Page 28 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
“For real?” Kensley squealed. “When did this happen?”
“Last night.” Malori slipped his hand into King’s, a wonderful warmth King adored, and they both canted to face the other pair. “I guess, things technically started two mornings ago, but…yeah.”
“That’s amazing!” Kensley padded around the big island and folded Malori into a hug. Malori never released King’s hand, though. “My goodness, I mean, I guess I’m not surprised. Okay, maybe a little, but also, not really.”
The babbling was adorable. King glanced over at Bishop, whose smirk told King all he needed to know. King had been possessive of Malori since they met, and no matter what King had done to distance himself, his heart had already chosen. The same way Bishop’s heart had chosen Kensley the moment they met again as adults.
“Crap, I have to pee,” Kensley said. “Be right back.”
Malori chuckled as Kensley walked away, then leaned more heavily into King. “We don’t have to advertise this to everyone who works for you, if you don’t want,” Malori said softly. “But it felt like something Kens and Bishop should know.”
“I agree they need to know, and I also think it’s prudent to keep this to ourselves. You’re already a target, because you can identify faces of Farm clients. I don’t want an even larger target on your back because people find out about our relationship.”
“Makes sense. I’m glad you didn’t want to hide this.”
“Never. Not from the people who matter.”
“If I may say,” Bishop said as he approached them from the far side of the island, “I’m happy for you both. Welcome to the family, Malori.”
Malori blushed and looked down. “Thank you.” He was still shy and submissive around other men, but with time and encouragement, King hoped he’d grow into the confident, demanding man King saw in private.
“It’s going to be a full house around here soon.”
King frowned. “How’s that?”
Bishop quirked an eyebrow. “Well, Kens is due in about two months, and even if this Yovenko fucker is dead, we still have resources to find Malori’s children. And it might be easier nowif this dead guy in Oklahoma is Yovenko. Someone involved in handling the body must know something. It’s simply a matter of persuading them to repeat it to us.”
“Indeed.”
When Kensley returned from his bathroom break, the apple pancake assembly continued. Malori assisted Kensley in cooking and turning the pancakes—“I still have so much to learn about cooking,” Malori had said more than once—while Bishop and King set the table with plates, syrup, butter, and juice. The food was filling, the company divine, and they shared the meal with more ease than ever before. This morning, it wasn’t only Bishop and Kensley, plus King, and also Malori. It was two couples—one in love, the other still figuring things out.
King scraped the last of his final pancake into his mouth when his phone pinged. The email from Ziggy. He fetched his tablet from the living room for easier reading. Malori watched him with a pensive expression while King opened the file. The autopsy showed major blood loss as cause of death, no other obvious bodily injuries besides the neck laceration. Any trace or DNA evidence would take time to process. No one had claimed the body, so it was staying at the mortuary until the police were done with it. Ziggy noted he was trying to get access to medical records, too.
“Seems odd no one claimed the body,” Bishop said. “Even the shadiest criminals have family of some kind.”
Malori growled. “If he’s dead and has no other family, then where is my son?”
King couldn’t bear entertaining that question, not right now. First, they had to confirm this was the sire of Malori’s child. He scanned the autopsy report again. “Mal, how tall would you say Yovenko is?”
“Um, six-two or three. About your height. Why?”
“The autopsy says their guy was five-eleven. It’s not a huge difference, but it’s a difference. Brown eyes and blond hair?”
“Yes.”
“Weight?”
“I don’t know, he was slender. Not skinny, but not bulky like Bishop.”
“So, even at six-two, unlikely to weight two-thirty?”
Malori blanched. “Maybe he gained weight? It’s been a year-and-a-half since I’ve seen him. Anything is possible.”
“You’re right.” No mention of scars or tattoos on the victim, and Malori confirmed the same—none he’d ever noticed.
“Are there any photos?” Bishop asked. “The autopsy should have at least one of his face.”
“Hold on, I think there’s two.” He opened the autopsy attachment, which was grainy, black and white, and of a pale, mushy face. Not exactly the “handsome” guy who’d charmed Malori. He also found the work ID that had been Ziggy’s gateway to this dead guy. “Huh.”
