"I don't know, Sarge. That rulebook is lodged pretty good up there. Might be a cold day in the Serengeti before it gets removed. Now, you said something about another inmate needing medical care?"
"Cold day in the Serengeti… good one. Yeah, take Officer Tyler if you need assistance. This guy is tall and probably tops the scale around two forty. Not sure what to charge him with, so he hasn't been processed completely."
I barely kept my mouth from dropping open. "Wait. You have a prisoner that hasn't been charged and is receiving delayed medical treatment while we shoot the shit? Am I understanding this correctly? Sir, this breaks several rules and procedures."
Sarge’s good ol’ boy smile died out as he narrowed his eyes. "Look, the guy was found passed out in the men's room at Club Viper. He looks homeless and his prints aren’t in the system, despite the Elite Special Ops tattoo he's got on his bicep. I'm guessing we’re looking at another homeless vet who had too much to drink. Because we can't get him to wake up, he needs to be at the hospital. And yes. He should've been taken there straight from the club, but that's between me and the officers who brought him in. Your job is to get him help. Now are you going to do that, or are you going to stand here and argue about regulations?"
"I'm on it, boss. Just tell me where to go." I clenched and relaxed my jaw, reminding myself that this job was short-term. As soon as I figured out my shit, I'd be moving on and out of the rule of these humans who had no respect for hierarchy. If the sarge were a shifter, he'd be more respectful to me as an alpha, whether or not I was his subordinate. It wasn’t that I needed my ass kissed, but respect would be appreciated.
"Tyler's getting him loaded on the rig, so head over to Bay Two. Until he wakes up, he's a John Doe with no prints on file, so don't lose him." Sarge chuckled like his joke was funny but it wasn't. It was highly irregular and showed no respect for the prisoner, me, or our system. But... the man needed medical help so I was going to get it for him.
Bud Tyler was helping a pair of EMTs get the gurney loaded into the back of the rig when I approached. I noted immediately that John Doe also had no scent, so it was impossible to tell if he were human or shifter without looking more closely than I dared risk in front of my human coworkers.
He was shirtless, wearing only ripped jeans and one tennis shoe. His bare foot was filthy and caked with dirt, as if he'd been dressed like this for a while. Curious. And definitely not standard homeless vet chic, I didn’t care what the sarge or the arresting officers thought. Something was off here.
Bud glanced up. "Good, you made it. Unless you need me, I need to take my break. This juice cleanse Christy has me on for the wedding is hell, bro. Trust me, don't ever do it."
I snorted a laugh. "I've got this. Go ahead and take your break."
"Notice how I'm not hanging around to argue? I'm telling you, juice cleanses are not for the weak. See you on the flip-flop." Bud bumped knuckles with me and took off while I climbed inside the rig. The EMTs shut the doors and rode up front, leaving me alone with the inmate. I studied him during the short trip, but my mind was on Kyle. Maybe after work, tonight would be a good time to let my puma go for a run in the desert.
My puma had been itchy for months, wanting to run… among other things. Mostly, he was pissed at me for not accepting our mate. I was just lucky enough that Kyle was apparently too ditzy to understand what we were supposed to mean to each other. He hadn't seemed to pick up on my scent like I’d smelled that fresh sage on him—or he was choosing to ignore it—and I wasn't going to rush things along.
For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why the Fates would have destined two alphas to be mates. Especially when our animals were so different. I’d finally had to ask what he was when I couldn’t figure out the scent of his beast. On some shifters, it was easy to pinpoint their beast from the slightly musky fragrance we carried even in human form. When Kyle had told me he was a quokka, I’d been so clueless I’d had to Google it. I still couldn’t wrap my brain around someone that long and lean turning into a pudgy little rodent with a permanent smile.
Cute or not, I didn’t see a way for us… no matter what the Fates decreed. As a puma alpha, it was hardwired into me to create a family of my own and carry on my line. My puma had been ready to pick up the reins and lead a pack for several years now, another bone of contention between my human and animal sides.
But without a proper mate, how was I supposed to start a pack? And no matter how cute Kyle was, an omega he was not. Damn the Fates anyway for putting us in this position.
Until I figured out how to deal with an alpha for a fated mate, I wasn't in a rush to push things in a romantic direction with Kyle. But damned if it wasn't tempting... I was startled from my thoughts when the prisoner—if you could call him that when he hadn't been officially processed—moaned, his eyes flashing open long enough for me to see a cloudy patch of blue.
I shook his shoulder. "Sir? Are you awake? Can you talk to me?"
One of the EMTs looked back and shook his head. "We're pulling in now, officer. Leave him for the medical peeps."
I barely resisted the urge to growl. I didn't like being told what to do on my best day, but something about this inmate was making me feel downright possessive. Another thing to wonder about later; right now, I needed to stay in control and keep charge of the situation.
At least, that had been my plan. Everything happened in a blur as soon as we took John Doe inside. Kyle was there with a team of other medical people one moment, and the next, we were alone in a small exam room like normal.
Except this time, Kyle wasn't making a secret of using his gift. I was both jealous and disgusted when Kyle burrowed his nose into the man's armpit before he looked up at me in dismay.
"This is going to go against everything you believe in, but I'm going to have to ask you to trust me. First, deep breath! I'm your mate and I need you to help me escape with this prisoner." When I didn't respond other than to lift a brow and motion for him to continue, Kyle did a double-take but did just that.
"Okay, so here's where you'll need to trust me because he has no discernable scent right now. This man is a shifter who is suffering from Rhubarb poisoning. It's inhibiting his ability to shift, blocking his scent, and most important to note… it’s slowly killing him. If I don't help him now, he will be dead by morning. But, Niles? He's really our mate. Our third that will make us whole. He's our omega. Yours and mine to share. This means you need to help me protect him."
I'm not sure why, but I did trust him. And for once, I was ready to break a rule or twenty. Not to mention the fact that a shared omega fixed the double alpha problem. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Maybe the Fates did know what they were doing… I shook that thought off and put it aside for later.
I gave Kyle a quick nod. "Okay. If we spring him from custody and escape, we'll need to leave town. I can get us out of here, but I'm not sure what we'll do next."
Kyle quirked a brow. "Really? That's your only take away? No questions about how I'll cure him? It’s an easy enough fix that involves a tincture of milk thistle, California poppy, and goldenseal, for the record. I just need to burn it and let him breathe the steam. No comment on me being your mate either? Forgive me for saying so, but this feels a little anticlimactic after I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you for so long."