Page 39 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
“Same.” Malori gasped like he’d been punched. “Fuck. The postmark is River City. He was here.”
“Or he paid someone to come here and mail it for him.”
“No. I’m positive Aleks would come himself. He’d want a chance to see everything he’s stirred up by sending this DVD.”
King studied his face for several long, anxious seconds. “You spent the most time with Yovenko, so I’ll go with your assessment. If he’s in town, do you think he was responsible for last week’s car crash?”
“I don’t know. From my experience, it doesn’t feel personal enough. Everything he did to me was about me. About stripping me of my humanity and of my son. Of my will to live. And he almost succeeded in the latter. The day you rescued us, I was done. If they’d carted me off to murder me, I wouldn’t have fought. I’d have welcomed it.”
King’s eyes flashed with pain. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all reach our breaking point. I’m lucky we got there when we did, and that you’re allowing me to lo—to care about you. And I know watching this DVD was painful, but we finally have a new lead.”
Malori saw it as more of a taunt, but he trusted King’s way of handling the DVD. “Can you burn a copy for me before you hand it off to Ziggy? Maybe if I watch it more, I’ll notice something. A reason for the specific moments he chose? A pattern?”
“I don’t like the idea of you watching that over and over.” He sighed. “But I agree with your reasons. I’ll make you a copy.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to watch it again now?”
“No. I need some air first.”
“Company?”
Malori shook his head no. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll be here when you need me. Promise.”
“Thanks.” Malori stood and had to work hard not to sprint toward the stairs.
King watched his heart walk away and take some of his calm façade with him. King had done his best to keep it together forMalori, to not explode in a furious, jealous, vindictive rage and terrify his emotionally fragile…boyfriend? Lover, for sure, but they never talked about labels. Neither were fond of them. But if Yovenko was presented to him in this moment, nothing would stop King from ripping the man’s limbs off with his bare hands.
Which scared King, because his very-pregnant little brother was sitting there, pale and devastated by what he’d just seen. Comforting others wasn’t his best event, but King rose from his knees far enough to slide onto the couch beside Kensley. Kens flung his arms around King and pressed his face into his armpit. He’d seen Kensley hug Bishop like that, so King hugged him back, providing what comfort he could for as long as Kensley needed it. And Kensley didn’t let go until King’s phone rang.
Kensley reared back, face red but eyes dry. “Is it Bishop?”
“Yes.” He accepted the call. “Bishop, how did it go?”
“Exchange went off without a hiccup,” Bishop replied. “Transfer is complete and secure. We’re on our way home.”
“Good.” King hadn’t modulated his voice well enough on four little letters, damn it.
“Why? Is something wrong with Kensley?”
“He’s fine, physically. This is about Malori. And Yovenko.”
Bishop grunted. “Tell me.”
ELEVEN
The overcast eveningreflected Malori’s mood as he paced the rooftop terrace for hours, unable to settle down after that DVD. After the five-minute taunt from Aleks, who’d filmed some of the most private, profound moments of Malori’s life without permission. And gods knew how much else he’d filmed during their relationship.
Part of his reason for pacing was his brain’s inability to remember something important. Something about Aleks’s coat. He’d had dozens of conversations with King and Bishop these last six months, and not once had any details about that coat sprung to mind, so it could be absolutely nothing.
The only thing he knew for sure was that Aleks was taunting him. It had started last week with the Yovani Alexie identification. This DVD was just the next step. But if Aleks thought Malori was going to curl up into a ball and sob, he was wrong. Dead. Wrong.
Aleks just didn’t know he was dead yet.
As the sky dimmed, Malori walked to the west, but the sunset was cloudy and unspectacular. He closed his eyes and remembered last night’s, which had been a gorgeous watercolor streaking the heavens. He stood there until the first soft drops ofrain hit his cheeks and forehead. The light drizzle felt good in the late summer heat.
