Knot A Trace: Part One, page 4
He’s sitting at a desk, a computer in front of him. His light brown hair is cropped short and stylishly messy on top. He regards me with dark brown eyes, a slightly curious expression on his clean-shaven face.
And his scent.
It envelops me like an invisible embrace. It’s safety, kindness, and warmth, all rolled into one delectable man.
My inner Omega does backflips, awakened after months of being shoved to the side.
Mine, she snarls, and I ignore her feral claim, because what the fuck is happening?
Instead, I just stare at the Alpha like an idiot, my mouth slightly agape, standing in the doorway.
He’s dressed in a fitted white button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves that show off his forearms. His strong jaw and full lips make him the hottest detective I’ve ever seen in my life.
If Devyn could hear my thoughts, she would be shrieking with delight.
I’m ogling him.
“Can I help you?” he asks politely, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Uh…” I dart my eyes away from his gaze and focus on the nameplate on the desk.
Landon Burrows.
“I…” I try again, shifting from one foot to the other, searching for the right words to say. “Um…hi.”
Great job, Skye.
His dark eyes dart to the box in my hand, then back to my face. “Is everything all right?” he asks gently, not the slightest bit annoyed.
He’s the exact opposite of Jason.
That makes me snap out of it.
I clear my throat and find my words.
“Yes,” I say clearly, swallowing my nerves down. “My best friend is missing, and I’m hoping you can help me.”
The worst he can say is no.
But please don’t say no.
His eyes narrow and his expression falls.
Oh, no.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him.
“I know this isn’t normal, and I apologize for barging in like this,” I continue, standing up straighter. “But I’ve heard you are some of the best private detectives in the country, and I’ve done all I can with our local police.”
I swallow nervously, the action betraying my confident tone.
His scent still swirls around me, lingering in the air, and I use it to calm myself.
Even if he rejects me, I know he won’t be cruel about it.
He shakes his head slightly and frowns. A flash of pity crosses his face, and my stomach sinks. “I’m sorry, Miss…” he trails off, and I want to cry at the inevitable rejection.
“Skylar,” I say, my throat suddenly dry. “My name is Skylar Bloom.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Well, nice to meet you, Skylar. I’m Landon. I’m truly sorry about your friend, Skylar,” he says. “But our caseloads are full, and even if—”
“Please,” I say. Gathering my courage, I walk closer to his desk until I’m standing just a few feet from him. Even though he’s sitting, he’s so tall he almost reaches my standing height. “If I could just have five minutes of your time, I could make my case,” I murmur, my gaze locking onto his.
He wants to deny me. I can tell.
But he inhales deeply, and his pupils suddenly dilate.
Oh.
Does my scent affect him as much as his affects me?
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I have the sudden urge to lick it.
Focus, Skylar.
He nods. “But two minutes,” he quips. “Not five.”
My stomach flutters and I inhale sharply. Even his harsh tone is attractive.
“April Waters disappeared a few weeks ago, along with her car. And it’s not like her,” I insist. “She didn’t show up for her shift at the café we work at, and when I went to check on her, her car was gone but her purse was still inside her house. I told the police, and we’ve done searches for her, but there’s nothing. No one is taking this seriously enough for me.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Did the police assign someone to her case?”
I scoff and shake my head. “They told me the only detective they have is stuck with another case. They’ve taken a report, but that’s all they’ve done. It’s not a priority,” I mutter, huffing and shaking my head.
He stares at me a moment longer, as if debating something in his head. Then, with a small sigh, he reaches for his keyboard and begins to type. “What city are you in?” he asks, staring at his screen.
“Isleton,” I reply.
He stops typing and gazes up at me. “Oh, so you know Ben,” he says amusedly, as the corner of his eyes crinkle. “That’s how you know about us.” He chuckles to himself.
“Ben said you were the best,” I insist, hoping the name recognition is a good sign. “And that if anyone could help, it would be your bureau.”
“Of course, he said that,” he murmurs, sighing deeply. “Well, at least you saw me, and not River.”
I frown. “River?”
“His cousin.”
“Oh.” I shift on my feet as he regards me with his sympathetic dark eyes.
“I’m sorry, Skylar, but your two minutes is up,” he says gently. “I’m truly sorry about your friend, but our entire bureau is booked with cases.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I pray they don’t fall down my cheeks.
“Could I hire you?” I blurt desperately. “I have reward money saved up, and…”
He stands up and walks out from behind the desk, his tall frame towering over me. “Our entire team is busy,” he says softly. “I would work with your local police department—”
He’s rejecting you.
I place the box of macarons on the desk harder than necessary. His eyes widen a fraction as I flip open the box, showcasing the delicate cookies placed in their paper sleeves.
“April and I run a coffee shop, and we’re famous for our macarons,” I say, my eyes dropping to focus on the treats. “I just wanted to leave you some and thank you for your time.”
“Miss Bloom—”
“Or maybe convince you to change your mind,” I chuckle bitterly, shaking my head. “Well, enjoy them. I made some flavors specific for you. I appreciate the help,” I add sarcastically.
I don’t even want to look at him anymore.
We’re running out of time to find April, and I don’t want this Alpha to watch me burst into tears as I think about it.
I need to get out of here now.
“Let me walk you out, at least,” the detective tries, a polite smile on his face.
I shake my head and try to return his smile. “That’s okay, I’ll be—”
“Hey asshole, I need your help with—” a gruff voice interrupts, and another Alpha in a dark brown leather jacket enters the room, his spicy scent overwhelming.
He quirks an eyebrow as he regards me, a messy stack of papers in his hand.
“Who are you?” he demands, and my mouth turns dry.
7
LANDON
There’s a box of cookies on my desk, and an Omega that smells like warm vanilla standing in front of me.
I want to say yes to her. Every instinct in me screams to do it. I’m amazed that she walked in here and had the courage to ask for help in the first place—usually only government officials or police officers come in. Yet she waltzed right in with a box of cookies and a hopeful expression, bravely asking for what she needed.
I doubt River or the others would have seen it that way, and I’m grateful she found me first.
But I can’t help. We’re not the right people to ask, as tempting as it is to drop everything for her and take care of her.
For all I know, she has a mate. This shouldn’t be personal for me.
Skylar’s been in the room for less than five minutes, and suddenly, nothing but her matters.
I need to get a grip.
This is not how I expected my day to go.
And now, River has entered the conversation, ruining any semblance of peace that I might have had walking her out.
“Who are you?” he demands to Skylar, ruder and louder than necessary as he slams his pile of papers down on my desk.
I fight the urge to scowl at him—he’s never friendly, but he doesn’t need to be a dick to her for no reason.
And before she can answer, his eyes dart to the large white box where every color of macaron is displayed proudly. “And what the hell is this?”
“Those are macarons, River,” I say pointedly, narrowing my eyes at him. “And this is Skylar Bloom. I was just walking her out.”
Skylar darts her eyes between me and my colleague, and her pupils dilate.
She’s attracted to us.
But it doesn’t matter. I need to get her out of here before River says something stupid.
“I’m looking for my best friend,” she says to River, fixing her blue eyes on him. Beautiful. “And I was trying to see if you could help me.”
There’s a moment of silence that stretches a bit too long.
River is a loose cannon; he could snarl one sentence that would send her running or flash a smile and charm her.
He’s an excellent manipulator, which makes him an incredible detective.
And if her scent is affecting him at all like it affects me, I’m hoping he doesn’t show his fangs.
“We don’t do random missing person cases,” he says simply, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. “And we don’t take cookies as bribes.”
Great.
I can feel a headache forming already. River’s been in a fouler mood than usual this week, and no amount of pretty blue eyes or delicious-smelling Omegas will change that.
And, knowing him, he would see the conspicuous white box on my desk as an insult.
“River, it’s fine. She didn’t know—”
“They’re not bribes,” Skylar says, crossing her arms over her chest as well, matching River’s stance. Her scent spikes with cinnamon, a rich, deep fragrance, and her fury and indignation are just as mouthwatering as I imagined. “They’re an act of goodwill, and I was only hoping—”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have time for that,” River snaps, looking down at her. With his unkempt appearance and wrinkled leather jacket, he looks just as unprofessional as he sounds while speaking to her. “We do real work here. We see stuff every day that would make you sick. So, coming to us with cookies like a child is pointless and a waste of our time.”
“River!” I snap at him, snarling. “Can you act professional for one second? She was simply asking—”
But Skylar’s already shaking her head and chuckling to herself. “Right,” she says, biting her lip and looking away. “Sorry for wasting your time. Asshole,” she mutters under her breath. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are glassy as she quickly pushes past River and me, avoiding looking at either of us.
“What the fuck?” River says as we hear the main door close. “People just walk in now and ask for charity?”
I turn on him. “Even if they do, you can turn them away politely, like a regular human being. One that knows how to interact with people,” I say evenly, doing my best to not lose it on him.
“Oh, shut the fuck up. Just because you’re a bleeding heart doesn’t mean I have to be one too,” he snaps. I’m ready to argue with him, but his bloodshot eyes tell me now is not the time.
He’s an asshole at worst and a distant coworker at best. We’ll never be friends, and as easy as it would be to spend energy pointing out every way he doesn’t do our bureau any favors, we need to find a way to work together.
“What’s all this?” I ask instead, grabbing the pile of papers and flipping through them. I do my best to push the Omega out of my mind, as there’s no room for distraction right now.
“Another overdose,” River mutters, glancing down at the macaron box. “Same stuff. This time it’s a school principal.”
“Shit.” I flip through the documents, glancing down at the autopsy report. “This garbage is everywhere now.”
“A fucking month of these deaths,” River mutters, plucking a pink macaron out of the box. He stares at it, frowning, holding it as if it’s a dead bug. “She really brought these to you?” he asks, turning it over in his hand. “And thought you would help her?”
I shrug. “She runs a café. And she was nice. You know, a concept you could try one day.”
“Hey, I’m perfectly nice,” he quips. “I’m charming as fuck, too.”
“I mean, when you’re not trying to get answers out of someone.” I watch as he fiddles with the macaron. “You know you’re supposed to eat those, right?”
“She was pretty,” he murmurs, still staring at the cookie.
I freeze. River never shows interest in any Omega, much less comments on their appearance.
He never bothers to talk about anything except work with me.
“She was,” I agree slowly.
“What was her deal?” he mutters. “What exactly did she want, anyway?”
“Well, before you, you know, interrupted her—” River shoots me a look, but I simply raise an eyebrow in challenge. “Her friend disappeared, and the local police aren’t doing much.”
He scoffs. “Figures. What city is she from?” But before I can answer, he takes a bite of the macaron and audibly groans. “Holy fugh,” he mutters around a mouthful of cookie. “Dats gool.”
I never see River eat; much less be enthusiastic about it. The only things I’ve seen touch his mouth are his never ending supply of coffee and the occasional cigarette.
He actually lights up when he eats Skylar’s macaron, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in delight.
Those cookies must be magical, because I swear the asshole looks ten years younger in that moment.
Huh. Interesting.
But before I can marvel more about that, there’s a screech of brakes followed by a loud thud that comes from the parking lot.
It sounds like someone just got hit by a car.
River drops the cookie and races out of the room, and I follow close behind.
8
SKYLAR
I make it out of the building before the tears of shame start to fall because I refuse to let that Alphahole see me cry.
A bribe? River was so cruel and dismissive, the exact opposite of his sweet colleague.
I hope he chokes on the cookies.
I’m sorry, April, I think to myself. I’ll figure something else out.
Are these Alphas really supposed to be the best of the best?
They both couldn't care less about me, except Landon was more polite about it.
And even more embarrassing, I could feel waves of slick pulse through my underwear and into my slick pad.
I wanted, for the first time in over a year. It’s as if my inner Omega woke back up in their presence.
Idiot.
The parking lot is blurry, and I wipe at my eyes as I struggle to fish my keys out of my purse.
But the sense of loss is strong, and the feeling that I’ve somehow failed my best friend haunts me as I stumble on the pavement in my heels.
I’m so lost in my head that I don’t move away in time from the whirl of black that comes rushing towards me.
There’s a screeching of tires, then I’m airborne. I’m looking up at the clouds as my body rolls, and my back slaps hard against something solid.
Then I meet the pavement, my head exploding with pain.
It takes a moment for me to realize what’s happening. Someone is cursing, people are shouting, and the contents of my purse are scattered around the parking lot. My tube of pink lip gloss rolls by my head, as if to mock me.
I blink up at the cloudy sky, dazed.
I just got hit by a car.
Groaning, I roll to my side, vaguely aware that my skirt is riding up and my legs are on fire. I scramble on my hands and knees, trying to stand, but stumble back on my ass.
“You’re going to jail, motherfucker! Who drives through a parking lot like that?!” someone screams, and arguing ensues.
Someone is much more upset about this than I am.
This time, I successfully stand, but wince as gravel digs into my bare feet.
Great. My heels must have come off in the accident. I see the sports car that hit me and am amazed I’m still conscious. The windshield is cracked and there’s a dent on the hood.
They must have been speeding when they hit me.
“Wow,” I breathe, as I blink slowly. “Ow.”
“You got her? I’m calling an ambulance!” a panicked voice yells.
Landon, the one that pretended to care but respectfully rejected me, stands at the opposite edge of the parking lot near the entrance to the building. He heads toward me, and I try to shake my head and tell him that I’m fine, but I stumble again. Strong arms encircle me, and I’m suddenly pressed against a clothed chest that smells like linen and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.
“Whoa, hey, I’ve got you,” the low voice says, slightly breathy. “Skylar? Hey, can you hear me?”
It takes me a moment to realize who’s holding me, but my head hurts too much to argue.
River.
He smells like pepper and chaos, but his embrace is strong. His touch affects me, even though I don’t want it to. A live wire runs through me, and it’s all I can do to not sag against him.
“Asshole,” I mutter into his chest, and I hear him huff out a laugh.
“You’re not wrong. But I’m going to help you sit until the ambulance arrives,” he replies. “Just keep your eyes open for me. Don’t close them.”
“Too late for that,” I mumble. “I’m sleepy.”
“Hey, I need her insurance information,” an irritated voice says. “She walked right in front of me. That shit’s not my fault.”
I snap my eyes open and turn to see the driver that hit me. He’s a short Beta male, middle-aged and balding, wearing an unflattering striped shirt. I open my mouth, ready to tell him off, but River keeps his arm locked around my shoulders as I struggle to find my footing.
“She doesn’t owe you shit,” River spits at him, as if quoting my internal monologue. “You hit her, and you’re lucky she’s still standing, or I would have kicked the shit out of you.”
