Chapter 8
Eight
FELIX
Gazing out the window, I watch as our tenant drives through the gate in her van. It no longer makes the noises it used to thanks to Malcolm, and I have to say that I’m relieved. He also insisted on buying her four new tires that’ll be able to properly weather the snowy months that are coming.
I can tell that she’s used to barely getting by, and that we’re sticking our noses where they don’t belong, but it’s impossible not to want to help.
We don’t know very much about her, but the interactions we have had show how passionate she is about her work. I respect that, and know how difficult it can be to be a small business.
“Felix, stop glaring from behind the blinds like a grumpy old man,” my brother hisses. Rolling my eyes I drop said blinds and turn toward him.
“I wasn’t glaring, merely appreciating that Nova doesn’t have to drive a vehicle that announces her presence before she gets there.”
“Very funny,” he sighs.
“Don’t tell her, but I also did a lot more to her van than she knows,” Malcolm grunts. His father is a mechanic and taught him all about cars. He was a little unhappy that his son didn’t follow in his footsteps, but he’s proud of him in his own way.
Did I mention that going home for any reason is a little stressful for the four of us? Everyone has opinions about our lives.
“Is that why the van is running so quietly?” I ask, amused.
“Fuck yes. My heart bangs in my chest every time I hear her drive by. I did it for my own fragile mental health,” he says jokingly.
We haven’t heard from Hollis at all since Brice took her home. It’s Friday now, and to say even I am getting worried is an understatement. I’m freaking the fuck out.
“She’d definitely notice if I put some type of tracker on her phone, right?” I ask.
“Based on the fact that she takes assignments off the fucking dark web tells me that she would,” Brice grunts. “There’s so much we don’t know about her, but I can imagine plenty.”
“Isn’t it dangerous to fuck around there?” Hollis isn’t going to be good for my blood pressure. I am still experiencing immense guilt for the way I treated her, and watching the way Remy rubs his chest tells me he’s feeling the same.
“It is, but it kind of looks like she’s used to skirting the wrong side of the law,” Brice says.
“I could feel the gun she had on her thigh when I picked her up, and we know she carries a knife between her breasts. Hollis also took a very urgent call while I drove her home and he sounded like a scary fucker. We may be in over our heads here.”
“We have to get to work,” Remy mutters. “Let’s go so we can continue this conversation on the way.”
The four of us grab our shit and walk out the door, eager to make sure projects are wrapped up.
I need to make a trip to the warehouse today to make sure certain orders will continue to roll out properly.
While we don’t typically have any issues, I still go by there weekly to check in with the shipping manager.
Settling into the back seat, I wait until everyone is inside the car before we continue the conversation.
“In all honesty, if we find out she’s some kind of mafia princess or a serial killer, would that be a deal breaker for us?” I ask.
The amount of weapons that she wears on her person feels excessive for a day at the office.
“I’m pretty sure that Aisling kills people and she’s the sweetest person we know,” Malcolm says with a shrug. “Looking around at Omega’s Haven and seeing how quickly it’s grown, also suggests some sort of illegal money.”
“If it gets shit done, I don’t care,” Remy admits. “Aisling and Wren have made huge strides for the community. I also went searching for more content about and made by Emilia Richardson, and it’s all directly in line with what we were told at Hollis’ office.”
“Basically, Emilia is a piece of shit human who doesn’t deserve orgasms?” I ask, sighing. “How the fuck is this allowed to go on?”
“You’re assuming that our police officers can do anything about her and that other people aren’t pulling strings to keep her in her position,” Malcolm reminds me. “There’s clearly something happening in this city.”
“The news is quiet about it too,” Brice mutters. “It feels like this huge conspiracy.”
“I mean maybe it is,” I say. “We’re cognizant of safety issues, our parking lot is well lit for our employees, and security guards escort anyone working late on projects to their vehicles.”
“We do what we can,” Remy mutters. “I want to know who takes bus transit at our office. I want to make sure none of them are working late during the winter months. It’ll be getting darker sooner, and it feels like a disaster waiting to happen.”
“I feel even worse now about how awful we were to Hollis,” I groan.
“We can’t change what we’ve done,” Malcolm says as he changes lanes. “First impressions are forever. We can show her that’s not who we are. We were reactionary. Has anyone else been dreading seeing their families lately?”
There are sighs and grunts throughout the vehicle that make Mal smirk.
“See, that’s what I thought,” he says. “I know that my mother is asking for grandchildren, and drops not-so-subtle hints when I call. We’re definitely the problem in this situation, boys.”
“God, I hate those,” I say. “So, how do we go about this? Aggressive or more subtle?”
“Is calling to see if she’s at work too much?” Brice adds. “I want to send her lunch.”
“I think that’s a nice gesture,” Mal agrees. “What if we continue to remind her that we’re here? Flowers, food, updates on where we are on gift bags?”
“Would it be too much to call a few radio stations and suggest that they call Hollis about the work she’s doing?” Remy asks quietly.
One of the reasons we’re so successful is because we all have different ideas and work together well. Each of us is capable of coming from different perspectives to figure out a task so it’s completed in the most efficient way.
Hollis is our new target. Sorry, babe.
“Let’s do all of that,” I decide. “Hollis is looking for positive exposure for the event, and being on the radio will help. Remy, how are we on the gift bags?”
“I need to know what she liked from what we gave her,” my brother murmurs. “I’ll give her a call on Monday about it. I have a lot of ideas about what I want to add to them, but want to get her feelings on it first.”
“Then, we have a plan,” Mal says, pulling into work. “Go motherfucking team go.”
Chuckling, I get out as soon as he’s parked, excited to get going on this. I’m going to ask one of our marketing people to come up with a nice banner for the event and email the concept to her.
The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that she doesn’t have an assistant.
If she deals with sensitive information, consistently accesses the dark web, and has people dropping by that need her attention for mafia activities, then I doubt she would want someone else witnessing any of that.
However, I can help in my own way. I think acts of service lies somewhere in love languages, and it’s what makes the most sense to me. Since she has so many moving parts in her life, I’d like to take some things off her plate.
As we step into the office, my brow raises as everyone stops to watch us come inside. Holding back a sigh, I count to five.
“Who needs me?” I call out.
My pack behind me does the same, and we scatter to answer questions. Fridays can be rough since everyone wants to tie up loose ends before the weekend. It looks like it’ll be a late day if I want to finish my things and get started on ideas for Hollis.
Oh well, it’s an excuse to pick up takeout on the way home.
HOLLIS
It’s been exactly a week since the onset of my migraine, and my brain is on overdrive as I try to catch up on things. The migraine lasted a long three days, and then I just felt hungover through the weekend and sluggish.
Not to mention, the odd things that have been happening.
Pack Ledger has been very attentive without ever coming by.
They ordered me lunch today, Felix emailed with a proposal to help me with the banners and signs for the Forever Yours event, which is the official name for it, and I just ended a call with a radio station that asked if I would come talk about the mixer.
This is a very odd Monday.
I have a feeling the alphas may have had something to do with the radio station calling me. I can’t prove it, but my gut feelings never steer me wrong. It was simply very out of the blue.
Am I enjoying the attention? Oh yes. There’s a happy little ball inside of me that makes me feel giddy. I think what I like the most is the way they’re taking things off my list so I don’t have to do them. Yes, when you’re really busy, food is an item on a checklist.
The delivery reminded me to eat, and the food that Brice left in my fridge was surprisingly tasty when I came back into the office Friday. Since I missed so much work, there were calls to return, emails, and the dating app to update.
While I did work from home on Thursday once the migraine lifted, there was still a lot to do, and I worked through the weekend too.
Taking a deep breath, I smile at the significantly smaller piles on my desk.
My eyes rise to the door as someone enters, and I’ve unfortunately been expecting it. The Senior Families dislike waiting for too long.
“Hello, Evan,” I say, leaning forward on my desk. I’m glad that I paid attention to how I dressed today. The burgundy long sleeve midi dress also hides my weapons very well. “I’m guessing Cian sent you?”
“He did,” he says apologetically, gazing at my office. “Does it always look like that?”
“Like the paperwork is two seconds from toppling over?” I ask, signing out of my laptop and closing it. “It’s better now than it was last week if that’s any consolation.”
“Holy shit,” he mutters. “You’re a match making queen, and no one can make me think any differently. The families would be in trouble if you ever decided to take more of an interest in things.”