I look at the perfectly poised omega on the other side of Meg, admiring her sleek, platinum bob and her flawless red lipstick. She looks like she just stepped off a catwalk, but she smells earthy and warm as she flutters her long lashes at me. “Best trafficking experience of my life.” She smirks at my expression, but then she presses a manicured finger to the side of her throat and her gaze grows wistful. “I thought I was going to be sold to the highest bidder, but then the truck we were traveling in got hijacked, and the sexiest alpha on two legs was scooping me out of my seat, promising to keep me safe.” She fans herself with the patch of velvet she’s working on and grins. “I couldn’t dream up a better silver lining, let me tell you.”
Images of Pitt carrying this stunning woman to safety flicker through my mind and I grind my teeth. The only thing worse would be if he passed her off to Ark, although I have to admit, her blonde beauty would be pretty dazzling against the president’s rugged, dark looks.
Maybe I’m projecting a little of my inner turmoil, because Meg leans into my side, her eyes kind. “She’s dating Threads, if you need clarification.”
“Oh, Threads is a good guy.” He’s also three-hundred-pounds with a trigger temper and I blink as I try to imagine this elegant woman in his arms. “I’m glad you got to safety, Callie.”
“Me too.” That wistful look darkens into something more tragic. “Not everyone is so lucky.”
The thought is unsettling and I rise to my feet, pressing a hand to Meg’s shoulder. “I want to check in with Wings, but I’ll be back.”
The women all smile at me and Blaze shoots me a wink. “Next time I’ll help you make a rhinestone bra, and Wings can thank me later.”
Tricks squawks her protest, but my smile fades as I hurry towards the workshop. Callie’s comments have reignited my fears, and I need to lay eyes on Wings. Smelling like Pitt is one thing, but even a cleaned-up club can harbor alphas who view unclaimed omegas as fair game.
Like the vile specimen of a Viper who suddenly steps into my path. Jackpot is in his early forties with wiry muscles and the sharp features of a weasel. He’s also holding a hammer, and as he taps it against his palm, his grin looks as much like an oil stain as I remember. “Well, look at the prodigal omega. All grown up and back to teach us heathens some manners.”
I don’t try to hide my disgust. “I don’t waste my time on lost causes.”
“Still as mouthy as when you were a kid.” His eyes rake over me, lingering on my inked scent gland. “Thought that boardinghouse would’ve knocked the brat out of you.”
I stiffen, hating the cruel gleam that ignites in his eyes at my discomfort. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he knew exactly what was going on in Leading Light while I was there.Maybe he was even one of Director Narkle’s special visitors, although I never saw him at any of the parties I was forced to attend. “What do you want, Jackpot?”
“Just checking in. And I’m curious how the experiment is going. You could say I have a vested interest in the outcome.”
I narrow my eyes at his leering face. The hairs on the back of my neck are twitching, and I have to stop my hands from curling into fists. “Like usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“That’s what you do, right?” He takes a step closer, his pungent musk wafting over me. “I heard you take broke-down bitches and try to stitch them back together.” He tilts his head, the hammer now stroking his thigh. “How’s it going with pretty little Wings? Managed to flip his alpha switch back on yet?”
His scent has taken on a hungry edge, and rage swirls through me, because it’s clear this piece of shit islusting after what’s mine. “Wings is ten times the man you are,Alpha.” I spit the designation like it’s a dirty word. “Now get the fuck out of my way.”
He lifts the hammer, and for a moment I see real violence in his eyes. I instinctively move into a fighting stance, already picturing the moves I’ll need to make to disarm him before he can make contact. But just as he looks ready to lunge at me, a huge guy with a shaved head and grease-stained overalls appears behind him. Jackpot whirls to face him, but the other alpha is already snatching the weapon out of his hand. “There’s my lucky hammer,” he murmurs in the deepest rumble I’ve ever heard. “Stop swiping my shit, Jackpot, or one day I might just hit you with it.”
The hammer looks almost toy-like in his massive hand, but Jackpot is careful to stay out of his reach. “You hit me with that, Cruise, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
So, this is Cruise, the head of the club’s workshop. I look more closely at the other alpha, since he didn’t just put my queen backon her throne, he’s also Wings’ boss. Despite his build, he has a sweet face, with sky-blue eyes and a full, brown beard. Or it would be sweet if his mouth wasn’t curled into a savage grin. “Strange, but any guy who ever said that to me, never came back to fight another day.”
Jackpot just glares at him before slinking away, and Cruise snorts as he sticks the hammer into a pocket of his overalls. “Big talk from a little man, but you should probably watch your back around him.”
I figure everyone looks little to this guy, but I appreciate his words of warning. “Thanks, but I know exactly what kind of man Jackpot is.”
“He’s that itch you can’t scratch, even with steel wool and WD-40.” He pauses then sticks out his hand. “Glad you’re back, Abbie. Wings told me you grew up together.”
“Yeah, we’ve known each other forever.” I shake his hand, impressed that he keeps his grip firm but not overly tight. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for my Indian, by the way. She’s running good as new.”
“I’m glad. She took a bad beating.” His brow furrows, wiping the sweet look from his face. “You know anything about the asshole who did it?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, Ark’s chasing it down personally, so he’ll get it sorted out.”
I don’t really see what they can do if there weren’t cameras in the lot, so I just shrug. I’ve got bigger worries on my mind right now, anyway. “Is Wings going to be okay with you? I mean, as an omega. Does it change things for him at work?”
“Not a bit. Good work stands on its own merit, and Wings is one of the best.” I smile, relieved, and he gestures toward the workshop doors. “You want to come in and say hi?”
“No, I know he’s behind on his project. I just wanted to make sure no one was giving him a hard time.”
“They’ll have to answer to me if they do. Plus, Wings knows how to swing a hammer better than that pipsqueak.”
