13. Avery #2
Instant scowl. “I’m sorry, but exhibitionism is not in my comfort zone, in case that was some sort of caveat for our mating.”
I laughed and bumped him with my shoulder. “It’s not a caveat, baby,” I teased him.
He took a quick breath. “Shall we go up, then?”
The stairs were wide enough for four people to walk together, side by side, and there was a small balcony halfway up where one could stand and look down at the dance floor below.
The top of the stairs led into a huge open space that was set up with various stations.
It was crowded with people, unlike the first floor, but not so bad that we couldn’t push our way through to get a glimpse of the displays.
There was one with a small orgy, six omegas—three women, three men—performing sexual acts on one another. In the next, a beautiful woman was strapped to a St. Andrew’s Cross, and when Wade checked to see if she was all right, wasn’t being forced in any way, she gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Walking the area, we eventually came across what appeared to be a semiprivate room separated from the rest of the space by a gauzy red curtain, and we slipped through. The dozens of people writhing naked on the floor…were far less interesting than Lucas Grant.
“Okay, guys, there’s no picture taking or––Avery?”
As I stepped in beside him, he glanced at Graeme and then Wade. “Why do you have a human with you? He’s not allowed to participate.”
“We’re not here to participate,” I assured him. “We’re here to talk to you.”
He groaned but pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, texted someone, and then waved across the room. I realized there were four guys in there, one in each corner, and the one he signaled walked around the outer edge of the floor to take his place.
Outside, Lucas rounded on me angrily, grabbing my arm to hold me still. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“I told you, we came to talk to––”
“You should be more careful,” he barked, squeezing my bicep to help make his point. “You put yourself up for grabs by walking in here. Omegas have even fewer rights than usual when they come to these kinds of parties.”
“Why the hell’re you manhandling him?” Wade snapped at Lucas. “You need to get your––”
“He’s safe,” Graeme announced to Lucas, and I could feel the pulse of power from him, rolling over me, through me, and saw when it hit Lucas. Hard.
He jolted, and when he turned to face Graeme, he looked scared. From the slight shivering to the wariness in his eyes, Lucas Grant seemed poised to run. It was unnerving to witness.
“Do you know why he’s safe? Would you care to guess?”
Lucas cleared his throat. “Your mate, sir. I apologize. Of course he’s safe, both in your company and as he carries your mark.”
“Holy shit,” Wade gasped beside me.
Lucas Grant was a big man, covered in hard, heavy muscle, and he was tall as well, even taller than Graeme’s own six feet four inches, but still, I knew if they fought, it would be no contest. If my mate wanted to, his innate power being so much greater than Lucas’s, he could snap the bigger man in half.
After a long moment, Graeme gave Lucas the slightest tip of his head, and the relief on Lucas’s face and in his posture was immediate.
He trembled for a moment, as though shaking off the paralyzing fear, and then leaned back against the wall, like it was the only thing keeping him vertical.
Then he turned to me, looking wrung out.
“I always considered us…maybe not friends, but not just acquaintances, and I know you were sincerely worried about me until you recognized my mate, so can we talk now?”
He nodded.
“We need to know if you saw Imogen Lowell when you grabbed Saoirse from Remy Talmadge’s front porch.”
“Who?” he asked, taking a breath and pushing away from the wall, having recovered from his fright, looking more like the confident beta I knew him to be.
“This girl,” Wade chimed in, holding up his phone to show him a picture of Imogen from the society page.
Lucas took the phone, made the picture bigger, and I saw it on his face when recognition hit. “Yeah, I saw her with…what’s his name, the alpha who was killed in that robbery?”
“What robbery?”
“I dunno. It was downtown, I guess. The only reason I know about it is because it was in the news this morning, and Bridget was reading about it on her tablet. She was surprised because he was one of the alphas who was in negotiations with Linden’s father over his contract.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“Of course, Colby Richter.”
“Why do I know that name?” I asked Lucas.
“Probably because he was at your folks’ party on Friday. He was there, courtin’ Lin like regular. All those guys just need to cough up the cash already. If I wanted an omega, I wouldn’t haggle; I’d pay whatever dowry the family was asking.”
“As would I,” Graeme agreed. “We’re of the same mind.”
Lucas gave him a slight smile.
“Your cousin doesn’t have a gambling debt, does he?” Graeme pronounced. “You need money for something else altogether, do you not?”
I glanced from Lucas to Graeme and then back to Lucas.
He let his head fall back until it hit the wall. “Yes, sir, I do.”
Reaching inside his coat, Graeme pulled out his gold business card holder, took out a card and handed it to Lucas. “I’m always in need of good people to assist with various business pursuits. Do give me a call, and we can discuss your situation.”
Lucas hesitated, then took the card, stared at it, and slowly lifted his head to meet Graeme’s gaze. “I don’t know that I have any skills you would––”
“I’m a cyne , Mr. Grant,” Graeme informed him, his voice deceptively mild. “I suspect you’re not privy to the extent of the various skill sets I might make use of.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, and his smile was wide and real. “Thank you, sir.”
“Now, would you be so kind,” Graeme directed him, “as to give us a timeline of your evening on Friday.”
“Sure,” Lucas replied quickly. “Uhm, Bridget got a call from her mother that Saoirse had left the house without permission, and since we both knew where she had to be going—back to that sleazebag Talmadge’s—we jumped in the car and headed up to Highland Park.”
“Sleazebag though he may be, Mr. Talmadge is my cousin, so I’ll thank you not to elaborate on his character and stick to the pertinent details, please.”
“Sure,” Lucas agreed.
“So you went to Talmadge’s because you knew Saoirse tried to go before.”
“Yeah.”
His story corroborated Bridget’s. When they arrived, Lucas spotted Saoirse, with her terrible dye job, about to go in the house.
He told Bridget to stay in the car, got out, snuck up behind Saoirse, and when the front door opened, he grabbed Talmadge, gave him a quick, brutal beat down, and then scooped up Saoirse and delivered her to Bridget.
He happened to turn back toward the house, and that’s when he saw Imogen standing with Colby in Remy’s living room.
Later that evening, according to the police report Wade pulled up on his phone, Colby was robbed and killed two blocks away from where Imogen’s body was found.
Unlike Imogen, however, Colby’s death did not seem at all lupine related.
He was killed by two gunshot wounds, one to the chest and one to the head.
The police report concluded it was a robbery gone wrong, as his watch, wallet, and an expensive pinky ring were stolen.
“Thank you,” Wade acknowledged Lucas after we confirmed Colby’s death.
Lucas nodded, shook Graeme’s hand when he offered it, gave me a smile, and then slipped back inside the room.
“What was all that about with Lucas?”
“Don’t you know?” he asked me, one eyebrow arched.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be—oh,” I breathed out, realizing what Lucas needed to buy that he didn’t want to haggle over.
“That’s never gonna—you realize even if you pay him a million dollars to do nothing, and even if he saves enough to buy her contract, plus the dowry, Bridget herself would never agree to it. ”
“I do realize that, yes.”
“She’s not looking for someone to pay her father so she can go off and live in a little house in Brookfield or, you know what I mean. She’s looking for the fairy tale. She’s looking for you.”
“I’m aware,” he soothed me, cupping my chin in his hand. “But I’m already spoken for.”
“Yes, you are,” I husked, not caring what Wade was probably thinking about me having a moment with my mate in the middle of an investigation.
Graeme smiled at me and let his hand drop away.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Grant has been led to believe that if he buys Miss Mills’ contract, she will be his.
She’s either in love with him and has agreed to wait until he’s saved the needed funds, which could account for the twelve years of being unbonded, or he’s made his desires known and she’s never corrected him.
Either way, he believes her to be his, which makes me wonder about her statement. ”
“Why?” Wade asked.
“Because Bridget told us that after they returned home and Lucas put Saoirse in her room, he spent the rest of the night calming her down.”
I nodded. “And you think she sleeps with Lucas under her father’s roof all the time.”
“I suspect so, yes. Her pheromones are all over him, her scent is in his lungs, and under his shirt he’s carrying some kind of marks that are still healing.”
“You can smell all that?” Wade prodded Graeme. “Even in here with all these people?”
“Yes,” he informed my partner. “Bridget, like most wolves, uses her claws when she has sex, and I noticed a small amount of dried blood under her fingernails when you took her hand.”
“Seriously?” Wade questioned him.
“If she’s using him, then it’s a horrible betrayal.
If she’s not, it’s terrible to do to her sister, and if Saoirse is aware, then perhaps that’s fueling her anger.
Because we’ve overlooked one rather important detail.
While Lucas was with Bridget calming her down, can Saoirse’s whereabouts be substantiated? ”