Page 28 of The Kingpin’s Omega Lover (River City Omegas #2)

TWELVE

After exhausting himself swimming eight laps across the pool’s longest stretch, King pulled himself out of the water and collapsed on one of the lounges.

He needed to try and use the pool more, if possible, before they moved out.

His arms and shoulders were burning, and his legs were a bit jelly-like, but he felt amazing.

He and Malori had raced a little, but Malori wasn’t a strong swimmer.

He much preferred floating on his back, ears beneath the water, as if meditating to the rhythmic, muffled sounds.

Kensley and Bishop were in the pool, too, and had been for much longer.

Bishop had wrapped his bandaged wrist in plastic, and he’d been doing a good job of keeping it out of the water.

Kensley said it was a great way to exercise without putting too much stress on his back and joints, especially this late in his pregnancy.

King made a mental note to see about renting the whole pool for a private hour, so Kens could exercise regularly until the baby was born.

Good health was good for them both.

An attendant came over and inquired if King needed anything.

He asked for an Old-Fashioned. One drink wouldn’t hurt him.

While he sipped the slightly-sweet beverage, he watched his family enjoy themselves in the water.

Hartford was nearby, seated at table with a tablet, pretending to read while observing everyone in the vicinity.

He was due to switch shifts with Garvey soon.

As King gazed around the cavernous pool area, watching families splash together, couples swim in circles, and his own trio of loved ones exist in a newfound state of peace…

King wanted this to be his future. He couldn’t imagine it any other way: the four of them living somewhere fun, exciting, and most of all, safe.

This complex was safe enough, considering the people who lived here, but the city wasn’t safe.

He didn’t want Malori and Kensley to feel like prisoners for the rest of their lives.

Maybe spending extra months, possibly years, hunting down Marta and her crew shouldn’t be his priority.

After all, Oswald, his contact on the west coast, was also working to take their organization down in retaliation for kidnapping and selling his sister.

King could send him resources, maybe even some of his trusted employees, once he retired.

After they took down Yovenko and found Malori’s kids… that could be enough.

King closed his eyes as fleeting, haunting images of his horrendous childhood tried to surface.

Images that had fueled him for decades, pain he never seemed to be able to soothe, no matter how many criminals and sex traffickers he punished.

Maybe he’d never be able to punish enough; maybe vengeance wasn’t the path toward true peace.

Maybe…

Malori climbed out of the pool and wrung out the t-shirt he’d worn into the water, unwilling to show off the scars on his torso.

King didn’t blame him, even though most weren’t visible from a distance.

He padded over and accepted a towel from King.

Dried his face and wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

Sat on the lounge opposite King’s with a funny look on his face.

“Are you all right?” King asked.

Malori pulled the towel tighter. “I think I, um, need to use the facilities.”

“The showers and toilets are over there.” He pointed.

“I know, but something from lunch is sitting weird. I don’t want to, uh, in a public toilet.”

King nodded, understanding that dilemma. “I can go upstairs with you.”

“You don’t have to bodyguard me, King. It’s an elevator ride in a highly secure building. Do you really think I’ll be able to take a comfortable shit knowing you’re waiting around for me to finish?” Malori flushed and ducked his head.

“Okay, but at least take Hartford with you. Garvey is scheduled to come on-shift in five minutes. I’ll feel better knowing you aren’t alone, even on a short elevator ride.”

“Okay. Not that I’ll feel any better about Hartford hanging around while I take a shit.”

“If you think about it, it’s happened before, but it’s never actually crossed your mind until now.”

Malori opened his mouth then closed it. Huffed. “True. I really don’t want to give it anymore thought. I need to get upstairs.”

King waved at Hartford, who left his tablet on the table and walked over. “Malori needs to go upstairs for a little while. Please, go with him, and then return when he’s ready.”

“Of course,” Hartford replied. “What about you, boss?”

“Garvey is on his way in. We’ll be fine for five minutes.”

Hartford nodded. Malori blotted his clothes one more time, then left his towel on the lounge and headed out.

King watched them disappear before texting Garvey the slight change of plans.

Garvey acknowledged the text within seconds, and said he’d be there in three minutes or less.

King smiled at his phone; he kept these men close for a reason. Reliable, loyal, respectful, and early.

In the pool, Bishop and Kensley were slowly drifting around in the water, speaking too softly to hear, too far away to even try and read their lips.

King raised his phone and snapped a picture of them.

Looked at it. Light glinted off the water droplets on Bishop’s face, and Kensley’s smile radiated peace.

They were the perfect embodiment of joy, love, and hope.

Garvey arrived, paused to assess everyone’s positions, and then took over Hartford’s spot at the table.

King adjusted the rolled towel behind his head, tempted to lower his lounge and close his eyes, possibly take a brief nap.

But he hadn’t fallen asleep in a public place in as long as he could remember; a little chlorine in his eyes wasn’t going to make him drop his guard.

Dropping your guard got you killed.

He checked emails on his phone. Listened to a message from Ziggy that had come over two minutes earlier—nothing on the second disc.

King expected it, of course, but he was still disappointed.

Ziggy was looking at every detail in both videos of the nursery to try and find any clues, and he’d report back soon.

The pool doors opened, and a pair of young women entered, both wearing thin covers over their bikinis. They went to the opposite side of the pool from King’s family. Garvey clocked them, as well, much more subtly than King.

His phone said Malori had been gone for eleven minutes. Nothing worrisome. Sometimes nature took its time. He still texted Hartford, who replied that he was in the penthouse lobby waiting.

At the twenty-minute mark, and with the same response from Hartford, King’s hackles went up.

He trusted Hartford, but something wasn’t right.

He said to text King as soon as Malori appeared and wished to return to the pool.

King then told Garvey to stay and keep an eye on Kensley and Bishop, and that he was going up to the penthouse for a minute.

Garvey nodded and kept pretending to read his tablet.

He texted Malori’s phone, more out of habit than because he assumed Malori had it on him, or would reply before King arrived at the penthouse.

Many years of negotiations and tense situations kept King from pacing the elevator on the long ascent.

Hartford was seated on the lobby’s bench, angled toward the elevator, and he stood when King stepped out.

“Boss?”

“Stay here,” King said. “Don’t panic, I’m checking on Mal. It’s been a while.”

“Yes, sir, it has, but I didn’t want to disturb him.”

“It’s fine.”

King checked his private bathroom first. Empty. Annoyance rising, he looked in every bathroom on both floors, plus Malori’s old bedroom, the exercise room, the office, and the kitchen.

Malori wasn’t in the penthouse.

He took the stairs to the rooftop terrace. “Malori!”

His voice faded in the gusting wind and rising noise of the city all around him. Malori wasn’t up here, either. “That’s not possible,” he said to the sky. Other than the elevators and the roof, the penthouse didn’t have any other exit points. The emergency stairwell didn’t reach this high.

There were still hiding places, like the utility room, and the other empty bedrooms, but why would Malori hide?

He’d seemed perfectly fine at the pool, not a hint of fear or concern.

Before King alarmed anyone else, he started at the terrace and began a careful, room by room search of his penthouse.

Inside every closet, under every bed, no nook unchecked.

Malori was gone.

Furious and scared, King called Garvey. “Get Bishop and Kensley upstairs fast, but don’t scare them.”

“Yes, sir,” Garvey replied, not a single question asked.

King returned to the lobby, where Hartford was pacing. “Malori isn’t anywhere in the penthouse,” King snapped. “Is it possible he got on the elevator?”

“Not a chance,” Hartford replied, an affronted frown twisting his mouth. “I was here the entire time, hand to Heavenly Father. No one got on or off the elevator except you.”

“The others are coming up. I need exact floorplans for this unit, every square inch of it. Malori has to be here somewhere.”

“It should be on your computer, sir, with the other security protocol.”

“Good. When Bishop gets here, send him to my office.” King sprinted down the hallway, willing his heart to stay calm, his temper not to soar.

He was confused and out of the loop, and he hated those positions in any situation, but especially where his family was concerned. Where was Malori hiding? And why?

The only thing that made sense was, instead of needing to take a dump, Malori had felt the sudden onset of his fertile period, and he’d sought solitude to wait it out.

That would make sense, if he’d simply barricaded himself in his old bedroom.

This was bigger. Scarier. And it was the wrong time of the month.