23. Cloak & Dagger

TWENTY-THREE

CLOAK & DAGGER

Oliver shared some exceptionally stern words with Pember’s mother that morning—so stern, in fact, that he was feeling a little guilty by the time he and Lucas arrived at the police station. Just as they were setting down their bags in the briefing room, an enraged shout punched through the chatter.

“Reed, White, my office. Now!”

Oliver flinched as Inspector Callahan flung open the door, his face a tapestry of crimson. Callahan was, in general, a mild-tempered alpha, however that morning he was more angry than Oliver had ever seen him.

Lucas kept his expression neutral as he straightened. “Yes, sir,” he said, tapping his papers into a neat pile before walking over to Oliver and touching the back of his neck. The touch was not lost on the others in the room—or the Inspector.

They walked in silence to Callahan’s office, which was a relief because he’d expected to be shouted at all the way down the corridor. However, when the door finally closed, the seething fury finally showed itself.

“Sit. Down,” he said through clenched teeth. They sat.

Pulling a manilla envelope from a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, Callahan ripped it open and threw a stack of papers onto the desk. It was the CCTV from The Octane Club, formatted into dozens of A4 sized screenshots. He would have laughed at his good fortune, if they didn’t show him and Lucas quite clearly involved in a brawl.

“Explain yourselves!” The Inspector barked, making Oliver nearly jump out of his seat.

“W-Well, boss, you see?—”

“Last night at approximately zero three hundred hours, DC Reed and I became involved in a public order incident at The Octane Club,” Lucas began. He gripped the top of Oliver’s thigh, indicating he should keep his mouth well and truly shut. “We attended the establishment with the sole purpose of retrieving the omega Pember McArthur, who is a personal associate of DC Reed’s. Upon entering the club, we were confronted by one, Patrick Coletta, who was situated outside the omega bathrooms.”

Oliver started nodding along to Lucas’ words.

“Upon finding Mr McArthur, our intention was to exit the establishment immediately. However, Mr Coletta took it upon himself to assault DC Reed. I then executed my right, as DC Reed’s bite bound mate, to protect him. Mr Coletta attempted to assault myself, however lost his footing and fell into a table of nearby patrons—” Lucas took a breath, then went to carry on.

“Enough!” The Inspector shouted, slamming his palm down on the table. “Christ White, you’ve made your point.”

Oliver covered his mouth, disguising a smirk as a nervous cough.

“DC Reed, I’m going to ask you a very simple question.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you have the bite?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show me.”

Oliver flushed, hooking his finger through his tie to loosen it. Popping free the first couple of buttons, he yanked open the neckline to reveal the still-red bite. The Inspector appeared visibly relieved upon seeing it.

“To confirm for the recording, DC Reed has a recent bite mark to the left side of his neck. The time is zero nine twenty-five hours. Interview concluded.”

Oliver looked at Lucas, who looked at the Inspector, who looked between the two of them with an apologetic expression as he switched off the covert recorder under his desk. “Sorry for the cloak and dagger, boys. The owner of the club is kicking up a right fuss, so we said we’d conduct our own internal investigation.”

Oliver let out a sharp breath. “Fucking hell, boss. I was getting ready to book an appointment at the job centre.”

Lucas sighed, calmly patting the top of his knee.

“Anyway,” the Inspector said, moving to tidy away the photographs. “Tell me what really happened.”

Partially standing, Oliver placed his hand on top of the papers and spread them over the desk. He sorted through them until he found a clear picture of Patrick and Alfie’s abuser. Tapping two fingers over their faces, he said, “That’s a corrupt former social worker. And that man wears jellyfish underpants.”

The Inspector glared at him like he’d just motor-boated his Aunt Polly’s tits.

“Sir,” Lucas began. “What DC Reed means to say, is that we have reason to believe that the man standing next to Mr Coletta is involved with the sex trafficking ring.”

Oliver nodded, tapping the table with his knuckle. “That’s what I said. And Mr Coletta is this man’s associate.”

The Inspector looked between them, steepling his fingers on the desk. “That’s a rather large claim to make, Oliver. Whilst it’s true that Mr. Coletta has been suspended for ill-conduct on the diffusion day, we have no evidence of any actual offences. Certainly he sounds like a grade A twat, but that doesn’t make him a criminal. Nor does it mean he’s linked to the traffickers.”

Oliver let out an exasperated breath. “I told you, boss, they’re associate?—”

“Because they were standing next to one another at a nightclub? And because one of them is wearing jellyfish underwear? Come on DC Reed, you know you’re going to need a little more than that if you’re going to convince the Crown Prosecution Service of any wrongdoing.”

“Sir,” Lucas waded in. “Do you possess the physical copies of the CCTV from the nightclub?”

Callahan sighed. “Yes.”

“Then, based on the intelligence provided by Alfie Spears, shouldn’t we at least task an officer to follow up on the inquiry? If only to make a record of where they were going, and who they were travelling with. If it leads to nothing, then so be it.”

Oliver nodded and had to take a deep breath to stop himself bubbling over with excitement. “And if this investigation has proven anything, it’s that we should expect the unexpected.”

Callahan threw his head back and let out a full belly laugh. “Look at you both. Like a pair of young pups fresh into the job. I told you the mating would do you good, Oliver.”

Oliver flushed, sinking back into his seat. “Sir, it’s not?—”

“Anyway,” Callahan barked. “Regardless of where the inquiry takes us, neither of you will be anywhere near Mr Coletta or his associates. Oliver, I understand that you have a muddy history with the man, which makes you exceptionally vulnerable.”

“Sir, I would never?—”

“Vulnerable to complaints, is what I meant. If , and that’s a big fucking if , the social worker is linked, his initial response would be to accuse you of fabricating the evidence in some ill-placed attempt at revenge.

Oliver practically choked on his own saliva. “Sir, I wouldn’t?—”

Callahan raised a hand. “I know you wouldn’t, Ollie. But that’ll be his defence, which might sway some overpaid CPS lawyer sitting behind a desk. So, for the foreseeable, I want you to focus on the victims and how they’re all connected. We know the majority are care-home kids, but we don’t know how they got into the grubby little hands of the traffickers in the first place.”

Oliver could feel himself getting agitated, causing Lucas’ hand on his knee to tighten even further.

Including the victims uncovered during the Tintern-on-Wye warrant, Op Sceptre was sitting at eighteen known child victims. All of whom had been placed in emergency foster care up and down the county. In short, building intelligence profiles for each of them would take fucking weeks.

“DC Purslow will assist you, of course,” Callahan said, reaching across the table to pat the back of Oliver’s hand. “And you, DS White, will be returning to the city.”

“What?” Oliver jumped to his feet. “Boss, that’s?—”

“Sit down DC Reed!” The Inspector snapped, thumping the desk. So he did, but the agitation quickly grew into seething anger. Lucas reached up and squeezed the back of his neck, dulling the rage that had been building all morning. He scowled up at Lucas before taking a deep breath.

“It’s not ideal, I know,” The Inspector continued. “Especially given that you’re freshly mated. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to catch up on your days off. DS White, I need you to arrange a meeting with your resources bureau—secure me firearms officers,air support, cyber, surveillance, the whole fucking shebang. I retire in three years, and there’s no way I’m waving goodbye to a thirty-year career with this hanging over my head. Are we clear?”

Lucas hesitated, and Oliver could see the alpha’s jaw tensing.

“I said, are we clear , DS White?”

Clearing his throat, Lucas said, cool as a cucumber, “I refuse.”

The Inspector’s lip peeled back over his teeth. “That’s an order, White.”

Then Oliver’s fangs were on display, and suddenly they were all standing in the middle of the office, posturing and growling at one another.

The tension was only broken when a wheezing laugh sounded outside the door. “S-Sorry,” the Superintendent said, still laughing as she walked into the office. They all snapped to attention. “I could hear you from down the corridor.

“Ma’am,” The Inspector said, straightening his tie. “Apologies, Ma’am, we didn’t mean to disturb you.”

The Superintendent waved the comment away, before turning her attention towards Oliver and Lucas. She was a short, stocky woman with curly brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. The white shirt and black trousers clung to her frame to show off her thick-set muscle. Oliver knew very little about her—only that she had a reputation for being a formidable woman, but it was only as she stood across from him he fully understood her raw, alpha power. Despite only being five foot three.

“How about we come up with a compromise, hm, George?” The Inspector’s back stiffened as she used his first name. “Why doesn’t DS White return to the city temporarily , just until we secure additional resources? I don’t think it would benefit anyone for the two of them to be apart for too long.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, they almost threw West Newton Constabulary into a PR disaster. Do you know how many journalists I’ve had to fend off this morning?”

The Superintendent nodded and gave him a wide smile. “Which is why we’d better move quickly on this, yes?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” they all said in unison.

“Wonderful!” she said, clapping her hands. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Oliver nodded, glancing up at Lucas as they turned to leave. He did not spare a look for the Inspector.

As they ate dinner that night, Oliver couldn’t help but continually glance at the suitcase leaning up against the front door. The thought of Lucas leaving put him in such a cataclysmically sour mood, even the fish chowder couldn’t improve his disposition.

“Bread?” Lucas asked, holding out a piece of buttered sourdough. Still glaring at the suitcase, Oliver took the bread and shoved it into his mouth without a word. It was objectively delicious, but tasted like ashes on his tongue. Or perhaps he was just being dramatic.

Lucas let out a breath and gently placed his spoon on the table. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his fingers around Oliver’s chair leg and dragging it towards him. Their knees butted together as Oliver dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter.

“This is shit,” he said, ripping off another piece of bread with his teeth. “Who the fuck does the Inspector think he is? Messing with people’s lives, treating us like pawns. I hate it.”

Lucas swallowed, leant back in his chair, and patted his lap. Oliver huffed, climbing into it without even so much as a second thought. “I know,” Lucas replied, nuzzling his face into Oliver’s neck. “But I was thinking… why don’t you come to London on our days off?”

Oliver’s mouth went dry, and not from the bread soaking up his saliva. “You mean… to your house?”

Because if Oliver was being completely honest with himself, he hadn’t thought much about their relationship outside his own tiny flat. Or West Newton. Yes , he wanted to see Lucas’ flat, and wanted to touch all the things inside it. He wanted to roll around in his bedsheets, use his shampoo and eat all his food. But the thought of actually stepping foot outside his own speck of existence was tantamount to leaping over a canyon.

Lucas chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Unless you think your salary can cover the London hotel prices, then I’d say that my flat is probably the most affordable option.”

Oliver swallowed, wrapping his arm around the alpha’s shoulders. “But your house has your things in it. Not my things.”

Lucas grinned. “Yes, it does.”

“And your family—they live close by, don’t they?”

“Correct.”

“And you want me to meet them, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“W-Well I… suppose?—”

Then Lucas was kissing his neck and carrying him out of the kitchen.