Chapter 17 #2
With everything set and the boat stable, I head downstairs to join the team. I plaster on my professional smile, the one I use for clients I don’t particularly like but who are paying premium rates for premium service.
Down on the aft deck, Jasper is already giving them the rundown.
He’s handing out life jackets—mandatory safety equipment even though most people hate wearing them.
Easy to fall overboard when you’re focused on fighting a fish, and I’m not about to have someone drown on my watch.
As much as I might enjoy it with these two.
Ash is off to the side with his phone out, snapping photos. The mountains in the distance. The boat itself. The way the water looks under morning light.
Good. At least he’s doing his job.
I focus on the clients, approaching with my hand extended. “Gentlemen. Ready to catch some fish?”
Reed shakes my hand firmly. “Absolutely. Beautiful morning for it.”
“Best time of year for striped bass,” I tell him. “Water temperature is perfect right now. They’re active and hungry.”
Rex, the associate, nods enthusiastically. “That’s what we wanted to hear. Dr. Reed here is quite the fisherman.”
“Is that right?” I keep my tone neutral, professional.
“I’ve been fishing since I was a boy,” Reed explains with that self-satisfied smile. “My father taught me. It’s one of the few purely masculine pursuits left in this world. No outside influence, just man versus nature.”
I keep smiling. “Well, you’re in good hands. Jasper here knows these waters as well as I do.”
I move toward Ash, needing a moment away from Reed’s energy. “Hey,” I say quietly.
“Hi, boss.” His voice is overly masculine, forced in a way that always sounds slightly off to me. But whatever. Not my business how people present themselves.
I clear my throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Look, I didn’t mean to come down so hard on you earlier. I just expect my team to pull their weight, and that starts with being on time. But ten minutes isn’t the end of the world. I overreacted.”
Ash stares at me, chewing on his lower lip in a gesture that seems oddly feminine for a beat. Then he nods. “You got it, boss. I’m all over this.”
He moves toward the rear where Jasper and the clients are already gearing up for their first cast, and I watch him start photographing the rods, the setup, being careful not to include the clients in the frame.
Which I get. Privacy concerns and all that.
But we got approval from them to use their photos on our social media. I sent Ash the email yesterday with the signed release forms.
For now, I grab my own rod and join the group.
“All right, gentlemen,” Jasper says, his hands moving as he demonstrates. “You want to cast out about thirty feet. Let it sink for a count of five, then start your retrieve. Slow and steady. These fish are lazy in the cold water. They’re not going to chase anything that’s moving too fast.”
Reed nods along, clearly trying to look like he knows what he’s doing.
I cast my own line out, settling into the familiar pattern, and Ash immediately begins taking photos of me. Lots of them. Jasper notices and starts posing for his own photos, flexing slightly, grinning for the camera like the show-off he is.
I chuckle despite myself. “You’re going to break the camera.”
“Please. I’m photogenic as hell.” Jasper winks at Ash, who actually seems to be smiling behind the phone.
Reed clears his throat. “You know, this is exactly what men need more of. Time in nature. Doing what comes naturally. Testing ourselves against the elements without any…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Without outside influence from Omegas clouding our judgment.”
He pats his chest, glancing my way like he’s expecting agreement.
I don’t bite. Just keep my eyes on my line, watching for any sign of movement.
Rex nods enthusiastically. “Absolutely. That’s what The True Bond Hour is all about.
Helping Alphas reconnect with their natural dominance.
Reminding them that hierarchy exists for a reason.
You know, we can put in a good word for your charter business with our followers, especially if you add some photos of Dr. Reed on your socials. ”
Ash swings his camera angle down to the waters where fish are swimming by, and I grin because it seems like he did that on purpose.
“Hierarchy,” Jasper states flatly, his jaw visibly tightening.
“Exactly.” Reed is warming to his subject now.
“See, the problem with modern society is we’ve forgotten the natural order.
Alphas are meant to lead. Betas support.
And Omegas…” He trails off with a patronizing smile.
“Well, Omegas need structure. Guidance. They’re biologically wired to submit, to nurture, to serve.
When we try to fight against that, everyone suffers. ”
I feel my grip tighten on my rod. Every word out of this man’s mouth makes me want to throw him overboard.
But I stay professional. Barely.
“That’s interesting,” Ash suddenly says, his voice tight. “Because research actually shows that Omega intelligence and capability are identical to those of Alphas and Betas across every measurable metric. The only biological difference is reproductive function.”
Reed turns to stare at Ash with barely concealed condescension. “It might be hard for you to understand as a Beta, but try to keep up. We’re talking about instinct, not intelligence. Omegas can be smart and still be naturally submissive. It’s not an insult. It’s biology.”
The air on the deck goes tense.
I see Jasper’s hands curl into fists.
I feel my own anger rising, hot and protective.
No one talks down to my staff. No one.
“Dr. Reed,” I say, my voice pleasant but with an edge underneath that anyone with half a brain would catch.
“I’m curious about your radio show. You mentioned helping Alphas reconnect with dominance.
Does that include teaching them basic respect for the people around them?
Or is that too advanced for your curriculum? ”
Reed blinks at me, clearly trying to figure out if he’s just been insulted.
Rex nervously glances between us.
Jasper makes a sound that might be a choked laugh.
“I… what?” Reed finally says.
“Just wondering about the scope of your teachings,” I continue smoothly. “Respect seems like it would be foundational to any leadership model. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe dominance and respect are mutually exclusive in your worldview.”
Reed’s face is starting to flush. “I think you’re misunderstanding—”
“Oh, I understand perfectly.” I smile, but there’s nothing warm in it. “You believe hierarchy matters. And in my hierarchy, on my boat, we don’t talk down to anyone. Alpha, Beta, or Omega. Clear?”
Before Reed can respond, his reel suddenly screams, the line peeling out fast. “You’ve got something!” Jasper calls out, all business now. “Hold on!”
I move to help Reed, showing him how to fight the fish without losing it or snapping the line. It’s a decent-sized striper, from the feel of it, putting up a good fight.
But the whole time I’m helping him, all I can think about is how much I fucking hate this guy.
If he wasn’t paying the highest rate we charge for private charters, if his money wasn’t going directly toward maintaining the boats and paying my crew, I would have turned this booking down the moment I knew what kind of asshole he was.
Hell, I still might refuse his business in the future because there are some things more important than money, like not compromising your values for a paycheck and protecting the people who work for you from condescending pricks who think being an Alpha gives them the right to look down on everyone else.
And like making damn sure that when we finally claim Anita as ours, she never has to deal with assholes like Reed who think she’s somehow less than because of her designation.
The fish breaks the surface, thrashing and silver, and I help Reed bring it alongside the boat, where Jasper nets it efficiently.
“Beautiful catch,” I state, because it is. A solid twenty-pound striper.
Reed is grinning now, all his earlier tension forgotten in the thrill of the catch. “That was incredible!”
“Welcome to Wilde Charters,” I say, and my smile is genuine. Because whatever else is true about Reed, I can’t deny he looks truly happy right now.
And making people happy on the water, showing them the raw beauty and power of fishing, that’s why I do this job, even when the people are absolute garbage humans.
I glance over at Ash, who’s photographing the fish, the catch, the whole moment. And for just a second, I swear I see something in his eyes.
Something that looks almost like approval, or maybe I’m just projecting what I want to see. Either way, we’ve got three more hours of this charter to get through.