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I light more incense--until the whole place reeks of it.
I keep working and working in the hope that I'll forget there's a beautiful woman begging to be fucked in my guest room, hoping she doesn't get creeped out by the fact that I basically have a cell in my house.
It's from my Enclave days...but I don't want her to know that.
I don't want her to know I used to be a revolutionary, that I helped other omegas.
I don't need those questions in my life.
I keep the door open for walk-ins at the end of the day, and I'm surprised when I see a clean-cut guy come in just before business hours end. The neon sign flickers over the door, illuminating his black hair in a reddish glow that makes him look somewhat devilish...and it's made all the worse when I notice the badge on his lapel.
He's ACB.
Shit.
I reach under the counter purely for the safety of the gun I keep down there, playing it as cool as I can. He's a big guy--not as big as I am, but bigenoughthat he could take me down. His jaw has a layer of stubble on it that suggests he usually shaves religiously, but he looks haggard right now, with dark circles under his eyes.
"Hey there," I say. "Can I help you?"
He grunts. "Yeah; I'm looking for a girl."
I snort, even though my heart is pounding. "Not sure if you noticed, but this is atattoo parlor. The brothels are all in the red light district a few blocks away; not gonna have any luck here."
He points up at the sign. "I figured with the sign...I don't know--Eve's Apple is pretty suggestive."
"An old friend picked out the name," I tell him. "And I was just about to close up, so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave--"
"The girl I'm looking for isn't a prostitute," he says. "She's a fugitive--and an omega who is very likely in heat. Pretty blonde, hazel eyes. You haven't seen her?"
Oh--the pretty blonde in my guest room, you mean? The one who looks like an angel and smells like sex?
"Doesn't ring a bell," I say.
"She's one of ours," he says, "and we want her back."
"And I'd love to help you, but I don't know a damn thing about this girl," I tell him. "I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, friend."
"And if I refuse?"
"I'll call the cops."
He looks at me with a feral grin, leaning forward on the desk. I close my hand around the handle of my pistol. "Iamthe cops, buddy. I could call for backup right now."
"Go for it," I say. "I've got nothing to hide. But I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If you want to talk to me outside, feel free--there's a phone over at the bar round the corner. I'd love to explain how some ACB agent came in and started harassing me in my place of business."
I don't want to hurt him, but I fucking will. I'll shoot him in the head before I give up this omega.
But he backs up and reaches into his pocket.
I tense.
He just pulls out a wallet and passes me a business card.
"Fine," he says. "Just uh...give me a call if you see her, okay? Name's Maddox."
I take the card and glance at it. Yep--Jack Maddox. "I shouldn't call the Bureau?" I ask.
"No," he says. "Call me directly."
