Constable Karter Jenks slapped his open palm down on top of his messy desk, indulging in a brief outburst of frustration. He was alone in the office, his desk light the only one shining, because every other day constable had gone home hours ago. But this damned beta sex ring case was driving him insane in the worst way, because they had so few leads.

It had been three months since Karter had helped bust an illegal sex parlor and liberate four abused, kidnapped beta teens from captivity. While the four betas were home with their families, they had a long recovery ahead of them. Karter couldn’t imagine being forced into sex, much less over and over again. Then again, Karter was an alpha. Thanks to that status, no one had ever forced Karter into anything.

Okay, that wasn’t technically true. In some ways, his alpha father had forced him into joining the constabulary, because that was his father and two beta uncles’ careers. In the blood, so to speak.

Some days, Karter wasn’t sure he had the constitution for it, and as the youngest constable in the province, he faced additional challenges from older alpha constables. And cases like the sex ring—those four dirty, gaunt faces staring up when he first opened that storeroom door—haunted him at night.

So far, they’d only busted one alpha/beta couple for their involvement in the sex ring—and for the illegal adoption of an infant—but their suspects were tight-lipped and well-connected. They weren’t giving up any of their associates, and tracking down fraudulent credit accounts took time. These guys had a master money mover on their payroll.

He glanced at the round clock on the wall. Nearly one o’clock, and he was due back on shift at eight. Sometimes, when he was restless and couldn’t sleep, he’d head east to the Blue Line, a few square blocks of clubs and bars where a good time was easy to find. Lots of horny betas liked to get on their knees for an alpha in his sexual prime, like Karter, but that seemed empty tonight. Not enough.

Probably because other alphas around you keep finding their mates.

Too true. The constable he’d liberated the teen betas with, Tarek Bloom, had an omega bondmate, and rumor was they’d officially mated during Braun’s heat the previous weekend. No word yet if Braun was pregnant from the mating, but tests were difficult to trust until at least the third week after. Braun’s brother Kell had also met his alpha, and if two omegas ever deserved a little peace and happiness, it was them.

Karter expected to meet an omega and mate one day, but he was only twenty-three. He still had a few years before his parents would start pressuring him to start a family and carry on the family name. He was the only alpha among his three beta siblings.

His mobile rang, and he flipped it open without looking. “Jenks.”

“Are you still at the office?” his youngest brother Sloan asked. “Because you’re not in your bed.”

“I’m at the office. Wait, how do you know I’m not in my bed?”

“Because I’m at your place. Father’s being unreasonable again.”

Karter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “About university?”

“Yes. I have the marks, I got accepted, and he won’t let me go.” He could imagine Sloan stabbing at the air as he made each point.

This was an old argument with their conservative alpha father. University was for alphas. His beta sons would attend a trade school and apprentice for a job, not waste their time with books. It had never bothered Karter until he’d graduated from the constabulary academy and his younger siblings began graduating secondary school. Eron hadn’t fussed much about becoming an electrician, and Dain had followed in his footsteps a year later.

Sloan had half a year left at secondary, and he was undoubtedly brilliant. Smarter even than Karter, and part of Karter—the part that was opening his eyes to gender roles and harmful stereotypes—sympathized and believed Sloan should be able to attend. Betas went to university all the time now. They worked in the constabulary and law offices. The hospital and court building. Sloan could be anything he wanted to be.

But at the end of the day, the decision was Father’s, and he wouldn’t budge.

“You know you can’t run away to my apartment every time you and Father argue,” Karter said.

“It’s better than suffering through his angry glares and Omegin’s disappointed sighs,” Sloan retorted.

“Father is old-fashioned.”

“He’s a mean-spirited bigot.”

Karter bit back a sharp response, his temper flaring at a beta name-calling an alpha. But Sloan was upset, and Karter didn’t blame him. And as he’d begun to realize these past few months, alphas weren’t always right. Sometimes they were downright cruel.

He didn’t want to be a cruel alpha to his future omega, so Karter was listening and trying to learn. He could start by listening to his kid brother. “Father was raised with very conservative views, yes, but he’s still your father. You shouldn’t be disrespectful.”

Sloan grunted. “Does that mean I can stay here tonight?”

“Yes, just don’t drink my beer.”

“Your beer brand is nasty. I’ll steal your whiskey instead.”

Karter groaned. Was this what it would be like when he had his own teenagers to deal with? “Just…I’ll be home in a little while.”

“Okay. Everything all right at work?”

“Tough case, don’t worry about it.” Karter wanted to unload on someone about the shitty, unbreakable case, but not his eighteen-year-old brother. If Sloan had come from a poorer family, he could have been one of those kidnapped beta teens, and the thought made Karter sick to his stomach.

If anyone ever hurt one of his brothers the way those other betas had been hurt, Karter would tear their spine out through their throat. And then he’d really hurt them.

* * *

Karter’s building was in a middle-class section of the province, surrounded by nice shops and affordable restaurants. Nothing like the poor neighborhoods he routinely serviced as a constable. He parked in an attached garage and rode the elevator up to his floor, unsurprised to see none of his neighbors. It was late, after all.

The apartment door wasn’t locked, and Karter’s gut rolled with worry as training kicked in. He always kept the door locked, even when he was home, and the knob wasn’t supposed to turn easily. Hand on his service pistol, Karter slowly pushed the door open.

Lights blazed in the living room and attached kitchen, and the smell of slightly burned popcorn made him want to sneeze. Someone screamed, and Karter barreled into the room, thumb going for the snap on his gun. Music played too loudly, and it took Karter a moment to take in the scene: Sloan on his couch, eating popcorn, and watching TV.

“Goddess, kid, give me a heart attack!” Karter snapped.

Sloan nearly dropped his bowl. “What? Is the movie too loud?”

He slammed the door and snapped the deadbolt. “You left the door unlocked and you’re home alone? Are you crazy?”

“It’s a safe building. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you were here alone. In an unlocked apartment. This building doesn’t have a doorman.”

Sloan was watching him like he was insane—or one more rant from a slap. Something their father was known for on occasion, especially when he got on a tear.

Karter took a breath and tried to pull himself together. “I’m sorry I yelled. But my job…I don’t know what I’d do if I lost one of you brats.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I know, it’s okay.” He sank onto the couch next to Sloan, then punched him lightly in the thigh. “But if you’re here, keep the door locked, yeah?”

“Okay. I do watch the news broadcasts, you know. I know you’ve had a couple of tough cases.”

Karter gave his brother an assessing look, a little surprised to see him both determined and exuding compassion. More than any of the Jenks boys, Sloan looked the most like their omegin, with his blond hair and narrow features. “Yeah, it’s been tough. But it comes with the job.”

“I don’t think I could do your job. Getting that up close and personal with the evil things men do. Like that omega who was accused of murder a few weeks ago? Horrible.”

It had been horrible, and Karter had hated being part of that investigation. Some of the things that alpha had done to his omega were beyond sadistic, and Karter would never admit he’d shed a few tears of joy when the omega, Kell Iverson, was set free.

“That was an extreme example of abuse,” Karter replied. “Not all alpha/omega couples are like that. Father and Omegin aren’t.”

“I know.” Sloan leaned over so their shoulders touched. “I just wish I could do more, you know? More than a career as a plumber, or hauling crates down at the docks. I could be a lawyer if I wanted. I’m smart enough.”

“You are.” He ruffled Sloan’s hair because his brother hated that. “Do you want me to speak with Father?”

“No. Maybe?”

“I’ll stop by the house this weekend, maybe bribe him with his favorite pizza.” That gave Karter three days to come up with his argument.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. If going to university is what will make you happy, I’ll do what I can to get you there.” Even if it meant going against Father’s wishes and signing the university paperwork himself. His brother’s happiness came first.

* * *

“Another break-in was just reported down at River Row,” the radio dispatcher squawked. “Two hundred block.”

Karter stared at the rest of his half-eaten sandwich, tempted to tell the dispatcher he was on his break—except he hadn’t logged out for the break, choosing instead to grab a quick snack between calls. He picked up the handset. “Copy that.”

With the specific address ringing in his head, Karter headed toward River Row, which was half a step up from the rampant poverty of the Narrows. Both neighborhoods housed mostly beta couples, some of whom had adopted children. It wasn’t unheard of for extremely fertile alpha/omega couples to adopt out beta and omega children to betas, who were unable to naturally reproduce.

Karter couldn’t imagine giving up any of his own future children, but he also made a decent salary. Not all alphas did, for a variety of reasons, and too many mouths to feed was a strain on everyone. His family had always been lucky.

River Row was a collection of long blocks of attached housing near the river, but farther upriver from the industrial complexes than the Narrows, so it enjoyed fresher air and less grimy streets. Karter came here less frequently than the Narrows, but frequently enough that he found the house without any trouble.

A young beta couple loitered on the stoop, the taller of the two clutching an infant. They both looked spooked, which was understandable after a break-in. Karter put his hat on and approached slowly, trying to pull back on his instinctive need to posture in front of them. He was trying to do better with that around everyone.

“Constable Karter Jenks,” he said, offering his hand to the shorter man.

“Hi, I’m Piotr, and this is my husband Sandoval,” the beta replied.

“I’m sorry to meet you under such circumstances.”

“Us, too, believe me.”

Karter removed his notepad and pen. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Our son had a doctor’s appointment this morning,” Piotr said, obviously taking point on this. “After that, we went out to brunch, so we just got home a few minutes ago. The front door was locked, so we didn’t think anything was odd at first, but Sandoval noticed one of the downstairs windows was open. It’s too cold for that, so he took the baby outside while I looked around. Once I realized that food was missing and our stuff messed with, I called the emergency line.”

“Smart man. Do you have any reason to believe the intruder is still in the house?”

“I didn’t hear anyone moving around, but the open window is at the back of the house, so even if he was, he could have left by now.”

“All right.” Karter pocketed the pad and pen. “I’m going to go inside. Once I’ve cleared the scene, I’ll call in a forensics team to look for fingerprints, and you can look around and tell me what exactly is missing.”

“Okay.”

Sandoval still hadn’t spoken, but Karter didn’t take that personally. He unsnapped his service weapon and withdrew it, using it to lead his way into the house. The downstairs was messy, but fairly easy to search. He noted the open window and a broken bottle of mustard on the floor near the fridge. The scents of the three beta residents permeated the place, the infant’s fainter than the adults. Karter also scented something else, but it was muddled by cold air and the oddest odor of dirt. No basement, so he headed to the second floor.

Slowly up the creaky steps, ears open, senses alert to possible danger, but the house was silent. Both bedrooms were empty, but the nursery showed signs of being gone through, which was unusual. Who broke into a house to rob a baby?

Something pinged at his memory, but Karter ignored it until the search was over. That same dirt smell was up here, too. Closets were all empty of his suspect, the bathroom as well. No attic, so the house was officially clear. He called in for reinforcements as he returned to the stoop. Sandoval didn’t move very far from the front door, while Piotr led Karter through the house, both of them making a list of what he thought was missing. Mostly, the kitchen had been raided for food, which suggested the thief was a vagrant. But he hadn’t left any obvious mess behind, other than the mustard spill. Piotr also said that one of their containers of baby formula was gone.

“That’s a weird thing to steal, isn’t it?” Piotr asked.

“In certain dark markets, it’s tradeable,” Karter replied. But it was odd.

Upstairs, Piotr noticed a small stash of unbanked credits were missing, and in the nursery—

“Diapers.” Piotr nudged at a package with a smiling infant on it with his toes. “Seriously, I just bought this box. At least half the diapers are gone. And my spare bag of wipes.”

That memory niggled at Karter again. “Anything else?”

“I’m not sure. Without being able to touch anything, I just don’t know.”

“It’s all right. After we’ve been through and looked for evidence, you can do a more thorough search.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The forensics team arrived a few minutes later and broke off to do their thing. Karter hung out in the backyard, studying it. The small spot of land was separated from its neighbors by a waist-high chain-link fence, with a gate to an alley in the rear. The grass was carefully tended, no obvious footprints. Whoever had broken in knew what they were doing, but who stole food and diapers?

Vitamins and infant clothes.

Karter startled as an old, unsolved break-in rushed to the forefront of his memory. Not terribly old, maybe two weeks. A break-in less than three blocks from this address. An alpha called it in, after returning home from his omega giving birth and noticing things missing. The last of his omega’s prenatal vitamins, food, a new package of infant onesies, a blanket, and diapers.

Was someone out there, maybe an alpha, stealing for his omegin? Were they that poor? Even if the alpha was injured and unable to work, the provincial government would provide enough of an income to cover basic needs. Why steal?

Karter hadn’t caught any scents in the house that didn’t belong to himself, Piotr or Sandoval. Only that faintly sour, dirt scent, like something left outside in the summer sun too long. Except it was winter. The entire setup was strange, as was the previous burglary. Similar entry, no evidence left behind. No prints. No leads. And that scene had been left alone long enough that no strong scent of the intruder had been left.

An hour later, this case had the same thing: no prints, no evidence left behind. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. He did his best to reassure Piotr and Sandoval that this was most likely a one-time thing and they were safe, just remember to lock their windows at all times.

Eventually, Karter ended up back at the office to write his report on the burglary, and he was not very happy when Tarek Bloom plopped himself into the empty chair next to Karter’s desk. “Heard there was another burglary up at River Row,” Bloom said.

“Yeah.” Karter put his pen down and tried to show how much he didn’t want to talk by glaring at his fellow constable. Lucky, mated son of a fucker. “Didn’t take much of value, but I’ve got a patrolman talking to neighbors, looking for anyone who might have a security camera.”

Bloom nodded. “The folks who live out there are already stretched thin. Sucks to see them stolen from.”

“Damnedest thing is whoever broke in stole food, baby formula and diapers.” He wouldn’t normally discuss details of his case with anyone else, but Bloom had five years of experience on him. “Reminds me of a similar burglary two weeks ago, which was also baby stuff.”

“Hmm. Maybe there’s a vagrant omega stealing for himself and his son.”

“Omegas aren’t—”

“Omegas aren’t that smart,” his father’s voice said in his head.

Karter shoved that thought away, no longer interested in being influenced by his alpha father’s bigoted points of view. “It’s possible,” he said. “But why wouldn’t he come forward and ask for help? The courts would find him a home.”

Bloom shrugged. “Maybe he’s like Braun and he ran away from an abusive home. Maybe he’d rather live on the streets than risk another bad situation.”

“Maybe. All of this is hypothetical, anyway.” But it did make sense. Diapers and formula were not inherently valuable, unless you had no card and no credits to buy them. “So if you’re haunting my desk, I’m guessing Braun isn’t pregnant yet.”

“He’s got another week or so before the test will show anything.” Bloom smiled the smile of a happy, in-love alpha. “Goddess, I can’t wait to know for sure. The uncertainty is driving us both nuts. Braun’s nervous about carrying, for personal reasons, but we’ll both be happy no matter what happens.”

Karter had no actual reply to that. Bloom and his omega Braun had met under unusual circumstances, and while they’d felt the mating bond, they’d gone through Braun’s first heat without officially mating—which could only be done by an alpha knotting his omega bare and sharing his seed. Apparently, Braun had gotten over his fear of mating.

Karter couldn’t help asking, “Are you hoping for a pregnancy?”

“I’ll take whatever happens. All I want is for my omega to be happy.”

“Good luck either way, then.”

“Thank you.” Bloom stared at him a beat. “You thinking about looking for your own omega?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a little, but I haven’t been a constable for a year yet, and I’m kind of a workaholic. Besides, you didn’t go looking.”

“True, Braun did sort of get dropped into my lap.” He grinned. “Four months ago, I never would have imagined I’d be bonded, mated, and maybe looking to buy a house.”

“Buy a house?” Now Karter was impressed. “You really are settling down.”

“Yes, well, Ronin has been looking for a place for him and Kell, and Ronin and I have discussed looking for something that will accommodate both of our families, but we haven’t brought it up with our mates yet. Braun and Kell have been separated for so long that they deserve to live as close together as possible.”

Karter had interacted with Ronin Cross dozens of times during the Kell Iverson murder trial, and he had a lot of respect for the man. He’d traveled hundreds of miles to defend Kell from a capital murder charge, and not only had he exposed the Iversons as rapists and sadists, the constabulary had found ties to the beta sex trafficking ring. Senior Iverson was in prison awaiting multiple trials, and Kell was free to raise his infant son and be Ronin’s bondmate.

Jealousy for the two paired-up, happy alphas lit in Karter’s gut. Maybe he was more ready for an omega mating than he realized.

Doesn’t matter. Work first, mate later.

Father wasn’t putting pressure on him to mate and produce heirs yet, but it could start any day now.

“I hope the lead works out for you guys,” Karter said. “Braun and Kell deserve a good life.”

“Thank you. And now for the real reason I’m here.”

Karter frowned. “What?”

“Since you were part of the investigation that brought down Senior Iverson, Kell and Braun have been pestering me to invite you over for dinner as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I was doing my job.”

“Which is exactly what I keep saying, but when those two omegas join forces, I can’t say no. So I’m asking. Dinner tomorrow at my place?”

Karter didn’t turn down the invitation right away, because he wasn’t sure how to tactfully do so. He really was a workaholic with no active social life, so he wasn’t invited to dinner by anyone other than his own omegin. Occasionally he went out for drinks with his fellow constables. This was a personal invitation into someone’s home. The idea of spending two hours being entertained by two happy couples wasn’t terribly appealing.

So he had no idea why he said, “Yes, all right. Dinner.”

Bloom grinned. “Excellent. Dex and Serge might be there, too, but they haven’t committed yet. Serge is trying to switch his shift at the hospital.”

Dex Freel was a beta officer who worked in the constabulary’s main records room. Karter knew the man through work, and he’d met Dex’s husband Serge because of the Iverson trial. All he really knew about Serge was that he was a nurse at the provincial hospital.

“Not a problem,” Karter lied. One more happy couple. He needed to find some single friends.

I need to find friends, period.

“Six o’clock. I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay, thanks.”

After Bloom left, Karter started at the empty chair, a hollow pit in his stomach. He didn’t understand the feeling. He’d never felt strange around mated couples, and he’d never resented a dinner invitation to spend an evening with possibly three of them.

Maybe Karter wanted a bondmate of his own more than he realized. But wanting a bondmate wasn’t going to help him find this burglar, so he shut down those thoughts and got back to work.