The Merciless Alpha(erotica)

My first call was to the FBI Field Office in San Diego. “I need to report the recovery of stolen art,” I told the receptionist.

“Hold, please.” A minute later, a male agent in his twenties came on the line. He was clean-cut and athletic, just what I’d expect from the junior guy in the office. “FBI, Special Agent Powell.”

“Agent Powell, I’ve come into possession of at least two pieces of art stolen in 1990 from a museum in Boston. I’d like to turn them in.”

“If you can bring them to the field office, we’ll give you a receipt and take your statement,” he said as he sipped on a cup of coffee.

“You don’t understand. The two paintings I know of already are worth at least five hundred million dollars.” THAT was enough to get his attention; the phone dropped to the desk, and I heard him shouting for others. “Take a look.” I turned the phone so that he could see the paintings, and I explained what I’d learned.

He took my address and told me a team was on the way. I next searched for the number of the museum, eventually getting ahold of a curator.

She fainted when I told her why I was calling.

Her assistant picked up until she was able to talk again. With my address and the video evidence, they promised to retrieve the paintings as soon as they could get a flight here.

My third call was to Boston, using the number on the card she had given me in Dallas. “Vicki! I understand you received your inheritance?”

“You screwed me over, Emily! There’s stolen art in here!”

“Oh, relax, I knew about that. That’s why Alexander willed you all of the art and antiques; you’ll lose a bunch when you figure out what is hot. I hope you don’t mind making millions of dollars, taking a headache away from a grieving widow.”

“Why?”

“There’s going to be enough interest in Alexander’s death without bringing it to my doorstep. When the FBI shows up, I’ll show them his office and private rooms. Nothing but office furniture and records are left now, except for the Sharkbabe room.”

My jaw dropped. “WHAT?”

“Vicki, I had to have some reason why my late husband would gift millions of dollars in art and antiques to a teenage girl he only met twice. Your signed poster has a prominent spot on the wall in that room. Alexander covered the Sharkbabe room walls with photographs of you, and a screen shows your appearances on television on an endless loop. A recliner in the middle is the only furnishing, well, except for the small table with the lube and the tissues.”

Oh. My. God. “Why would you do this?”

“Alexander and I were having marriage problems because he was OBSESSED with you. The FBI will see that, and that explains you being in the will. It’s weird, but it works. I have to go, so good luck!”

“Thank you… I think.” I had to sit down as my head was reeling with everything going on. I wanted to dive down deep and sit there until I was out of air. I’d use the quiet to think in my happy place.

It wasn’t to be.

Sirens were coming closer as I walked towards the garage. I was a little shocked when two Coronado Police cruisers stopped in front of my house, the officers hurrying to my door. I met them on the porch. “Officers?”

“Are you Vicki Lawrence,” Officer Brooks asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“The FBI asked us to secure the scene until they could arrive,” Officer Martinez added.

“You might as well come inside then,” I said as I opened the door.

“We’ve supposed to secure the entrances to the home,” Martinez protested.

“You can do that from inside,” I said. “And don’t call me Ma’am, I start looking for my Mom.”

“I’ll stay here and wait for the FBI,” Officer Brooks said, but Martinez walked in with me.

“Can I offer you a drink? Water? Coke?”

“We’re fine, Ma’am.” Martinez moved to the patio doors, pulling up a folding chair to sit looking out.

It was a good thing that he got that chair. An hour later, twenty FBI agents were inside my home. Susan had retained a lawyer, who sat with me as I gave my statement. “You had no idea you were in the will,” the agent asked dismissively.

“I’d only met Alexander Corvinus twice. I know he was a big fan, and I think he had a crush on me, but we never even kissed. The first I knew about the will was when the semi-trailer parked in my driveway.”

He looked at the manifest I’d provided. “Where did Mr. Corvinus get the art,” he asked.

“I have no idea. I remember some of the antiques were in Alexander’s office in Boston. I’d never seen these paintings before now.”

“It’s likely that Mr. Corvinus kept these private, given how famous the stolen art is,” my lawyer said.

“When I realized the two paintings were hot, I stopped looking up the rest of the stuff and called you immediately.”

He was struggling to believe the story. “So you saw them for the first time less than two hours ago?”

“Not really. When it was delivered this morning, I did a quick check for shipping damage so I could sign the forms. I barely paid attention to what they were, though. There was so much going on.”NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

In the end, the rest of my week got spent in the company of the FBI, Museum staff, insurance companies, and private owners. Roughly half of the items Emily had dumped on me were stolen, with the rest not registered to any previous owners.

In the end, I didn’t want a damn thing from Alexander in my house. I contacted Sotheby’s Auction House, consigning the remaining items to auction in Los Angeles later in the year. The FBI cleared me of any wrongdoing and even gave me a commendation for recovering the art. Everything made the news, of course, and I gained a lot of goodwill with influential people.

With no criminal charges, the reward money started coming in. The thirteen recovered works from the Gardner Museum netted me twenty million dollars in reward money alone. The rest of the stolen goods gained me eight million more in reward money from insurance companies, paid out as the original owners traveled to my home to retrieve their property.

I spent hours every day with my lawyer, accountant, and investment manager as I got ready to leave for Oregon. My sudden wealth was mind-boggling for a girl who grew up in a Minnesota suburb. I had almost fifteen million in assets now, even after withholding for Federal and California taxes. I signed over million-dollar reward checks to of Amy, Luna Adrienne, and Alpha Steven to thank them for their efforts, and I donated another million dollars to my charitable foundation for shark conservation. My investment manager assured me I could live comfortably on interest income now, without having to touch my fortune. It was heady stuff for a teenager.

“What are you going to do with your newfound fortune,” Amy asked on Sunday as we packed for Oregon. Kai and the boys were soaking in the hot tub after dinner while I was in her bedroom.

“I’m going to buy a boat,” I said. “Something big enough to go open ocean and hang a shark cage from.”

“Wait until after the auction of the rest of the stuff,” Amy said with a laugh. The Sotheby’s auction house estimated the rest of the collection would fetch me another ten million dollars. “You’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

*********

Any thought of college life like any other student was gone before we made it to the registration office.

Mercedes had been right when she called us last night to remind us of the terms of our contract. “You’re going to be all over social media,” she said. “Media, students, and even the faculty want to be seen with you. You’ll receive more attention than you are comfortable with, and invitations you should never accept. Conduct yourselves as representatives of our company, and ALWAYS be seen in Bodyglove merchandise. Even in your private rooms, people who visit will take and share photos of you.”

That was why we showed up with Bodyglove line dresses and heels for the first day of school. I was wearing a print that showed forty different species of sharks, while Amy’s dress was in an ocean pattern. We had security from our Pack, two male and two female warriors in black suits plus Amy’s ‘seeing-eye dog,’ and we needed them just to get away from our SUV. The press was waiting for us, along with a few dozen students. We smiled as we got out, the cameras clicking away as we waved.

The crowd closed in with everyone excited to see us. We must have spent twenty minutes signing autographs and taking photos with people, and we hadn’t gone fifty feet from the car yet. The group was friendly, and we got invited to every sorority, fraternity, and dorm party there was this week. The crowd continued to build as our presence hit social media, and the mood started to turn. I could hear shouting as a fight broke out in the back, and the crowd kept pressing in on us. Campus Security was trying and failing to keep the area around us open. “We’ve got to get out of here, Vicki. This isn’t a defensible position,” the lead warrior sent.