Page 12 of Such a Brave Omega
He thought a moment. “Sixteen. Right over there where that alpha is going in.”
“Into the room Mr. Tate is expected to pay for?” It was no trouble to let outrage color my tone. “That is in violation of at least six city, county, and state statutes—off the top of my head. But I am sure there are a few more. I’ll need to place a call to be sure…”
I pulled my phone out and scanned the contacts. “Before I do, I believe my client mentioned some other issues with the room. Mold, was it? Stained and torn bedding?”
“Client?” The weasel’s voice came out squeezed. “What are you? His pimp?”
Let the record show, I did not murder him on the spot. Or at all. Instead, I fixed her with my best prosecutorial smile. “His attorney. With some good friends in the various offices of this city.”
For some reason, five minutes later, we had stowed Tate’s things in the back of the car and were on our way home having not only paid nothing but having received Tate’s original payment back. The weasel waved us off, shouting something about no hard feelings and no need to call anyone.
The omega watched me with open admiration. “How did you do that?”
“All part of the service.” I winked at him and turned onto the main street. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
Chapter Twelve
Tate
Bronson didn’t bat an eye at me ordering the kids burger and nuggets from the fast-food joint—not even when I ordered the sugar-free fruit punch. Sure, I loved my little meals, but I also knew a sugar bomb would hurt my tummy.
When we pulled up to his place, I froze. This wasn’t a house. It was a mansion, at least by my standards. The brick was dark gray, the mortar a lighter smoky shade. The accents and metal were black. The color scheme suited Bronson perfectly. A press of a button on his console opened the garage door, and I didn’t quell my gasp at the sight of a professional organizer’s wet dream. Not that I was one but damn, I’d seen the videos when I had a phone.
“Are you hurting?” he asked, sliding his hand over mine. “As soon as we get inside, we’ll get one of these pills in you.”
“No. I’m not hurting. Well, a little, but I’d rather not take the pills. I don’t like how they make my head fuzzy.”
He nodded. “Then why the gasp?”
“Your house is beautiful. Everything in its place. Even labels.”
Bronson looked out the windshield, his eyes widening as though he were seeing his own house for the first time. “I like things in their place. It makes my life simpler. Eases my anxiety.”
“Maybe sometime we can talk about what gives you stress,” I said.
“Maybe. Hold on. I’ll help you in.”
He didn’t have to assist me in or out of the car. My wolf had taken care of most of my injuries, leaving me sore but perfectly capable of walking and moving around with only a marginalamount of pain. Bronson insisted on helping me though. He opened the passenger door and wrapped his arm around my torso gently and led me inside. The interior was as impressive as the exterior. Clean. Neat.
No bullshit on the kitchen counters. Huge bonus in this omega’s book.
“You can stay in the bedroom next to mine.” I looked up at him. “You know, in case you need anything in the night.”
With this alpha around, I was sure to need something in the night. Him. Inside me.
I shook my head of the thoughts. I didn’t even know if he felt the same, and I questioned my feeling that he was my fated.
I couldn’t be trusted with my own safety and relationships after Ryder.
“Is there…” I hesitated. He had done so much for me already, but he’d asked me to make myself at home while we were on our way here. “Can I take a shower? I smell like hospital.”
He nodded. “How about a bath? I have all kinds of salts and bubbles. You can relax and ease those aches.”
When he said the word ache, I swore he glanced down at my groin. Wishful thinking, maybe.
“A bath would be perfect. Is that in another room?”