Page 26 of The Kingpin’s Omega Lover (River City Omegas #2)

The DVD was clean. Not a fingerprint, not a tiny hair, or even a smear of DNA.

Ziggy had gone above and beyond in having the disc tested.

There was no way to track the brand or anything else about it.

The DVD was as clean and generic as a blank piece of paper.

Ziggy had even looked at the post office’s security footage for the entire day the box was postmarked.

Spotted the person who brought the box in.

No good image. The postage had been paid in cash.

Malori looked at grainy black-and-white photos of the sender, and he confirmed it wasn’t Yovenko.

Too short, too skinny. Ziggy was still looking at traffic cam footage from the area, hoping to spot something, but so far, nothing useful.

It didn’t surprise King, but it did worry him.

Yovenko was smart. Too smart, which made him one of the most dangerous people King had come up against.

Malori wasn’t as upset about the dead-end as King expected.

Not even resigned. He accepted the information, completely unsurprised by it.

And during the few days it took Ziggy to collate this information, King was busy with the Lynn deal, which Bishop had been working on when the DVD arrived.

Their percentage of the completed gem deal—hopefully by this coming Monday—would be a good nest egg that King planned on investing in some private property somewhere south.

He’d been eyeballing a few possible islands in the Caribbean. He wanted to take his family away from this cold, dreary northern city.

But beyond the financial windfall, the completed deal should provide enough good will with Lynn to get information on Marta. A location would be ideal, but even the name of a close ally was useful.

Monday was the deadline, which gave him the looming weekend to catch up on old contracts that needed to be finalized or sold; give references to employees he’d be letting go over the next few months as he untangled from his old life; unload private properties held by his shell corporations, like the warehouse where Landau had gasped his last breath.

They obviously couldn’t flee to the Caribbean until Malori’s children were tracked down, but King wanted everything in place and prepared for that eventuality.

On Thursday afternoon, another DVD arrived.

Same postmark, same kind of box, same brand of disc.

Malori and King watched it alone in his office.

The four new scenes were more graphic and, by Malori’s description, seemed to go in reverse order.

The first was about eight seconds of Malori and Yovenko passionately…

well, fucking, while Malori was heavily pregnant.

It had taken all of King’s self-control not to throw the damned computer monitor across his office.

Rage rippled through him like spreading wildfire at the sight and sound of it, knowing Malori’s enjoyment was real, while Yovenko’s was a manipulation.

The next two were similar, with the size of Malori’s belly shrinking.

No words, only grunts and moans. The expressions on Malori’s face were difficult to discern, but Malori described how he’d begun trusting Yovenko over the course of their interactions.

Trusting in Yovenko’s promises of a life together, always made before and after the sex.

King abhorred the way his lover had been manipulated.

The final scene, though, seemed to be that same green-walled nursery from the first DVD.

The outline of the baby was visible in the crib, but instead of focusing on him, it panned around the room, showing off a picture of cartoonish bear cubs, a closed brown door, a changing table, and a rocking chair.

Bare bones, functional, not terribly stimulating for a one-year-old.

Not that King knew fuck all about children, but weren’t nurseries usually done up in bright colors to stimulate a kid’s brain? Or something?

“Now he’s fucking taunting us,” King snapped after the disc ended. “It’s as if he wants me to use a rusty steak knife to slowly carve his spine out of his back, one vertebrae at a time, while he’s strapped to a cold metal table with his dick and balls in a vise.”

“I hadn’t thought of that one.” Malori’s face was blotchy but dry of tears, and as furious as he’d been on Monday. “Although I’d probably use a paring knife. Shorter blade, better grip.”

“Your vengeful streak is a huge turn-on.”

“Good.” Malori twisted around on King’s lap, where he’d chosen to sit for this viewing. “Because I meant what I said about wanting to kill. It’s fair.”

“Yes, it is.” King didn’t like the idea of Malori killing, because causing a death by accident, or even killing in the heat of the moment like with Decker, were not the same as deliberately ending another person’s life.

But Malori had suffered more than most, and it wasn’t King’s place to control Malori’s choices.

Inform them, yes, out of love. But not control them.

Malori searched his face. “Will you look at me differently after I kill him?”

“Of course, I will. I’ll see you as the brave, strong, and dare I say, ruthless man that you are. The way you want to go out of your way to protect your family, to proactively protect them, reminds me of me. Well, my better qualities.”

Malori smirked. “I’ve only known you for six months, but I’ve yet to see a bad quality in you.”

“Give it time. Eventually, you’ll discover something about me you hate.” King had done well controlling his temper around Malori. Around Kensley, too. But King had helped more than one man die a slow, painful, piece-by-piece death, with nothing but fury in his heart. He wasn’t a good person.

Maybe, deep down, Malori wasn’t a good person either—and that made them perfect for each other.

“I don’t worry about your flaws,” Malori said. “Because I know that sooner or later, you’ll find something you hate about me, too. But isn’t that part of getting to know someone? Learning the good, the bad, the ugly, and the unforgivable?”

King sifted his fingers through Malori’s blond curls. “Isn’t part of loving someone finding ways to forgive those unforgivable things?”

Malori sighed and rested his head on King’s shoulder. “I don’t know. But it sounds pretty fucking amazing.”

“Yeah.” They sat together for a while, holding each other. “Want me to burn you a copy before I send the DVD to Ziggy?” Even though he knew the results would be the same, he had to try. To make sure he was taking every possible step, exhausting every option and investigative opportunity.

“Yes, thanks. Today?”

“I’ll do it right now.”

After King burned the copy for Malori, he left it on the desk for him.

Kissed Malori gently on the mouth, then excused himself to hand off the original DVD to a courier.

He didn’t mind leaving Malori alone in his office; Malori had been spending a lot of time there the past few days.

He’d studied the first DVD for hours on end, and even printed a few screenshots of his son to create a small collage of his precious, newborn face.

King had created a log-in profile for Malori on his computer, so Malori could access the internet and have privacy—and to protect King’s own business files. As curious as King was about Malori’s time spent in his office, he’d never breach Malori’s privacy by logging onto his account.

He trusted Malori.

Kensley approached him in the hallway, his big eyes sad. “Was that one as bad as the first? The DVD?

King wasn’t sure how to reply. “It was similar but different.” Before Kens could get huffy over the non-answer, he added, “If Malori wants you to know the details, he’ll tell you. It’s not my place.”

“I know, but I had to ask.” Kensley glanced down the hall to the closed office door. “Do you think he wants company?”

“I’m not sure, but it won’t hurt to ask. It wasn’t such a shock to see his son this time.”

“Okay.” Kensley took a step to the side then paused. “Do you need a hug?”

King smiled. “I’m fine, but thank you. Go, check on your friend.”

Kensley gave his wrist a squeeze as they passed each other. King appreciated the gesture, and he adored Kens for respecting his boundaries. The only person whose casual touches didn’t startle King was Malori.

Unfortunately, he didn’t see Malori or Kensley again for the rest of the day.

Business took King out of the penthouse and kept him busy until long past dinner.

Ziggy confirmed he received the new DVD.

He sifted through reports from three different private investigators working on tracking down associates of the Farm—no good leads.

King was exhausted by the time he slid into bed beside a snoring Malori, sometime around midnight. He woke with Malori plastered against his side and already awake, watching him with an intent expression. King hoped that intent meant body parts were going to get involved.

Malori startled him by asking, “Can we go to the pool today?”

The building had an indoor pool, sauna and spa on the fifth floor, which was available to residents twenty-four-seven. Outside visitors were only permitted on the weekend, during certain hours, and since it was Friday, the risk was much smaller, especially with their bodyguards.

This was the first time Malori had ever asked about going to the pool.

Malori rarely wanted to leave the penthouse for any reason—and not just because he understood King had a lot of enemies.

He also feared being recognized by any of the hundreds of people he’d “entertained” at the Farm. They could be anyone and live anywhere.