by Aiden Bates
"Hey." Sam put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "That's enough, Logan. He's restrained, Phil's got him, and if you rough him up, you'll make a mess."
Logan dropped the valet's arm like it was hot iron. What had he been thinking? He wasn't going to somehow defend Sam from a bound drunkard. "Sorry. Thank you, Sam." He turned to the outraged Nelson. "Obviously, the valet firm and the restaurant are both insured. We'll reimburse you for the bike and for your trouble." He glanced at Sam. "Your insurance company, and Sam Marlowe, can work with you to figure out what's reasonable. They're better judges than I am."
Sam blinked and shook his head, startled, and Logan bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted Sam to praise him, but that was silly. He'd done nothing particularly worthy of admiration. Logan was the manager. Everything rolled up to him. "I'm very sorry. We're going to take all necessary steps to make sure that this doesn't happen again."
A squad car arrived, and wasn't that just the kind of publicity Trattoria Siena needed right now? Logan growled under his breath and waited for the deluge, but the cop did his job as fast as he was able. He took pictures of the scene, got a Breathalyzer from the valet that knocked him back on his feet, and took the valet away. Once a tow truck came for the bike and the Benz, the show was over, and everyone went back to their respective establishments.
Logan's evening was over not long after that. The kitchen closed at ten, and the staff was done cleaning up by eleven. From the sound of things next door, things were still going strong.
For a moment, Logan thought about heading over. He'd been floored by the smooth and skillful way that Sam had de-escalated the situation after the crash, and he wanted to go and apologize again for the incident. He didn't think that anyone would listen, though. He was just some guy in a suit, a yuppie, and he'd only be welcome if he showed up with a nice fat check for poor Nelson.
When the back door opened, Logan almost jumped out of his skin.
He wasn't expecting any visitors. The only person with a key was Kaylee. Logan could only think that he was about to be robbed. Could the trattoria afford two police visits in one night?
Could he afford to handle this one by himself?
"Relax, doll face." Silas Marlowe's menacing baritone echoed through the empty restaurant, bouncing off the tiles just to add an extra layer of fear for Logan. "I'm not here to rob you. I'd probably wait until you were halfway to the bank for that."
Logan shuddered. "As long as there's a plan." He turned to face his unwelcome visitor. "Why are you here?"
"Well, I'm a little bit pissed off at you about tonight, Logan. How about we start with that?" Silas crossed his arms across his chest and leaned on the doorframe, effectively blocking Logan into his office.
"Look. I had no idea that the valet was drunk. I've already called the head of the valet company, the guy's been fired, they're going to pay for the bike." He looked aside. "I'm going to give Nelson ten grand on top of that, for his trouble." Logan hadn't planned that part out yet, but it seemed about right.
"Seriously?" Silas snorted.
"Look, that's out of my pocket. I can't afford anything more." Logan rubbed the back of his neck. "I get that he's put out about the whole thing, and I would be too. I just… I can't give him more, okay?"
"It's not about the money." Silas shook his head. "I mean, yeah. It's great that you're willing to give from your own pocket, don't get me wrong, but that's not the point. I'm pissed as hell that it happened in the first place. And I'm twice as pissed that someone went and took a swing at my baby brother."
Logan glared at Silas. "You do realize that your baby brother could probably bench press one of those bikes, right?"
Silas scowled at him and waved a hand in the air. "What does that have to do with anything? He's still my baby brother, man. It's still my job to look out for him."
Logan looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He'd never understand possessive brothers. "Look. I'm not thrilled that the valet took a swing at Sam either. It came up in my conversation with the company owner. You don't think he might have expected it though? I mean, he put himself in between the valet and Nelson, knowing that the cop was right there…" Logan rolled his hand, leading Silas to come to the right conclusion. "He's a smart guy."
"Damn straight he is." Silas puffed his chest out a bit. "Don't you forget it, either."
"How come he didn't go to college? He could have been a lawyer, with what I saw tonight."
Silas' lip curled. "He didn't want to. He wanted to come here, work here, and live with me. After everything, that's what he wanted. And that's what we did. No one's coming between us, Trattoria Boy. You just keep that in mind too. And teach your valets to keep their cars out of legal parking spaces."
Silas stormed off, and Logan forced himself to sit still and breathe normally while his heart rate slowed down.
Chapter Three
Sam trudged upstairs after his brother. Every bone in his body ached. "Geez, is it the full moon or what?" he asked Silas. "Everyone was itching for a fight tonight."
"Yeah, they were." Silas unlocked the door to their apartment and let them in. Sam trudged toward the kitchen and grabbed a thing of chili from the fridge. It wouldn't take much to reheat it, and "not much" was what both he and Silas were up for right now.
He dumped the chili into a pot and turned the burner on to a gentle heat. They had a loaf of garlic bread in there somewhere, they could eat that with the chili. They wouldn't be kissing anyone afterward, but whatever. They didn't need to be, either. Sam was single, and there was no way that Kaylee had wanted to stay out this late on a weekend.
He leaned against the wall, sure that if he sat down he wouldn't get back up. Silas joined him. Silas wasn't much good in the kitchen, not until it was time to clean up anyway. "See those pictures they sent back from the Argo mission? They're something else, aren't they?"
Sam smiled. "Yeah. I saw those. Gorgeous, right? Wouldn't it be amazing to get out there someday?"
"Ah, Sam, you know they're never going to let guys like us go up there. That's for rich kids, college boys." Silas grabbed them a couple of bowls from the cabinet.
"Yeah, I know." Sam chuckled at himself. "They tried to convince me that if I joined the Air Force I could go, you know? But who did they think they were kidding? Even if I made it to OCS, and omegas don't go to OCS, they don't put omegas in space. Or alphas, for that matter." He gave the chili a stir. "Besides I wouldn't go up there without my big brother."
"Same, Sam. Same." Silas pulled the packaged garlic bread out of the microwave and stuck it on a plate. “How's that chili doing?"
"Awesome. Let's go chow down." Sam dished out their dinner and the brothers headed out into the living room. Sam grabbed their TV tables, Silas turned on the TV, and they settled in with a documentary about the New Horizons mission to Pluto.
"So. Sam. About that sandwich board that Trattoria Boy stuck out there." Silas didn't look over at Sam, but kept his eyes on Pluto's heart-shaped spot.
Sam squirmed. "Yeah, what about it?"
"You and I both know that he didn't think of that thing himself. And he'd never have gotten Johnny to make something like that on such short notice."
Sam slid lower on the couch. "Okay, probably not. You're right. I might have made the suggestion, and I might have helped him get the sandwich board done. But it wasn't to help him. It was to keep our customers' bikes safe."
Silas put his spoon down. "Sam, our customers' bikes are parked in legal spots. They shouldn't need help staying safe."
"They shouldn't." Sam swirled his chili around the bowl with his spoon. "Obviously they do. Maybe the next valet guy won't be drunk. Maybe he'll be on his phone or something. I don't know. The sandwich board is just a little thing that should hopefully save aggravation for our guys." He pushed his food to the side, not hungry anymore. "Yeah, it's on Logan that the wreck happened. If it keeps happening, it's still us who will lose customers because of it."
Silas glared again and pushed
his bowl back in front of him. "You're not wrong," he said after a second. "I don't like giving that smarmy bastard anything, but you're not wrong."
"He paid for it." Sam managed a little grin and broke his piece of bread apart in his hands. On the screen, the view switched from the giant heart spot on Pluto to some egghead talking about the technology behind the mission. "I mean, it's not like I gave him anything but the idea and the connection to get it done."
Silas looked up at the ceiling. "Oh, that's all. I'm glad you didn't do much. You going to eat that or play with it?"
Sam took a tiny bite of the garlic bread. "It's for us, Silas. It's not a big deal."
"I don't like that guy, Sam."
"I hadn't guessed."
Silas took a mouthful of chili before replying. "He's an alpha, right?"
"Yeah." Sam kept his eyes on the screen. "We get lots of alphas coming in here."
"You don't go making all of them martinis." Silas took another bite of chili. "Be honest. You're into him."
"I made him a martini the first time he came in here to try to get us to shut down for their opening day because that's what he ordered. Now I make them for him as a kind of reminder. And because I like making them. It's not like we make them very often, Silas." Sam pushed his bowl away again.
"Don't give me that." Silas scoffed and moved the bowl back into place again. "You know damn well that he's not our kind of guy, Sam."
"Oh my God, I can't believe we're having this conversation. You're right. He's not 'our kind of guy.'" Sam buried his face in his hands for a second, horrified by the sheer embarrassment of the discussion. "For crying out loud, I'm not looking for him to claim me. He's nice to look at and he smells good."
"He dresses like a golf product catalogue!" Silas' jaw dropped in outrage.
"How the hell do you know what someone in a golf products catalogue dresses like, dill hole?" Sam hit his brother with his elbow. "And who cares what he's dressed like? It all looks the same strewn on the floor!"
Silas cringed, turning beet red and covering his ears with his hands. "Oh my God, you're my baby brother."
"You started it." Sam snickered and chucked a piece of his bread at his brother. "Look, I'm not thinking about him in the long term. I'm not even really thinking about him in the short term. I literally just think he looks good and smells good." He wrinkled his nose. "He's not exactly a big fan of guys like us. I wouldn't want to be with someone who only wanted the country-club type." He met his brother's eyes. "Any more than he would want to be with me."
"They all want to be with you, Sam. That's the problem. They all want to be with you for a little while, at least." Silas sighed. "I just really don't like this guy. He reminds me of the dad in that one foster hole they stuck you in, the one where the parents were an alpha and an omega?"
Sam shuddered. "Yeah, well. I mean I can see why. He hasn't tried to teach me how to be a good and proper omega yet, so I don't think there's a huge resemblance."
"Small favors." Silas scowled. "Whatever happened to those people, anyway?"
Sam shrugged. "Last I heard they weren't allowed to be foster parents anymore. It's not like they gave the alpha much jail time." He grinned, just a little bit. "I think they figured that losing an eye was enough."
"Could be." Silas stared at the television for a little while. "Do you think about it?"
"What, foster care? Not very much. Not if I don't have to. Why?"
Silas shook his head. "Getting claimed. I mean, you're a normal, healthy omega, you're twenty-four. Do you want that for yourself?"
Sam leaned back against the cushions. His back immediately released some of the tension he'd been holding. "Never really thought about it before. I'm happy with the life we have. I figure you'll probably want to get married at some point, and that's great. I'll take one of the other apartments here at that point. I get laid when I want, I have my freedom. There's never been a guy who's really gotten my engine running like that."
"What about kids?" Silas scratched his head. "You'll probably want them at some point, right? I mean that's… that's something you can do, and most omegas want that. Biological clock or something."
Sam shrugged. "I figure I'll probably get pregnant someday, just because I'll slip up, but I don't sit there and sigh out my window thinking about babies. That's a little ridiculous. I'm happy with my life the way it is. After everything, I like this." He gestured to the room. "You. Me. Joe's. The place." He frowned. "Besides, you can't fit a car seat on the back of a Harley."
Silas threw his head back and barked out a laugh. "Ain't that the truth. Well, just don't let it be what's-his-face, okay? I don't like that guy. I don't like yuppies. They just use people like us up and spit us out. I don't want that happening to you."
"I don't want that happening to me either." Sam winked and smiled. "Kaylee seems to like him, though."
Silas waved a hand. "She's known him for years. Worked with him down in Connecticut. Connecticut, of all places. She says that he just had some bad experiences with bikers when he was a kid and we 'shouldn't take it personally.'" He snorted. "How are we supposed to take it, then?"
Sam shrugged. "Not our problem. We're just neighbors, and not even very friendly neighbors at that."
Sam didn't have the stomach to finish his dinner, and Silas knew better than to keep trying. Sam got ready for bed and hit the sack, while Silas went ahead and cleaned up after them. Neither one of them liked waking up to a dirty kitchen, so Silas was willing to stay up a little later to do that.
Sam lay in the dark and listened to the running of the water and the clanking of the dishes. He'd buttonholed Logan the same night as the valet disaster, right as he was walking out to make the deposit. That had probably given the poor guy a heart attack. Of course, he probably hadn't surprised Logan at all. If Sam could smell Logan coming a mile away, Logan could probably pick his scent out of a crowd just as easily.
He'd made the suggestion and told Logan that he'd help him get the thing made quickly. Logan had been doubtful, but Sam had laid out his case in terms that would appeal to his erstwhile rival. Logan was a smart guy; he'd seen the advantages right away, and he'd agreed to go to Johnny's shop the next morning.
The sandwich board had been out for two days now, and it had been a success. One valet had nudged it, knocking it down, but no one had hit any bikes.
Why had Sam approached Logan?
He knew that the reasoning he'd given Silas had been sound. Everyone won if the valet stayed on the trattoria side of the sidewalk. The problem, of course, was that the reasoning Sam had given to his brother had very little to do with his actual reasons for helping Logan.
Sam had seen that Logan had a problem, and he'd wanted to help the alpha with the problem. That had been all.
Logan was everything that Sam resented in the world. He was part of that whole gentrification thing that was pushing people out of their homes and neighborhoods in Portland. He was smug and superior in his wealth and education. He dismissed others because of where they came from and how they chose to live their lives. Sam shouldn't want to help him; he should want to stick it to him in every way possible until he ran screaming with his tail between his legs.
And yet, here Sam was, helping him.
Attraction had something to do with it. Sam had to admit that. Maybe it shouldn't, but Sam was an omega and he had a strong sex drive. He shouldn't feel ashamed about that. It was okay for him to feel drawn to someone because of their scent. It was okay for him to want the attention of alphas, or of a specific alpha. That was a normal and natural part of who and what he was, and he generally accepted those feelings.
What he knew he shouldn't do was let those feelings bend themselves toward someone inappropriate, and Logan was inappropriate in every way. Logan was not a guy who would ever be interested in Sam. He might be open to a little bit of a roll in the hay, because most alphas were, and Sam knew that he was a physically attractive guy. A guy like Logan would choose a mate who co
uld fit in with other people like him.
Could Sam be that for him? Oh, sure. Sam had learned, coming up in foster care. He'd learned a lot of things. One of the skills he'd learned, and learned the hard way, was how to conform when he had to. The minute he turned eighteen, he got on the back of his brother's bike and vowed that he'd never hide any part of himself again. Sam could be whatever Logan wanted or needed in a mate, but then he wouldn't be Sam anymore.
No alpha was worth not being Sam anymore.
Sam might want to bare his neck every time that black-tea scent crossed his path. He might get a jolt of something electric every time their skin brushed against one another. That didn't mean they should be in a relationship, for crying out loud.
Maybe Sam should just screw Logan and be done with it. That should get all of those little urges out of his system. It should get Logan out of his system, and then he could settle down and get back to his happy life with his bike and his bar and his brother. It would go against everything that Silas had just warned him about, but it wouldn't be the first time that Sam had screwed someone Silas didn't like, and it probably wouldn't be the last.
