by D. J. Heart
There’s silence on the other end of the line, something that might be a growl hiding under the static.
“He hurt you?” Merchant’s voice is cold and furious. He sounds dangerous, and even with everything going on there’s a part of Logan that responds with arousal. The feeling of being under Merchant’s protection—of being his to protect—is intoxicating.
He needs to get himself under control.
“Not really. It’s just a bump.” Logan lies, just a little. Merchant is no use to him if he’s in an alpha-fueled rage. Storming the police station and challenging Officer Wilson isn’t going to do anyone any good, no matter how great it would make Logan feel.
“Do you know the name of the alpha that arrested you?” Merchant doesn’t sound out of control, and though the primitive part of his brain is disappointed, Logan is mostly relieved. It’s nice to know that Merchant isn’t ruled by his instincts, assuming of course that he’s as serious about Logan as Logan thinks he is.
“Officer Wilson.” Logan hopes he’s not creating trouble for himself or for Merchant by giving him the name. “He’s come by my office a few times to intimidate me, just trashing the place and stuff like that, but this is the first time he’s arrested me.”
“And when did they pick you up?” Merchant sounds businesslike. There’s nothing in his tone to indicate that he’s responding emotionally. Even the cold fury from before is gone.
“Around two o’clock. They said the computer glitched and that’s why it took so long to get me my phone call. I hope it’s okay that I called you… I don’t want my mom to worry if this turns out to be another scare tactic thing, but I figured someone should know what’s going on.”
Carol taps her watch, a warning that Logan is running out of time. There’s a sour expression on her face, like she’s offended by Logan’s insinuation that his arrest is anything but legitimate.
“Of course it’s okay. I’m really happy you feel that you can turn to me for help. I promise I won’t let you down.” Merchant sounds deathly serious, like he’s a medieval knight making a vow.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do anything. I just feel better knowing that you know where I am. I’m sure this will all be cleared up soon.” Logan isn’t as optimistic as he sounds, but he doesn’t want Merchant to think he expects him to magically fix things. It would be wildly unfair to put that on him.
Merchant ignores him. “Are you safe? Have they mistreated you at all?”
“No, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”
Carol walks over to the desk, tapping her watch again. “Time’s up,” she says, clearly expecting him to get off the phone.
“I need to hang up now, I’ve used all my time.” Logan doesn’t want to hang up.
“Just sit tight. I’ll get this sorted, I promise.” Merchant sounds so confident that Logan can’t help but believe him, despite the fact that he knows there’s nothing Merchant can do.
“Thanks, but you don’t—” Logan is interrupted by Carol holding her finger over the button on the phone, threatening to hang up. He talks as fast as he can. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I have to hang up now. Goodbye.”
Hanging up the phone, Logan is escorted back to his cell. There’s a thin mattress that hadn’t been there before lying on the metal slab trying to pass as a bed, and rolled-up blanket and tray of food sitting on top of it. Logan’s stomach grumbles.
“You’ll be questioned by the officer in charge of your case and processed in the morning,” Carol says. “Sleep tight.”
Logan walks into the cell and tenses at the sound of the door slamming shut. He eats the food they’ve provided, a sandwich and a cup of pudding, and is surprised at how good it is. Once that’s done, he lies down on the mattress and pulls the blanket over his body.
The pain where he hit his head has dulled to an uncomfortable throb, and he no longer feels dizzy. He knows that if he has a concussion he shouldn’t go to sleep—at least he thinks that’s the rule—but he’s too tired to do anything but close his eyes and rest.
He falls asleep.
Chapter 11
Merchant listens to the silence after Logan hangs up, rage welling up inside him unlike anything he’s ever felt.
How dare they? Logan is his.
The first thing Merchant needs to do is find out which judge authorized the warrant for Logan’s arrest. If it’s someone Merchant has dirt on, getting the warrant withdrawn shouldn’t be a problem. If it’s not, Merchant will just have to get his hands dirty.
Merchant calls Dawn. He doesn’t want to use his contact in the police unless he absolutely has to, and Dawn should be able to get him what he needs.
“Merchant? What do you need?” Dawn doesn’t sound tired, even though it’s nearing midnight.
“Logan Barnes was arrested today. I need to know who issued the warrant.”
“Is this for Peter?” Dawn asks, the sound of fingers flying over a keyboard in the background.
“Indirectly,” Merchant replies. If there really is a case against Logan, Chad will invariably become tangled up in it, and Peter would hate that.
“Okay. I’m looking at his file right now, but it’s pretty incomplete. They haven’t done any of the intake procedures or interviews yet. I’m sending it to your email. The judge who issued the warrant is named Lucas Bothelo. Need anything else?”
“No, thanks. I’ll update Peter in the morning.” Merchant hangs up the phone. He knows exactly who judge Bothelo is. The alpha is about as crooked as they come, unhesitant to use his position to benefit himself. He takes bribes left and right, and it’s a miracle he hasn’t been caught yet.
Merchant knows just how to make him cooperate. He has evidence that Bothelo took a bribe to let a rapist go free, even going so far as to put him in protective custody. The girl in question was a drug addict, so the case received almost no media attention, but her father was an alpha. If Merchant leaks the fact that Bothelo robbed his daughter of her justice, and of his chance to challenge her rapist, there’s no doubt that he would issue a challenge and kill Bothelo within the hour.
Pulling on his jacket and gloves, Merchant grabs his workbag and jogs down to his SUV. He has the outline of a plan, and while it calms him, he’s still more agitated than he’s ever been on a job.
The bag contains everything from chloroform to fake identification papers, with a few guns thrown in for good measure. Merchant doesn’t like using guns, preferring more intimate violence, but they have their place.
Hopefully his visit to the judge won’t require anything so drastic. If it comes to violence, he wants to feel Bothelo’s bones breaking under his fist.
Pulling out of the underground parking lot, Merchant drives south. The judge lives in an upscale neighborhood about half an hour away, the address of which was helpfully included in Dawn’s notes, in a gated community protected by none other than Tank Security.
Merchant makes the trip in less than fifteen minutes.
The houses in Bothelo’s neighborhood are spaced far apart, with huge lawns and gaudy fountains everywhere, the fake marble columns making Merchant want to gouge his eyes out. When he arrives at the entrance to the community, where a bored-looking beta in his early twenties is manning the gate, he swipes his Tank Security ID badge and gets waved right through. The beta is supposed to check his identity with the one on the screen, and Merchant makes a note to tell Peter that his employees are slacking.
Parking his car in Bothelo’s driveway, Merchant takes a minute to cool off. There’s a continuous growl coming from deep within his chest, and his whole body feels tense and ready to fight. He wants to kill Bothelo—wants to rip him apart for taking what’s his—but he knows that doing so would only make getting Logan back harder.
Once he feels like he’s sufficiently in control, he gets out of the SUV and walks up to the front door, knocking three times before ringing the bell. A second later the lights inside come on, and a minute after that Judge Bothelo opens the door.
All of Merchant’s plans to stay cool and professional go out the window. He launches himself at the alpha, teeth bared, pushing him to the floor and pinning him as his head slams back onto the hardwood. He barely manages to keep from lifting his fist up and letting it crash down on the judge’s face.
“What are you... get off me! I’ll fucking kill you for this! Get off me!”
Merchant takes a deep breath as the judge rants, using his knees to pin the older alpha’s arms down. This is not how he had intended to do things.
“Shut up before I gut you,” Merchant says in an offhand growl, his gruff voice making the judge sound like a whiny teenager. Bothelo goes quiet, staring up at Merchant with rage in his eyes.
“You issued an arrest for my beta today. I want to know who paid for it, and I want it rescinded within the hour. Do you understand?”
The judge scowls. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but I can assure you that I haven’t—”
Merchant does not have the patience for this. He gives in to temptation and lets his fist crash into Bothelo’s nose. There’s a satisfying crunch, accompanied by a howl of outraged pain.
“You can’t—”
Merchant punches him again, making sure that he’s got eye contact as his fist connects.
“Yolanda Cole. I have evidence that you took a bribe to let her rapist go free. What do you think her father would do if I gave him that, huh? You think anyone would blame him for challenging you? Think they’d let you hide behind your job?” Merchant grabs a hold of the collar of Bothelo’s robe, choking him as he speaks. There’s blood running down over his lip, and he looks dazed.
“Do you think they would stop him from killing you?”
The judge goes pale. They both know that the answer is no. Sweat beads on Bothelo’s wrinkled brow as Merchant spells out just how he’s going to kill him if he doesn’t get his way.
"I don’t know his name, but the money came from the Omega Research Center,” the judge says. “It’s a slam-dunk case. Barnes gave the Pritchett Center’s internal files to the owner of The Virgin O.”
Merchant growls, lips pulling back in an aggressive show of teeth.
“I’ll rescind the warrant! They didn’t tell me he belonged to an alpha. I wouldn’t have trespassed if I’d known.”
Merchant believes him. Bothelo might be crooked, but he’s way past his prime. He can’t afford to go around pissing off younger alphas.
“Do it,” Merchant says, standing up and taking a step back. Bothelo stumbles to his feet and runs his hand through his hair, trying and failing to look dignified. He gingerly touches his nose, wincing as he traces the broken ridge.
“I’m waiting!” Merchant growls. Bothelo jumps, and then glares at Merchant as he turns away.
“Fine. I’ll call the station and fax them the papers.”
Merchant follows him into an opulent office, walking in like he owns the place, and grimacing at the sight of a tiny cage sitting in the corner. It reeks of omega and heat, and Merchant can’t help but think how upset Logan would be if he saw it.
Merchant looks away. He walks to stand in front of the desk, crossing his arms and staring at Bothelo as he makes the call and sends the fax.
“There, it’s done. Now what do you want me to say to the Research Center? They’re not going to be happy. They want Barnes out of the way.”
Merchant smiles, cruel and cold, making Bothelo cringe back in his chair. He gives his neck a little stretch, letting every bloodthirsty urge in his mind shine through in his grin.
“Tell them that I’ll be dropping by.”
***
Merchant calls the deputy chief from the road and tells him to pull some strings to make sure that someone will be waiting for him, with Logan ready to go home, when he gets to the station. Brian isn’t happy, but he promises to make it happen as long as the paperwork checks out.
It will have to do. Merchant arrives at the station in record time, parking his SUV carelessly on the curb, and jumps out to go get his boy.
“Mr. Merchant?” It’s a beta officer, female, and she’s watching him like he’s a wild animal that might attack at any minute.
“That’s me. I’m here for Logan Barnes, he was supposed to be ready to leave by the time I got here.” Merchant makes no effort to mask his anger, staring around for Logan with dismay.
“He’s on his way. We just needed to exit him from the system first. It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”
Chapter 12
Logan is jerked awake by the sound of his cell door swinging open. Two unfamiliar cops barge inside and walk right up to his metal slab. They’re both scowling, broad-shouldered with their arms crossed over their chests, looming over him with an air of menace. At first Logan thinks that they’re alphas, their height and bulk deceiving his senses, but when he breathes in there is no hint of the expected alpha musk.
He scrambles into a seated position and pulls his knees up to his chest, waiting for them to lay into him.
Why else would they be here? He’s been put in his own cell and it’s the middle of the night. Logan isn’t an idiot. Trying to control his fear, he glances up at the two cops through his lashes when they don’t immediately start beating the shit out of him.
Maybe they’re going to give him a chance to “confess” before hurting him?
“Get up. You’re leaving.” It’s the cop on the left. He reaches down when Logan doesn’t move and grabs his arm, yanking him up and marching him out of the cell. The other cop brings up the rear and closes the cell door after them.
“Where are you taking me?” Logan asks, hoping that the answer isn’t somewhere where they won’t hear you scream.
“Not our business,” the cop holding his arm says. Logan isn’t comforted. They make their way toward the station exit, and Logan starts getting nervous. He knows that nothing good can come from being taken away from the police station in the middle of the night.
Disappeared, with no record of his arrest. Logan shudders. Except… they did let him call Merchant. They wouldn’t have done that if they were going to make him disappear. Would they?
Logan can’t help his mind from running wild. He’s halfway to a panic attack when they come to a stop in front of a metal door. The cop holding Logan nods to cop number two, and cop number two nods back. Cop number two then swipes a card in the lock by the door and punches in a code, pulling the door open. Cop number one pulls Logan though the door with a grim sort of determination.
“Where are we—”
Logan doesn’t get a chance to finish his question. Cop number one lets go of his arm and pushes him forward with a rough shove, stepping back like he wants to put distance between them. Logan lets out a yelp of surprise and stumbles, managing to right himself at the last minute. His dizziness is back in full force and he has to close his eyes to make the world stop spinning.
When he feels better, he turns toward the cops with a scowl. He expects them to meet his stare with contempt and disdain, but neither one of them is paying any attention to him. They’re both looking over his shoulder. Logan breathes in, suddenly noticing the warm spice of alpha in the air.
Before he has the time to turn around to see if it really is who he thinks it is, hope blooming happily in his chest, a pair of massive arms pick him up and crush him against a familiar chest.
It’s Merchant.
Logan goes limp with incredulous relief. He wraps his arms around Merchant in return and hangs on for dear life. Merchant buries his face in Logan’s neck, breathing in his scent greedily, and moves one hand to hold him up as the other cups his neck and holds him in place.
“I’ve got you,” Merchant says. His voice is deep and rough. Logan shudders in pleasure as Merchant follows the words with a gentle scrape of teeth over his throat. “I told you I’d fix
it.” The words are self-assured and triumphant.
Still holding him up, Merchant pulls his face out of Logan’s neck and looks at him. He examines Logan’s face, eyes zeroing in on the dried blood on his ear and in his hair. He starts to growl.
“You’re hurt,” he says, lowering Logan to the ground and tracing the bump on his head with a gentle finger. He sounds surprised, even though he shouldn’t be. Logan told him that Wilson smashed his head. Merchant must be acting mostly on instinct for him to have forgotten.
Merchant posture and body language as he examines Logan’s bump is the picture of a protective alpha checking his mate for injury. Logan stands frozen, Merchant’s finger barely brushing him, and he can’t help but shudder at the touch and what it means.
