Page 60 of Accidentally Forever

“However, we have people who can control it and I need you to trust that they’re damn good at their job.”

I let out a watery laugh, thinking back to when I was at the station. “You mean the guy who charges $2,500 an hour?”

“We get a discount. But yes. Banks knows what he’s doing.” He continues running his fingers through my hair before leading me to the couch. He pulls me into his lap, my back pressed against his chest, his fingers now playing across my belly beneath my shirt. It’s a mixture of intimate and perfect as I sag against him. “I’m giving you half an hour to work through the thoughts in your head and then we’re going back to Sofie. No excuses.”

Fifteen minutes later, Gray’s answered every last question I had, adding onto what Puma told me. Gray keeps nuzzling against my cheek and my shoulder and I realize that he’s using his scent to calm me. It’s a strange movement but I’m not as squirrely anymore and there’s no dying need to solve everything tonight. Still, I’ve got fifteen minutes and I’m going to use them.

“You said someone had it out for Puma?”

“Not exactly. More like a vendetta against anyone that kind of gets in his way so the Ashford pack has been on his list, I suppose. The name he goes by is Orion but we can’t seem to find a connection to what’s happening now and his usual… deviance.”

I snort at the word, placing my hands over his before tangling our fingers together. “I know an Orion.”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft against my ear, one of his hands trying to dip lower but I keep it firmly placed on my belly.

I let my mind turn over the memory, picking apart the details. “One of the guys that used to help hang up pieces atAsh & Ivory. Always real nice. Would stick around longer than most. Talked to Xavier a lot.”

Gray straightens slightly, the shift in his posture small but noticeable. “I don’t think he’d be on a crew.”

“Why not?” The question leaves me before I can think better of it. “If he wanted to make sure his shit was getting in the right place, why wouldn’t he be?”

Gray shakes his head, his skepticism thick in the air between us. “Because Orion isn’t a goddamn delivery boy. He’s got people to do that shit for him.”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “Maybe he wanted to make sure everything was handled personally. Wouldn’t be the first time a guy with money wanted to play in the dirt for a little while.”

“Orion’s got a reputation for being a goddamn bastard, Violet. Ruthless. I don’t think he’d be chatting up Xavier for fun.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, my head twisting just enough to catch his expression. “Why does it sound like you’ve never actually seen him?”

Gray scoffs. “Because it’s almost like he’s a myth. He supposedly exists, but very few people have actually met him. He operates in the shadows, makes deals through whispers. If someone’s been showing up atAsh & Ivorypretending to be Orion or sharing the same name, I highly doubt it’s actually him.”

“Well,” I hum, tapping my fingers idly against the desk. “He’s pretty.”

Gray untangles his fingers from mine and twists my entire body around until I’m straddling his thighs. I also forget that he’s so much stronger than I am, his lean body wholly deceptive. I grin at the glinting metal staring back at me, metal that definitely lured me into his bed the first time around. He digs his fingers into my hips, fingers flexing, his mouth hovering just over mine. The heat rolling off of him is all challenge, all smug, sharp-edged amusement. “I’m pretty,” he growls out.

A short laugh pushes past my lips and I tap his chest playfully. “Is that a line? Because that’s not going to get you fucked.”

Gray groans, tilting his head back like I’ve just told him the worst news in the world. “I try so hard.” He recovers just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before slipping me off his lap. “Times up. Let’s get back to bed before Sofie wakes up alone. She’ll have our asses for it.”

She absolutely would and I don’t want to be on the other side of that anger. For now, I’ll try to sleep, to rest, to trust in Gray’s words that Banks has it handled and that my Alphas will be fine.I don’t need to be in control, I tell myself. Now, I just need to believe it.

Chapter forty-four

PUMA

The interrogation room stinks of stale coffee, sweat, and the kind of cheap cologne that clings to polyester uniforms and false authority. It’s the same little house they brought Violet to, the only good thing being that it’s less than twenty minutes from the estate rather than the one in the heart of the city. Still, it’s goddamn three in the morning and I’m about to kick someone’s ass for dragging me out of bed.

Mostly because of the fear in Violet and Sofie’s eyes. Hell, even Gray was slightly panicked even though he won’t admit it. Some part of me wishes we were bonded to those beautiful women so that I could know how they were feeling but it’s a two way street. And the twins aren’t handling this very well. They look like they’re going to murder someone and while I have enough restraint, I’m not sure they do.

I lean back in the uncomfortable metal chair, arms crossed over my chest, keeping my gaze fixed on the officer as he paces back and forth. The guy’s pushing fifty, gray hair, a gut that shows he’s spent more time sitting behind a desk than doing actual fieldwork. Still, the arrogance in his movements screams the same message I’ve seen a hundred times before: he thinks he can break me down, get me to talk. It won’t fucking work.

Because there’s nothing to fucking talk about.

Lance and Hawk are sitting to my right, and even though none of us say a word, the tension radiating off them is palpable. Lance is barely keeping his cool. His fists are clenched against the metal table and his shoulders are hunched like he’s a second away from flipping the damn thing over. Hawk, on the other hand, is still. His sharp eyes keep darting between the officer and the door. Calculating. Waiting. Not tense, not angry, just ready in case things escalate. I have a feeling he’s going to be the one to smother Sofie the minute we get home.

Nothing about this screams professional, especially the fact that no one else is in the station and we’re all sitting here uncuffed in the same goddamn room across from the main officer who claimed we were under arrest.

The officer slams his hands on the table, leaning in close. The sour smell of stale coffee on his breath hits me. “I always knew your wealth was built on stolen goods,” he sneers. “People like you don’t get to the top without getting their hands dirty.”

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