Chapter Text
"I like 'em big. I like 'em chunky."
Your hand snapped out and grabbed your cell phone, thumb swiping over the screen and ending the ringtone you had set for your boss. Your voice is rough from sleep, and you bury yourself further inside your nest of blankets.
"Do you know what time it is, Sham?"
You hear the redhead scoff on the other side and then the loud blast of a horn. The alpha must be stuck in traffic again.
"And I told you to be up nearly an hour ago," One Figarland Shamrock grouses over the line. He taps his finger against the leather of his steering wheel, impatient and growing more annoyed by the second when the red light refuses to budge. His scent deepened, filling the car with something spicy that clashed with his usual scent of rich petrichor and warm leather.
"I knew you were still sleeping when you never texted me."
You grumble wordlessly and toss back your covers. Your boss ran a tight ship, one that had saved his ass, and yours, countless times over the years. That still didn't stop you from throwing a wrench in his careful routine nearly every day, however.
"No," you say and shuffle to the bathroom, relieving yourself without a care and washing up. You put your phone on speaker so that you can have both hands as you get ready, "Because I knew you'd get stuck in traffic, like you usually do, and I would have plenty of time to make it to the office and have you coffee ready before you can even park your car."
Shamrock huffs on the other end, rolling burgundy eyes as the light finally shifts to green and he can shift into gear, clutch a smooth press under his dress shoe, "You are privileged and spoiled by living close to the station. Next time you need a ride, I will not be the one offering."
You roll your eyes at his attitude as you apply your daily scent blockers. Being an omega in law enforcement wasn't for the faint of heart, and you needed every advantage you could get against most perpetrators, unless you were undercover and needed to play the part of a needy omega.
"Yes, you will," you say, buttoning up your top, shoving it into your slacks, and sliding your belt through the loops. "You do every time because you don't like anyone else driving your partner."
Shamrock purses his lips and makes a turn, "They are disrespectful of you. That one rookie officer, Jones, wouldn't stop making passes at you. Talking about how good you smelled. Unprofessional."
Your lips twist in a smirk. Sham was always so protective of your status. He'd been with you since the beginning, when you were fresh-faced and shaking like a leaf whenever he so much as looked at you. Shamrock was proud of everything you'd accomplished as an omega in the career field you'd chosen. Shamrock might not say it often, but you knew he did by his actions.
The rare smile he'd shoot you after a job well done. The way he'd drag his palm over your lower back in passing within the office. You knew. Sham didn't need to say anything to you.
"And you made sure he was stuck with desk work for the next month," You point out with a laugh and sweep your hair up in a bun, fixing it with a tie and then shoving your feet into your flats. You snag your keys and your bag, making sure that you have your sidearm tucked in the holster strapped at the small of your back.
"I could have given him meter duty," Shamrock drawls, and his lips curl when he hears you laugh again. He listens to you lock up your apartment and fly down the stairs, the front door slamming behind you, and the sound of someone cursing when you run into them.
"Careful," He murmurs over the speaker, and his hand twitches. You were his partner, and just the thought of someone else touching his omega nearly made him see red. You weren't his mate yet, but you would be. Shamrock just needed to alpha up and take you out for the night, that wasn't for a steak out.
"Always," You murmur right back and dodge a couple flirting on the sidewalk, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders, "Sugar today or not?"
Shamrock hums softly, thinking as he makes another turn. The office was still ten minutes away, and that was if traffic stayed smooth.
"Sugar today."
You hum under your breath, an acknowledgment that you'd heard the alpha. You fish your earbuds out of your jacket pocket and slide one of them in, then stuffed the case and your phone away.
"What's the case today?"
Shamrock makes a low sound of annoyance at the question, and his hand clenches tight around the wheel for a split second before he forces himself to relax. He was in a good mood today, and he wasn't about to let his idiot twin brother ruin that.
"Red Force hit Mercy International Bank," He rasps and slows to a stop at a red light, "No casualties, but they cleared the vault and got out before authorities could arrive on scene."
You curse colorfully. Red Force was the most notorious and dangerous gang in LA. They had been around for decades, having been previously the Gold Rogers until their leader was captured and put to death some twenty years ago. It wouldn't be that much of a thorn in your and Shamrock's side if it weren't for who now led the gang.
Red-Haired Shanks.
Shamrock's twin brother.
The twin brother, who happened to be one of the most successful and renowned detectives on the West Coast. Whose only failure was being unable to prove that Shanks was the leader behind Red Force. You'd think that being his twin, it would prove easy for Shamrock to bring Shanks in, but they had never been close.
They'd been separated a year after birth, Figarland Garling taking Shamrock, and raising him to be the well-to-do, stoic alpha who held a heavy respect for authority and upholding the law. It was only natural that he ended up a detective.
Shanks, on the other hand, had been lost in the system the night their mother had died. It'd been a mess that night, their mother having somehow ended up mixed in with the Gold Rogers gang. Garling had blamed Roger for her death. Still did, though no one but himself and a few others knew the true story of what happened that night.
Somehow, Shanks had ended up with Rogers, growing up with the gang leader and eventually taking over as leader. They had only linked back up when Shamrock moved to the West Coast for New York, having been assigned a new case by his department head after the third bank heist had gone unsolved that involved the same gang.
They had literally run into one another while Shamrock had been poking around the last location, the other redhead knocking into the detective as he tried to flee the scene. Sham had blinked after the other man before jumping into action, demanding to know who he was and where he came from.
Things had gone surprisingly well after that. They stayed in touch and even got to know one another for nearly a year before Shanks fucked it all up. Shamrock still didn't know what possessed his twin to ask him to join his gang when Shamrock so clearly hated anything criminal. Especially when said gang had been directly responsible for the death of their mother. Shamrock had been furious that night.
The detective had wanted to turn his brother in the moment the offer had slipped past the other man's lips, but he had no physical proof of Shanks' involvement with Red Force. The only thing he had was the words the other alpha had spilled to him that night, damning whatever relationship the two had built together.
"Right," You say and run a hand through your hair. You'd never met his brother, and you weren't sure you wanted to. Shanks was a mockery to the entire force. The whole state knew he led Red Force, but no one could do anything about it. Not when he held so many cards, "Extra shot of espresso then."
"Double," Shamrock demanded, and you grunted, already at the counter as you rattled off both of your orders. You pay and then stand to the side, sharp eyes watching the people around you. It was one of your favorite things to do, and it helped you blend in better when you happened to go undercover. Someone awkward would be picked out of a crowd by someone around the media daily faster than you could say parsnip.
You are already at his desk with his coffee and chocolate croissant by the time Shamrock strolls into the building. You smirk and hand your goodies over with a wink, "Told you I'd make it here before you did."
Shamrock rolled his eyes and took a careful sip from his disposable cup, rounding his desk and sitting heavily in the spinny chair. You sit across from him, chewing on a bagel. Your partner looked a little less alive than usual, with dark circles under his eyes and that pretty red hair nappy from running his hand through it too many times. Unbidden, your scent tries to coil around the alpha, your omega instincts telling you to try and soothe him, but it is stopped by the blockers you wear.
"When did the robbery happen?"
Shamrock leafed through some paperwork, squinting at the rough handwriting there, "Three A.M. They got in and got out before the manager arrived to start the opening procedure. Mr. Owens noticed that the door was open when he arrived and not locked like he and his coworker had left it the night before."
He tossed some pictures on his desk, and you leaned in, looking at the empty lobby and the open vault door. Every lockbox and smaller, internal vault had been forced open and emptied. The alarm hadn't been tripped and had actually been shut off from an external source, giving the gang plenty of time to drill. No one would have known it was Red Force if it hadn't been the calling card left behind.
A jolly roger of all things. A white skull and crossbones with three red lines over the left eye socket. They matched the scars that Shanks himself wore, the only clue that he had any connection to the gang. Shamrock thought it was ridiculous. Grown men playing pirates.
"How much?"
You don't even want to know the answer to that question. You knew that whatever number Shamrock rattled out would make you sick to your stomach. You see him grimace and slide a paper over his desk, before he sits back in his chair and sips his coffee without a word.
"Aw, hell," You groan and snatch the paper, and your eyes bug at the amount of zeros that stare back at you.
"Is that… seven zeros?" You demand and flip the paper, pointing to the frankly outrageous number, "Not counting the change?"
Shamrock nods, and if this had been any other situation, your reaction might be amusing. But this was about Shanks, and there was nothing funny about the other man. He sips his coffee, licking his lips.
"Red Force stole over 240,000,000.00 dollars last night. People are calling it one of the greatest heists of the century. No one saw it coming. No one was ready for it."
The alpha tosses the paper aside and reaches for you, fingers pressing against your pulse, needing to feel the steady rhythm to calm himself. He meets your eyes across the desk and silently admires the firm determination he sees there. Shamrock knew that you would have his back in this, no matter how far they needed to go to bring his twin to justice.
"But, this time? We are bringing Shanks and the Red Force in."