15. Jet
Jet
Idisconnected the call and sat looking around the motel room. I’d slept a little on the flight and a few more hours when I’d arrived at the motel, awakening to the ringing of my cell phone when it was still dark outside.
In the end, although I’d asked her not to, Laura had updated Kristopher and Jermaine Gatlin on the situation. I couldn’t really blame her; the Gatlins held all the power when it came to the ranch.
Kristopher wasn’t happy but must have used up all of his frustration with Elliott before talking to me, because he got right to the point.
After making it clear that what I was doing was my choice and I could back out at any time, he said that, if I was still determined to find and rescue Elliott, he had a contact that could get me into the facility where they were holding him—a first-stop clinic where ORCRO checked out the omegas that were brought in, supposedly for their health, but more likely to see if there were any omega x’s among them.
If Elliott told them he was an omega x, they would likely keep him alive and do tests on him.
If Elliott didn’t tell them, there was a small chance he would be mated to an alpha just because where he was picked up was so close to where David, Jackson, Ben, and Trey lived.
The government wasn’t going to want to risk more negative rumors about them.
I had to take several deep, even breaths before I could speak. Imagining Elliott killed or given to another alpha made my blood boil. I wanted him alive and with me. I couldn’t even pretend to fool myself about that anymore. It became more and more clear every hour that passed without Elliott.
“I want to get him out of there, but part of me doesn’t want to throw away everything that he’s doing for the cause,” I said reluctantly.
“I understand. Use your own discretion. My contact will get you in as an alpha volunteer for the program,” Kristopher said.
“What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.
Kristopher paused before saying seriously, “I’m not entirely sure, but I could give it a guess.
Any omegas kept at the facility for any length of time are those they suspect of being omega x’s.
And, other than the few abilities they’ve learned about, they are going to want to know what else it means to be one of those.
In short, they’ll want him to go into heat and will need alpha volunteers to breed him. ”
I felt like I was choking. “You have to get me in there, Kris.”
“That’s the plan.”
***
I sat in a small room with two other alpha men, who, for the past half hour, had been trying to draw me into their lewd suppositions on what they might get to do to omegas as volunteers in the program.
“I heard there’s only one here right now,” the bigger of the two men said to his companion. “Maybe they’ll just choose one of us.”
“Hell, that’s no fair,” the other man said.
I ignored both of them. I’d arrived early after being called in as a volunteer, which was arranged by Kristopher’s contact.
The evening before, I’d been lying on the bed in the motel, about to go out of my mind at having to wait until this morning to do anything to help Elliott.
Not knowing what was happening to him was torture.
As I lay there, staring at the ceiling and imagining worst-case scenarios that had me clenching both my fists and my teeth, I suddenly stiffened as terrible pain ran through me, lasting several long seconds.
Somehow, I knew that it was Elliott’s pain that I was feeling. That someone was hurting him.
I have to get to him. They have to choose me.
Presently, the bigger one was called into another room by the receptionist, and I waited half an hour more with the other guy until he returned and then I was called into an office.
A man in a lab coat introduced himself as Dr. Mooneyham, the head of the facility, and shook my hand before offering me a seat.
It was weird; I was pretty sure he was an alpha, but he wasn’t giving off the usual pheromones an alpha meeting another alpha would.
I’d gone off my suppressants two days ago, when I decided to go after Elliott and thought scenting him at full capacity might help.
I was sure the room was full of my pheromones.
But this man’s were almost entirely absent.
A younger male beta, stood to the side, pen poised over a paper clipped to a clipboard, eyes hooded.
“Tell me, Mr. Russo, what experience do you have with omegas?” Dr. Mooneyham asked me.
I decided to be honest about this. “My younger brother was an omega. We were very close.”
The beta immediately started writing.
“Why do you want to volunteer for our experiments?” Dr. Mooneyham asked.
“Because the government did so much for my brother. Knowing he’s happy somewhere with an alpha who is taking care of him gives me peace of mind. I want to give back a little. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, that’s understandable.”
“I mean, I’ve heard you’re doing some very important work here,” I added.
He nodded. “That’s very true, and it’s commendable that you want to help. But you’re an alpha, Mr. Russo. You can’t tell me you don’t have any curiosity about what it’s like to be with an omega.”
I considered his question and went with my gut.
With a slight chuckle, I said, “Okay, I’m a little curious. I mean, I’ve heard the stories about alphas and omegas my entire life.”
Dr. Mooneyham looked pleased. I would bet that the last guy had probably sworn up and down that his interest was purely humanitarian and he would never think of an omega that way.
I couldn’t figure out how this guy was an alpha working with omega patients.
Rut suppressants worked fine with jobs like mine, where I didn’t have to touch the omegas often.
But they didn’t mute pheromones to the point that they’re barely detectable to another alpha.
A physician required to physically examine omegas simply could not be an alpha.
The risk of losing control was too high.
Maybe Dr. Mooneyham had some kind of birth defect that almost entirely erased his pheromones.
Dr. Mooneyham asked me questions about my general health, stamina, and previous sex partners.
“That’s all I need from you, Mr. Russo,” he announced, standing up from his desk. “Someone in my office will get in touch with you before tomorrow if you’ve been chosen for the first experiment.”
That left me with the entire afternoon to wonder and worry. As I walked down the hall toward the exit, I flirted with the idea of attempting to slip into another part of the facility; however, I decided it was too risky. I went back to the hotel and waited.
I don’t know if it was my growing anxiety about Elliott’s welfare, but throughout the day I became more and more agitated. When I attempted to nap to pass the time, I jerked awake having sworn I heard Elliott calling for me.
After that, I couldn’t get it out of my mind that he both needed and wanted my help.
At seven p.m., I still hadn’t gotten a call.
As it was after business hours, I felt like I’d lost my chance to be the volunteer for the following day.
Disappointment weighing me down, I walked across the street to have a meal at a small diner.
As I ate, I tried to figure out my next move.
I might call Kristopher when I got back to the hotel and consult him.
My cell phone rang, and my heart raced. I answered, and a pleasant female voice let me know that I’d been chosen for the experiment and to be there at eight in the morning. I disconnected and looked out the window of the diner at the pedestrians walking along the city sidewalk.
“I’m coming, Elliott. Hold on,” I thought fervently.