Chapter Twenty-Two
Mark
“Is your family going to chase me with shotguns or pitchforks if I let you come home with a different alpha than you left with?” I ask Marnie seriously.
After the whole situation with Harvey, the three of us had escaped to a late-night diner for milkshakes.
It quickly became apparent that I’m the third wheel, so I’m about to take my leave.
Marnie giggles and looks over at Adam. “I already texted my mom to tell her what happened and that I probably won’t be home tonight.”
Adam can’t keep his eyes off her. I’ve never seen him like this before. Like a kid on Christmas that just got everything on his list.
“Tell you what, this car is paid up through until 1:00 a.m. You two crazy lovebirds go have fun before you go wherever you’re going for the night.”
“No, man, we can’t take your car,” Adam says. It’s clearly the same kind of tone you give your grandma when you tell her that you don’t need the twenty dollars she’s trying to slip you without your mom noticing.
“It’s fine. Really. I’ll get a cab.”
Marnie bites her lip and looks at him, and it doesn’t take much more convincing. They quickly slide out of the diner booth and head out the door. They’re so adorable, it makes my chest ache. It also makes me think about Ava.
Maybe I was too harsh to block her. She obviously came to Harvey’s to talk to me, and even though she acted like a brat because she was jealous, do I really have a lot of stones to throw on that one? Did I not literally fuck her on one of her dates and send her back to the table?
All I wanted was some effort on her part. An indication that I mattered, that we mattered enough to fight for, and she gave me that.
I chew on my lip and pull my phone from my pocket, staring at her name for a long second before hitting unblock in the contact details. Almost immediately, a text message comes through.
“I’m sorry. I panicked. I want to continue our conversation tomorrow. There are things I need to tell you.”
I start to respond and then think better of it. No. I’m done with the text messages. We need to actually speak to each other, not leave any room for misunderstanding. If this is going to happen, it needs to be a real conversation.
I hit call, and it goes straight to voicemail. I frown and hang up without leaving a message. She clearly didn’t block me, or it wouldn’t have rung through. But Ava never has her phone off. I’ve texted her at all kinds of hours of the night.
Unease settles in my chest. She did seem different tonight. And she was flushed and sweating like she was running a fever. What if she’s actually sick? What if she passed out in her bathroom, phone dead, no one around to notice?
I call again, and the same thing happens. This time, I leave a message. “I don’t know if you’re just pissed and turned your phone off or if something is wrong, but I’m coming over.”
I flag down a cab and give the driver her address, barely registering his nod before sliding into the back seat.
The city crawls past the windows, lights smeared and distorted, and my anxiety ramps higher with every passing minute.
The driver takes a different route than I would have, cutting across unfamiliar streets, and we hit traffic anyway.
Nearly 11:00 at night, and we’re barely moving.
I try her phone again. Still off.
I tap the backs of my fingers against my palm, leg bouncing restlessly as we inch along at a glacial pace. “What the hell is with this traffic tonight?”
The cabbie shakes his head. “Think it has something to do with the raids. There’s a bunch of them tonight, and traffic is nuts everywhere.”
I look up. “Raids?”
“Yeah. Some big, coordinated thing,” he says. “Mayor and police commissioner trying to shut down the omega suppressant supply chain. Streets are a mess everywhere.”
My stomach drops.
“Bullshit, if you ask me,” he adds. “Like we don’t have bigger problems than omega birth control. Waste of taxpayer money.”
I pull my phone back out and look up what he’s talking about. And sure enough, Harvey had announced a sting operation happening tonight with the full force of the NYPD. He must have timed it to release during the dinner party. Prick. Is this my punishment for offering Katie a plea deal?
Joke’s on him, I’ll offer every single omega without a record. The dealers can be handled on a case-by-case basis. I chew on my thumbnail as another thought settles. Maybe this is why Ava’s phone is going to voicemail.
For a second, I feel foolish. Maybe I’m about to show up to her apartment and find it empty because she’s downtown with clients. Only, if the raids are happening now, they wouldn’t have had time to book everyone and get lawyer calls out, I remind myself.
The cab turns down a side street. Traffic clears for a blessed moment, then locks up again. Red and blue lights flash a block or so ahead, and I let out a frustrated breath. Ava’s only a few blocks away now. With this much police presence, no one’s going to try anything stupid.
“Hey,” I say, leaning forward. “I’m gonna walk the rest of the way.” I hand the driver enough cash to cover the fare and a decent tip, since he’s going to be stuck in gridlock for a while. He looks relieved.
I climb out, pulling my coat tighter around myself to brace against the chill that has overtaken the city.
So much for the beautiful spring weather we’d been having, it’s practically like winter again.
I walk quickly, cutting down a different side street to avoid the cluster of cops ahead.
I step partially into an alley to avoid a very questionable puddle.
A low pained groan comes from the darkness.
I slow, debating. Every instinct tells me to keep moving. Ava is my priority. But I can’t just leave someone hurt without checking.
I turn back and step into the dark corridor, senses on high alert.
I really don’t think I’m in danger, but it is New York.
I catch the faintest hint of a beta, some kind of citrusy lemon with the copper scent of blood.
Something about the scent feels familiar.
My alpha side surges to the forefront of my mind, urging me forward.
I spy a pair of shoes sticking out from behind a dumpster. They look like expensive sneakers, which is not what I’d expect back here. “Hey,” I call carefully, circling just enough to see without putting myself in reach. “You all right?”
Everything clicks at once. I recognize him. Not well, but enough. There’s also a deep gash on his forehead oozing blood over his brow and matting his auburn hair. Clutched loosely in one hand are two unmarked prescription bottles full of pills.
I’ve seen pictures of Jack before, and run into him once at a fundraiser gala he attended with Ava.
There is a police raid on illegal omega suppressants two blocks over, and I suddenly find Ava’s brother injured and holding two bottles of pills? Everything about this screams trouble.
“Hey. It’s Jack, right?” I ask, already kneeling. “Can you hear me?”
As I wait for a response, I act almost on instinct before I realize what I’m doing.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket, pick up the bottles carefully, wipe them down, and toss them into the dumpster.
Guilt flares briefly, then dies. I literally just decided I’d cut omegas some slack.
And Ava would never let her brother rot in jail.
Rationalizing? Probably.
I’ll live with it.
Jack groans again and blinks, eyes unfocused. “Mark?” His voice is slurred.
“Can you walk?” I ask. I can hear shouts approaching, and it occurs to me that they might be fanning out to look for anyone who ran. We need to get out of here.
“Uh… maybe?” He tries to push himself upright and nearly topples.
“Dammit,” I growl. I toss his arm around my shoulders, helping him stay upright. “Come on, I’m gonna take you to Ava’s. Do you have your phone?”
“No,” he drags out. “Afraid the cops—”
“Stop talking,” I snap. “Forget I asked. I’m the district attorney. Don’t incriminate yourself to me. I know your sister taught you better.”
“I gotta help her,” he mumbles. “She needs me.”
My pulse spikes. “What’s wrong with Ava?” I demand.
“She’s sick,” he says thickly. “Real sick. I was so scared. Teo helped, but what if it happened again? Mom is in the air still.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I know enough. I glance down at him, calculating if I could carry him. I’m strong, but he’s easily six-three and built like he’s carved from marble. Not an ideal situation.
I frown. “Come on,” I say grimly. “If she needs help, we need to move faster.”
He nods and staggers forward, leaning heavily into me. We make it a block. Then another. Every second feels too slow.
Finally, Ava’s building comes into view.
Relief hits hard and fast. I guide him toward the back entrance, suddenly thankful she gave me the service elevator code during one of our many secret visits.
Dragging a bleeding man through the lobby would probably get more attention than I’d prefer at the moment, thank you very much.
I punch in the code that’ll take us straight to Ava’s floor.
In the light of the elevator, I can get a better look at Jack.
He’s paler than I’d like, and he already has one hell of a goose egg forming.
But I’m pretty sure I learned in some first aid class that swelling out is better than dipping in on head injuries.
I think I remember that Jack is married to somebody in health care?
Hopefully I can find his phone and call them after I figure out what’s going on with Ava.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. I adjust Jack, and we step off.