Page 4 of Two For the Show
We can protect her, of that I have no doubt. We may not be cold-blooded murderers—yet, if Dario has anything to say about it—but we are willing to do whatever it takes to prevent harm from coming to our Omega. All we have to do is get back, and then we can take care of her.
The idea of her out there on her own, constantly looking over her shoulder, makes my eyes burn. I’ve never been so close to crying in my life as I am every time I think about her suffering, wrapped up in the things we gave her in her transitional nest.
Does she have enough money to find a place to sleep?
What is she going to do when she runs out?
It’s not like I can keep paying her. She asked to be paid in cash. I know now that it was to avoid being tracked by her bank card, but I wish I could continue depositing money into an account, so I know she’s taken care of, at least in that way.
It makes me sick to think of her struggling to find a safe place to sleep, to feed herself.
Quinton is holding onto the belief that she’ll be back soon. She knows our schedule and knows where to find us on the road, so he swears she’ll be back.
But I’m not convinced that’s enough. Neither is Matteo. She left Cirque de Mordu because she doesn’t trust our people, with good reason.
We have to show her she can trust us, and that there is no safer place for her to be than under our big top.
How are we going to let her know that when she left her phone behind, we have no way to get in touch with her? Who the fuck knows. But that’s step two.
Step one is making this a safe place for her to lay her head at night.
But I don’t have time to do that yet, because I’m standing outside my trailer staring at a smarmy fucking bastard in shoes that cost as much as my truck.
Dr. Richard Smith.
“Where is she?” he blares, for the third time. I’ve not deigned to answer him, letting him get increasingly loud and draw a crowd. I need witnesses for this next part. If it were only me and this cunt I’d end up in jail, and I can’t help Alex from there.
“Who?” I say calmly. In my periphery, I see my pack and several of the other performers hanging around, ready to tap in if things start to escalate. I’m not worried they will.
Fancy pants doctor over here isn’t going to want to mess up his hands or get blood on his silk tie.
“Alex Shields. I know she was here. You’re harboring a missing Omega.”
I click my tongue. “Oh, the doc? She’s not here anymore.” I run my hands through my hair casually. “She left us a couple of stops ago.”
He narrows his eyes. He doesn’t believe me, because he has someone on my staff who told him that she was here yesterday. But I don’t need him to believe me.
“I don’t believe you.” No shit.
“I don’t give a damn what you believe. She’s not here, and I wouldn’t tell you if she were because I don’t like the look of you.”
I can see, on the surface, why Alex fell for this guy. He’s not intimidating in the way a lot of Alphas, including myself, seem to be, where we tower over people and our pheromones overpower everything. He’s handsome and poised and would probably impress any parents he’s brought home to.
Not like my motley crew. I’m sure Alex’s parents would try to shove her behind their backs if they opened the door to us.
“I need to search the premises for her. He’s trying to bow up at me, but I don’t react.
I cross my arms over my broad chest and squint at him. “You a cop?”
He takes an involuntary step back. “No, but -”
“But nothing. Come back with a warrant. Or better yet, don’t come back at all.” I spin on my heel and stomp into my trailer, committing the ultimate insult to another Alpha.
Giving him my back.
Because he doesn’t fucking scare me.
Dexter
