Page 55 of Ruffled Feathers

While we were in the city, we planned on going to lunch with Strat, because I really couldn’t wait until he got home to know how it had gone. Plus, it was part of the Pack’s courting process. We all took it in turns taking him to lunch, or dinner. Last week, we’d gone to the movies, which was nice.

I fidgeted with the interior compartments of my Fiat as we waited for Strat in the court’s parking lot. Akio had stayed home, and I didn’t know if that was a step forward in Lance’s healing or not. Did it mean he no longer needed a support animal? Had I become his support animal?

“Stop thinking so hard over there, Tills,” he murmured, reading a book he’d picked out of the giant library in his house. Granted, it was mostly autobiographies and action adventure novels, but at least I’d have a place to store all my smutty romances once I’d finished them.

I flopped back in the seat. “What if they all get away with it, then go back and do it again?”

He dog-eared his book—I’d have to break him of that habit, because what the actual fuck?—and put it in the back seat. “One thing I learned overseas was that shitty things happen. All the time. Every minute of the day, something terrible is happening to someone, somewhere.”

I screwed up my nose. “If this is your version of a motivational speech, we might have to work on it.”

He grinned, and my god, he was handsome. “It gets more motivational. As I was saying, you’ll never be enough to blot out all the bad in the world. Neither will Strat, nor the cops, nor any one person. What youcando is work on making the lives of those you touch better. Those animals at the farm know nothing but love now, because you give it to them so freely. The people at the rescues, your friends, me—our lives are all better with you in them. And that’s all you can do. Change the lives youcantouch for the better, and hope the universe fucks the bad guys with a cactus.”

Laughing, I leaned over the console between our seats and kissed him softly. “I take it back. You give a damn fine motivational speech.”

He cupped my cheek, and I had no idea how a man who’d been steeped in such violence in his life could kiss me the way he did, but it made me breathless every time. By the time he pulled back, there was loud chatter around the front doors of the courthouse. I realized the court reporters had roused themselves. Court must be out.

My heart sank as people I’d pointed out in the lineup left smiling, and I knew it hadn’t gone well for Strat.Damn.

One guy had his head covered as he walked toward the car opposite us. A flash of red hair told me it was the guy I’d recognized in theAll Creatures Great and Smallsshow, and I watched him climb into the back of an expensive SUV.

I also recognized the guy in the back seat with him. Anthony Smalls.

Lance followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing. “That doesn’t seem like he’s oblivious to the extracurricular activities of his employee, does it?”

Lifting my phone, I snapped a quick photo. As their driver pulled out of the parking spot in front of us, I dragged Lance’s face to mine and kissed him again. Let them think we were justtwo business people making out in a car on our lunch break, and not that we now knew that a mega-rescue—one I’d looked up to as an example of what I wanted to be one day—was up to something dodgy.

Lance threaded his fingers through my hair, further obscuring my face, until the car left the parking lot. Focused on the lawyers at the front of the courthouse, the media were none the wiser of the story that was just there, just out of reach.

I pulled back and stared at Lance. “Holy shit. Anthony Smalls is complicit in his employee going to cockfights? Drive, I don’t want to lose them.”

Lance started the car and followed the SUV out of the parking lot. “You’re right. Something about this feels off. Put your seatbelt on.”

Strapping myself in, I blinked at the brake lights of the SUV in front of us as we pulled out into traffic.What the hell do we do now?

Twenty-Nine

Strat

The judge hated my guts. He was of the old school, where the only thing that would be worse than me being an Omega ADA, would be if I was afemaleOmega ADA.

According to him, and the other old-school judges with this way of thinking, women and Omegas belonged in the home, making sure it was perfect for their Alphas.

Gag.

With his name on the docket, I knew I’d have a tough time selling to him that the state had enough evidence to at least fine the men found at the event, if not give them jail time.

But Judge Chastain—the people in the office called him Judge Shitstain, though never to his face—already had it out for me. In the shortest pretrial of my career as a prosecutor, he found the evidence for everyone, except the garage owner and the bookie, to be too circumstantial to warrant a trial.

Half a dozen people had walked away with zero consequences for their cruelty. Otillie-James was going to be so angry. I strode out of the courtroom, stopping to talk to my associate and give him instructions, before making my way to the parking lot.

My heart sank, seeing no one there. Maybe she was angry at me? This was the first thing she’d asked of me, and I’d failed miserably.

I sighed heavily, turning back toward the courthouse. This was why I hadn’t moved into the Packhouse yet; maybe they’d wake up one day and find me defective, and then where would I be? Back home with my parents?

Fuck no.

My phone rang, and I was both relieved and terrified to see that it was her. “Hello?”

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