Page 18 of The Kingpin’s Omega Lover (River City Omegas #2)

“So do I. We’ll get everything we can, I promise.

” He strode to the kitchen archway and rested one hand on Malori’s shoulder, unsure how much comfort to offer in the presence of others.

Malori’s shoulder trembled beneath his touch.

“I’ll get everything they used to identify this dead man as Yovani Alexie, every autopsy or police report with photos, and then we will verify if it’s Yovenko. ”

Malori gasped. “He can’t be dead. If he’s dead, then where is my son?”

“We’ll find him. Please, keep believing that.”

“I’m trying.”

When Malori’s chin quivered, King lost it.

He hauled Malori into his arms, wrapping himself around Malori’s quaking body as tightly as he could.

Malori buried his face in King’s armpit; he didn’t cry or sob, he just let King hold him.

King didn’t want to believe this news either.

He wanted Yovenko alive, so Malori could take his time killing the bastard. Someone else doing the job?

Unacceptable.

Feet scuffles and whispers nearby reminded King they weren’t alone. Malori released a deep sigh then pulled back, cheeks red but expression determined. He seemed to study King’s face first, then his mouth. King nodded, hoping to communicate he’d give whatever Malori wanted to take.

Malori grabbed the back of his neck and hauled King into a rough kiss that sent tingles of awareness down King’s spine. He didn’t dare deepen the kiss, not when he’d already exhausted Malori twice in the last twelve hours. Its intensity left the cut on his nose throbbing but King didn’t care.

“Thank you,” Malori whispered as he pulled back.

King winked. “Thank you , angel.”

“For real?” Kensley squealed. “When did this happen?”

“Last night.” Malori slipped his hand into King’s, a wonderful warmth King adored, and they both canted to face the other pair. “I guess, things technically started two mornings ago, but…yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Kensley padded around the big island and folded Malori into a hug. Malori never released King’s hand, though. “My goodness, I mean, I guess I’m not surprised. Okay, maybe a little, but also, not really.”

The babbling was adorable. King glanced over at Bishop, whose smirk told King all he needed to know.

King had been possessive of Malori since they met, and no matter what King had done to distance himself, his heart had already chosen.

The same way Bishop’s heart had chosen Kensley the moment they met again as adults.

“Crap, I have to pee,” Kensley said. “Be right back.”

Malori chuckled as Kensley walked away, then leaned more heavily into King. “We don’t have to advertise this to everyone who works for you, if you don’t want,” Malori said softly. “But it felt like something Kens and Bishop should know.”

“I agree they need to know, and I also think it’s prudent to keep this to ourselves. You’re already a target, because you can identify faces of Farm clients. I don’t want an even larger target on your back because people find out about our relationship.”

“Makes sense. I’m glad you didn’t want to hide this.”

“Never. Not from the people who matter.”

“If I may say,” Bishop said as he approached them from the far side of the island, “I’m happy for you both. Welcome to the family, Malori.”

Malori blushed and looked down. “Thank you.” He was still shy and submissive around other men, but with time and encouragement, King hoped he’d grow into the confident, demanding man King saw in private.

“It’s going to be a full house around here soon.”

King frowned. “How’s that?”

Bishop quirked an eyebrow. “Well, Kens is due in about two months, and even if this Yovenko fucker is dead, we still have resources to find Malori’s children.

And it might be easier now if this dead guy in Oklahoma is Yovenko.

Someone involved in handling the body must know something.

It’s simply a matter of persuading them to repeat it to us. ”

“Indeed.”

When Kensley returned from his bathroom break, the apple pancake assembly continued.

Malori assisted Kensley in cooking and turning the pancakes—“I still have so much to learn about cooking,” Malori had said more than once—while Bishop and King set the table with plates, syrup, butter, and juice.

The food was filling, the company divine, and they shared the meal with more ease than ever before.

This morning, it wasn’t only Bishop and Kensley, plus King, and also Malori.

It was two couples—one in love, the other still figuring things out.

King scraped the last of his final pancake into his mouth when his phone pinged.

The email from Ziggy. He fetched his tablet from the living room for easier reading.

Malori watched him with a pensive expression while King opened the file.

The autopsy showed major blood loss as cause of death, no other obvious bodily injuries besides the neck laceration.

Any trace or DNA evidence would take time to process.

No one had claimed the body, so it was staying at the mortuary until the police were done with it.

Ziggy noted he was trying to get access to medical records, too.

“Seems odd no one claimed the body,” Bishop said. “Even the shadiest criminals have family of some kind.”

Malori growled. “If he’s dead and has no other family, then where is my son?”

King couldn’t bear entertaining that question, not right now. First, they had to confirm this was the sire of Malori’s child. He scanned the autopsy report again. “Mal, how tall would you say Yovenko is?”

“Um, six-two or three. About your height. Why?”

“The autopsy says their guy was five-eleven. It’s not a huge difference, but it’s a difference. Brown eyes and blond hair?”

“Yes.”

“Weight?”

“I don’t know, he was slender. Not skinny, but not bulky like Bishop.”

“So, even at six-two, unlikely to weight two-thirty?”

Malori blanched. “Maybe he gained weight? It’s been a year-and-a-half since I’ve seen him. Anything is possible.”

“You’re right.” No mention of scars or tattoos on the victim, and Malori confirmed the same—none he’d ever noticed.

“Are there any photos?” Bishop asked. “The autopsy should have at least one of his face.”

“Hold on, I think there’s two.” He opened the autopsy attachment, which was grainy, black and white, and of a pale, mushy face. Not exactly the “handsome” guy who’d charmed Malori. He also found the work ID that had been Ziggy’s gateway to this dead guy. “Huh.”

“What?” Malori asked.

Another email pinged from Ziggy. King opened that before he showed Malori the two wildly different photos.

The social security card for Yovani Alexie, as well as an Oklahoma driver’s license connected to that number.

The license photo, last updated two years ago, showed a man who looked a lot more like the autopsy photo than the work ID photo.

No way Yovenko’s appearance could have changed that drastically in such a short period of time.

“Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice,” King muttered.

“Damn it, King, what?” Malori poked him in the ribs. Hard.

“Well, unless Aleks Yovenko is really good at makeup and latex disguises, he’s playing a game of fraud and identity theft.” King turned the tablet around so Malori and Bishop could better see the three photos, lined up together. King explained which was which and when they were taken.

“So Aleks stole this Yovani guy’s identity and posed as him?” Malori asked, incredulity arching his eyebrows and parting his lips. “Which one of them is actually dead?”

“I’m not sure, angel.”

“How is this possible?” Bishop. “Everyone we’ve spoken to about the Farm says Decker was meticulous in how he vetted clients. He didn’t invite just anyone.”

“No, but even the best security has a weakness somewhere,” Malori snapped. “Yovenko is a sociopath, the perfect liar. He made me believe he loved me and wanted a life with me and our son. Even Dr. Luther seemed to buy that Yovenko would pay for my freedom, and instead, he ran off with my kid.”

“Your doctor believed that?” King asked. “You never mentioned it before.”

“It didn’t really occur to me until now. Sure, she was pretty distant during my exams and clinical during the birth, but she was there…after.”

“After Yovenko absconded with your son?”

Malori nodded miserably, and King put his hand on Malori’s thigh.

“When Dr. Luther told me, I didn’t believe her at first. Then I…

lost it.” He touched a spot high on his forehead, right below his scalp, a thin mark King had noticed but never asked about.

“The apartment didn’t have any weapons, so I started bashing my head into the wall. Trying to end it.”

King released a distressed noise and scooted closer, grateful when Malori looped his arm around King’s waist.

“When I woke up, Dr. Luther was there,” Malori continued.

“She actually apologized for her part in what happened. She told me that as long as I was alive, there was a chance I’d see my children again, and she was right.

Even though I was completely broken after that, I stopped trying to actively kill myself.

I also stopped fighting back or defending myself, which is probably why they abducted Kensley to replace me.

I was used up.” He looked directly at Kensley and opened his mouth.

Kensley put up a staying hand, his own eyes bright. “Don’t you dare apologize again for my abduction. I told you if you did, I’d go into your closet and sew all the pockets in your clothes shut. Even that tiny little one on jeans that doesn’t hold anything.”

Malori hesitated then closed his mouth. Nodded.

“So, there’s a chance our Yovenko,” Bishop said, “or Alexie, or whoever the fuck he actually is, is a lot smarter than even the people behind the Farm. That makes him incredibly dangerous.”