Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Gunner
Almost Six Months Later
B eing back in New York is a mindfuck. If Maverick and I weren’t straight-up assigned here, it would have been a long time before I came back to visit my family.
My entire fucking job is finding and protecting people.
Yet, six months of searching, and Brooklyn is still in the wind.
It should be impossible for one tiny woman to disappear so effectively. Then again, outside of her first name, we didn’t have a lot to go on.
And it’s a little embarrassing to consider asking a coworker to help. It makes Maverick and me look like stalkers.
We’re not.
We just found a highly compatible omega we're both attracted to. It’s a little like winning the lottery, considering we have such different tastes.
Watching our boss, Ranger fucking Cavanaugh, of all people, fall in love and bond his omega has been eye-opening for both of us. It makes me ache to do something stupid, like reach out to my contacts at NYPD for help finding a woman I met one time .
Fuck.
Maybe I am borderline stalker level of unhinged. It’s unnatural to be this obsessed with a woman I haven’t seen for the better part of six months. Being so close to where we saw her isn’t helping anything.
“Well, there’s jack shit to eat here,” Maverick grumbles. “I can order delivery, but we don’t even have beer.”
I shrug, shoving myself off the sofa in the rental house. “I’ll go. I need something to do, anyway.”
Maverick chuckles, fluttering his lashes. “Thanks, dear. You spoil me rotten.”
I scoff, jogging toward the stairs to change.
We brought Maverick’s truck and the trailer since we have no idea what, exactly, we’ll need for this mission.
Our boss sent us here to meet with Bless Barrett. She runs her own group of mercenaries for hire, but she’s also in the process of trying to bring her corrupt-as-fuck family down from the inside out.
The Barrett family runs New York. They’re behind a huge number of omega disappearances every year, and if that wasn’t bad enough, they’ve got a major vendetta against our boss.
At this point, it’s a company-wide goal to wipe the remaining family heads off the map.
After our fuckup rescuing Ranger’s omega, we got nominated to come to New York to help Bless make contact with some poor woman who’s tied to Avan Barrett.
Avan is the number one in the family, and apparently, his ex has been helping Bless with insider information. Only, the poor woman hasn’t had any contact with Bless, and that’s not a good sign.
I stomp up the stairs to change into my riding jacket. Since we brought the trailer, I brought my bike. I figured it would be easier to get around with it.
New York traffic is fucking terrible. It’s like everyone is in a rush, and they all simultaneously have a death wish.
I come around the corner into the grocery store parking lot and pull into a parking spot before climbing off my bike. It’s a fucking wonder I survived the trip. Next time, I’ll be driving Maverick’s truck.
I’m so annoyed that I don’t even pull my helmet off, but I don’t realize it until I’m halfway across the parking lot.
An orange rolls out into the street, catching my attention, as a car speeds in my direction.
My entire body tenses when I spot the toddler. She’s got a head of dark curls, and she stumbles right into the driving lane after the piece of fruit.
Her small hand wraps around it as my head swivels between her and the car.
Music pounds so loudly, their bass echoes around the parking lot. It’s not like they’d hear me if I screamed for them to stop.
My entire body pivots as I run for the kid. I scoop her up, spinning until the backs of my knees hit the bumper of a van in the next spot.
I lean against the rear side panel as I cradle the little girl to my chest.
Holy fuck.
That was close.
It takes everything in me not to pull my Glock from the base of my spine and take out both the back tires as the car speeds past.
“Whoa,” the kid says, holding her orange between us.
“Yeah, whoa,” I agree, focusing on loosening my grip.
“Libby,” a bright female voice says as a woman with long brown hair climbs out of the back seat.
If I wasn’t leaning against the van, I’d stumble backward as I catch sight of Brooklyn.
“Mommy, I got my orange,” the toddler—Libby—says. Her words all run together, but I’m pretty sure that’s what she says.
My mouth falls open as I realize that I still have my helmet on, and the visor is down.
There’s no chance she’ll recognize me.
“What happened?” Brooklyn asks, frowning as she approaches.
Her face is red, and she looks so exhausted that it keeps me from snapping something that I can’t take back.
I’m not normally such a raging asshole, but my nerves are shot, and I’m still processing how close that miss was.
If I was five seconds later, this would be a crime scene, and I would be on the way to at least one murder charge for whoever was behind the wheel.
“Sorry. I think I missed something,” Brooklyn says as her eyes widen. “What happened?”
“She toddled out into the road,” I say, clearing my throat as I hand off the kid.
Libby wraps her forearm around the orange and pulls it to her small body as her mom scoops her up.
“Ohmigod,” Brooklyn chokes out. “What have I told you about that? I was trying to clean the cracker crumbs out of your seat. I’m so sorry. Thank you. I don’t even know what to say.” Her long lashes flutter shut as she rests her cheek against her daughter’s head. “She was right behind me. Thank you.” Those beautiful hazel eyes of hers pop open, and she gives me a sincere look of appreciation.
“I imagine kids are like puppies, you’ve got to watch them all the time.” I’m still feeling a little woozy.
Holy fuck.
She has a kid.
A mini-size version of Brooklyn, with big hazel eyes and dark waves.
Seriously, did the kid come from cloning?
They look ridiculously similar.
My instincts actually prefer the thought of that to her having a baby daddy out there somewhere in the world.
My impulses are still fully convinced that this little omega is meant to be mine.
I’m fucking flabbergasted at fate.
Statistically speaking, I probably had a better chance of winning the lottery than I did of finding this woman again.
“I saved it,” the kid says, shaking her orange.
Is that why she bolted from the bar without even stopping to say goodbye?
Did she have to run home to check on her kid? She could have left her number. Unless she didn’t think we’d be interested if we knew she was a mom?
Maybe that’s it.
“You can’t run out into the road like that,” Brooklyn whispers, kissing Libby’s temple.
“My orange,” the kid says, holding it up. “I saved it.”
That child is really hung up on that piece of fruit.
“We can always buy a replacement. I can’t get another one of you.” Brooklyn’s eyes glimmer, like she’s about to burst into tears.
My head tilts as I study her.
I’d imagine she’s beating herself up pretty hard at the moment, and she looks rough. She’s always beautiful—there’s no doubt about that—but she has dark circles under her eyes, and her face is puffy.
It seems like she’s gained some weight since I saw her last, but even that’s a passing observation. Her hips seem fuller than I remember, and possibly, her chest. Or it could be my imagination.
She’s stunning now, just like she was six months ago.
She’s clearly having a rough day, and I’m not sure this is the right second to reveal who I really am.
As she moves to tuck her daughter into the car seat, I yank out my phone, jotting down her license plate in my notes.
I could easily remember it, but I won’t risk losing her again.
Maverick and I have a job to do that I can’t risk her getting in the middle of, considering how dangerous it is.
But as soon as that’s complete…
I’ll be coming back for my little omega.
To court the fuck out of her the right way.