There was a horribly long pause as Pember held his breath.
“Nah. Come on, let’s get you dried up. I need at least another five cocktails if we’re gonna make this evening bearable.”
Can’t argue with that.
The tap sounded again, followed by the loudwhooshof the hand dryer. Pember’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth, but he took the opportunity to look at his phone.
‘Do you want a lift?’came the message from Blake.
Pember swallowed and tapped a silent reply. ‘Yes please. Could you pick me up at the bus station?’
Because there was no way in hell he was letting Maya see him getting into Blake’s car.
‘Twenty minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
When the hand dryer fell quiet and the bathroom door clicked shut, Pember let out an almighty breath. “Fuuuck,” he whispered, getting to his feet. What a horrendous turn of events.
Brushing off his jeans and straightening his shirt, he stepped out of the cubicle to splash some water on his face. He stared at himself in the mirror, long and hard. He looked tired, as he always bloody did. But there was something elsein his expression that he had never seen before. Hardness. Almost like… resilience. Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders and cracked his neck.Teeth and tits.That was what Oliver had taught him.Chest out, big smile, and walk.
During his time in the bathroom, the music had been turned up and a few of the tables pushed to the side. Shuffling up to the bar, he ducked under a burly man’s arm and wound his way through the crowd. A few disgruntled tuts were lobbed his way, but he found it difficult to care.
The bartender caught his eye and trotted over. He ordered the cosmo, vodka martini and a shot for himself. If he was going to make a rude and unexpected exit, he needed a little Dutch courage.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear. “You might be a cute little science guy, but there’s a queue.”
Pember’s head snapped up, coming nose to nose with Taylor. His thick mane of chestnut hair hung foppishly around his face, and one of his deep amber eyes winked at him.
Pember blanched. “O-oh, sorry, I didn’t?—”
Taylor waved the comment away, turning Pember back to the bar by his shoulders. “I didn’t know you came here, little Pember. All on your own?”
Taylor’s chest was pressed tight against his back, the warmth of his body radiating through Pember’s shirt. Then another large presence appeared at his left shoulder. Johnny.
“Howdy,” he said, tipping an imaginary cowboy hat. His shirt was so tight it was practically sprayed on. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Pember swallowed, the overwhelming presence of the two alphas making it difficult to think. “H-hi, guys,” he squeaked, turning his head and staring directly at the bar. “Busy day at the office?”
“Pff, please,” another voice spoke to his right. “These tool bags wouldn’t know a busy day if it jumped up and slapped them in the face.”
Samantha.Oh good, three alpha police officers penning him in.Taking a long breath, Pember pressed his hands to the bar. “Hello, Samantha.”
Johnny smiled. “It’s one of the only police-friendly places in town. Just a shame it’s right next tothatshithole.” He inclined his head towards the Nock and Ore.
The bartender dropped the vodka shot in front of Pember, and he drank it without so much as a backwards glance. The alcohol burned his throat, and Taylor whistled in appreciation. Then, an idea struck him. With a totally fake smile, he turned to Taylor and ran a hand up the length of his forearm.
“You know,” Pember said, looking up at him through his eyelashes. Taylor swallowed and leant into him. “We’re having a party over there. Why don’t you and the others join us?”
Taylor glanced over his shoulder at the table, then back at Pember. “Oh shit, is that Maya?”
“Uh-huh, and a few other omegas.”
Pember nibbled his lip before letting it pop out again. Taylor’s breath puffed across his face, his pupils dilating ever so slightly.
Samantha raised a brow and narrowed her eyes, as though mentally taking notes. Taylor glanced over at Johnny, who grinned, then at Samantha. She scowled.
“You go,” she said, flicking her eyes to the table. “The missus will fucking kill me if I come home smelling of omega. No offence.”
