by Aiden Bates
I heard the scratch of a pen against paper. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“And Peter Preston. Journalist out in small-town Pennsylvania. He reported on the birth control case—just about the only person to do so. Ever since his story broke, though…”
“Another dead journalist?”
“Might be. Not sure. He’s disappeared from the scene either way. Might be a missing person’s report out on him. If not, maybe a John Doe body that we could put a name to.”
Another scratch on Kaleb’s notepad. “I’ll look into it.”
“Thanks, Kaleb.”
“Don’t mention it. But in return…”
I braced myself for impact. I knew exactly what Kaleb was going to say next—I just didn’t know if I could give it to him.
“Is it worth my breath to ask you to stay safe?” Kaleb asked, sounding as exhausted as I felt.
“Probably not,” I admitted. “But I’ll give it the old King try. Just ‘cause you asked so nicely.”
“That’s all I can ask, then. Take care of yourself, Harper.”
“You too, man.”
I hung up the phone, feeling hopeful—but that hope was tempered by the sight of Josh’s suspended Twitter profile, still glowing up at me from Nick’s computer screen. The kind of people that could erase a man’s life’s work like that with no repercussions in sight…that was who I was tangoing with here. And if I wasn’t careful, there’d be nothing but another King headstone out in Fort Greene’s cemetery to show for my efforts. Plus one more for Nick Paulson and his unborn child to boot.
Kaleb had been right about one thing, though—I wasn’t without friends here in Fort Greene. Raising my phone again, I dialed the number for King Private Security. Even after all these years, I still knew it by heart.
“Alvarez here. How can I help you?” Ernesto’s voice sounded from the other end of the line, confident and clear.
“Hey, Ernesto. Harper King here. I, ah…” I took in a breath, then let it out slow and steady. “I need a favor. Maybe a big one.”
I could practically hear Ernesto’s grin through the phone line. “Always a pleasure, Harper. How can I help?”
24
Nick
By the time I finally pried my eyes open, the afternoon sun was already beating down on the blinds of my bedroom window. Despite the sleep, I could still feel the wear and tear my all-nighter had put on my body. I hadn’t pulled one like that since college—and despite the benefits of my data analytics degree when it came to tracking down clues in this investigation, I was pretty sure I must’ve blown all of my chances at making it through a long night in front of my computer screen in the months leading up to graduation, too. My stomach turned over itself as I crawled out of bed, and there was a ringing in my ears the whole way out into the living room.
It felt like a hangover—which was unfair, considering that my current, pregnant state had come with the false implication that I wouldn’t be feeling one of those again for the next nine months. The last time I’d had a headache like this was the morning after I’d taken that bad birth control pill. Thankfully, this time around, the lasting effects would probably wear off with a few cups of tea and a square meal.
In the living room, Harper was standing proudly over several stacks of papers from Wells’ box that he seemed to have arranged into some kind of order.
“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted me, turning at the sound of my footsteps. “How’d a little sleep treat you?”
“Not as well as I would’ve liked,” I grumbled, moving to stand next to him. “What’ve you done with all these papers here?”
“Made progress.” Harper crossed his arms over his chest, nodding with a pleased little grunt. “I think I’ve got a story here. At least, a paper trail that suggests one.”
I gave him half a smile, impressed at the headway he’d made of the mess we’d conjured up during the unpacking process. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“Not until we get some lunch in you. Popped out to the grocery store while you were out—grilled cheese sound good?”
I pressed a hand over my stomach, which was already growling eagerly at the mere mention of melty, gooey cheese between crispy bread toasted in a skillet. “Oh, honey. You have no idea.”
As I munched my way through a perfectly buttery sandwich at the kitchen table, Harper laid his tale out for me.
“Exhibit A,” he announced, placing a worn notebook down on the table before me. “Josh’s notes from Atlanta.”
“Why did Wells have Josh’s notebook?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’d figure he would’ve left that kind of stuff at his place—surely the police would’ve cleared that out already?”
“Exactly why Josh left it with that panicky asshole, I guess,” Harper said with a shrug. “From the looks of things, he was already on a police corruption story in Atlanta when he stumbled on the pill tale. Couple of Omegas came into the station he was trying to shake a lead out of, complaining about going into out-of-control heats for no reason. Getting pregnant. Wanted to press charges against the Alphas who’d taken advantage of them, but—”
“They couldn’t figure out who the Alphas were.” I frowned. That little tidbit was a little too close to home.
“The police there didn’t have much interest in any of it. Took some statements, but, I mean, come on. They were already under investigation for corruption. Probably didn’t have the time or care to track down a bunch of horny asshole Alphas while they were already busy covering their own asses.”
“So Josh talked to these Omegas instead?”
“Of course he did. Little shit couldn’t let a potential story go when it had stumbled into his lap like that. All three of the Omegas he interviewed mentioned being on the pill, but he didn’t think to ask where they’d gotten it at the time.”
“Right,” I said with a nod. “That didn’t come together until he met up with me.”
“The notes about it go cold for a bit—but then, yeah, must’ve been after he talked to you, he followed up with the Atlanta Omegas again. Only this time, they weren’t talking.” Harper flipped a page over, scowling. “Josh did some digging. Found out they’d been paid off by a PR firm. Signed some hush papers. Legally speaking, their hands were tied. Leads were burned.”
“So he went after the PR firm instead,” I guessed. Knowing Josh, he wouldn’t have left it there. Would’ve explained why he’d been out of town so often, too.
“And they were, as expected, unhelpful. Skittish, too. Wouldn’t turn over their client list for anything, which is no surprise. But…” Harper pulled a folded paper out from the back of the notebook. It had obviously crumpled at one point, then smoothed back out again. “Josh’s journalistic digging extended to digging through their trash as well, apparently. Dumb fucks should’ve invested in a paper shredder if they wanted to keep their little black book on the down low.”
“He got it, then?”
“Or something close. The list is from five years ago—explains why they threw it out. He’s crossed off the ones that he’s ruled out, but the ones that are left, he figured might have been responsible for the payout.”
I stared down at the list, seeing six names unmarred by Josh’s Sharpie out of nearly two dozen. One stuck out to me in particular—namely because I’d seen it on my computer screen last night.
“Carver Media.” I licked the butter and crumbs off my index finger, then tapped down on it. “They purchased Peter Preston’s paper.”
Harper laughed. “Say that five times fast.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a big corporation. Lots of subsidiaries. Maybe they bought out the other publications too?”
“Funny you should mention them.” Harper flipped back to the first page of Josh’s notebook. “Josh has them here as a potential cooperator in the police corruption case he was looking into initially as well. Damndest coincidence, huh?”
“Or not a coincidence at all,” I agreed, picking up what Harper was throwi
ng down. “Carver Media has their sticky fingers all over both stories. Josh seems convinced that the two were connected.”
“No wonder he didn’t want me going to the police.” I swallowed a final bite of my grilled cheese, feeling my mouth go dry. “If he hadn’t sent me that message the night he died…”
“Then you would’ve told them everything you knew,” Harper agreed. “Lucky you heeded his warning. Couple it with the corruption case and the way the Fort Greene PD have been keeping their beady eyes on our movements…”
“They’re all in on it.” Every bad feeling I’d had since Josh had sent me that note rolled up into a cold, heavy metal ball in my gut. “God. Fuck.”
“Yep.” Harper leaned back in his chair, looking grim. “That about sums it up.”
“So… Carver Media, then. That’s our next point of investigation.”
“Ah…about that.” Harper raked his fingers through his light brown waves.
I leveled a finger at him. “Don’t tell me that you’re cutting me out of this now, Harper.”
“No, not at all. But, I mean… Genuinely, Nick. I might need to go out of town if I want to keep tracking this thing. And without me here…”
I swallowed again. “I wouldn’t have you here to protect me. And the police already have this house on their list.”
“Exactly. I’m not saying you need to drop out of this completely—quite the contrary, actually. The stuff you’ve given me on this has been vital. I don’t want to lose you.”
I forced a smirk. “In what way?”
Harper rolled his eyes. “In any way, you gorgeous nerd. On a professional level, you’re vital to this. On a personal level… I care about you, Nick. And you’ve got the baby to think about.”
“I could go with you,” I offered immediately, feeling the warmth of Harper’s words bloom inside me. I care about you, Nick. That was more than I’d been expecting. More than I’d hoped for. And if there was a chance… “I’m not even two whole months along yet. Still okay to fly. I can get Dr. Lemon to sign off on it and everything, if you want.”
“I’d rather have you somewhere safe, darlin’. With the hypertension thing to worry about, keepin’ your stress levels down and all… let me put you up with a buddy of mine, okay? Ernesto Alvarez—he’s a good man. No kids of his own, so he’s usually chomping at the bit to play granddad for a while.”
“Even for an unborn baby?” I turned my head, grimacing at the idea of being holed up in some strange house while Harper ran off to play Dirk Gently in Atlanta. “I don’t know, Harper… I’d rather be with you. Seriously. I know you. You make me feel safe. And believe it or not… I care about you too. A lot. Don’t you want someone around who can watch your back?”
“I would—but not you, sweetheart. Not when watching my back could come at a pretty high price. You’ve seen my scars. You know what kind of shit I tend to stir up when I’m on the clock. Ernesto’s the closest thing to me you can get—period. You didn’t hear it from me, but the man’s former Black Ops. I’d bet my gun on it. Safest place for you right now is in his care.”
“But he’s not you,” I pointed out. “I want to stick with you on this, Harper. Let’s see this through together. You and me. Remember? You promised.”
“We are in this together, Nick. That hasn’t changed.”
“Just not physically,” I grumbled.
Harper smirked. “If you need me to, ah…take care of you again before I go, that can be arranged.”
My cock leapt up at that—it had been several days. But I couldn’t let Harper fuck me into submission on this one. Whether I liked it or not, I was always one orgasm away from doing exactly what he wanted now. Couldn’t exactly barter for what I wanted unless I had a clear head—which meant my lower head would have to go wanting. For a little while longer, at least.
“Why don’t you take care of me in Atlanta, then? Or wherever else you’re going,” I offered. “We can get a hotel room. I’ll keep my head low, you keep yours, ah…” I glanced down at my lap, where my cock was presently tenting my pajama pants. “A little lower, so to speak.”
“I would love that, Nick. Really, I would.” Harper reached out to me, folding his hand over mine. “But I’m going to attract all the wrong kind of attention once this cat gets out of the bag.”
“We’re talking cock now, hon. Not pussy.”
Harper granted me a laugh. “Cute. But your clever wordplay isn’t going to work on me this time, handsome. This kind of dangerous is only sexy in the movies. We’re talking mega-corporations, huge payouts—Wells’ other documents have the numbers in the seven-digits. These people have more money than most of us can even fathom—and they’ve got the cops under their big, dirty thumbs to boot.”
“But…but…” My head was reeling as I searched for a crack in Harper’s plan. Anything I could grab hold of to pull out from under him. Anything that could make him change his mind. “You’re too busy thinking of me, Harper. Think about yourself for a minute.”
Harper ran a hand over the stubble of his jawline and gave me a devilish wink. “Beggin’ your pardon, sweetheart, but I’d much rather think about you.”
“Stop that,” I ordered him. “I’ve never known anyone else like you, Harper. I don’t think I ever will again. The idea of you in some far-off city with no backup, no one to turn to, no one to…”
My voice caught in my throat as an image flashed through my mind. Harper King, bleeding out in some Atlanta alleyway. Harper’s soft brown hair turning sticky and dark with his own blood. The light fading from Harper’s bright green eyes, the gold flecks losing their glimmer as they closed one last time.
“No one to identify your body when these bastards shoot you dead,” I finished, my sinuses burning hot with saline as tears welled up in my eyes.
“Don’t think like that, Nick. That’s not…” Harper ran his thumb over my knuckles, his brow knitting together with concern. “That’s not any good for you. That’s not what I want.”
“Then don’t go!” I surprised myself with the volume of my own voice—loud and sharp and pleading. “Forget this whole thing. Come out to California with me—my family’s all out there. They’ll set us up while we get our feet under us. You can come with me and we can drop this. Leave this entire fucking mess behind.”
A sadness flickered in Harper’s greens. “You know I can’t do that, darlin’. Josh’s murderer is still out there. Those people who fucked you over with their pills, too.”
I scowled at him, blinking away my tears. “You’re a goddamn dog, Harper King. Once you sink your teeth into something—”
Harper chuckled softly. “I know. I know. I don’t let go. But that goes for you too, Nick. Don’t think for a second that I’m skipping out on you here.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I said, my voice a rasping whisper.
“I don’t want to lose you either, you…you perfect, gorgeous nerd.” There was a warm fondness in Harper’s voice, tempered with the chilling seriousness that the case had begun to wrap around us both like a garrote. “Wouldn’t have let you stick with me on this for so long if I felt otherwise. Wouldn’t be asking this of you if I wasn’t trying to prevent exactly that.”
“So…you won’t let me come with you.” My body slumped forward as the realization hit me. Stubborn as I was, Harper was more so. And he had the element of danger on his side.
“I won’t let you come with me,” Harper affirmed. “Just…please, Nick. Do this for me. Please. I can’t stand the thought of seeing you get hurt.”
“I can’t stand the thought of seeing you get hurt, you big idiot!”
Harper’s smile came with a tinge of sadness. “Then stay here for me. Out of harm’s way. Let me go off and do my big idiot work with the knowledge that you’re…that you’re safe and sound, eating Ernesto’s black beans and listening to his wild boar hunting stories. Just until I can finish Josh’s work. Until I can put a lid on this disaster of a case and keep you safe for good thi
s time.”
I sank my teeth into my lip until I nearly tasted blood. I didn’t want to give Harper what he was asking for, but as it was, I didn’t seem to have much of a choice.
“When it’s over, though…will you stay?” The tears were back in my eyes now at full force, my entire body just begging to be allowed to break into a proper sob. I wouldn’t let it, though. Harper had been through enough already. The last thing he needed was to see a pregnant Omega bawling his heart out and begging him to come back.
Before the tears could take me, though, Harper took me himself. He dove across the table, rising up so he could take my jaw in his hands. His lips crushed against mine like a promise—a promise that, to my dismay, he didn’t echo when he finally pulled away again.
“I can’t give you an answer to that until this case is in the ground, sweetheart,” he told me—and just like that, my heart fell. But Harper wasn’t finished—not by a long shot. “But if I can…”
“If you can?”
Harper nodded, kissing me again. “If I can, I will.”
25
Harper
“I don’t like this,” Nick grumbled, crossing his arms over the seatbelt that kept him nestled safely in the passenger seat of my Mustang that night. As it was, I was surprised that I hadn’t needed to hog-tie him and sling him over my shoulder to get him in the car. But as tempting as the idea of having Nick Paulson bound, gagged, and at my disposal was, I had to admit that he was taking this better than I’d imagined.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” I said, reaching over to pat his knee. “It’s just for a little while.”
“Eat a dick, Harper.”
…scratch that. He was taking this exactly like I’d imagined. I was just grateful that he’d agreed to do this for me. For his baby. For himself.
We pulled into the parking lot of King Private Security to the muffled sound of Latin dance music coming from the building and the yellow-orange glow of the lot’s lights. Gravel crunched beneath the Mustang’s tires as I slowed it to a halt right out front.
