7 Degrees of Alpha (a collection of seven new BWWM, Alpha Male Romances) by et al Phoenix Daniels Sara Allen
Authors: et al Phoenix Daniels Sara Allen
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forehead, sliding it into the back of his low-slung jeans.
She’d always hated him wearing his trousers like that; it was so freaking ghetto. It said a lot about the man and his mentality, as though he was never willing to pull himself out of that foolishness. Val released a slow breath, trying not to let Damon see that he was getting to her. She had to stay calm. Maybe she could talk him out of this ridiculous hostage plan he was hell bent on following. Either way, Val had to get out of there before he did something they would both regret.
Eight
02:40 a.m. November 18, 2004
“Any news from forensics about that body we found earlier?” Doug asked, setting the coffee cup on the table next to Jones’ limp hand.
Jones grunted, not answering yes or no to the question. It had been nearly eighteen hours since Val had been taken.
“We’re going to find her. Don’t think about it or it’ll cripple you,” Doug continued.
“I shouldn’t have let her talk me into getting her a car. Otherwise, I would have been there. I would have fucking been there!”
“It’s not your fault. How could you know that someone would snatch her?” Doug asked.
“I know who took her though, Doug. I just don’t know where the fuck he is!” Jones informed him, pulling on his long, black locks.
Jones had a determined look about him, a look that said what he felt deep inside if he could get his hands on Damon. Damon was a step ahead of him. Whatever resources he had were fool proof, well organized, and he was clearly not working alone.
The desk phone rang, and Doug grabbed it before Jones had a chance to. Jones looked at him intently, as Doug listened to the speaker in silence.
“You’re sure?” Doug asked into the phone. Then he listened for a second and replied, “We’re coming down right now. You tell him because I'm not!”
Doug replaced the phone and began walking towards the door.
“Where’re we going?” Jones asked as he followed closely behind.
“Downstairs. Forensics.” Doug refused to say anymore.
****
“Speak!” Jones ordered Paterson, the police forensic officer, as they barged through the door.
“Hello to you too!” Paterson said, “Well, the victim was a missing girl from a few weeks ago. Missing persons has been searching for her for a while after her family reported her missing. They said the last person she was seen with was a Clyde Stevens. But nothing has been heard from him since then either.”
“Get to the point,” Jones ground out.
“ Patience … Anyway, Clyde Stevens was identified as the victim from last week, the one who turned up in that abandoned car; the mutilated, drug-ridden body that was the assumed ritual killing. But this points to another angle.”
“And what angle is that?” Jones asked.
“I'm getting to that. The car that the body was recovered in was your girlfriend’s stolen car. Someone switched the plates, that’s why we weren’t able to match up the evidence,” Paterson confirmed.
Jones went cold with the realization that this was something that had been planned weeks, if not months, in advance. How it all connected to Val, he wasn’t sure, but his fear for her had gone up more than a notch or two. He had to find her and soon .
“Were there prints on the purse? Any evidence on the clothing?” Jones asked. The case was beginning to cause shock to inch up his spine. There was something about the case that niggled his thoughts and grit his teeth in denial.
“We’re still running tests on the DNA we found. But here’s the interesting thing; Clyde was running with a couple of guys that were identified as having links to drug crimes, money laundering, gun running, that sort of stuff. Now here’s the relationship between Val’s kidnapping this morning and that body we found…”
“What?” Jones grated out, anxious to have his theory proven valid.
“Damon Blake. That’s the link. Mr. Blake was best friends with Clyde. They did some
She’d always hated him wearing his trousers like that; it was so freaking ghetto. It said a lot about the man and his mentality, as though he was never willing to pull himself out of that foolishness. Val released a slow breath, trying not to let Damon see that he was getting to her. She had to stay calm. Maybe she could talk him out of this ridiculous hostage plan he was hell bent on following. Either way, Val had to get out of there before he did something they would both regret.
Eight
02:40 a.m. November 18, 2004
“Any news from forensics about that body we found earlier?” Doug asked, setting the coffee cup on the table next to Jones’ limp hand.
Jones grunted, not answering yes or no to the question. It had been nearly eighteen hours since Val had been taken.
“We’re going to find her. Don’t think about it or it’ll cripple you,” Doug continued.
“I shouldn’t have let her talk me into getting her a car. Otherwise, I would have been there. I would have fucking been there!”
“It’s not your fault. How could you know that someone would snatch her?” Doug asked.
“I know who took her though, Doug. I just don’t know where the fuck he is!” Jones informed him, pulling on his long, black locks.
Jones had a determined look about him, a look that said what he felt deep inside if he could get his hands on Damon. Damon was a step ahead of him. Whatever resources he had were fool proof, well organized, and he was clearly not working alone.
The desk phone rang, and Doug grabbed it before Jones had a chance to. Jones looked at him intently, as Doug listened to the speaker in silence.
“You’re sure?” Doug asked into the phone. Then he listened for a second and replied, “We’re coming down right now. You tell him because I'm not!”
Doug replaced the phone and began walking towards the door.
“Where’re we going?” Jones asked as he followed closely behind.
“Downstairs. Forensics.” Doug refused to say anymore.
****
“Speak!” Jones ordered Paterson, the police forensic officer, as they barged through the door.
“Hello to you too!” Paterson said, “Well, the victim was a missing girl from a few weeks ago. Missing persons has been searching for her for a while after her family reported her missing. They said the last person she was seen with was a Clyde Stevens. But nothing has been heard from him since then either.”
“Get to the point,” Jones ground out.
“ Patience … Anyway, Clyde Stevens was identified as the victim from last week, the one who turned up in that abandoned car; the mutilated, drug-ridden body that was the assumed ritual killing. But this points to another angle.”
“And what angle is that?” Jones asked.
“I'm getting to that. The car that the body was recovered in was your girlfriend’s stolen car. Someone switched the plates, that’s why we weren’t able to match up the evidence,” Paterson confirmed.
Jones went cold with the realization that this was something that had been planned weeks, if not months, in advance. How it all connected to Val, he wasn’t sure, but his fear for her had gone up more than a notch or two. He had to find her and soon .
“Were there prints on the purse? Any evidence on the clothing?” Jones asked. The case was beginning to cause shock to inch up his spine. There was something about the case that niggled his thoughts and grit his teeth in denial.
“We’re still running tests on the DNA we found. But here’s the interesting thing; Clyde was running with a couple of guys that were identified as having links to drug crimes, money laundering, gun running, that sort of stuff. Now here’s the relationship between Val’s kidnapping this morning and that body we found…”
“What?” Jones grated out, anxious to have his theory proven valid.
“Damon Blake. That’s the link. Mr. Blake was best friends with Clyde. They did some
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