Page 46 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
ChapterThirteen
AVI
Hayden is pacing the length of the living room, glancing toward the hallway every few seconds. He’s acting strange, and it has everything to do with a certain omega. Leaning back on the couch, I tap my fingers on my legs, waiting for Trev to talk to her. Making her leave is wrong. My body revolts at the thought. That should be enough to tell me we should let her go. The last year has taught me that our jobs will only cause pain. I never want to be the reason someone’s heart breaks again.
“She’s hungry.” Trev glances at me. “Can you make her something?”
Happy to leave the memories of the worst day of my life behind, I stand to help. Trev can make sandwiches and eggs. He’ll complain about it the whole time. Hayden would jump at the chance to help the woman, but I suspect Trev doesn’t want Whitney anywhere near our beta.
“Any special requests?” I ask her, grabbing a pan.
“Whatever is fine.” She slips around Trev and perches on the barstool. Her fingers tap on the counter, a nervous tick.
“How about a grilled sandwich?” It’s fast and easy, and better than a regular one.
Whitney nods. “Perfect.”
Hayden and Asher are in the living room, doing a shit job of not staring at her. Trev stands with his arms crossed, scowling at the both of them. I sigh and start grabbing the ingredients.
“You guys should clean up, you smell like cotton candy.”
“I hate that place,” Hayden says.
“Maybe we can finally shut it down. Curtis is finished.” Asher sniffs his shirt and cringes at what he finds.
“What about the dancers?” Whitney asks.
Trev clears his throat. “They’ll find work elsewhere.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize the police force was hiring strippers.”
I burst into laughter, shaking my head and focusing on making the sandwich, keeping an ear tuned in to the conversation.
There’s an awkward lull. I check on Whitney. She’s staring at the guys, face lined in confusion. I follow her gaze to my pack. They’re all staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. I lower my eyebrows.
What the fuck is their problem?
Trev cuts his gaze to Whitney. “He drugs them.”
“They need somewhere to go. Somewhere safe. What about Nova? She needs help.”
Asher and Hayden exchange looks, the one they’ve been trading since I was put on leave. Pity. Worry. I hate that look. Focusing on the sandwich making, I half listen to the rest of the conversation.
“She’s at the hospital.” Trev sounds tired. I’m surprised he hasn’t snapped at her. Usually when he’s exhausted, he’s grumpy. This fatigue is more about not knowing what to do than it is about needing sleep.
“And where will she go after that? Another omega auction? You know Camila won’t match her with a pack after what she’s been through.”
“I don’t know what will happen to her,” Trev admits.
And that’s the problem we’ve been struggling with since we found out what a piece of crap Curtis is. His lawyers are the best of the best, and we haven’t been able to find a way to take him out of the game.
“You can’t shut Twisters down.”
I place a bit of butter in the pan and turn the stove on, waiting for it to melt. “It’s not up to us,” I say, helping Trev out.
“It’s not right for them to lose their job because Curtis is an asshole.”
Turning to face her, I lean against the counter. “I agree.”
