Page 23 of Laurels and Liquor

Delano snorts, setting down the decanter. “Raw doggin’ it, nice. I like your style,” he says, still laughing.

My stomach flips at his words, and not in an unpleasant way. My face heats, heart kicking like a wild stallion in my chest. I want to brush it off as a joke, but my primal mind latches onto the mental image of Mateo driving into me, filling me to bursting—

“Get the fuck out of my office before I make you,” I growl, pushing a little of my alpha bark through my words as I force the blush from my cheeks by sheer force of will.

“Nice to see you, too, Lexi,” he calls, and I’ve never heard a sound as sweet as his shoes on the floor as he exits.

Thankfully, Hunter and Gideon don’t linger, following him and finally leaving me in peace. And just in time, as Ted’s name lights up my phone again. I swipe to answer, but I don’t even get out a greeting before he’s shouting.

“Get your omega and haul ass downtown this instant! It’s go time!”

Chapter twelve

Mateo

Theafternoonsunstreamsthrough the windows to my right as I lounge at a table in Carter’s, the bar and restaurant off the lobby of The Valencia. Lex might have thought it was a bit dramatic to have this confrontation here, but it seems more than fitting.

It’s been a week and a half since we set Lex’s bat shit crazy plan into motion, and it’s been so far, so good. We’ve officially filed for Leopold to buy The Valencia for a price most newspapers are calling “suspiciously low.” There’s been speculation about the reason, but no one is even close to guessing the truth.

I sip on my neat bourbon as a smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. I shouldn’t be surprised that it took so little for Seth to climb out of whatever hidey-hole he’d disappeared into, but it was almost laughably easy. Less than twelve hours after Lex drained his stipend account, the angry messages from a blocked number began pouring in. I’d been of a mind to let the bastard stew, but putting him on the defensive wouldn’t help us in the long run. Instead, we’d sent him a single reply: a time, a date, and a location.

And right on schedule, the Devil appears.

As I look up as a nearby church bell chimes 3:00 p.m., an impossible to miss silhouette slides through the open entry arch, pausing only for a moment as he scans the room. His shoulders tense and his hands ball into fists at his sides the moment he sees me. And like the smug little shit he thinks I am, I tilt my glass ever so slightly in acknowledgement.

I use the time it takes Seth Douglas to cross the nearly deserted restaurant to look him over. I’ve intentionally avoided direct contact with him for the last eighteen months, just for my mental health. The last time I saw him, when we signed the court documents that sealed the conditions of our breakup, he’d been muscular, but proportionally so. Now, his arms bulge in unnatural places, his shoulder muscles nearly swallowing his thick neck as they strain against his gray hoodie. Massive, mirrored sunglasses, a baseball cap, and his hood cover most of his face, but I can still see his overly filled lips and the sneer he’s twisted them into. When he's close enough, I barely manage to hold back a cough as a cloud of synthetic scent washes over me, something woody and spicy that only reminds me of the aftershave my father used. Even with the cologne, my alpha instincts still pick up on traces of grenadine and limes, his omega scent.

“What the fuck, Mateo,” Seth snarls by way of greeting, stepping close to loom over me.

I look up at him in mock boredom, sipping my drink again. “Have a seat, Omega. We need to talk,” I start smoothly.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he snaps, roughly pulling out the chair on the opposite side of the table from me.

“Why not?” I ask with a look of feigned innocence.

“Where’s Alex?” he asks, looking over his shoulder surreptitiously.

I shrug and pull out my phone, navigating to my messages. “I’m not her keeper,” I deflect.

Me: He’s here.

Lex: Good. We’re almost there. Keep him busy.

Me: The things I do for love.

“She said—”

“Yeah, I know what she said. But things come up, Omega,” I interrupt with a sigh dripping with a disappointment I don’t really feel.

His little growl is almost adorable, but I swallow my chuckles. Laughing outright in his face wouldn’t help me here. Still can’t stop myself from smirking, though.

“Listen, if this is some sort of game, I’m fucking done playing. Where is she?” Seth spits, leaning toward me aggressively.

“But the fun is just getting started,” I say, unable to keep my glee contained, and I revel in the second pathetic attempt at a growl.

“You think this is funny? Will your little bitch think it’s funny—”

My smile drops, and I silence him with a true alpha growl. Being this close, I can feel that tug in my chest, the one I usually smother with medication. But I stopped taking them in preparation for the next phase of the plan, and I have no shame in using that connection to my advantage. I push my disdain and fury through the invisible line connecting us, and my smug smile isn’t fake now as he winces at the sensation, almost like I’d smacked him.

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