5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
I gently made another flower arrangement, trying to keep my hands and mind occupied. The funeral home incident had left me shaken, though I'd rather die than admit it to anyone. Two days had passed, and I still felt phantom hands gripping my shoulders whenever I let my guard down.
"You're making that face again," Jamie said, leaning against the counter.
"What face?" I asked, not looking up from the roses I was trimming.
"The murder face. The one that says you're plotting someone's demise while arranging peonies."
I snorted. "Not murder. Just mild maiming."
Jamie raised an eyebrow but didn't push. That was the thing about him—he knew when to back off. Instead, he slid a steaming cup of coffee toward me. "Extra shot. Figured you needed it."
I took the cup gratefully, letting the warmth settling over me before I sighed.
"Thanks," I murmured, taking a sip. The rich bitterness coated my tongue, a welcome distraction from the memories that kept resurfacing like unwelcome ghosts. "I haven't been sleeping well."
"Shocking," Jamie replied dryly. "The bags under your eyes have bags of their own. Want to talk about it yet?"
I shook my head, focusing on the delicate petals beneath my fingers. "Nothing to talk about."
"Right," he said, clearly unconvinced. "Because normal people totally get tackled by police officers and then just brush it off."
"I brushed it off fine," I insisted, perhaps a bit too sharply. "The guy was an ass. End of story."
Jamie watched me for a moment, his expression soft with concern. "You know, it's okay to admit when something rattles you. Even badass people like you.” My lips twitched at this before I gave in.
"Okay, fine. I might still be a little pissed off." I took a long drink, letting the rich coffee wash away the bitterness in my mouth. "You would be too if some Alpha decided to use you as a wrestling mat."
Jamie nodded, his eyes serious. "True. But you handled it. Like you always do."
"I shouldn't have to handle it. That's the point." I set down the scissors with more force than necessary. A few rose petals scattered across the counter. "Why is it that Alphas think they can just—" I made a frustrated gesture with my hands, unable to find words adequate enough to express my rage.
"Because they usually can," Jamie said quietly. "You're the exception, not the rule."
The bell above the door jingled, saving me from having to respond. I plastered on my customer service smile, ready to greet whoever walked in. He was tall with light blond hair that reached his shoulders in soft curls, wearing a well tailored dark grey suit. His blue eyes connecting with my own as he made his way over. As he got closer I couldn’t help but feel small compared to him, not just how tall he was but the aura he gave off. Definitely Alpha, and probably a head Alpha at that.
“How can I help you today?” I asked, being in full customer survive mode. The man’s lip twitched but titled his head at me then looked at Jamie before back to me.
“Are you Vivian Reed?” He asked, eyes fully on me.
“Yes that would be me. Is there a problem?” I asked, not liking that he wanted to know something about me. That is never a good sign when an Alpha comes looking.
“There shouldn't be.” He gave a small smile to me as he reached into his suit pocket before handing me a business card. I took it with a frown still looking at him before I let myself read the card.
Gabriel Collins
Head Detective.
I didn’t read anymore as my lip curled and a low growl left my throat as I tossed the card to the side.
"I don't think we have any more business," I said, turning away to focus on the arrangement in front of me, as if the head detective was nothing more than a minor distraction. "Unless you're here to apologize on behalf of your trigger-happy colleague."
I could feel his eyes on me, studying my movements as I clipped stems with more force than necessary. The scent of him—clean, expensive cologne with undertones of coffee and something distinctly Alpha—filled the small shop, making the space feel even more confined.
"Actually, I'm here to apologize for Officer Reeves' behavior. It was unprofessional and unwarranted." The detective's expression remained carefully neutral, those blue eyes studying me with an unsettling intensity.
I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. An Alpha apologizing? To an Omega? The universe must be having a laugh.
"Right," I said flatly. "I'm sure you are."
Jamie shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly sensing the tension building. "Viv, maybe we should—"
"It's fine, Jamie," I cut him off, eyes never leaving the detective's face. "I'm sure Detective Collins won't be staying long."
The detective's mouth quirked up at one corner, not quite a smile. "Actually, I'd like to speak with you. Privately, if possible."
I glanced at Jamie, whose eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates. He was already backing toward the storage room. "I'll just... inventory. The back. Yes." And with that eloquent exit, he was gone, leaving me alone with the head detective.
"Coward," I muttered under my breath.
"Smart," Detective Collins corrected. "He recognizes when to make a tactical retreat."
I set down my scissors carefully, wiping my hands on my apron before crossing my arms. "What do you want, Detective? I have a business to run, and contrary to what your department seems to think, I'm not in the habit of being manhandled by law enforcement during my deliveries."
He nodded, "Your complaint is valid. Officer Reeves overstepped. I've already placed Officer Reeves on administrative duty while we investigate the incident."
I raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Well, that's certainly a novel approach. Usually I just get told to be more careful, or to stop looking so suspicious." I picked up my coffee cup, taking a deliberate sip while maintaining eye contact. "So what's different this time? My sparkling personality? Or is it because I threatened to file a formal complaint?"
"You didn't threaten anything," he pointed out, those blue eyes watching me carefully. "That's what caught my attention."
I set my cup down with a sharp click against the countertop. "Should I have? Would that have made more sense to you, Detective? An Omega causing a scene, making demands?"
"Actually," he said, voice softening slightly, "it would have made more sense if you had. Most people who are wrongfully detained make formal complaints. They demand compensation, threaten lawsuits. They don't just walk away with their head held high, demanding nothing."
"Maybe I'm not most people," I replied, busying myself with rearranging the flowers in front of me. "Or maybe I've learned that complaints don't get Omegas very far in this city."
I retorted, reaching for another stem. The thorns pricked my fingers as I handled it roughly, but I ignored the sting. "And I don't intimidate easily."
"Clearly." There was something in his tone that made me look up. Not mockery or condescension, but something that almost sounded like... respect? No, that couldn't be right.
"Is that all, Detective? Apology delivered, conscience clear?" I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping he would just leave.
He leaned slightly against the counter, his height even more apparent as he towered over the flower displays.
"Actually," he said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone, "there's another reason for my visit."
I stiffened, my fingers stilling on the rose stem. "Oh?"
Detective Collins reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small photograph, sliding it across the counter toward me. "Do you recognize this young man?"
I glanced down, my breath catching in my throat. The picture showed the same wild-eyed Alpha who had burst into my shop days ago—the one who'd looked desperate and panicked before fleeing.
"Maybe," I said carefully, keeping my expression neutral. "Why?"
“His name is Braden Jensen.” Collins said, watching my reaction closely. "Twenty-two years old. Missing for about two weeks now."
I frowned, studying the photograph more carefully. In this picture, he looked different—calmer, with a hesitant smile that made him appear younger, almost vulnerable. Not at all like the desperate Alpha who'd burst into my shop.
"He came into my shop," I admitted, pushing the photo back toward the detective. "A few days ago. Burst in before opening hours, looked around wildly, then ran out. The whole interaction lasted maybe thirty seconds."
Detective Collins nodded, his expression giving nothing away. "And that was it? He didn't say anything to you?"
I hesitated, remembering how the young Alpha had stared at me, nostrils flaring as he'd realized I was an Omega. "He noticed I was an Omega. That's about it."
"Did he seem afraid? Agitated?"
"Both," I said, memories of that morning rushing back. "He was sweating, eyes darting everywhere. Like he was being chased." I paused, suddenly wondering if I should be more careful about what I revealed. "Why? What's this about?
"Is that why your officer tackled me at the funeral home? You think I had something to do with this missing person?"
Collins didn't answer directly, which was answer enough. "We're following all possible leads. Jensen was last seen near the mortuary where you were making deliveries."
"And you immediately jumped to 'the Omega florist must be involved' rather than, I don't know, asking me questions like a normal person?" I could feel my temper rising again, the memory of being pinned to the floor making my skin crawl.
"That wasn't my call," Collins said, his voice level. "But I am here now, asking questions."
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. "Well, I don't know anything else. He came in, looked terrified, and ran out. That's it."
Collins studied me for a long moment, his blue eyes searching my face as if he could extract more information through sheer force of will. I met his gaze unflinchingly, refusing to be intimidated.
"If he contacts you again, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know." He slid a business card across the counter—a different one from the first he'd given me. This one had his personal cell number scrawled on the back.
I picked it up, turning it over in my fingers. "Why would he contact me? I told you, we barely spoke."
"Sometimes people in trouble seek out help in unexpected places." Collins straightened, adjusting his suit jacket. "And you strike me as someone who might be sympathetic to those in difficult situations."
I frowned at this, eyes narrowed but didn’t say anything. Collins gave another smile as he took another business card out of his suit.
"If you remember anything else, or if he returns," he said finally, sliding a business card across the counter, "call me directly. Day or night."
I looked at the card but didn't pick it up. "Is he dangerous? Should I be worried if he comes back?"
"We don't believe he poses any threat to the public," Collins said carefully. "But he may be in danger himself."
"From what?"
The detective's expression closed off slightly. "That's what we're trying to determine."
A heavy silence fell between us. I could hear Jamie shuffling around in the back room, probably straining to hear our conversation. The detective seemed in no hurry to leave, his eyes traveling around my shop with interest.
"You run this place alone?" he asked, the sudden shift in topic taking me by surprise.
"What's that got to do with anything?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.
Collins shrugged, his eyes still roaming the shop. "Just making conversation."
"No, you're not," I countered. "Detectives don't 'just make conversation.' Everything is information gathering with you people."
A smile ghosted across his face. "Perceptive."
"Experienced," I corrected. "And yes, I run this place with Jamie's help. My grandfather started it, my mother took it over, and now it's mine. Family business."
"Impressive," he said, and the strange thing was, he sounded sincere. "Not many family businesses survive to a third generation these days."
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. "Was there anything else, Detective? Because I do have work to finish.”
The Detective gave an amused look before he shook his head, “That will be all Ms. Reed. Have a good day.” He gave me one last look, his eyes flicking over me before leaving me bewildered and wondering what the hell that was about.