I call again, and the same thing happens. This time, I leave a message. “I don’t know if you’re just pissed and turned your phone off or if something is wrong, but I’m coming over.”
I flag down a cab and give the driver her address, barely registering his nod before sliding into the back seat. The city crawls past the windows, lights smeared and distorted, and my anxiety ramps higher with every passing minute. The driver takes a different route than I would have, cutting across unfamiliar streets, and we hit traffic anyway. Nearly 11:00 at night, and we’re barely moving.
I try her phone again. Still off.
I tap the backs of my fingers against my palm, leg bouncing restlessly as we inch along at a glacial pace. “What the hell is with this traffic tonight?”
The cabbie shakes his head. “Think it has something to do with the raids. There’s a bunch of them tonight, and traffic is nuts everywhere.”
I look up. “Raids?”
“Yeah. Some big, coordinated thing,” he says. “Mayor and police commissioner trying to shut down the omega suppressant supply chain. Streets are a mess everywhere.”
My stomach drops.
“Bullshit, if you ask me,” he adds. “Like we don’t have bigger problems than omega birth control. Waste of taxpayer money.”
I pull my phone back out and look up what he’s talking about. And sure enough, Harvey had announced a sting operation happening tonight with the full force of the NYPD. He must have timed it to release during the dinner party. Prick. Is this my punishment for offering Katie a plea deal?
Joke’s on him, I’ll offer every single omega without a record. The dealers can be handled on a case-by-case basis. I chew on my thumbnail as another thought settles. Maybe this is why Ava’s phone is going to voicemail.
For a second, I feel foolish. Maybe I’m about to show up to her apartment and find it empty because she’s downtown with clients. Only, if the raids are happening now, they wouldn’t have had time to book everyone and get lawyer calls out, I remind myself.
The cab turns down a side street. Traffic clears for a blessed moment, then locks up again. Red and blue lights flash a block or so ahead, and I let out a frustrated breath. Ava’s only a few blocksaway now. With this much police presence, no one’s going to try anything stupid.
“Hey,” I say, leaning forward. “I’m gonna walk the rest of the way.” I hand the driver enough cash to cover the fare and a decent tip, since he’s going to be stuck in gridlock for a while. He looks relieved.
I climb out, pulling my coat tighter around myself to brace against the chill that has overtaken the city. So much for the beautiful spring weather we’d been having, it’s practically like winter again. I walk quickly, cutting down a different side street to avoid the cluster of cops ahead. I step partially into an alley to avoid a very questionable puddle. A low pained groan comes from the darkness.
I slow, debating. Every instinct tells me to keep moving. Ava is my priority. But I can’t just leave someone hurt without checking.
I turn back and step into the dark corridor, senses on high alert. I really don’t think I’m in danger, but itisNew York. I catch the faintest hint of a beta, some kind of citrusy lemon with the copper scent of blood. Something about the scent feels familiar. My alpha side surges to the forefront of my mind, urging me forward.
I spy a pair of shoes sticking out from behind a dumpster. They look like expensive sneakers, which is not what I’d expect back here. “Hey,” I call carefully, circling just enough to see without putting myself in reach. “You all right?”
Everything clicks at once. I recognize him. Not well, but enough. There’s also a deep gash on his forehead oozing blood over his brow and matting his auburn hair. Clutched loosely in one hand are two unmarked prescription bottles full of pills.
I’ve seen pictures of Jack before, and run into him once at a fundraiser gala he attended with Ava.
There is a police raid on illegal omega suppressants two blocks over, and I suddenly find Ava’s brother injured and holding two bottles of pills? Everything about this screams trouble.
“Hey. It’s Jack, right?” I ask, already kneeling. “Can you hear me?”
As I wait for a response, I act almost on instinct before I realize what I’m doing. I pull a handkerchief from my pocket, pick up the bottles carefully, wipe them down, and toss them into the dumpster. Guilt flares briefly, then dies. I literally just decided I’d cut omegas some slack. And Ava would never let her brother rot in jail.
Rationalizing? Probably.
I’ll live with it.
Jack groans again and blinks, eyes unfocused. “Mark?” His voice is slurred.
“Can you walk?” I ask. I can hear shouts approaching, and it occurs to me that they might be fanning out to look for anyone who ran. We need to get out of here.
“Uh… maybe?” He tries to push himself upright and nearly topples.
“Dammit,” I growl. I toss his arm around my shoulders, helping him stay upright. “Come on, I’m gonna take you to Ava’s. Do you have your phone?”
“No,” he drags out. “Afraid the cops—”
