“T-Thank you. That means more than you know,” he replied, the blush spreading from his ears to his cheeks. “But you’re right, my temper has gotten me in trouble more times than I care to admit. It’s something I’m… working on.”
Lucas chuckled, coils of hair falling across his forehead. “So what’s your assessment, DC Reed?”
Oliver ran his tongue over his teeth and shrugged. “My initial assessment is that, yes, she was being groomed by Adrian Moore. My second is that sex traffickers tend to prey on omegas in order to control their heat. Helena is an alpha, however, she also falls into the category that we lovingly refer to in the child protection world as ‘broken biscuits’.”
“Broken… biscuits?”
“Yeah. It’s like when you scrape the bottom of the barrel and you find a biscuit that’s got a piece missing. You tell yourself that you shouldn’t really have another biscuit, because you already put on a stone over the summer. But because it’s broken, it doesn’t count. Nobody will notice or judge you for it. Ergo, Helena is alone and unloved, with both parents in prison. No one will notice if she’s scooped up by a clammy little pervert with his fat little biscuit-grabbing fingers. In reality, they were probably training her to find and recruit other kids, but it seems like you disrupted that plan when you arrested Moore.”
“Which is why they picked her, despite presenting as an alpha?”
Oliver turned to Lucas, giving him a pointed look. “She is a child first and foremost. More vulnerable than you could ever imagine. Regardless of her secondary sex.”
A low rumble resonated from deep in Lucas’ chest. “You really care about them, don’t you? The kids.”
Oliver’s eyebrows pinched together. “Of course. Christ knows I don’t do this for the money.”
They gazed at one another for a long moment, the January breeze nipping at their cheeks. Oliver studied the alpha’s face—the dark circles under his eyes, the worry lines between his brows, the tense muscle cording his jaw. The man’s warm eyes and confident smile masked how tightly wound he truly was.
“I’m going ask the Inspector to assemble a team, Reed.”
Oliver had been expecting it. That one meeting alone had uncovered too many inquiries for one person to handle, not to mention the sheer scope of what they might be about to uncover. What he hadn’t expected was for Lucas to say, “I want you there with me.”
Well, wasn’t the Italian mafia boss just full of fucking surprises?
Oliver glanced down at his hands, frowning when he realised he had been wringing them together. He wanted to say, “Yes, of course I’ll help you bring down a child sex trafficking ring!”But another voice niggled at the back of his brain, one that said, “No! Stay away from the sexy mafia boss, our dick can’t take any more of these shenanigans!”
Instead, he mumbled incoherently, “I…oh, well, you see…I’m flattered, but?—”
“Reed,” Lucas said, his deep voice cutting through his indecision. “You don’t have to answer right now. Especially after…” He gestured between the two of them. “As I said, that was extremely unprofessional of me.”
Oliver sighed, but then laughed. “It was…but I suppose between you, me and Shirley fucking Spencer we’ve cooked up enough unprofessionalism to sate the HR department for an entire year.”
Then they were both laughing. “You know,” Lucas said, shaking his head. “You aren’t at all what I expected when I stepped into the Child Protection Unit at West Newton Constabulary.”
Oliver cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? What were you expecting?”
Lucas shrugged. “A bunch of tea drinking, Clifford-the-Big-Red-Dog-loving, grannies.”
Oliver barked out a laugh. “Excuse me,” he said, tapping his knuckles against Lucas’ arm. “Whilst weindeedconsume metric boat-loads of tea, we prefer Bluey to Clifford. As for grandmothers… I’ll take that as a compliment because my nan is a force to be reckoned with.”
Lucas’ mouth pulled into a grin, the same lovely smile he had seen once before. It was enough to make his chest ache.
“Then it must run in the family,” he said.
Oliver flushed. “I hope so. I’d love to have even an ounce of her brilliance. She swam the Channel at eighty-one years old. Incredible woman.”
Just then, Oliver’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Matteus.
‘Hey, you okay? Any issues? How’s Helena?’
Oliver sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “We should get back. You’re going to have to come up with a bloody good sales pitch if you want to convince Inspector Callahan to run the investigation. He might look like a bumbling idiot, but he’s a dragon in sheep’s clothing. Believe me.”
Lucas nodded, straightening his jacket. “Right. But I’m driving. Just becauseyou’rehappy to be compared to your grandmother doesn’t mean you have to drive like one.”
Oliver gasped and covered his chest in mock offence. “You cheeky bugger. I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver.”
Lucas smirked. “For a pensioner.”
