Alpha Meets Beta (Alpha Meets Omega Book 4)

by Sky Winters

  “Fine. I’ll be right there,” she sighed.

  He waited, looking around impatiently at the perfectly maintained lawn and fairly new black Mercedes sitting in her drive. He’d not paid any attention to what she drove at the restaurant and wasn’t sure what he had expected but having thought she was just a low-paid admin, it wasn’t a Mercedes. He noted that there wasn’t a speck of dirt on it and no water around it. She must have run it through the wash on the way home. His attention turned back toward the door as he heard the clicking of locks and she opened it.

  “Come in,” she said, not sounding very thrilled at all to see him.

  “I won’t beat around the bush, as I know you’re not exactly overcome with joy to have me here right now.”

  “Correct.”

  “Okay. Can we at least sit down?”

  “Sure.”

  Dane followed her to the living room. He couldn’t help noting that it was much more modern than his parents’ house, but not as cold as his penthouse. Instead, it was a perfect blend of style and comfort. It suited the person he now knew her to be or thought her to be anyway. She sat in a chair and motioned for him to have a seat on the overstuffed suede sofa.

  “You did a hit piece on Parquo, and then he was found dead, attacked by wild animals. What do you know about that?”

  “I did an expose, not a hit piece. I went into his organization in good faith, prepared to do just another promotional-style piece on what I thought was a legit business. I discovered some things during my investigation that panned out, and so, my story changed. Everything I printed was true.”

  “I don’t doubt that. What I’m after is what happened to him after that. You must have exposed some of his associates as well, though no other names are revealed in your article.”

  “You read it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was Parquo a business associate of yours?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? Either he was or he wasn’t.”

  “I do business with some companies that represent other people. So, if I was ever working with him, it was indirect and without my knowledge.”

  “Then what is your interest in him?”

  Dane looked at her for a moment, finding her even more attractive now that he knew her to be a successful journalist instead of just someone content to work at a desk day in and day out. He realized that she was doing most of the questioning right now, but he supposed he’d have to let her if he was going to get answers. She wasn’t exactly the type to just tell him what he wanted to know without questioning his motives.

  “Those men that came to visit me, they want my construction business. They are willing to go to extremes to get it. I outbid them when I bought it at auction, and they aren’t happy about it.”

  “Why not just sell it to them for a profit and call it a day?”

  “I could, but I think they have reasons for wanting it that I wouldn’t approve of, and I’m not just going to roll over and let them take something I built up from nothing.”

  “It’s not like you need it, Mr. Jensen. I’ve done my homework on you too since I left your place. You’re worth billions. That construction company is just a drop in the ocean for you. You have enough money to just start a new construction company. You can do whatever you want, like paying whoever gave you my address so you could come here and ask me a bunch of questions.”

  “Yeah. All that is true, and I did pay someone to find you for me, but this concerns both of us. It’s not just me those men seemed to have a problem with when they came to my house. They knew who you were too.”

  “What?”

  “They knew your name. They knew about your article on Parquo. That’s why I played along with them when they called you a bitch. I wanted them to think you meant nothing to me in case they got any ideas that they might get to me through you. You didn’t give me a chance to explain.”

  She was quiet, but her eyes never left his. He could see she was trying to absorb all of this—trying to decide if she bought into it and whether she wanted to answer any more questions or tell him to leave.

  “Okay. What do you want to know?” she finally asked.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Adriana

  Three days had passed since Dane visited her at her house and told her about the men after his construction company, and she had told him how Parquo really died. She knew she was taking a huge leap of faith in revealing that fact to someone outside of Transformation, but she found that she trusted him on a level that was very unusual for her. Instead, she had joined him in trying to figure out the missing piece, if there was one, that tied the two things together.

  “You want a cup of coffee?” she asked as he came stumbling out of her bedroom, looking incredibly sexy in nothing but his underwear and a t-shirt.

  “Please,” he replied, kissing her on the forehead.

  Adriana got up and put a fresh pod in the coffee machine before pushing a mug beneath it and hitting the start button. Dane stood looking at the notes she had spread out all over her kitchen table. He smiled as she walked back over with the cup and set it down beside him.

  “You have terrible handwriting. I can’t make heads or tails of any of this.”

  “That’s the point. I don’t have to worry about folks reading over my shoulder or trying to decipher what I’m writing when in close quarters. Sit down and I’ll walk you through it.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, Parquo was laundering money for some people out of New Jersey. I don’t know who they are. I couldn’t get close enough to find out, so I was only able to reveal that they exist.”

  “Shifters?”

  “I’m not sure, but I do know that the guys he was doling his money out to were shifters. They used a variety of methods to launder the money; at least, I believe they did. I was only able to nail down two of them. One is through a chain of car washes, and the other was a chain of laundromats.”

  “That’s not a cliché or anything,” he quipped.

  “Right?” she laughed. “Anyway, that was only small time. There were much bigger operations in the works, according to one of my sources, but I never could get any more information on them.”

  “What about the source? Who were they?”

  “No idea. The information came from them through emails only,” she said, tapping a printout of an email. “redrover@protonmail.com”

  “Traceable?”

  “No. I mean, I didn’t try, but after all was said and done . . . after Parquo’s body was found, we turned the emails over to the police. I have a guy that works on their tech team who helps me out from time to time. He said that the email provider is based overseas and not subject to warrants, so they were unable to track down the person who contacted me.”

  “Overseas? They think he or she is foreign?”

  “No, not necessarily. Anyone can get a Proton mail email. It’s part of their marketing to provide a secure email that isn’t subject to American authorities.”

  “What about the IP address?”

  “Scrambled. Bounces across multiple servers with no origin in sight. Not one was based in the U.S.”

  “Okay. So, a mystery man gave you this info about the laundering and you investigated it further. You came up with no other laundering facilities. What about names?”

  “Just these,” she said, pulling out another piece of paper.

  Dane looked down the list. He recognized none of the names. He lay it aside and sat there, sipping his coffee.

  “Why do you think any of this is connected to Turner and Hood?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t really put my finger on it. Just a gut instinct. You want to take a ride with me?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “My office,” he replied.

  “You going like that?”

  “Maybe I’ll put on some shoes.”

  “Cute,” she laughed, kissing him on the ch
eek.

  He finished his coffee and went to shower while she continued to look over the papers on her table. Nothing was standing out to her, and perhaps there was nothing to stand out. Men and their hunches weren’t always right, and normally, she’d shoo it away as imagination, but she had a feeling that Dane was rarely wrong about the things he felt were true. It was likely the reason he’d taken the mildly successful real estate development company his father had left him and turned it into a giant of the industry in the past few years.

  Since he’d turned up on her doorstep, they’d been pouring over the information she had on Parquo, but he’d also only gone home to shower and change a few times since he turned up here. She knew that there was a lot more to this for her than just the love of a good scoop, but she also had to admit that she was more than a bit spooked by how quickly she was falling for him.

  “Alright, you ready to go then?” he asked as he reappeared from the bathroom.

  “I’m ready,” she told him.

  They made their way out to his car and drove across town to the glass and metal behemoth known as Jensen Development, Inc., where they parked in the garage, entering the lobby through a side door.

  “Mr. Jensen. We weren’t expecting you today,” a young woman told him as they walked through the glass doors on the opposite side.

  “No one ever expects me,” he replied.

  Adriana glanced at him, and he smiled slowly, letting her know that he wasn’t as cocky as that had sounded. The girl apparently didn’t think so either. She laughed light-heartedly and nodded.

  “Do you need anything?” she asked.

  “No. I’m going to go up to my office for a bit and want to remain undisturbed. If anyone asks, you never saw me.”

  “Got it.”

  “Thanks, Berta.”

  “Of course, Mr. Jensen,” she replied.

  She went right back to her computer, not even acknowledging Adriana. It could be considered rude, but Adriana had an idea that it might be more about being well trained in minding her own business and not addressing guests unless asked to do so. Oddly enough, she found the power he exuded in this brief encounter a bit on the erotic side. They stepped into the elevator, and he pushed the button for the nineteenth floor.

  “Nineteenth? They wouldn’t give you the penthouse office?”

  “No. It’s otherwise occupied,” he told her just as the elevator dinged for their floor.

  “That was fast,” she remarked.

  “Private elevator. It only stops on the floors I take it to.”

  “So this is how the other half lives,” she joked.

  “Those rich bastards,” he muttered with a wink.

  They stepped off the elevator and into a large glass box with marble columns and a large fountain in the center. To one side was an over-sized oak bankers’ desk. It had a black leather top and was worn on the corners as if it had been moved a number of times and suffered slight damage in the process. It was completely out of place in the otherwise clean, modern style of the office.

  “Your office takes up the entire floor?” she asked, looking around her at the broad expanse of space.

  “Yes.”

  “A bit much, don’t you think?”

  “Probably, but it came this way.”

  “Including that desk?” she asked as they walked toward it.

  “Yes. Do you like it?”

  “It’s a lovely antique, but it looks like it was teleported here from another dimension.”

  “It sort of was. It was my father’s desk. I had it moved here when we bought the building.”

  “So, there is nothing in this building but your company?”

  “Almost. We own the building, but we do lease space to a few associated companies.”

  “Ah, I see. That’s why the top floor is occupied,” she replied, not waiting for an answer before continuing on to her next thought. “So, what are we doing here?”

  “I want you to look at the original books for the construction company with me. Perhaps something will stand out to you that was lost on me, give us some clue as to why the Black Talons want it so badly.”

  “You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

  “Don’t I?” he said, kissing her softly.

  Even after having spent the last few days with him and their tryst at his house, she still felt a fire ignite each time he touched her. She craved him like water on a summer day. The longer the kiss lingered, the less she wanted to help him with whatever was going on, though. Instead, she had a few ideas about the top of his enormous desk that involved nudity and naughtiness. Judging from the bulge pressing against her hip, he was having some thoughts of his own.

  Pulling away, he took a deep breath and a step back, not bothering to hide his rather obvious erection. Instead, he walked over and retrieved a chair for her to sit down beside him before fishing out some files from the lower drawer of the desk. She was surprised to find that it was not a very massive file at all.

  “That’s all you have? Weren’t they in business for years?”

  “Yes, but they went bankrupt, and all of their records were seized by the IRS prior to that.”

  “Wouldn’t they have found evidence if there was any wrongdoing involved?”

  “It depends on how good they were at cooking the books. There is also the chance that they cut some sort of deal.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because the owners, Art Turner and Connor Hood, disappeared after the bankruptcy, even before the place was sold at auction.”

  “Disappeared or were dealt with?” Adrian asked.

  “Well, I used to think they just decided to move on somewhere, retired with whatever dignity they had left. Now, I wonder if someone did something dire to them. I mean, if the Black Talons are threatening me, there’s a good chance they dealt with whoever crossed them before me.”

  “What would happen if something happened to you? I mean, what would happen to the company?”

  “It would go into trust with the corporation. The board of directors would take control of it.”

  “Would they sell it?”

  “Probably. It isn’t the sort of thing we usually take into our fold.”

  “Why did you buy it then?”

  “Honestly? It was sort of a pet project for me. I’m the head of this large corporation and I don’t really do anything beyond turn up at events to promote what a huge asset we are to the city. All the people on the floors below this one run this company. I’m just a figurehead, in reality. I bought the construction company so that I could be more hands-on with it.”

  “And are you?”

  “Yes. I spend more time there in the management shack than I do here in this glass cage during most weeks.”

  “And you’ve noticed nothing out of place while you’re there?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Weird. Okay, let’s see what you’ve got,” she told him.

  Dane began spreading out the files he had on his desk, but there was nothing there that sent up any alarms for either of them. Whatever was going on might just remain a mystery at this pace. She once again had to consider that he was wrong and there was nothing to connect. Perhaps there was really nothing sinister going on with the construction company. It was possible that the Black Talons were just assholes and wanted it because they thought they could take it.

  “Alright, let’s go,” he groaned, putting everything back and slipping it back into the drawer. “You want to get some lunch?”

  “I’d love some lunch. I’m starving.”

  They got back in the elevator, but she realized quickly that they were going up instead of down. It occurred to her that perhaps there was a restaurant on the top floor. It would make sense to leave it as that if it were already set up that way. Instead, she found herself stepping off the elevator and into what she thought was the lobby of a museum.

  “Where are we?”

  “My apartment,” h
e replied.

  Adriana looked around and then back at him. She was speechless.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Dane

  Adriana sat at the long glass dining table eating the cashew chicken and egg rolls Dane had ordered up for them and contemplating how anyone could live here. It was much like his office below, encased by four glass walls and dotted with large marble columns. There were no rooms, other than the bathrooms that sat in either corner of the place.

  The kitchen was set in the center of the room, with counter space running down two sides and a bar section that opened and closed to enter from one end. The opposite end was inhabited by a massive stainless-steel refrigerator that was spotless. She was willing to bet that if she opened it, she’d find nothing but bottles of water and orange juice. No fresh food, no leftovers, no butter.

  In the corners not occupied by the bathrooms, one held a king-size wrought iron bed and two large steel and glass wardrobes and the other contained a black living room suite that looked more suited to an upscale waiting room or model home than where someone actually lived. The only comfortable-looking place she could see was along the wall between the two corner bathrooms. There were glass bookcases built low along the windows and filled with books on either side of a glass desk that adjoined them. To one side sat an oversize leather recliner and to the other, an arty-looking curved lounger.

  “You don’t have a TV?” she asked.

  He motioned toward the laptop sitting on the glass desk, “I have that.”

  “Seems small for watching anything,” she replied.

  “I don’t really watch anything here. I go out for movies and sometimes catch a game at a sports bar, but I usually just read or work when I’m here.”

  “You are a very odd man,” she laughed, somewhat baffled about someone who lived in such a modern apartment but lacked most modern technology.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he replied.

  “What do you want to do after we eat?” she asked.