7 Degrees of Alpha (a collection of seven new BWWM, Alpha Male Romances) (5 page)

00:45 a.m. October 13, 2004

Jones stepped into his office cubicle, noticing the pile of papers on his desk. The papers hadn’t been there that morning, and a quick glance caused him to groan when he saw that they concerned the incident of the previous night. Looking around his cramped office space, he took in the full-length windows that showed the outside world; a world he had joined the force to help keep under control. But here he was doing absolutely nothing! He wasn’t doing a goddamn thing to fight the crimes he’d signed up to fight and that pissed him off.

Jones paced to the window, looking out into the darkness of the night, seeing no one moving on the blackened streets. The street lamps alone shared their company with the few nocturnal animals that roamed the inner city streets after dark. He laid his palms flat on the window, scanning, looking for a clue or anything to help clear up the dilemma they had going on.

He was sick of all the red tape, the constant slapped wrists if he stepped out of line, the black marks and setbacks, the “do nothing” mentality that pervaded the police force in recent years. He had better things to do than stand there scratching his balls for entertainment while the real culprit was out there getting away. As far as he was concerned, this was a fool’s game, and he wasn’t prepared to be a puppet for anyone.

He and his partner were the lead detectives on this case, and his bosses had him tied to a fucking chair like a toddler!

“Hey, I see they got you doing paperwork… again!” Doug quipped.

“Doug!” Jones warned.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” his friend and partner replied. “How did your lunch date go?”

“Who said it was only lunch?” Jones grinned.

“What?” Doug said, shocked, “You mean…”

“I don’t mean anything. Get your mind out the gutter,” he told Doug, “I only said that our date didn’t end with lunch.”

“You old dog! Come on. Out with it,” Doug replied, slapping him on the back in a congratulatory manner.

“Stop that shit! I said nothing happened,” he replied, shrugging Doug’s hand off his shoulder in annoyance, “Well, that’s not exactly accurate. Something did happen, but not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, how so?”

“She’s staying at my place. She had a bust-up with her ex-boyfriend and kicked the bastard out. But something’s going on because she didn’t feel safe enough to stay there alone.”

“Strange,” Doug’s comment mirrored Jones’ earlier thought perfectly.

“You’re telling me. But what the hell it is, I have no idea,” Jones said, distracted.

“You don’t want to look into it, do you?”

“No. I don’t want to break a trust. I'm hoping she’ll tell me what the fuck’s going on without me having to break her arm over it, not physically, of course, but you know what I mean.” Jones pushed his hair back, taking the band from his wrist and securing the wayward strands away from his face. He scrubbed the stubble that had grown through on his chin vigorously, the simple gesture showing his nervousness.

They heard the crackle of their police radios come online. It was a dispatch message. Something was going on. Both men stood to attention, awaiting the details of what had happened and where. This late at night, it could be anything.

Shit
, Jones thought as details of the incident came in. Another body had been found, and worse, it matched the description of the others from a few months ago; the ones that had started them on this blind, almost dead-end investigation they were fumbling around with.

Jones and Doug exchanged looks and started towards the exit. They had no other choice; this was their call, and it was best they go out to see what the hell had happened. It was going to be a long night, a very long night of them getting no closer to the bastards that were perpetrating these crimes.

07:15 a.m. October 13, 2004

Val made her way to the kitchen to get coffee for breakfast. Jones had a spacious apartment, wide and homey. It wasn’t too masculine, but it certainly wasn’t feminine either. The dark, cherry wood furniture, mixed and matched with the gray and black accents, created a decadent feel to the apartment against the stark whiteness of the walls. It was almost as though his home was trying to hide its opulence under a shy exterior, but in reality was forced to admit that the décor was clearly worth more than that little extra.

“Oh, he collects art,” she said to herself, as she looked from one wall to the other.

Scanning the paintings that lined the walls as she sipped her coffee made her rethink her earlier assumptions about him. Being an art curator herself, she knew a good piece when she saw one, and Jones had surprised her with his choices. Val wondered why she hadn’t noticed them last night, but she realized it was probably because she’d been distracted and out of touch with her surroundings, which was unusual for her, as she was usually hypersensitive to what was going on around her. It also proved that she had no idea what type of person he was after all!

Jones gave her the impression that he was hardcore through and through, all harsh angles and edges. She liked his edginess. It was almost a challenge to see him soften up and be partly human.  She knew underneath there somewhere, he had a soft center; just where the hell it was, she’d have to find out.

Val also appreciated his no-nonsense attitude. It was a pleasant change from all the insulting chat up lines she’d heard over the years and those uncompromising insults and jibes over the last few months. Jones was a man who did what he said and wasn’t about to make excuses for following his own mind. She couldn’t see him backing down from anything and could see his attitude getting him into trouble more often than not. If she was sure about anything, it was her unwavering certainty that he would have her back in any situation. Last night had proved that, when he’d been there for her without question, supplying everything she needed, even going so far as to welcome her, a complete stranger, into his own home. 

She’d cleaned up the mess she’d made and got ready to leave the apartment. She was further away from the Tate on the Southbank than she would have liked, but she knew she was safe with Jones.

As she headed to her office, a chill came over her, causing a sense of unease. She glanced behind her, trying to see if someone was there. Maybe someone she hadn’t noticed, going in the same direction or following her. Perhaps Damon had decided that he didn’t appreciate her kicking him out last night and had decided to pay her a visit. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.

She walked through a sub-gallery in which most of the artwork had been covered with plastic sheeting to keep it dust free, as the lighting wasn’t finished. Suddenly, the lights flickered; once, then twice before pitching the whole gallery into darkness. Val stopped in her tracks. The only sound she heard was her own breathing.

“H…Hello!” Her voice croaked. “Hello!”

There was nothing; no sound and no reply.

There was barely light to see by, and she feared to take a tumble and break something or herself. Val squinted, trying to make out something in the distance. Perhaps a guard or decorator was nearby and had tripped the lights off by accident.

This whole area should have been teeming with workers, but it was silent, eerily so!

“Oy!” A torch light pinned her.

Val jumped, turning and bumping one of the tall displays, which wobbled on and on, echoing her own trembling limbs.

“Sorry, miss! Are you lost?” The voice came closer.

Val turned at the sound and breathed a sigh of relief. The short, stocky lighting manager approached her quickly.

“Hope we didn’t scare you with the lights going out like that. Been having a spot of trouble this morning.” He scratched his head in annoyance.

“No… It’s okay. Just startled me a little.”

As Val approached her office door, she breathed a sigh of relief, until she saw the huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the ground next to her door. She looked around, eyeing the corridors for an explanation, someone she could consult about the strange and unexpected gift, but there was no one. In fact, she thought the atmosphere reminded her of the sub-gallery, with its quiet expectancy. The slow building of tension caused Val to break out into a sweat. She felt anticipation rise in her stomach, the feeling one gets when someone was planning a surprise for you, but you hated surprises, and you just knew that everyone was waiting to jump out at you. How she hated that crap!

She pushed the key in the lock, still feeling apprehensive and opened the door.

“Boo!”

“Shit!” Val shrieked.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Val. Did I scare you?”

“What the heck, Christen!” Val breathed through her mouth, struggling to calm the panic.

“Oh, look, I'm really sorry, I saw you standing here looking around, and I couldn’t resist,” Christen explained.

“It’s not your fault. I'm just super edgy, that’s all.”

“Come in,” she said to Christen, “Any idea how these got here?”

“I thought it was that honey you brought in with you yesterday. Where did you find him?”

“Who? Jones? No.”

“Come on, Val,” Christen admonished her, “You don’t have to be shy about it. He’s gorgeous!”

“I mean, no, the flowers aren’t from him. He would have told me,” Val explained.

“They are lovely flowers, though,” said Christen.

“Yeah!” replied Val, “You didn’t happen to see who brought them, did you?”

“No. I’m just coming in myself.”

“Have a look and see if there’s a card,” Val urged her.

“There doesn’t seem to be one. Must be a secret admirer,” Christen teased.

“Yea right. That’s just what I need.” Val sat behind her desk, eying the flowers with distrust.

“They’re lovely, though. May I?” Christen asked as she pointed towards the flowers.

“Knock yourself out!” quipped Val.

“Mmm! Adorable!”

“Yes!” replied Val, “Anyway, is Philip in yet?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course, he is.  Remember that time a bomb went off on the underground?” Christen chattered away in her usual mindless chatter.

Val drew in a breath, pushing away the tension of the last ten minutes. She really needed to calm down, or she would be a nervous wreck by the end of the day.

18:25 p.m. October 13, 2004

Val eased her feet out of her shoes as she sat on the bus taking her back to Jones’ apartment. She’d had a hectic day, running around, organizing one display after another. They had a new exhibition about to go live within the next few weeks, and the gallery was barely ready to receive the pieces from the artists’ personal collection. Not to mention the private collectors who had agreed to loan their pieces. It was a security nightmare, and the featured artist was a screaming diva who kept demanding more and more security from them than was necessary or warranted.

She heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back in the seat. As she turned her head to the side to ease the kinks out of her neck, she thought she saw someone looking in her direction. Val thought she’d seen the same guy a few times today while she was running around in the gallery. She rubbed her eyes, thinking maybe she was concocting fake scenarios in her head, or perhaps she was just tired and her imagination was running away with her.

Whatever!

Val got off the bus and began walking towards Jones’ apartment. Her mind was so far away that she didn’t notice the running footsteps approaching her direction at first. When she was bumped violently by a man in a dark training suit who had continued jogging up the road, she was more than a little surprised and her natural reaction was to scream.

Panic gripped her chest, and she suddenly felt weak in the knees. What the hell was wrong with her? She’d conjured up all kinds of situations that day that a simple bump on the shoulder had her screaming as though someone was murdering her! The road wasn’t even that dark yet!

Val looked around, scanning the darkening street on both sides of her. She tried to decipher what was in the hidden corners and darkened spaces as she continued her trek through the streets, the stranger who’d bumped her, momentarily forgotten. She didn’t want to be a complete wimp, but this was too much for her. From all the weirdness of the day, her nerves were on edge. Her goal was to get to Jones’ place and leave all her worries on the other side of the door.

Since Damon had walked out so easily, she had a bad feeling about his motives. He had never left so quickly before, and she couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t it. It couldn’t possibly be that easy to make a break from him. He was too possessive, too in-control and she’d had enough of being controlled by him; by anyone for that matter!

Without warning, strong arms gripped her from behind, muffling her attempted scream with a large hand. Val’s heart jolted in her chest, the worst case scenario imagined in her mind. She was pushed roughly up against the wall, held immobile. Val whimpered. Fear coursed through her veins. Her breath stopped, unable to go in or out. There was no escape. She’d been overpowered in a few short seconds.

“Please…. D-don’t hurt me… Please!” Val stammered past the lump in her throat.  

“Bitch! Who said I wanted to hurt you?”

She gasped, “D-Damon? Please let me go. You’re hurting me.”

“Think it’s so easy to get rid of me so you can shack up with your new man, eh?” he accused.

“No! No, it’s not like that!” Val told him, shocked at the accusation.

“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed in her ear.

“Okay… Okay… Calm down!” Val begged, “Just let me go. We can talk like adults.”

“That’s the problem with you, always thinking I'm a kid! Thinking I'm not fucking good enough for you!” he shouted, pushing himself forcefully against her back.

“No! I never said that!” she whimpered.

“Well, you and everyone else is gonna see! I ain’t no little kid; I'm into big things now, baby; just wait and see!”

“Please, Damon. You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t fucking care!” he roared in her ear.

Val could tell that he was so close to losing control. The signs were all there, just like before when she’d ended up in the hospital because she’d tried to end their relationship. He’d beaten her unconscious, leaving her a nervous wreck for weeks after. She had no idea where he was going with this torment.

A sharp whistle was heard, causing Damon to release her slightly. Val looked towards the sound of the whistle and noticed the same tall man who had bumped her before Damon grabbed her, gesticulating at them.

“Don’t think this is over, bitch!” Damon warned Val.

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” they heard someone shout.

Damon turned, looking over his shoulder. Then he spat at Val, “I’ll be waiting, Val. I don’t forget my friends or my enemies!” He pushed her towards the floor, and then ran in the opposite direction of the sound of the shouting, booming voice.

“Val!” she heard someone call as she crumpled to the ground in fear and relief.

Val shook all over. She couldn’t grasp what Damon meant by his parting words.

Enemies!
What had she done to him to make her his enemy? She felt someone shaking her gently, but she could barely register what or who it was. Someone was helping her to stand, but the shock was so complete that she felt her head spinning with despair. She felt trapped and helpless.

Who would protect her from Damon? He knew where she worked, where she lived and now, where her sanctuary was.

She kept repeating over and over that she wasn’t safe. Val felt hands grabbing at her shoulders and shaking her gently, but she couldn’t make sense of the words coming from the slightly scarred top lip. The mouth and nose looked familiar, but the words coming out of the mouth were nothing more than white noise. She felt herself slipping into darkness as she was supported by strong arms that lifted her up.