Chapter 3
Chapter three
Callisto
“Where is he?” I demand, bracing my hands on the front counter in the local police station. “Where’s my client?” My scent slips along with my control, but I’m too pissed to care.
The beta woman behind the desk bristles. “You can’t come in here making demands, sir. We process all offenders the same, so you’ll just have to wait until we’re ready.”
Instinct tells me it’ll be too late by then. I lean forward and snarl. “Get your sheriff out here immediately. Zack Jones is under court protection.”
I swear she rolls her eyes, so I switch tactics, stepping over to the security door and slapping my palms against it. “Get out here! I need to see my client immediately. He’s in danger!” Well, more likely it’s the police officers who are in danger, but I can’t announce that here.
“Ease up,” Pierce tells me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We don’t want you getting locked up too.”
I glare at him, cogs turning.
The OCB agent swears under his breath. “Don’t you dare think about it, Callisto.”
Would it be worth a small infraction to earn myself a ticket through that door? Perhaps disturbing the peace or verbal assault of a law enforcement agent? What could I do without losing my barrister’s license?
Pierce shakes his head, and his grip tightens. “Who can get him out if you’re detained?”
I hiss under my breath and jerk away. Fuck him for being right.
For all I know, Zack has his teeth in someone’s throat right this second.
By most appearances, Zack’s tame these days, but I know it’s only a pretense.
If he thinks his omega’s threatened, he’ll go supernova.
As an alpha who’s experienced a fraction of his displeasure, I’ve witnessed his simmering fragility.
He’s like an iceberg, and we’ve only seen the tip.
Fear trickles down my spine.
Damn. I can argue for a legal slap on the hand for Zack for tossing a few journalists around, but murdering a police officer? That would come with maximum penalties. And if it’s not me fighting for him, Zack might never see daylight again.
Our omega’s heart would break.
I nod mutely and suck in a deep breath.
A giant man stalks behind the counter. “What’s all this noise about?”
A glance at his badge tells me he’s the sheriff. I open my mouth to demand admittance, but Pierce pulls out his OCB badge. “We need to see Zackary Jones right away. He’s a special case involved in an omega situation we’re working on.” Suddenly he twitches my way, eyes wide.
Realization hits me at the same moment. Red’s trafficking case is closed, so my deal with these two OCB agents is done. Pierce shouldn’t even be here in an official capacity.
“Your report hasn’t been filed, right?” I mutter under my breath.
Pierce relaxes and nods. “And the attack happened before sign-off. Should be fine.”
Armed with new certainty, the agent swivels back to the sheriff. “We need to see the man you just arrested immediately. He has critical information about an attack that occurred today downtown.” He gestures to me. “This is his lawyer, Callisto Wren.”
I don’t even want to think about the attack because I’m pretty sure it’s a result of the hit order I requested gone wrong. But that’s a problem for after I see Zack.
The sheriff glances my way in recognition. “As soon as due processing—”
“Now,” I demand, alpha domination creeping into my tone. “This can’t wait.”
And then I hear it. Distantly, distorted by the walls between us, Zack cries, “Cal-ee!”
Emotion wells up inside me, chilling and prickly. Zack’s calling for me. I fling out my hand. “Hear that? He needs me.” I swallow hard, forcing myself to calm down. “Please. He’s an alpha assigned to my care, and he can’t speak properly.”
The officer’s brows jump as if he doesn’t agree.
As I speak, my mind darts through possible solutions.
Asking for an interpreter won’t help since relatives don’t count, and no one else is going to understand the feral.
I don’t want to say Zack’s dangerous, so I settle for “He’s not socialized.
He doesn’t understand legal processes yet.
You need to let me see him so I can explain things. Please.”
If I tell Zack he needs to stay in a cell for a few days and then I’ll take him home, will he even listen? So long as he gets a cell on his own here in the police station, surely he’ll be okay.
But I need to move fast. “What is he being charged with?” I demand.
An officer sidles up to the sheriff and hands him a document on a clipboard.
The sheriff scans it, and then circles his fingers around his mouth, stroking a non-existent goatee.
“I’m sorry to inform you, but Zackary Jones is no longer in our custody.
He’s been charged with grievous assault and dangerous alpha conduct, denied bail, and transferred to Laversham Alpha Lodgings. ”
I lurch, grabbing the counter to stabilize myself. It’s impossible to process and charge someone that fast. The words come from a distant mountaintop, soaking into me like raindrops, meaning arriving one piece at a time. They were ready and waiting to scoop Zack up.
Someone orchestrated this.
“Shit!” I push myself away from the desk and run, my leather shoes slapping loudly on the tiled floor.
Adrenaline flushes through me as I skid out through the door and leap down the three steps to street level.
The black-and-white Alpha Lodgings car rolls slowly out of the underground garage and along the street, taunting me.
I can’t see into the back, but instinct tells me Zack’s inside.
The agent behind the wheel glances my way, and the tinted window buzzes down low enough for him to salute.
Rage blinds me, stealing my breath. An image of me flinging myself at that window and smashing his head into the glass overlays the cityscape.
He’s familiar.
I swivel on leaden feet to track the car’s progress, my heart pounding in my chest. He’s the agent who tracked Zack all the way from Darinian. The fucker who was so desperate to take Zack back.
Zack grabs the bars behind the officer’s head. “Cal-ee!” he shrieks. “Want Red! Go home!”
I lurch forward but the driver rolls up the window and zooms away. My heart sinks.
“What’s going on?” Agent Pierce asks, catching up.
Nausea boils up through my stomach, and I race for the nearby trash can and hurl what remains of my lunch. I’m good at piecing together the story of what happened—my golden career requires that skill. But I can’t make any sense of today’s happenings.
“Sorry, Pierce,” I mutter, wiping my mouth and digging into my pockets. “This is where we part ways. I’ll be in touch.” I race down the sidewalk, each impact from my footfalls shuddering up my body in warning. Guilt squeezes my lungs. Whatever this mystery is, it must be my fault.
Ten minutes later, I slam into the beer-laden haze of the pub where I arranged the hit on Ray. The wizened granny barkeep takes one look at me and slips her fingers in her mouth. With a piercing whistle, she summons Dodge, who crooks his fingers to call me into the back room.
“Told you he was bad news,” the woman shouts at our backs.
Dodge grunts and ushers me away from the lunchtime patrons. “Why are you here?” he asks the moment the door shuts behind us. “I suppose you want a refund—?”
“What happened?” I interrupt.
“Come again?” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and leans against the table. “You got real nerve barreling in here like we owe you something.” His dark eyes bore into me.
An uncanny premonition seizes me. He doesn’t know why I’m here. “The hit,” I mutter. “Did you do it?”
His head flicks back, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Was only a deal if you lost. But you didn’t.”
My strength dissipates and I stagger, catching myself on the back of the closest chair. With effort, I lower myself into the seat and rest my head in my hands. Sweat pools between my fingers.
“What’s wrong?” Dodge asks. “You having a heart attack too?”
I cough out a strained laugh. “Yeah, maybe I am.” That would explain the pressure in my chest and the buzzing between my ears.
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?” And what was that ceramic ball full of alpha stench?
Sweet relief mingles with bitter confusion.
I didn’t commit a crime . . . but someone did.
“How about you slow down, pal?” Dodge says, pulling out the seat opposite.
I nod and silently count my fingers, then my toes. After that, I picture Red’s sunflower painting hanging on the refrigerator and then admire the light fittings in the room—which are hopelessly filthy and full of dead flies. But by the time I’m done, my breathing evens out enough to talk.
“We were standing on the steps at the courthouse when something exploded, and my alpha instincts were . . . overridden.” That’s the best explanation I can think of for that paralyzing sensation. I catch Dodge’s eye. “I’m not imagining it because my omega had pottery shards in her legs.”
Dodge’s thick brows knit together. “Any smoke or fire?”
I shake my head. “Not that kind of explosion. It was all pheromones, I think.” I tug my jacket off and hold it out. “And some kind of oil.”
He takes it and holds it to his nose. He gags on a single whiff and holds it at arm’s length. “Fucking awful, for sure. Seems like it was mixed with almond oil, but your forensic pals can help with that.”
Almond oil. I drag my lip through my teeth. “That’s what haze sellers use.”
His nose wrinkles. “That ain’t no haze, though. Smells like someone put a bunch of alphas in rut in sheets and wrapped your coat in them.” He shrugs. “But I haven’t heard anything on the vine that matches.”
I stare at him. An oil base used for processing omega haze, and the unrestrained scent of feral alphas. Red, a former haze cow, and Zack, a re-homed feral, stood on those steps side by side. Which one was the target?
Whatever the perpetrator’s intention, Zack’s clearly the one who got caught in the crossfire. I jump to my feet and snatch my jacket back. “You had nothing to do with this, right? Because this shit’s about to blow up in a big way.”
He holds both hands up. “Swear on my motorcycle.”
I nod and stride from the room, feeling the first tingle of excitement thaw my icy veins. Even if it’s faint, I have a trail to trace, and a project plan is compiling itself in my head.
The barkeep hollers at me. “Hey, Squeaker!”
I stumble mid-stride. “Me?”
She grins and flaps a hand at me. “At least buy something if you’re gonna waste the boss’s time.”
“Coffee,” I say, crossing the distance between us.
She snorts and sweeps one sharp-tipped nail from my head to my toe. “Sure you want to mix caffeine with whatever you’ve got going on?”
“Make it a triple shot,” I say, holding her gaze. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me and a hell of a lot to do.
She mutters and moves to the coffee machine.
When she hands the paper cup over and overcharges me, I hold my card back.
“Let me add a tip.” She beams in expectation, and I lean closer.
“Lay off the bright makeup. You’ll look ten years younger.
” I tap my card and snatch up my coffee.
Only Rickon can pull off that shade of eyeshadow and look delectable.
My heart squeezes as I race back to my car and instruct my phone to dial Hale.
“What are your orders?” he asks without preamble.
“I need you to start an appeal against denied bail for Zackary Jones. Cite joint custody with the OCB and vulnerability without his rehabilitation program and omega.” I growl under my breath, fury and frustration mingling.
“Or can we just say prison is no place for a fucking wild alpha who’s still learning to speak and can kill a man with his bare hands if provoked.
” I throw the car into gear and reverse out of the parking lot.
“Can you believe someone’s abusing the system like this? ”
I will rip the entire corrective services department apart to find the alpha who cast me out.
“Slow down and tell me what happened from the beginning,” Hale orders.
As I drive onto the freeway, the story spills out in a jumble, and I don’t even attempt to fit the chaos into a semblance of order. My paralegal draws up the timeline from my messy story and, knowing him, he’ll have a case file ready for me when I return.
“All right,” he says when I sputter to a close. “Are you going to submit a report about the explosive device?”
I shake my head as I change lanes for the exit ramp. “Not right now. Agent Josef is doing that, along with the evidence we got from Red. I’ll give my statement later.”
“Are you heading back to the office, then?”
I glance at the signage over the exit ramp as I slow. “No. I’m heading to Laversham’s Alpha Lodgings.”
To find Red’s missing alpha.
I step on the gas, and the engine hums in response. If I’m to catch up with Zack’s ride, I need serious speed.