Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
BARON
I swear to god, that omega is going to pace right through the fucking boardwalk and I’m going to have to jump in that goddamn water after him.
With a scowl, I toss my binoculars on the passenger seat and reach for the handle on my door, but pause when the moonlight catches on something shiny in Ves’ hand.
Is that a knife?
I watch for a few more seconds, debating on what my next move is, then blow out a frustrated breath as Ves squats and proceeds to stab the wood under his feet several times.
Did I do what that big, blonde alpha wanted me to do? Divide and conquer, and follow Arlo back to that cushy penthouse he’s been living in?
No. No, I fucking didn’t.
Not because I didn’t want to, or because anyone living outside my skull told me to do it.
I didn’t head back to the city of angels because I’m on my own, self appointed mission, and it has everything to do with the man murdering a boardwalk in front of me
Lennox knows that, though.
He sent three texts within four hours of having my number, and I made a vague threat then followed it up with my interest in Ves March, which seemed to get him to back off for now.
That alpha is going to be a problem in more than one way, but he’s not my focus at the moment.
And while I know for a fact Arlo is my scent match and I want nothing more than to keep tabs on him, he isn’t my primary focus right now, either.
I did my homework, I know who he’s working for and apparently sleeping with. Which is fine. I could tell there was more between them than either omega knew, and I’m surprisingly not jealous. If anything, I’m relieved, and that’s why Ves has become a bit of a mission for me.
An FBI agent who works for the BAU, one with a batshit ex, and a stick up his ass the size of a redwood? That means Arlo is both safe, and at risk, and I need to see how big of a risk that is.
Did I think it was going to mean I’d get one tiny whiff of peppermint mocha and match with that big-ass omega, too? No, but it’s all the more reason for me to follow him and make sure he’s not putting our pack in danger.
Or himself.
Not that I have to worry too much, given the way he’s destroying the boardwalk.
We’ve been out here for a few hours now, came out this way after Ves dropped Arlo and Calista off at the train station then spent a good chunk of time at the local police station.
He was there with the other two he called in from LA.
Sylas Walker, the southern alpha a few years younger than him, and the relatively seasoned but young omega, Marley Chandler from BFE Idaho.
Neither of whom he has any romantic interest in, but seems to appreciate all the same.
They were inside the station for a long time, going over the crime scene they were at the other night, I’m assuming, then Ves came flying out of there, got into his SUV, and sped back to the beach.
Our current location.
The scene of the crime.
He’s been walking it ever since we got here, booted the uniformed cops on site then started back and forth along the yellow tape, moving under the protective tenting in a grid pattern with his head down and a scowl firmly planted on his handsome face. It wasn’t until he
circled the spot where most of the body was found about six times then sprinted down the boardwalk that things changed.
They changed drastically, to be honest.
It was like watching him take his mask off and relax into his true form or some shit.
A shift in body language, he started talking to himself. He brandished the knife he just yanked out of the wood, then lost his shit to a degree.
And he seems almost… free?
Which should probably be a red flag, and a reason for me to haul ass to that penthouse and snatch Arlo out of it, but it isn’t.
It’s kind of fascinating, watching him work.
This case is obviously important, it’s eating at him, but the way he’s almost settled into whatever role he’s playing now is both unsettling and reassuring.
I have a feeling Arlo couldn’t be any safer than in the care of this slightly unhinged omega.
Or extremely unhinged, since he just yanked a board right off the walk then jumped into the water through the hole he made.
I quickly throw open my door and get out of my van, checking my pocket to make sure I have my own knife, then start making my way toward Ves as quietly as I can.
Yellow tape be damned, if there’s a nefarious reason he just did what he did, a dangerous one that means he could be in trouble, I’m going to be there to help if I can.
I’m about a foot away from the first line of police tape when Ves comes up for air with a gasp and I drop down into the sand so fast I get a mouthful of the shit.
I poke my head up and try to spit so I don’t choke, watching my omega swim back to the beach and start back to under the tent where the body was.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was his crime scene.
The way he’s walking it, how he’s moving through it. It’s not like cops on TV, like they’re trying to figure out what happened. It’s more like he’s trying to remember what happened.
Whatever he’s doing, Ves is good at it despite the way it’s clearly pissing him off.
I crawl forward and slip through one of the openings, keeping tabs on Ves the best I can without him noticing I’m here.
With how focused he seems to be, I don’t think I have much to worry about.
He crouches down next to the dark outline and holds out his hands, and oh my god that’s a fucking foot.
My omega has a fucking severed foot in his hand and playing in sand that is soaked in blood.
I thought I was fucked up.
Murder on the ice in front of tens of thousands of people, getting a thrill from the way it felt to have bones crunch under my fists and blood spurt between my fingers.
That’s not normal, and the urge to repeat the actions in certain scenarios is just as concerning, but I didn’t play with the body after I killed that bastard.
Not that this is actually Ves’ kill scene, but still. He’s digging in bloody sand and that has to be another red flag if I’ve ever seen one.
Too bad I don’t really give a shit.
Ves is mine, just like Arlo is, and if it means my crazy has to roll with his, so be it.
Which is why I find myself getting to my feet and parting the vinyl before cautiously making my way over to where my scent match is losing his damn mind.
“It has to be here.”
I frown as his voice gets louder, the tone more agitated with each step I take.
“One foot in the grave… it has to be here.”
“What does?”
Ves doesn’t jump, doesn’t spin around and aim a gun in my face. Instead, he just slows his digging and glances at me over his shoulder. “The other foot.”
“Left or right?”
“Left,” he grunts, going back to the task at hand before he pauses again and takes a deep breath. He visibly shudders, humming low in his throat before I see him shake his head and go back to work. “I have a feeling it’s buried.”
I didn’t even think about the fact that he’s downwind, but whatever.
Whether he recognizes me as a match now or later doesn’t matter, he will at some point and we’ll deal with it then.
I’m a little more concerned with why he doesn’t seem to care that we’re both contaminating the crime scene, and I’m the farthest thing from a cop who just walked in on him searching for evidence in the most unorthodox—and illegal—way ever.
Fuck it. “Want a hand?”
Ves snorts. “I need a foot, but if you’re offering to help, walk where I did and start looking over there.”
I follow his nod and do as he says, careful to put my size thirteens on top of what must be his size elevens, then squat across from my omega. I push up my sleeves and reach toward the outline but stop when a pair of latex gloves land on my knee.
“Vinyl.”
I look up into his hazel eyes and blink. “What?”
Ves shakes his head then goes back to digging. “They aren’t latex. I’m allergic.”
“Me, too.” I almost miss the way his full lips curl into a small smile as I pull them on, and it has one of my own trying to crack my face. “Wasn’t sure it would matter much since—”
“I’m ruining a crime scene that belongs to a serial killer I’m trying to catch?”
I nod and push my fingers into the dark red sand. “Yeah, that.”
“At this point, I don’t give a shit. I’m going to catch this bastard one way or another, I’m going to fucking catch him, and I don’t really care how I do it.”
“Even if it gets you fired?”
Ves doesn’t skip a beat. “Exactly. If I don’t, I’m going to lose my mind trying to figure him out, and I can’t let that happen.”
Seems to me he’s already well on his way, but I don’t say that.
Now isn’t the time, and frankly, his scent is strong as fuck right now and that might be messing with my judgement. Hence digging in a crime scene with my omega like we’re looking over a menu trying to decide what to eat or something.
God, this is not what I was expecting at all when I decided to follow Ves instead of Arlo.
Then again, I wasn’t expecting two scent matches, a cute little girl who brings out a protective side I didn’t think I had with anyone other than my brother, and whatever the hell Lennox is, either.
It’s kind of funny when I think about it.
Murder sent me packing and led me to one omega, while a serial killer put me face to face with another.
I’m not sure what that says about my life and the direction it’s heading, but I can’t say that I’m too mad about it.
I guess I’m more fucked up than I thought.