Page 11 of Captive Omega

I bump into a brick wall, leaving nowhere to go.

There’s even a dumpster handy for them to stash my body.

Swallowing my terror, I stiffen my spine and clench my hands into fists. But I won’t be punching or hitting anyone. Those guns mean this can only end one of two ways. Back in my cell or a bullet in my brain.

You fight to the end, Resa. You never stop fighting.

“I’m not going back.”

The redhead smiles as he cocks his gun. “Who said anything about taking you back?”

Chapter 4

Vaughn

"Weren’t you supposed to have left by now?” Cynthia’s voice drifts from my open office door, always open, because when you’re in charge, a closed door is an invitation to be disturbed.

Cynthia is a beta like me, as are all the staff in downtown Ever Safe. She has a desk outside my office, though she rarely uses it. If she’s not chatting with the omegas in the bar upstairs, she’s observing the bar staff or security like a hawk.

She’s forty-five and gave up dyeing her gray hair years before. She also doesn’t take shit from anyone.

Including me.

“Sure.” I flip through more security candidates that came in over the weekend.

Resume dates don’t add up.

Lives cross country and has a tendency to move often. Waste of time training him up to leave in four months.

No. No and no.

“Didn’t you have an important meeting?” Cynthia asks.

“Garrison told you to kick my ass out the door, didn’t he?” I nudge another resume to the no pile. This one has my instincts saying no, even though, on the surface, everything looks right. Maybe I’d discover what it is in background checks, but do I really want to waste time when I’m already having doubts?

“Something like that.”

I give Cynthia a rapid glance. She has her cell phone poking out of the top of her black slacks, nearly concealed by her untucked lilac blouse. That cell phone tells me everything I need to know.

Garrison’s patience has finally run out.

He knew I’d ditch the meeting—again—and gave the only person in this building with the ability to move my ass a text to make sure it happened.

Behind her, the soft strums of soft rock drift from the communal bar area where omegas who aren’t in heat can meet with other omegas, play pool, board games, have a couple of drinks, or just hang out. The heat suites are further down the back and are completely soundproofed.

On arrival, we give each omega a key to the suite filled with sex toys, a comfortable bed, a corner nest filled with cushions and soft natural fiber throws, along with a refrigerator filled with food and refreshments. They lock the door behind themselves, and it is our jobs to ensure they spend the next four days in a place of safety when they are most vulnerable.

We haven’t needed to do a health check on an omega who presses one of the panic buttons we had installed in each room, but I have a feeling Cynthia would bulldoze over anyone to be the first one to ensure they were okay.

I’m in charge here. I’m twenty-six, fit, healthy and work out most days. Yet one hard shove from Cynthia and I’m convinced she’d take me out. Because she isn’t just efficient. She’s a mamma bear.

“Fine. I’m going.” I get up before she can drag me out by my ear. Then I hesitate, snatch up the last resume I set down and hold it up. My instincts aren’t what they were, but my problem with this guy is going to bug me until I figure out why I want him nowhere near Ever Safe. “This guy. Would you hire him?”

Her lined forehead wrinkles as she leans in, gives the resume a quick sweep and shakes her head firmly. “Nope. Serial killer eyes.”

What?

I squint as I study the picture again. Closer this time. Thin face. Serious brown eyes maybe a little too close to be conventionally handsome. But he looks fine. “No, he doesn’t.”