Page 36 of Ruffled Feathers

Strat leaned down and nuzzled my face. “Oh sweetheart, you look beautiful. Don’t be sad.” He kissed my cheek, and I wasn’t quite sure when we’d reached that stage of our friendship, but I let him. It made me feel better.

“Do you promise?”

He stood back up and nodded. “You’d look beautiful with no hair, but”—he looked at Ashley’s name badge—“Ashley here has done a spectacular job. You look gorgeous.”

As if to punctuate his words, Ashley whipped away the covering on the mirror, and I let out a relieved puff of air. It was a wavy little bob that sat around my chin, and it looked cute. Not nearly as bad as I’d thought. It wasn’t my normal long blonde locks, but it wasn’t bad.

I gave Strat a watery smile. “It looks good.” I met Ashley’s eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I swear I’m not normally like this. The last few days have just been a lot.”

She waved a hand at me. “I know what you looked like when you came in. I get it. I’ll get all this stuff off you, then I’ll meet you up front.” Removing my cape, she disappeared out the back.

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. “Sorry for crying all over you,” I murmured to Strat as he helped me out of the chair. He hugged me close, and I leaned into him.

Why did that feel so nice? I barely knew Strat. I knew I liked him. I thought he was hot, obviously. But normally, this level of casual affection would make me feel uneasy.

Maybe it was his Omega vibes.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s go. I’ll grab you a deli sandwich from my favorite little place on the way to the station.”

Eighteen

Strat

Something about Otillie-James was riding my Omega. He just wanted to put her on his lap and snuggle her for the rest of the afternoon. The last thing I wanted to do was take her to a police station to look at a bunch of criminals.

I hadn’t been appeasing her; the new hairstyle made her look like she’d just been thoroughly fucked for a few hours, and I was dying to see if I could recreate the style back at my house, maybe in my nest.

So as I escorted her into the police precinct, it took me every ounce of willpower to wear a professional mask. I talked to the desk cop, and he buzzed us back. We were met by Detective Perkeski, an aging Beta cop who was just about done with the force and people in general. His hair had gone prematurely gray, his face was covered in more potholes than the Jersey turnpike, and he was generally just over people’s shit.

“Mr. Wilmington, if you’ll come this way?” He ignored Otillie-James altogether, and while normally that would irritate me, today it made my Omega rage. Maybe I was coming up to my heat? I’d have to look at my calendar when I got back to the office, so I could book the leave accordingly.

It was one of the reasons I’d gone with public prosecution and not into a private firm. I knew I’d never make partner, having to take a week off for my heat every three months. Bigoted old fucks probably did it themselves with their own Omegas, but they saw it as optional for Alphas, whereas there was no way I could just “push through” my heat.

Swallowing down a growl, I met Otillie-James’s worried look with a smile. I was fine. I’d definitely figure this out later. I didn’t want to go through my heat just yet; I had plans. Or at least, my Omega had desires, and it was up to me, the man, to make them happen. I couldn’t just pout and whine and hope that the Alpha I wanted, and the pretty little Unshown, would fall into my nest with me.

I wanted to reconnect with Edison Chalmers, the other Alpha, first. I remembered him in passing from our teenage years, but that was it. I also wanted to meet Otillie-James’s Beta, at least to see if he was right for her.

They led us to a viewing room, and the other detective, Hopkins, was there. He was a middle-aged Alpha, but he’d always treated my position with respect. He shook my hand, nodding respectfully, then did the same for Otillie-James. “Good to see you again, Miss Baler.”

Flushing, she shook his hand. “I mean, same, I guess? I really am sorry about wasting your time, though.”

He gave her a narrowed-eyed look, like he was trying to decide if she was really a criminal mastermind or just an idiot with a chicken. I could have told him she was neither of those; she was a beautiful soul, who just wanted to save the creatures that had no one else to save them.

He just grunted something and picked up the comms phone in the corner, telling them to send in the lineup.

Perkeski looked bored. “Just let us know if you recognize anyone as being at Hooley’s Garage that night.”

Of the fifteen men they showed her in the lineup, she was able to say for certain three had been there. One guy she remembered spitting on the cement near where she’d been hiding at the back of the garage. Another guy, she’d seen laughing and grinning at his winnings, though he seemed a lot less jovial now. And a third guy was Spartacus’s owner, who’d tossed him back in his cage, brutalized and broken. I was glad he was here to get his comeuppance.

She indicated that there were two more who looked familiar, but not enough to say without a doubt they’d been there. She studied one in particular for a long time, a red-haired guy, who looked a little like he’d had his head shoved in a toilet bowl too many times. In the end, she said she’d seen him before, but couldn’t place him at the cockfight specifically.

By the end, she looked flushed, and maybe a little anxious. This was a lot for most people; the weight of people’s lives resting on your memory, but her word wouldn’t be the smoking gun to put anyone away. There was still a fair amount of police work to be done, building a case on my behalf, before people got punished.

As I spoke softly to Hopkins about the next steps, there was a tug at my sleeve. I looked over my shoulder at Otillie-James, a frown immediately folding my face. She was looking more than flushed now. She was sweating lightly, her skin oddly waxy and her eyes feverish.

It was warm in this tiny room, but not unbearably so.

“I don’t feel so great. I’m just going to go. I’ll get a cab home.” I shook my head immediately, but she stopped me. “No, I know you’re still working. Don’t rush off on my account,” she croaked out. Her hands were shaking.

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