26. Eleven
Eleven
Caine
“I’m sorry, repeat what you just said.”
Two weeks had passed since Taryn’s assault when she got a call to come into the police station for an update.
Brooks was at the hospital, Lin in a client meeting.
Brea—despite Taryn’s insistence she not—got out of her client appointment for the day to accompany her.
But after Brooks shared Taryn’s fear that she was being watched, paranoia or not, I wasn’t letting the two of them go alone.
Besides, if I’d stayed home, my alpha wouldn’t have let me rest until they were back safe and sound anyway.
As they’d prepared to leave the apartment, I didn’t ask to tag along. I simply preceded them out the door, locked it behind us, and guided them to my car.
After waiting for over an hour in the lobby, an unfamiliar male beta led us—all three of us, since I glared at him the moment he tried to tell one of us to hang back—into an interview room.
He’d taken over the case from Detective Banerjee, he explained, before dropping the bomb with all the tact of a steel-toed boot to the face.
They had no leads on her attacker. They couldn’t connect anything back to Heath, and so couldn’t press any charges or justify continued surveillance. Despite the stab wound I’d given the fucker, no one that matched our description had reported to nearby hospitals for treatment.
The beta had an infuriatingly steady gaze as he looked me in the eye. “Given what evidence we have recovered, we believe this was a crime of opportunity unlikely to recur and, without any further leads or evidence, have deemed the file cold.”
The case was being back burnered.
And I wanted to squeeze the ever-living shit out of this dipshit detective.
I stepped around the side of the table. “She was violently attacked in her home. By a stranger who had her photos, her fucking schedule written out. How is that a crime of opportunity?”
Officer Dipshit shrugged.
Fucking.
Shrugged.
“Opportunity and premeditation aren’t mutually exclusive,” he said. “In any case, his attempt having been thwarted, it’s doubtful he’ll try again.”
I opened my mouth to argue more, but Brea cut me off. With a raised hand in my direction—a silent be quiet if I ever saw one—she asked, “What do we do from here, then?”
The detective sighed. “You go home. Live your life. Maybe consider increasing your suppressant dosage to avoid attracting…admirers.”
My vision went fucking red.
Before I could rip his head from his body, though, he made a hasty retreat, leaving the three of us in the interrogation room, the air ringing with that last idiotic statement.
No, not a ringing. A soft whine from Taryn.
“Caine, cool it,” Brea snapped as she wrapped her arm around Taryn’s shoulders.
Small space. Angry alpha. Potent pheromones.
Shit.
I breathed in slowly through my nose, trying my damnedest to level out my anger.
“The police know what they’re doing,” Brea said quietly. To herself, to Taryn, to me, I didn’t know. “If they say she’s safe, then she’s safe. We have to trust that.”
“If you think that asshole in there cares about Taryn’s safety more than keeping paperwork off his desk, you’re a fool.”
Brea stood, crossing her arms and planting herself face to face in front of me.
“And what would you have me do? By which I mean”—Her tone sharpened, though she kept the volume low so as not to attract attention from outside the room—“without getting myself arrested or alienating the people meant to be protecting us or scaring Taryn even more than she already is? What’s your big, smart man answer to this shitstorm? ”
My chest heaved with deep, angry breaths. It was the first time she’d raised her voice at me since she blockaded my car to make me do therapy. But she wasn’t finished.
“What’s done is done. Me raising hell or insulting the officer isn’t going to make them keep looking, or magically find the asshole. My focus now is on making sure Taryn is safe, that she feels safe.”
I couldn’t answer. And I couldn’t staunch the flow of furious pheromones still seeping from me. So I yanked open the door and stormed outside, where my hot head could cool and dissipate into the open air.
The words kept playing round in my head. Opportunity. Random. Unlikely to recur. Admirer.
Notably absent was the one word that mattered. Safe.
How the fuck was Brea so calm? I wasn’t bonded to Taryn, and I wanted to tear the building apart, tear the people inside apart for their dismissal of her.
Maybe the alpha meds kept her in check. For once, though, I didn’t wish I could take the meds.
Didn’t wish for my own instincts to be dampened and better controlled.
Not if “better controlled” meant rolling over when these goddamn pigs rushed us out the door without a care in the world if it was safe for any of us. Let alone her.
One of us needed to stay ready to fight, because my gut told me we hadn’t even begun.
By the time the women stepped outside a few minutes later, my anger wasn’t gone but the pheromones had mostly cleared out.
I pushed off the wall, approaching slowly.
Ensuring my presence was actually welcome.
Taryn looked too pale, eyes tight and lips between her teeth.
Brea guided her out with her arm around her shoulder, shooting me a warning glare.
I stepped before them, heaving a slow sigh. “You ready?” I asked beneath my breath, eyes glued to Taryn. My hand tucked a strand of hair behind Taryn’s ear without my permission. I placed my fingers beneath her chin, barely touching, to lift her face up toward me.
Taryn nodded. “I’m okay.”
It wasn’t a lie, but wasn’t quite true either. It sounded more like a command to herself, a manifestation, a wish. Stubborn omega.
I dropped my hand and gave a terse nod. “You haven’t eaten yet today. We’ll pick something up on the way home.”
Neither of them corrected me.