Relief washed over him as he stepped into the busy waiting room. High Enfield Crown Court wasnotequipped to deal with such a large-scale trial, and people were packed together like a tin of sardines. He groaned as he wound through the crowd, whilst the baby karate kicked his ribs and tap danced on his bladder.
“Chill out, my girl,” he said, meandering towards the bathrooms at the end of the hall. Pulling out his phone, he was about to message Lucas to say he’d finished, when his face smashed into a rock hard wall of cotton silk and broad chest. Except the owner of said broad chest caught him by the shoulder, keeping him upright.
“Sorry—Oh, here you are,” Oliver said, scowling up at the six foot five sexy mafia boss. “I was about to text you.”
Lucas nodded and bent to kiss the top of his head, but Oliver jerked away. “Not here,” he whispered, eyes flitting to the gathering of news reporters at the far end of the waiting room.
“Were you the last to give evidence?” Lucas asked, directing them both towards the exit. The metal detectors pinged as they passed through, but the security guards only nodded and let them out.
“Of course. They wanted to go out with a bang.”
A sound rumbled in Lucas’ chest. “And did they?”
“Nah. More of a wet fart.”
Lucas chuckled, holding open the heavy double doors that lead to the freedom of the car park. “Did they bring up your history?”
Oliver shrugged, letting out a long sigh. “They tried, but the Judge quashed most of it.”
It was boiling hot as they stepped out of the air-conditioned building—the end of the British summer being as humid as ever. Oliver sighed as he slipped off his suit jacket, which Lucas took and hung over his arm. Oliver’s clothes felt tight, and everything ached. Not to mention he’d barely slept the night before; between the baby kicking his bladder, Lucas grunting in his sleep, and his brother texting him words of reassurance during the wee hours.
They’d all been restless in the week leading up to Oliver’s court appearance. That, combined with the twin pregnancies, sent the four-way pack bond fucking haywire. Oliver had laid awake long into the night, staring up at the ceiling of their moderately sized, newly renovated, four-bedroom cottage; thinking of all the ways he was going to be hauled over the coals the following morning.
It helped, however, that the cottage was in the arse-end of nowhere, and the nights were completely silent. Which was exactly how they liked it—Sasha, the cold-blooded mouse-catcher, included.
“Here,” Lucas said, handing him a packet of custard creams. “I thought you might need these.”
Oliver smiled as he looked down at the yellow packet, the swirling white font as familiar as ever. “Thanks, but I think I’m good.”
The alpha cocked an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright, Reed?” He pressed the back of his hand to Oliver’s forehead.
Oliver slapped it away with a grin. “I am. And I’m not an addict, you know?”
When they were clear of the car park, they both slipped off their lanyards and held hands. They walked towards the grassy park, taking the long route back towards the police station. Despite the heat, they’d had very little time to enjoy the summer that year. Building a complex case that was ready for court had takenmonthsof blood, sweat and tears from the entirety of Op Sceptre. A few of the Met officers returned to London, but many chose to stay; charmed by the country life.
“Oh, by the way,” Oliver said as they walked through a copse of apple trees. “Mum called. Asked if we fancy a bite to eat later. At least that’s what she said, but we both know it’s just an excuse to embarrass me with old baby photos.”
Lucas laughed. “It’s only fair, don’t you think? Pai’s shown you the entire back catalogue of my childhood, scrawny teenage years and all.”
Oliver chuckled and patted Lucas’ chest. “Eh, you weren’tthatscrawny. And besides,somethingneeds to level the playing field, given the handsome bastard you’ve grown up to be.”
Lucas’ lip peeled over his fangs as he wrapped an arm around Oliver’s waist. “I thought you were the handsome one?”
Oliver hummed and tilted his head. “I am. I married you for your charming personality. Oh hey, Hannah!” he said, waving to the blonde alpha as they met at the top of the park. “Nancy should be on her way back.”
Hannah nodded, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. “Ah, cheers Oliver. She said she was meeting me for lunch. I didn’t expect court to take so long.” The alphas nodded to one another as they passed on the steps.
When they finally made it back to the police station, the corridor to the Child Protection Unit smelled—once again—absolutely diabolical. “Fucking hell,” Oliver said, covering hisnose. “Why the fuck do they keep letting the boss cook fish in the microwave?”
Lucas chuckled, brushing his fingers along the small of Oliver’s back. “Because he’s the boss.”
Scowling, Oliver tapped a knuckle to Lucas’ sternum. “Well,you’regoing to be the boss soon. You better not even think about microwaving something so offensive.”
Because as it was, Inspector Callahan decided that he simplycould notimagine anything worse than managingtwoDetective Sergeant Whites in the final two and a half years of his career. So, he decided to take early retirement. Lucas passed the Inspector’s exam in the late spring, with the working agreement that he would take Callahan’s place the following autumn.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lucas said, splaying his hand across Oliver’s belly. He drew a little circle with his fingers, which made the baby kick in response. “Not when Oliver White is running the domestic abuse team just down the corridor.”
Oliver nodded, a serious expression crossing his face. “Long live smell-free work environments. See you at five?”
