28. El Santo
El Santo
Kelya
Call me stupid for letting a bloodhound smell me, but what else was I supposed to do when he sat there with his beautiful naked thighs splayed out like a slut, eyes deviating to my tits, telling me he’d never rat me out. His glasses kept fogging up. God, a girl can only be so strong!
Maybe I have knot-brain from having one of the best knottings of my life with a man who says my name like he’s worried he’ll usher in angels to take me away if he’s too loud.
I stand on the back patio for a moment, letting the Caribbean breeze overtake me.
My orange dress is…somewhere. I’m just holding the bedsheet around me.
Tony didn’t tell Roman where I was. He’s got Matty, his partner, trying to find out what they want me for.
And I didn’t offer him anything better than half a million dollars, so why is he doing that for me? I’m not his client.
He’s a terrible businessman.
After I criticize him for behaving this way, I turn that same inspection on myself. I should have found something better than half a million dollars. Like one million dollars. I bet San Miguel is a good mark for one million dollars…
It’s dusk, and I look out over the rocky shore, wondering where this beach party is supposed to be.
It doesn’t look very beachy down there. I go back inside and decide to get ready.
I’ll figure out where the beach is later.
After I take the pill, I’d guess it’ll take an hour or so to undo the scent-blockers, giving us some time out there.
San Miguel wants to meet me, and it’s probably best I smell like an omega during our chat as well.
I turn on my music and take my time getting ready.
I have this long blood-red skirt with a high slit.
I pair it with a thick stone-white top, off the shoulder sleeves showing off my shoulder where I hope Tony kisses me again.
I’m applying my lipstick when I realize significant time has passed and Tony isn’t back.
He probably had to try another pharmacy.
Those pills are hard to find. I’ll ask Valentina if she has a source if he comes back empty-handed.
Maybe he’s asking her. I go back to the patio and look out, not seeing much, but definitely no Tony. I look amongst the crowded street and don’t spot him. He put on a rare black shirt, so maybe without his signature yellow-green I can’t see him. I’m worried.
I shouldn’t be worried.
I open the safe and stare at the gun. I don’t want to mess with it again, even if it was hot as hell.
Maybe I’m very worried.
A familiar ping rings out from my phone plugged in on the table. An email from my mom. I debate leaving it alone, but like all her other emails, I can’t stop myself from reading it. Maybe this time will be the time she understands.
Ida Sessions
Kelya,
After my last email, I just couldn’t stop thinking about your heat, and when you didn’t reply, I sat down and did the math.
I asked your dads to check, and they didn’t see an error.
You’re in heat this week, aren’t you? I told you to come home for your heat, to have it with your alphas. I’m seriously so disappointed in you.
This is bigger than just you, you know. As an omega, you are in charge of all these people’s livelihoods.
Do you understand the responsibility you have?
Omegas shouldn’t be selfish. We are tasked to give birth to more alphas and omegas; they don’t come from betas.
They come from us. How are we supposed to make the next generation better if we don’t take our responsibility seriously?
I swear to god, Kelya, this has gone on too long. You are HURTING your alphas every day you stay away.
COME HOME!!!!
Mom
Fuck me. I toss my phone across the room, unable to bear looking at it for another second.
I can’t be in this room any longer, or the walls will smash me into a pancake.
I need to get out. Tony will just have to find me at the party.
I can’t believe he’s so damned late! What the fuck!
I grab my purse and make sure his lighter is inside.
I’m glad he hasn’t taken it back yet. I like holding onto it…
When I open the door, Rodrigo stands on the other side, ready to knock.
“Omega Kelya,” he says.
“Rodrigo.”
He’s dressed up. No longer a hotel manager, but something more fit for nightlife.
He’s wearing necklaces and bracelets, and is showing off his tattoos and naked chest. His shoes are pointed and shiny, and his hair is styled to make him look more like he’s going to a nightclub than escorting tourists to the pool.
“I was coming to get you for your meeting with El Santo. He’s ready for you.”
My heart kicks up speed, and I pull my purse in closer. It should contain more items of Tony’s. The lighter isn’t enough. I turn to look back into the room, trying to think what else I can grab, but Rodrigo clears his throat.
“I wouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“Right. Ok.”
Where the fuck is Tony? I step out of the room, letting the door shut behind me, and walk with Rodrigo out of the hotel and into a car.
Not just any car—a fucking mustard-yellow Mustang.
It’s clearly Rodrigo’s, because it smells like him, but it still surprises me.
I assumed he would be too young for such an expensive and flashy car.
I get in the passenger seat, and he takes the driver’s seat. I look like his date, honestly.
I could have sworn he was underage, but looking at him now, I can see he’s probably around 21 years old, maybe 22. Too young for me, not that I’m interested anyway, but I do like this new attitude he has.
“Where’s the meeting?” I ask.
He puts on what I can only describe as Latin trap music.
“Don’t worry about it, Omega. El Santo would never harm you.”
That’s…cryptic. He increases the volume, and I roll the window down. The sun is almost set, and the streets are filled with people and vendors ready for the celebration. It doesn’t make me comfortable driving so far from the hotel. What if Tony is already back?
After about twenty minutes, when we’ve absolutely cleared Viejo San Juan, I get nervous.
“Rodrigo,” I say and turn the music down. “How far are we driving?”
“El Santo doesn’t live near here. He wants me to take you to Pena Blanca Beach. You’ll love it. It’s the best beach for going into the ocean at midnight.”
“Where’s the beach exactly?”
“On the other side. It’s ok. I know how to get there. I mostly stay on the PR-2.”
“For how long?”
“Couple hours.” He turns the music back up. At the thought, I reach into my purse and grasp the Zippo lighter. Its sleek brushed metal exterior is cool to the touch, and it halts my racing thoughts as I stroke the edges.
Tony
I wouldn’t have noticed him, but I smelled him.
One of the FBI agents from the yacht, Special Agent Spike Wolfhart, is working the counter at the pharmacy.
Clever fucking bitches. They are still looking for their omega thief, and they must suspect she’s still here.
Omegas need scent blockers and heat suppressants, so might as well stake out the pharmacies.
I wouldn’t doubt they’ve got someone at every pharmacy.
I wait in line with two people ahead of me waiting to talk to the FBI agent turned pharmacist. I must have the pill.
The woman in front of me is an omega and asks for the same medication I need.
I wait and watch as she’s asked to fill out forms, sign waivers, and present her ID.
Spike asks where her permanent address is and if she’s been traveling recently.
He asks for her passport, and that’s when I have to decide if this is worth the risk.
He’s taking a fucking survey for his investigation, and it would be stupid to get my name anywhere near it.
I check my watch. I won’t make it to any other pharmacies.
My phone rings, and I step out of line to answer it.
“Matty?” I ask.
“Thank god you answered. I just got fucking yelled at by that unhinged client of ours.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just everything has gone to shit, like we predicted when we agreed to this fucking mess. I hate him. I hate all men. I hate you. I hate when my baby blows out and ruins all her pants I brought with me so I have to go into a store and buy her new pants, but it’s one of those posh baby boutiques and all the pants are $85 for some ungodly reason, so I go through the sales rack like a racoon, only to find the cutest pants ever for $35, which is still insane, but I get a size bigger than she is so she’ll grow into them; you know, to help mitigate the cost, but then when I get her dressed in the tiny public restroom that smells like wet dog, they don’t fit and just fall right off of her, so I screwed myself anyway. ”
“Matty.”
“Sorry. It really is bad, though. Roman said you need to bring her to the airport by Friday, or he’s canceling the contract and putting a reversal on all paid invoices.”
“He can’t do that.”
“He sure as fuck can! You want to know why he’s doing this? He’s accused you of keeping her an extra week so you can—god, it’s so fucking insane—but he says she must be in heat, and you must have forced her to have it with you.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“I can tell your stomach is now dispelled onto the ground with that weird sound you just made. Yes, Roman Livingston thinks you found Kelya, realized she was going into heat, then convinced her to stay with you so you can fuck her for a few days, and now you’re going to clean her up, wrap her up in a little bow, and take her to Saint Kane. ”
“I…”
“Don’t worry, this is why you have me. I told him you’re a professional who doesn’t fuck omegas in heat who he’s hired to find. He seemed unconvinced, but less enraged. In any case, he wants her back now. And Tony?”
While it is egregious to think I kept her here for her heat, I did in fact keep her here and fucked her. Many times. His paranoia is only to the left of the truth.
“What?” I can’t even imagine what more she has to say that’s going to make any of this less horrible.
“I think he’s already hired that bounty hunter, because he said he did.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The last thing I need is another person after her. I swear to god she’s a nexus of trouble.
“Fine. I will get her, and we’ll get out of here.”
“Should I schedule your flights to Vegas?”
I just realized that when I said we’d get out of here, I did not mean taking her to Roman.
I meant…fuck. What I pictured was Kelya in my house in Barberie.
Where I show her the nest I’d built and the sunroom where I want to eventually keep a pair of pigeons.
In this one second dream, we swim in my pool out back, with high fences to keep the creatures from the bayou out.
I’ll try to make cafecito, but it won’t taste as good as the ones here…
“Give me a minute to talk to her. I was at the pharmacy, and I’m headed back now.”
I don’t wait for her to give me her opinion and hang up.
Out in front of the hotel, I catch the scent of her eucalyptus shampoo, the one Kelya stole from James. I also smell the beta Rodrigo out here, but he’s wearing cologne.
A curious combo.
I run to the room to confirm what I already know—Kelya is gone. She left her phone on the floor near the window, but took nothing else with her except her purse, which means nothing. She’s arrived at a lot of new places with nothing but her flat red shoes and her little purse.
I wonder if she’s taken my lighter with her. The little omega has taken it everywhere ever since she stole it.
I sit down and pull up the app tracking my lighter. She’s long fucking gone, traveling fast, too.
“What the fuck.”
Did she send me to the pharmacy so she could run away? I lowered my guard so easily. She has me wrapped around her little finger.
The thought doesn’t make me angry. No, not at all.
I fucking love it.
My chest, no longer tight, heats with excitement. I’m going to find her, pin her down, and mark her with my scent. I’m going to tie her in my ropes and fuck her until she reaches subspace, reminding her she’s never going to get away from me.
I’m a goddamned bloodhound.