34. Callisto
Chapter thirty-four
Callisto
An agent blocks my path to the stairs outside Ricky’s place. “Sorry, sir, but this area’s closed off.”
I shake my head. “I’m their lawyer.” As the phrase slides off my tongue, I wonder if I even deserve to say those words. Well, whatever gets me inside.
The officer scans me up and down, and I see the doubt blazing in his hard gaze. “Whose lawyer?”
After spending an hour crying and spilling haze oil on my shirt, I’ve probably never looked less like a lawyer in my life. I fish out my wallet and flash my registration card. “I’m here for Rickon Jones, who lives in that apartment.” The delay chafes me as I point to the second floor. Best not to mention Red if he’s got her hidden away somewhere.
The agent scowls at the card, holding it close like he’s short-sighted, then returns the ID and gives me a nod. “Maybe you can help us get some answers.”
Not a good sign if the OCB doesn’t know what’s going on. As I pound up the stairs two at a time, I notice spots of fresh blood on the concrete. Did Red resist arrest enough to get hurt? I growl under my breath. If so, I’ll charge the entire OCB for excessive force.
The door stands wide open, revealing an agent snapping photos of more spots of blood darkening the pale brown floorboards and a squawking parrot. Rickon sits on the couch with a medical officer putting something around his neck. Heightened scents linger in the room, but it’s hard to pick them apart with Red’s haze soaked into my skin.
The moment he spots me, Ricky’s tight expression dissolves in relief and he croaks something which might be my name.
My relief turns bitter as I catch sight of the dark bruising around his neck. His green eyes are bloodshot and his chest heaves with labored breaths.
The OCB agent in the room steps forward, holding up one hand. “You are?”
I keep my gaze locked on Ricky over the agent’s shoulder. “Callisto Wren, his lawyer. What happened here?”
He nods as I show him my ID. “We’d like to know the same thing. A large male was reported fleeing bleeding from the scene after neighbors reported a domestic dispute. We found a runaway omega here in this apartment, but when we came up to investigate, this man was injured. He won’t give us any details to pursue his attacker.” He waves at a notepad and pen lying on the askew coffee table.
I hold up one finger. “An omega was found in this apartment?”
He grimaces. “Well, no, she was on the steps outside.”
Rickon’s brows knit together with worry, and I hum under my breath. “Please make sure you’re accurate in your report, agent. What happened to the omega?”
“Our agents took her to the Bureau to get a statement. Then she’ll return to the Omega Center where she’ll be safe.”
Shit, did I literally just cross paths with Red? I glance over my shoulder. If she was so safe at the Center, why did she run away in the first place? I bite down on the question, knowing I can’t rush to any conclusions. At least I know where Red is. Right now, my best friend needs my attention.
Ozzie, Ricky’s boisterous parrot, stalks up and down his bars, jangling a brass bell and calling hello to me.
“Hello, Ozzie,” I offer limply. The bird cranes his neck and settles, even though it’s been months since we last saw each other. No doubt whatever happened spooked him too.
Rickon sits on the couch, his head tilted back onto the headrest while a paramedic examines his throat. My heart jumps with alarm. What happened to my beautiful, sensitive Ricky? I need answers right now, before this tightness in my chest explodes. I lock my gaze on my pale friend as the first responder pockets his instruments and steps back.
“If the urgent medical attention’s finished, I’d like to meet with my client. Alone.”
The agent glances over at the paramedic, who nods, and I wait by the door as they step outside. The agent pauses on his way out to whisper, “We need a name to track down his assailant, and this man should really get a checkup at the hospital. There could be additional damage to his carotid or even his spine.”
My austere persona fades away as the door closes, leaving me feeling winded, plus something else I can’t put my finger on.
I step over the blood and glass on the floor. “Fuck, Ricky!” I murmur, leaning over him with both hands braced on the back of the couch. Gently I peel the cold pack away from his neck. Pure rage boils hot inside me as I see the finger-shaped bruising ringing his throat. My arms quiver as I suppress the sudden desire to destroy everything in sight. Someone laid their hands on my sweet friend, and I’m going to find out who.
“Who did this to you?”
He looks up at me, his pale green eyes watery. Broken blood vessels leak through the whites, and I press my thumb to the corner of his brow, where traces of smeared eyeliner remain. He’s been crying. Rickon opens his mouth, but I cover it gently with my hand. If he speaks, he’ll hurt his bruised throat.
One-handed, I grab the notepad and pen and press it into his grip before sinking down on the sofa and pulling him in for a hug. Rickon would never hurt a fly, so why?
A sharp thought pierces me. “Was it Red?”
He shakes his head so violently I fear for his neck. I capture his cheeks between my palms to stop him. “Okay, okay, it wasn’t Red. I didn’t think so, but I had to check. Then tell me who did this, so I can put them in prison for life.”
Absently I stroke his soft skin. I know a couple of guys whose sentences I got reduced. They might be willing to do me a favor on the side to create a more permanent solution. I shake my head, clearing away my outrageous thoughts. I’m a lawyer for fuck’s sake.
Rickon’s face flushes and I draw back. Could the stress be giving him a fever? He picks up the pen.
Why do you smell like her?
“Well, that’s—” I shake my head. “That’s not important right now. Dammit, Ricky, tell me who hurt you!” I rearrange the pack around his neck, both for his benefit and so I don’t go insane from this hot pain tearing through my chest every time I see the dark bruising.
His hand quivers around the pen. I’m too ashamed.
Those simple words stab like a knife to my heart. Am I not trustworthy enough for him to tell me what’s been going on? No, it’s on me. I should’ve known if someone in his life posed a threat. Instead, I was oblivious. Busy.
I close my hands around his where he holds the pen. “Please, Ricky. Tell me before I lose my fucking mind. I haven’t been good to you, I know, but I want a chance to correct that. So tell me everything.”
His eyes widen and then sheen with tears. His hands shift and I release them so he can write.
He was my ex. I broke up with him a week ago, but he doesn’t take no for an answer well. He walked in on me and— His pen hesitates.
“Someone else?” I supply, grateful he’s being so careful for Red’s sake.
He nods. He walked in on me and someone else and thought he could join. When we refused, he got mad.
I squeeze his shoulder gently, trying to contain the fury exploding through me. “I need a name, Ricky.” The sad look he gives me breaks my bruised heart right open.
Why? He’ll say I wanted it, and it will be my word against his. It’ll get messy.
Something in his words rattles its way deep into my core. Why does my beautiful, free-spirited Rickon sound so much like the domestic violence victims I’ve defended? I swallow hard.
“How long were you guys together?”
He shrugs. Approx ten months.
I fall back against the couch, stunned. All the times we met up, he never mentioned he had a boyfriend, let alone an abusive one. How many other bruises did I miss? Now I think about it, my memories of our outings feel fuzzy. What did we talk about each time we met? Me, his work. Stuff that made me laugh. Superficial things.
I’ve failed more badly than I can put into words.
I groan. “Nobody asks to have their neck squeezed to smithereens, Ricky. No one.” I drag my hand across my face, trying to contain the emotion that must be steaming through my skin. My scent certainly is.
“A name, Ricky,” I growl out. “This can’t go unpunished. Do you think I’d take this to court and let the bastard get away with a ‘he wanted it’? Fuck me!”
Ricky shrinks in on himself.
I press my point. “The OCB said a large male was seen leaving the building. Does his name start with A? B?”
He shakes his head, and I grip his knee. I can see he’s struggling, but I’m not letting this go. “C? D?” I switch tactics. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner I can go find out what happened to Red. I’m a fool, Rickon, and you warned me I shouldn’t dismiss her.” A bitter laugh escapes me, and I look down at my glowing skin, massaging the back of my hand with my thumb. “Well, as always you were a hundred and twenty percent correct.”
I look down at my hands, my skin glowing from spilled oil. “I smell like Red because I broke a sample of illicit haze at the office. It’s from the cases I’m prosecuting on the omegas from the smuggling center. You know what that means, right?”
His eyelids flutter and he moans—a broken, soggy sound that hurts my ears.
I shake my head, heart aching. “She needs us, but I’m not leaving until I have the name of your attacker, so I know you won’t be hurt again. I can’t help her when I’m worried sick about you as well.”
He shudders, but I hold his gaze until he relents. Rickon always gives way to me. Maybe I need to figure out the reason for that, fast.
Ozzie squawks and flaps his wings, knocking the bell. “Hello! Fuck off.”
“Thanks, Ozzie,” I say with a wry smile. “You’re as charming as ever.”
“Fuck off, Hudson! No! Don’t!”
I jerk, swiveling to stare at the parrot. “Hudson?”
The green bird bobs his head twice as if answering, and then starts preening his green wing feathers. Today might be the first time I thought the little monster was a good bird.
I hum under my breath. “Well, fine. I can work with that.” The city has security cameras in the vicinity so the OCB agents will look through plates or security footage from the street.
Rickon releases a heavy sigh, and then winces. His pen moves, and I latch my gaze onto the slow, uncertain movements.
Hudson Vatters.
How many times did Rickon scream at him for the parrot to learn this sicko’s name? I think too hard about it, I feel like I’ll explode. “Well done.” I lean over and kiss my friend’s hair, not sure how else to express my gratitude. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to pack you an overnight bag, and you’re going to go in the ambulance to get a full checkup.”
He flinches and tries to refuse, but I cut him off. “That’s the only way I’ll be satisfied you’re safe and taken care of while I look for Red, so I won’t hear any arguments on the subject. We can’t know if you have more damage inside your throat, so get a checkup and leave the rest to me. I won’t let you down. Not this time.”
He stares up at me, jaw making slight movements that are soon mirrored by his pen. She needs us, Callisto.
I nod. “Yeah, I know that now. I’m sorry I was an idiot. I don’t know if she’ll forgive me, but I can at least make sure she’s safe. That goes for both of you.”
He nods, eyes swimming with tears. “She protected me .” His voice rasps so bad I can barely make out his words, but his tone’s full of bitterness. “Fought him off like a bodyguard.”
“Don’t talk, Ricky,” I beg, rubbing his shoulder. He could do permanent damage. “And you might not like it, but I’m glad as fuck she did. You’re both safe, and that’s most important. Now, where’s your bag?”
He points to the spare room. I weave my way around the bins of fabric and the sewing machine table, pausing for a moment to run my hands over a corset with pins holding the sections together. He really is talented.
I drag my attention to the task and find Rickon’s backpack gathering dust on a top shelf. His gaze tracks me as I cross back to his bedroom and go through his drawers. Red’s scent lingers strongly in this room and I can’t help glancing at the bed where Rickon went through his rut with her. It feels a little surreal to be here, like I’m intruding on a sacred space.
Once I have his bag packed and check the wonderful swearing parrot has enough food and water for a couple of days, I tear the page off Rickon’s notebook and take a photo before heading out to the porch where one agent and the paramedic wait for me.
I pass the page to the officer. “Here’s the name you need, and the reason. Rickon can give a full statement once the bruising goes down, which I’ll be present for.” I glance back into the room to make sure my friend heard me, and Ricky nods. “We’ll be pressing full charges for domestic violence, aggravated assault, and coercive control, so please get this dangerous man into custody immediately.”
The agent sighs. “Thanks. We’ll get right on the search.”
“Track that fucker down fast.” I swivel to the paramedic. “Rickon’s agreed to go to the hospital for a full checkup, so please go ahead and take him.”
After clarifying which hospital they’re headed to, I turn back to the agent. “I’ve helped you, so now I need you to tell me exactly where the omega called Red is, and how I can get in touch with her.”