Chapter 15

Ari

Usually, a hot shower after a day of running around would be like a dream. The one I was cornered into taking at Clyve's drug deal headquarters house, as I was coming to think of it, was a nightmare. I tried my best to keep my ears and eyes open as I quickly scrubbed off dirt and sweat, and to wash away the continuing traces of Samson's cum that still leaked out of my womb, even though I hated getting rid of the parts of my alpha that were still with me. I knew there would be trouble if Clyve discovered any evidence I'd just finished my heat with another man, and that I was now carrying his child.

I was carrying Samson's child. The thought hit me again with a burst of awe, and I placed my hands on my naked stomach as water sloshed down on me. My belly still had a loose, stretched look to it, but not as much as it had right after my heat had ended. But it might be enough for Clyve to sense something was different about me.

I felt like everything was different about me. For one thing, I felt like I'd aged ten years. In a good way. I had no interest in pouting or complaining about the gilded cage that was my life. Whining about everything that was done to me or around me wouldn't help the life growing inside me. Whatever happened, I needed to step up and take command of my own life and the life of my child. If I made it out of here alive, I didn't care how uncomfortable it would be at first, I would walk out on my family and the hollow life I lived and start over somewhere. Samson would help me, I knew.

Samson.

I sucked in a breath as I suddenly became aware of a change in our bond. He was close to me again. Really close. I didn't quite have the skills or experience to point in one direction and say, "He's ten feet that way", but he was closer than he'd been when I'd gotten into the shower. I'd bet money that he was somewhere near the house.

Feeling that my alpha was just outside, within reach, filled me with confidence. Or maybe it was the stoic determination I felt from Samson. He was coming to rescue me, and he wasn't going to stop until he'd succeeded.

I smiled and turned off the shower, then slid the shower curtain open. As far as bathrooms went, Clyve's wasn't up to my usual standards. It was small and cramped, and the shower was a bathtub with a plastic shower curtain instead of a walk-in with three different options for shower spray.

That was the least of my worries, though. My clothes weren't on the lid of the toilet, where I'd left them at the beginning of my shower. Instead, there was a black robe made of some kind of cheap, silky material.

Dread pooled in my gut as I stepped the rest of the way out of the shower and reached for the towel draped over the edge of the sink. I stared at the robe as I dried off, fighting the repulsed, itchy sensation that spread across my skin. Just the idea that Clyve was trying to sexualize me and would, no doubt, try to touch me and more had my post-heat aversion to touch going nuts. And that was without the other, newly pregnant, owned by an alpha who wasn't the one with his sights set on me, in a life or death situation feelings.

I wasn't going to play into Clyve's games, whatever they were. Once I was reasonably dry, I wrapped the towel tightly around me. I left the robe untouched and inched to the door, opening it enough to peek into the bedroom to see if Clyve was lying in wait.

The bedroom was empty, which came as a huge but short-lived relief. I opened it fully and stepped into the cooler room, searching for the dirty sweatsuit Samson had bought for me.

A wry laugh escaped me. If someone had told me a day would come when I wanted to wear a soiled sweatsuit from a big box store that only sort of fit instead of designer lingerie, I would never have believed them.

The sweats were gone, though. Other than the robe, the only thing in the entire bedroom that passed as clothing was a sexy, black silk thong and a barely there, see-through top that matched.

"Fuck," I muttered, picking up the thong like it was poisoned.

"Well, if you insist," Clyve's voice shocked the living daylights out of me.

I whipped around to find him sitting on the corner of the bed in what I could now see was an adjoining room. The door that I'd thought belonged to a closet was open, giving me a clear view of the second bedroom.

My initial shock gave way to panic as Clyve finished what he was doing on his cell phone, texting by the look of it, then briefly frowned at his phone before standing and slipping it into his suit jacket pocket.

His annoyed look turned to a sultry grin, or at least what he probably thought passed as a sultry grin, as he stalked slowly into the master bedroom.

"Mmm," he said, breathing in through his nose. "You always were a hot little number, despite everything else. Your scent right now reminds me of fruit topping on an ice cream sundae."

I was too panicked to frown at either his subtle insult or the hint that my scent might have changed slightly. I'd always been told I smelled of fresh fruit. Sundae toppings were something different.

I prayed Clyve wouldn't figure out the change or ask how it'd happened.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked, backing away from him and putting the bed between us.

"Come on, baby," Clyve said as he reached the bed. "An omega like you doesn't need clothes. You're pretty enough without them. And you don't need clothes to make my babies."

A wave of nausea passed over me at the suggestion. Samson's were the only babies I would ever make.

"I need to wear something," I said, knowing I needed to continue my confused, innocent act, but really not feeling it. "There are other alphas around. You don't want them getting ideas, do you?"

"I dunno," Clyve said, marching around the edge of the bed and sweeping me with a lascivious look. "I kind of like the idea of all those big, dumb alphas lusting after my property. They were all drooling over my car earlier. This is the same thing. It gives you value and makes me look like the big man."

I fought to keep my breathing steady as I shifted away from Clyve. I wasn't going to get too far, though. He already had me cornered.

"I kinda like the idea of tossing you in a sealed room with three or four of those rough alphas when you're in heat and seeing what happens," Clyve went on, his grin turning vicious. "After I get a few kids out of you, of course. Gotta keep things pure to start with. But maybe down the road, we might give that little fantasy a try. You'd like it, wouldn't you. Having your heat taken by three or four huge, low-class alphas at once? I bet they'd tear your sweet ass up good. I'm getting chills just thinking about it."

He reached for his crotch to prove that point, rubbing until his trousers bulged.

My skin felt like it would crawl right off, and I was in serious danger of being sick. Clyve wasn't making a hollow threat either. He was the type who probably would get off on watching his omega be taken by a group of alphas he considered inferior. He'd probably get off even more, knowing it was against the omega's will and humiliating to them.

The thought that there were probably omegas who did have that fantasy, and that they could find what they were looking for through the Dark Fantasies Club raced through my mind, but I kicked it aside before it could unsettle me even more. Clyve was closing in on me, and I still only wore a towel.

"When's your heat coming, baby?" Clyve asked as I ended up wedged into the corner of the room. "I know we planned the wedding around it, but those calculations are off all the time."

He reached me, standing right in front of me, blocking any chance of escape, and reached up to stroke my cheek. My stomach clenched, and I had to swallow to keep from vomiting.

"Maybe if you get in the mood, your heat will start sooner," Clyve went on, unbuttoning his suit jacket with his free hand. "A fuck or two has been known to jump-start an omega's heat. The cutie-pie I was expecting later is supposed to be a whisper away from heat, too. I'd rather fuck my hot fiancé than some working omega anyhow."

I made a sound as I fought not to throw up. My whole body prickled with revulsion. I needed Clyve to get away from me. I needed Samson to come wrap his body around me, sheltering me from harm and any other alpha's touch. I might actually die if Clyve tried to force me.

I was saved not by Samson, but by Clyve's cell phone ringing.

Clyve huffed out a breath through his nose and took a large step back from me, pulling his phone from his jacket. It felt like someone had been smothering me with a pillow and they took it away. I could breathe again, but I wasn't relieved yet.

"Yeah?" Clyve answered the phone. "Whoa, whoa, slow down. What do you mean Ansel was taken out?"

I stood slightly taller, my eyes going wide. That had to be Samson's doing.

"Well, find whoever it was," Clyve went on. "Now!" He paused for a second, staring at me as he turned slightly to the side. The only good news was that he wasn't looking at me suspiciously. "Shit," he said. "Okay, if Dad is here and Remmington is approaching the mountain, you need to get as many men over to the house as fast as possible." Another pause, then, "We don't have enough men for you to comb the forest and secure the exchange. Focus on Remmington first, and we'll find whoever the fucker is and eliminate him later."

Another jolt of panic swept through me as Clyve abruptly ended the call, then turned back to me.

"You were right, baby," he said, grinning at me like I'd done him a favor. "There really is someone out there in the forest. My money is on a rival gang trying to either make me look bad in front of Dad and Remmington or attempting to steal the goods."

That was who Clyve thought Samson was? Fuck. He made a point of telling everyone how stupid I was, but he was the biggest idiot in a five mile radius.

Which I could absolutely work to my favor.

"What's going on, Clyve?" I asked, summoning every last bit of courage and fortitude I had and stepping closer to him. "Can I help?"

I somehow managed to fight the revulsion long enough to rest a hand on Clyve's arm, though it sent a powerful punch of nausea through me.

Clyve smiled and patted the side of my face. "Yeah, baby. You might just be a godsend. We've got important guests pulling up right now. I need someone sweet like you to play hostess and make them feel comfortable."

I blinked. "Like, serving drinks?"

"Yeah," Clyve said, sounding pleased. "So put on this little number and come downstairs and shake that sweet ass at Dad and Keller, and Remmington, too, because he's on his way."

I nearly threw up. Not so much over the suggestion that I should prance around in lingerie for high-powered men who would absolutely know who I was, but because Keller could only mean Mayor Keller. The voting machines I'd seen earlier pointed that way.

Whatever Samson and I stepped into, it was huge. Maybe too huge for us to handle.

It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter, though.

Clyve marched out of the room at the first hint of crunching on the gravel drive outside. As soon as he did, even though I hated it with the flames of a thousand fires, I ditched my towel and put on the skimpy, black lingerie. At least the silk robe from the bathroom was long enough to cover my ass, though just barely.

I looked every bit like that hooker Clyve had apparently arranged to be sent later by the time I left the bathroom and headed downstairs.

"Dad! What are you doing here tonight? I told you I've got this about a million times." Clyve's voice came through the open front door as I crossed in front of it, heading to the kitchen. "Mayor Keller. Er, hello."

I paused long enough to watch with more than a little horror as Mayor Keller and Mr. Ingraham climbed the steps of the front porch. I couldn't see Clyve's expression the way he stood, but his body language was tense as he reached out a hand to Mayor Keller.

There was something more, though. That feeling that Samson was close hit me again. Of all things, it was coming from the living room. I was supposed to be heading to the kitchen, but I switched directions and walked across the living room, all the way to the wall at the far end, instead.

It was maddening. I felt like I should be able to see Samson, like he was standing right in front of me. I wished I had more control of our bond so that I could figure out exactly where he was. I wished to God I could somehow feed him information that would keep him safe and help him to get us both out of here.

"Ari?"

Mr. Ingraham's short, curt question had me wheeling around to face the man a moment later as he stepped into the living room. He did not look happy.

"Clyve, what is your fiancé doing here?" Mr. Ingraham demanded. He glanced to Mayor Keller, which made me think his question was more to reassure the mayor that nothing unusual was going on.

Clyve stepped into the room. If he was at all confused about why I was there instead of in the kitchen, he didn't let it show. He'd gone a little red, like he was pissing himself nervous, but he strode straight over to me and looped an arm around my waist, tugging me close.

The touch made me cry out as if I'd been burned, but I thought fast and turned the sound into a silly laugh.

It was the best thing I could have done.

"I've been out here in the middle of nowhere for three days," Clyve said, like he was trying to justify everything and not sound sheepish. "I needed a little company."

Mr. Ingraham scowled and blew out a breath. "If you want company, hire it so we can dispose of it later," he said. "What am I supposed to do about him now?" He gestured dismissively to me.

Clyve snorted a laugh. "Ari isn't going to say anything, are you, baby?"

"No, Clyve," I said, lowering my head a little and batting my eyes at him like the sort of submissive clueless omega he wanted me to be probably would.

Clyve might have been completely fooled, but Mr. Ingraham looked utterly unconvinced. "He's a liability. One that can't be silenced so easily. We need the Crestmonts for legitimacy."

My family wasn't involved in the drug ring. Or in whatever was going on with Mayor Keller. I assumed that much from Mr. Ingraham's comment. It was weirdly relieving, even though I still didn't think my father was in any way a decent guy. He'd probably love to get involved in something like this.

"Ari's about to marry into the family," Clyve argued, tightening his hold on me to the point where I thought I would be sick again. "It works in our favor to have him on the inside instead of me trying to keep everything from him for the next fifty years."

Clyve's logic was actually reasonably sound.

Mr. Ingraham sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "He hasn't been vetted. Until he is, we'll keep him here."

"How long will that take?" Clyve protested. "The wedding is next week."

"As much as I appreciate this domestic drama," Mayor Keller interrupted, "Remmington will be here any minute now. I want things sorted before he shows up."

"Right," Mr. Ingraham said. "We'll deal with this later." He waved a hand vaguely at me.

"Why don't you go fix drinks like I told you, baby?" Clyve said, letting go of me with a wink, then slapping my ass to get me moving.

I yelped again, and once again turned it into a laugh as I jolted forward. I wanted to get out of the room as fast as possible, but an entirely different part of me really wanted to know more about what was going on. And why I could feel Samson so close when he wasn't in the room.

"What's your pleasure?" I asked Mayor Keller with a simpering grin, flirting with him as much as I could while feeling like I might puke. "For a drink, I mean," I added with a giggle.

Mayor Keller smiled nervously at me. "Whatever you have, I don't care. We need to get this sorted," he said to Mr. Ingraham and Clyve, immediately ignoring me. "Remmington keeps insisting on a bank transfer for payment, but I will not put myself in a position where twenty million dollars is traceable to any of my accounts."

"That's why we're having it transferred to one of our off-shore accounts," Mr. Ingraham said as I left the room and crossed the hall to the kitchen.

Thankfully, I could still make out the conversation as I tore through the kitchen, opening cupboards and searching for drinks, snacks, and cups.

"Everything is traceable except for cash," Mayor Keller insisted.

"Remmington isn't going to bring in twenty million dollars in cash," Clyve argued. "That would take up way too much space."

"How can I trust you lot to make certain none of this comes back on me?" Mayor Keller said as I nearly fumbled one of the glasses I found. Breaking a glass now would not be a good idea, especially since I was barefoot.

"We're helping you win the election, aren't we?" Mr. Ingraham said. "Vincent doesn't stand a chance against you this fall."

"Not with the tricked-out voting machines I've got," Clyve added in an undertone.

"Unless I'm indicted on drug, money laundering, and racketeering charges," Mayor Keller said.

"Remmington would never allow it," Clyve answered that worry. "He's, like, the godfather of the East Coast. Three different syndicates take their orders from him. He's got half the police in Barrington on his payroll. He's Teflon. Nothing sticks to him."

"Nothing sticks until it does," Mayor Keller said. "I've seen it all come tumbling down before. All you need is proof of one felony, and poof. The whole thing falls apart."

Just one felony. My heart raced so hard I had to stop after taking the top off a bottle of expensive scotch so I wouldn't slosh it all over the table as I poured. Clyve, Mr. Ingraham, and this mob boss, Remmington, not to mention Mayor Keller, were all just one felony charge away from being taken down. Or so I assumed, not knowing anything more about it than what I'd just heard.

Samson would know more, though. He would know what sort of evidence was needed to nail these people. He would know how to introduce the case to authorities so all those crooked connections didn't end with them getting away with it all, scot-free. And with the drug deal about to go down, I was convinced that there had to be something in the house that would help with the whole thing.

There had to be a way to bring the entire house of cards down. Because at the rate we were going, I didn't think Samson or I would survive this if we didn't take it all down, whether we made it away from the drug deal or not. They would come after us like they came after Claire's husband.

A quick surge of emotion from the bond a moment later seemed to prove that point. Something was wrong with Samson. His cool, determined energy had changed to something else, like he was in trouble.

I didn't need to wonder what it was all about for long. Seconds later, the front door banged open, and from where I was standing, I saw Bruno and two of the others drag Samson into the house.

"Look what we found, boss," Bruno said, dragging Samson out of my line of vision and into the living room.

"Who—what's the meaning of this?" Mr. Ingraham growled. "We don't have time for this."

"One bullet will solve the problem, sir," Bruno said.

A burst of fear hit me so hard that my knees buckled.