by Aiden Bates
“No, really. It’s fine. I like being home with Viola. We get to spend so much time together, and I still get to work. It’s great.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Besides, I’m teaching her to code.”
“Teddy? What? She’s five months old.”
Teddy tsked at me. “So? She’s brilliant. You should see her work that alphabet board.”
“I have. It’s mainly just her slamming her fists into random keys.”
Teddy nudged me playfully. “Says you. No, I’m certain there’s a pattern to it. It’s just too sophisticated for us to understand.”
“Oh? I’d believe that for me, but even too clever for you?”
“Mm-hmm. She’s going to be so smart. She already is so smart. Just the other day she almost mastered ‘Dada.’”
“Is that right?”
“Well…kind of. There were some extra tidbits in the middle, but basically.”
I laughed at his exuberance. It was still a shock to see Teddy like this, so into being a parent. I’d sort of figured after his own examples and the fact he hadn’t really planned on getting pregnant, that this might be too overwhelming, too different for him to really be able to enjoy. But he did. Teddy not only loved Viola and looked after her, he also enjoyed it just like I did. It was amazing we got to enjoy it together.
I snuggled him closer, wrapping my arms around his back and stroking him from nape to spine to tailbone and back up again.
“Well, I’m sure she inherited her Papa’s smarts. Good thing, too.”
“Don’t say that. You’re plenty smart enough.”
“Says the super genius.”
Teddy hid his face. All of this talk got me thinking about another conversation I’d been meaning to have with Teddy. “You know, it wouldn’t be guaranteed, and given my injuries might be impossible, but maybe once my enlistment is up… Maybe we could try for another one? I’d like that. All single children tend to grow up spoiled.”
Teddy laughed. He stretched to kiss my jaw.
“We’ll see, Ro.” In Teddy speak, that meant he just had to come around to the idea. I was pretty sure with enough persistence and persuasion, I could charm him into it. In fact, I didn't think it would take much persuasion at all.
Teddy started drawing slow circles from my chest, down, down, down.
“But, in the meantime, we can certainly get in plenty of practice.”
I rolled us over and looked down at the mischievous smile on Teddy’s face, warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Practice does make perfect.”
Book 2
Omega’s Secret Alpha
Omega’s Under Siege: Book 2
Aiden Bates
© 2019
Disclaimer
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are all fictitious for the reader’s pleasure. Any similarities to real people, places, events, living or dead are all coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit content that is intended for ADULTS ONLY (+18).
1
Logan
Thirty-seven years of military service for god and country—and somehow, at the ripe age of fifty-five, I was still dealing with the same old nonsense.
“Would you like explain it to the new grunts, or should I?” I asked, shoving the door open and holding it so Ross could enter ahead of me.
Ross Walters, Fort Greene’s Sergeant Major and my cohort in whipping our freshly wet-behind-the-ears recruits into shape, drew his lips into a razor thin smirk and shook his head as he settled behind his desk. “Explain what? The fine art of scraping down a lunch tray with a toothbrush?”
“Shortly after a master’s class on the fine art of running until their legs give out.” I lowered myself into a chair, the same chair we’d be seating whatever drill sergeant had presided over the one o’clock midday meal for a talk on the joys of cleanliness. Silverware in the wrong bins, trash discarded haphazardly in the area surrounding the garbage can instead of inside, perfectly good food left untouched on plates—it was a disgrace. “We’re too soft on this batch, Ross. We’ll be shipping out a bunch of sloppy, whiny tinker tots at this rate.”
“It’s called a mess hall,” Ross said. “Maybe they’re determined to take the name literally.”
I stared him down for a moment, refusing to validate that with a response, until Ross laughed and held up his hands in surrender.
“Alright. Alright. Have it your way, Master Sarge.” Ross shuffled through a pile of clipboards on his desk, drawing out the day’s schedule and scanning it briefly. “It was Wheeler’s bunch. I’ll give him a stern talking-to on mealtime clean-up when they get back from their afternoon march.”
“Sure you don’t want me to do it?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. “Wouldn’t mind.”
Ross raised an eyebrow as he placed the clipboard back onto its designated pile. “Wouldn’t mind because you’re P.O.’d about the mess in the mess, or wouldn’t mind because you’re desperate to holler yourself blue at someone now that son of yours is up in Montana?”
I raised an eyebrow, feeling the conversation shift beneath my boots like a bed of quicksand. “Teddy informs me he’s very happy up north with Sergeant Carpenter and the little one. I’m inclined to take his word for it.”
“Didn’t say Teddy wasn’t happy,” Ross said.
“Didn’t really say much of anything,” I replied. “You have a point to make to me, suppose you’d better come right out with it.” I paused, my shoulders rolling back and stiffening instinctively. “Sergeant Major.”
“Oh, drop it, Logan. We’ll get back to Sergeant Major’s and salutes shortly, don’t you fret.” Ross leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk and twining his fingers together. “Didn’t call you in here to talk military.”
“My apologies, Sergeant Major,” I quipped, deliberately keeping the level of formality exactly where I wanted it—high. Ross and I were friends. Had been for a long while now. At fifty-six, he was only a year older than me, and despite our slight differences in rank, we often worked as equals out of mutual respect. When you stuck around in the military for as long as Ross and I had, the things you’d been through demanded nothing short of that. But that didn’t mean I took any pleasure in discussing my personal life. To him, or anyone else, for that matter. Especially not if he was pulling rank to facilitate it. “It’s an easy mistake to make, considering we’re in your office on a military base.”
“You’re a gruff old bulldog, Logan,” Ross said with a chuckle. “And I like that about you. Always have. You’re good at what you do. Patient, methodical, responsible—everything we could ask for of a soldier.”
“And yet…”
“And yet, I’ve caught you hanging around here at the base long after you should’ve trucked home every night since Teddy and that cute-as-a-button granddaughter of yours got whisked away. That was two months ago,” Ross pointed out. “Speaks of a certain…failure to adjust, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Lots of work to get up to.” I minded. I minded an awful lot. “A good soldier doesn’t leave his post until the job’s been done.”
“Like inspecting lunch trays? Writing up new recruits for not finishing their vegetables?”
“They’re growing boys,” I responded, clenching my jaw but not letting my annoyance cross my face.
It was something I’d learned back when I’d completed basic all those years ago. Whatever you thought, whatever you were feeling—you didn’t let that rise to the surface. Didn’t let them see it in your ey
es. I could run my frustration off later. Leave it pounded into the weight of a punching bag beneath my knuckles, or in my sweat as it muddied the dirt beneath me as I did so many push-ups I could no longer count straight. But as far as anyone else needed to concern themselves, feelings were for other people.
I was a soldier. I would be until the day I died. And soldiers didn’t have namby-pamby feelings about things.
Soldiers didn’t whine. Didn’t complain. They just got on with it.
“You ever considered retirement?” Ross posed, keeping his own voice conversational and light. “You’ve only got a year left on your contract. Fifty-five isn’t a bad age for it.”
“Neither is fifty-six. I suppose you’ll be turning in your boots for a pair of flip flops and a Hawaiian shirt as well?”
“Come on. You’ve got a grandbaby now. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like heading up north yourself, riding out your pension and spoiling that little girl.”
“She’ll be plenty spoiled,” I said, a hint of fondness seeping into my voice for a moment. I could still remember the way Teddy had cooed and smiled down at his little princess. Like she’d hung every star in the sky with nothing more than her tiny, chubby fingers. I knew that baby wasn’t going to want for anything for the rest of her life. Teddy would be a better father than I’d ever been. Didn’t need me coming in and mucking that up. “I don’t think we need to worry about that.”
“Look, speaking as a man with a grandchild of my own who I never get to see, I just want you to consider it. Could be good for you.” Ross cracked a grin. “Hawaiian shirts are en vogue these days, don’t know you.”
I loosened up my jaw a little, blinking slowly and trying to imagine what Ross was selling. Admittedly, having Teddy and baby Viola close at hand was a tempting prospect. Twelve years of deployment mixed with another two-and-a-half decades of climbing the ladder had taken me away from my own husband and kids in ways I knew I’d never really be able to rectify. My job had turned that husband of mine into an ex. Pushed my other son, Jason, into following in my footsteps—then, thanks to an IED, stolen him away for good.
Now, with Teddy and the baby up in Montana, life without Fort Greene was hard to even fathom. I hadn’t followed him up there for a reason. For the same reason, he’d never asked. I’d missed out on my chance to be the father Teddy deserved, but that didn’t mean I needed to go barging into his life trying to make up for it now. Teddy had a husband now, a baby, an entire life. As for me… This base, these barracks, these recruits—they were nearly all I had left.
“Wouldn’t match my boots,” I said. “But I appreciate the advice.”
Ross’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “I don’t need to remind you that you’ve got your physical coming up, do I?”
“Don’t need a physical,” I grumbled—which even I knew wasn’t true. But that, among other things, was none of Ross’s business. Especially if his endgame for this little meeting was pushing me over the edge of retirement into a life of Jimmy Buffet concerts and free babysitting.
“Everyone needs a physical, soldier.” Ross tapped his temple with his index finger, looking smug. “Uncle Sam’s gotta make sure all his machines are running up to snuff, you know.”
“This tank is still well-oiled,” I said. “Yours, on the other hand… We missed you at the six a.m. frolic this morning, come to think. Real shame.”
“Paperwork,” Ross said with a sly grin. “Look, don’t misunderstand me here. I’m not trying to push you out. You keep this place running slick—mess hall and all.”
“But?”
His grin softened, turning more serious with a twinge of sad thrown in for good measure. A bad sign. “But if that doctor reckons that ticker of yours might not be as well-oiled as you think… I know you’re twelve years past that heart attack, but this job can be stressful. You know that as well as I do.”
“This ticker of mine is running a whole lot slicker than our mess hall operations these days.” I thumped my fist against my chest twice in demonstration. “No offense, of course. Sergeant Major.”
“You and your formality.” Ross chuckled. “You’d think we weren’t friends at all.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to tempt me out of finishing my contract and renewing for another four years, then.”
“Maybe I’m just trying to keep you from nabbing my job when I finally retire myself,” Ross said with a wink. “In the meantime, I hear you’ve got a lot of paperwork to do, and I suppose Sergeant Wheeler needs his reprimanding for the situation in mess earlier. Any recommendations for when he passes punishment on to the recruits?”
I smiled, feeling generous. “I think a thorough scrub-down of the hall before dinner and a quick mile after might help the lesson sink in.”
Ross rose, reaching over his desk to shake my hand as he returned my grin. “Funny—I was thinking more like five.”
After we’d exchanged salutes, I marched out of Ross’s office and back toward mine. But once I had the door closed and finally let my shoulders relax, I thumped my fist against my chest again—this time, like I was knocking on wood.
My doctor didn’t know it, and I certainly hadn’t mentioned it to Sergeant Major Walters, but my last heart attack wasn’t exactly as far out of my mind as I would’ve liked. Twelve years ago I’d spent two months combating on-and-off chest pains, which I’d been certain only meant I was getting out of shape. Until my left arm had gone numb and I’d found myself gasping for air on my bathroom floor. Two aspirin fumbled from my medicine cabinet and crushed between my teeth, an ambulance ride, and a little miracle work from the good doctors at Arlington General, were all that had stood between a death certificate and me.
And unfortunately, those chest pains were back. Had been for a good two weeks now.
I glanced down at the metal placard on my desk that bore my name, and let out a long, thin stream of air from between my lips. I’d made a career out of being a particularly difficult man to put six feet under. The Middle East hadn’t killed me—though it’d certainly tried. One heart attack hadn’t been enough to do me in either. Still, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the thought of another lurking on the horizon.
But as I drew in another breath and released it, I pressed my palm to my chest and felt my heart thumping under my pectoral muscle, nice and strong. Reassuring. For now, my ticker was still ticking away.
And if I had it my way, it’d keep doing so for a good, long time. Chest pains or not.
It was probably nothing anyway.
Probably, I was fine.
2
Bennet
There was only one place to be in East Green on a Friday night: propped up at the bar of The Piggy Bank, enjoying the musical stylings of Miss Penny Wise. By day, Miss Penny was merely Darren King, the club’s owner and the slickest businessman this side of the Mississippi. But by night, Darren traded in his slacks and Oxfords for slinky dresses and stiletto heels, doing drag with such aplomb that his Miss Penny alter-ego could even give Ru Paul a run for her money.
“What do you want to bet—Aretha, Beyoncé or Tina tonight?” Mitch asked, throwing money down on the bar and winking at our favorite alpha bartender, Terry, as he served us up a water and a martini—extra dirty.
“You know Miss Penny can’t resist a good Tina Turner,” I replied, cracking half a smile as we clinked our glasses together. “Final round says we’ll be Rollin’ on the River by midnight.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Mitch sipped at his martini, closing his eyes and breathing in slow as the alcohol hit his palate. When he breathed out again, it was in a pleasure-filled, well-practiced sigh. “Oh, Terry, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Don’t patronize me, Mitch,” Terry said with an easy smile, returning the wink. “I just know how you like it.”
“I bet he does,” I said under my breath as I grabbed my water—a staple of a CNA on call on a Friday night. The joke only earned me an elbow in the ribs from Mitch.
“Didn’t
anyone ever tell you that sarcasm is unbecoming, Benny-boy?”
I raised an eyebrow, rubbing my ribs in faux-injury. “Well—doesn’t he?”
“Not at all.” Mitch said. “I’m not free, remember, and I doubt Terry would want to pay for my tight ass. Anyway, I’m kind of seeing someone.”
“Yeah? Who?”
“Tell you later.” Mitch held enough sketchiness in his voice I knew he wasn’t ready to discuss it further, so I let it slide, for now.
We snagged a pair of seats down front, dodging the group of alphas who’d been making eyes at us since we first walked in. Though with Mitch at my side for the night I doubted we’d be dodging them for long. The three guys were good looking, and judging by the dog tags dangling just out of view beneath the collars of their shirts, very much of the rough-and-tumble military persuasion. Not an uncommon thing in Fort Greene with the base just outside of town. But despite having a brother in combats and camo, I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to get myself involved with a military man—or any other alpha for that matter. Certainly not then.
Not when knowing my heat was so erratic it could come on any minute.
“They were checking out your ass as we walked away, just so you know.” Mitch cocked his head back toward the gaggle of alphas and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “And in those pants…who could blame them?”
“As long as it’s just the pants they’ve got their eyes on.”
“What? Not interested in a little three-on-one?”
I chuckled, running my fingers through my thick light brown hair. “Not my kind of thing, Mitch. Guess you’ll have to take one for the team again.”
“One, I can manage. Three…” Mitch cringed. “It’d be a tight fit.”
