down, hands carefully on the edge of his desk. “Then I suppose you should sit down.”
Ford liked the gruff, almost reluctant invitation. He took the seat across the desk and got comfortable, starting with a recap of everything he knew of the case, both from his own investigation and what he’d read of the work done in his absence.
When he was done, Jonah stood from his chair, crossed the room and opened a low cupboard.
He came back with a bottle of brandy, two glasses, and a packet of cookies.
Ford grinned and happily took the glasses to place on the desk while Jonah poured.
“So, you’re here to find out who has me on their shit list, in case Lincoln used his familiarity with our family to find an enemy of mine?
” he guessed, sitting to lift his glass.
He made a toast then downed half the brandy in one go.
“Pretty much. I know I’m clutching at straws, but ain’t no one else busting their ass to figure this shit out.”
Jonah nodded, looking older than his forty-seven years.
By all accounts, he and Xander had had trouble conceiving for years before Lucky came along.
Ford had heard the story from Lucky, when he’d told Chase about the reason behind his name, with Xavier being judged and shamed for not having a child until he was twenty-five, an age considered old for an omega, back then.
Ford could see the strain those years had had on Jonah now they were face to face.
His hair had been black in his most recent photo in his file, back when he’d been promoted to detective eight years ago, but it was a pepper grey now.
He had Lucky’s eyes and a sharp jawline, not much weight on him despite being mostly off the street nowadays, but he looked tired.
Jonah heaved a sigh and sat up, leaning his forearms on the desk to meet Ford’s gaze.
“How would you like me to supply the information, Agent King?” he asked, surprising him with the unusual question and the use of his professional title.
“Should I sign a waiver for the ORT to access my case notes? Should I compile a list of names for you to track down? If I do that, you’ll end up at the city prison to check if the people are still behind bars or not. ”
Ford liked his directness and the fact he didn’t fall apart. “Access will be fine.”