Chapter 10 #2
“I’m not part of his pack so I think your job is safe,” she says dismissively. “I also have to work, so yes I’ll be continuing to do it.”
“If you’re going to reject him, you may as well tell him now,” I growl, annoyed by her attitude.
“Why would I do that?” she asks, a small whine slipping from her lips.
That’s just wonderful. I’m already fucking this up and stressing her out.
“You won’t give him a chance, you’re refusing to live with him, and you don’t want to be part of his pack. Am I missing anything?”
“Quite a lot,” she mutters. “Maybe you should try to pull your head out of your ass. I’ve been alone for a long time. I’m not going to jump into bed with people because you think I should. I have standards and needs.”
“He lives in a fucking mansion,” I scoff. “What standards are you going on about?”
“The standard where I get my own space.”
That doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to figure it out.
Isolde walks past the bedding department and gazes longingly at a lilac bamboo sheet set.
“Buy it,” I say, dropping it into the cart.
“I don’t really need it,” she sighs.
“I didn’t say you did. Not everything in life is about needing it,” I say. “Sometimes, it’s simply a pleasure purchase.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever done that,” she says, picking up the sheets and putting them back. Instead, she decides on a set that makes my skin crawl just looking at it. They’re definitely scratchy.
“Why?” I ask, feeling like a broken record. “You’re going to want your own pillow, Miss ‘I need my own shit.’”
“I didn’t say that,” Isolde says, rolling her eyes as she plucks a pillow off the shelf and drops it into her cart.
That’s also a terrible choice. I’m going to have better options delivered to her…just as soon as I know where she’s living.
“You didn’t have to, your designation is particular,” I grunt. “Where are you living?”
“None of your business,” Isolde says coolly, beginning to move toward the front of the store to pay.
“Is that all you’re getting? What about food?” I ask, my brows drawing down in annoyance.
Fuck, why do I care so much?
“You’re really getting on my nerves, Grant,” she says.
“I’m not your responsibility. While I’m still working, I’m not on a job at this time.
However, that could change because I got a call to be ready to move if needed.
Apparently alpha energy is all about wars and murders, while I’m perfectly happy slitting throats while people sleep. It’s less messy.”
“Less messy for who?” I ask. I should be horrified by her words, but I’m not. Lucas doesn’t know about all of the people I’ve killed on his behalf.
Being a good person gains you more enemies than not, and it’s led to a trail of dead bodies for Lucas.
His medication will be the demise of a lot of these street drugs if he’s able to get the cost lowered.
Things like scent blockers are cost prohibitive still because of all the hoops Reid Pharmaceuticals has to go through to produce them.
I have no doubt that Lucas will find a way to ethically bulldoze those hoops, but that takes time. Until then, I’ll be the bad guy to allow him to figure out the best way forward.
“If there’s a war, more people die,” she says simply, responding to my question.
It seems I’m not the only one cleaning up messes. The difference? I don’t like the idea of her doing it.
I’m well aware of the double standard, and my mother would smack me with a wooden spoon if she knew what I was doing, if she was alive.
“I don’t like it,” I state, before I can hold back the words.
Thankfully, she’s ahead of me purchasing her items at a self checkout stall and doesn’t hear me. Or, more likely than not, she’s pretending that she didn’t.
Gathering her purchases, she dumps her bags into the cart and grabs her card to pay. Beating her to it, I swipe mine without thinking.
“What…why would you do that?” Isolde asks, annoyed.
“You’re my good deed for the day,” I say. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“God, you’re an asshole,” she grumbles, pushing her cart forward.
Yeah, but I could be your asshole…
Pinching my inner wrist to clear and delete that thought, I follow her out.
“Why are you hiding?” I ask under my breath, leaning toward her so she can hear me. “You’re wearing so much scent blocking spray, you may as well not exist if I were to close my eyes. No one will outright tell me why.”
“Then maybe you don’t deserve the information,” she suggests, the cart’s wheels squeaking as she pushes it. “You’re very annoying, Grant.”
“Then answer the question,” I push.
“Fuck,” she sighs. “Five years ago, I was kidnapped off the street to be sold at an auction. But, instead of being sold, the madam chose to keep me.”
“For what?” I ask, disgusted at the thought of why someone would do that.
“Fodder for her handlers,” she replies, opening her trunk and tossing her bags in.
Isolde leaves me with the cart and way too many questions as she drives away, but one thing is for sure.
I understand why Lucas is so obsessed, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
The police officer in charge of Lucas’ case isn’t happy with the written statement I’m handing him, but he doesn’t have much choice but to take it.
“I appreciate your understanding during this difficult time,” I say without any hint of a smile.
“This is bullshit,” the officer says.
“Why should he drive all the way back here when he’s home?” I ask. “Mr. Reid is a busy man.”
The chief comes over as he sees me, brow raised.
“I see everything is in order?” he asks, his gaze steely and refusing to accept any denial of the status quo.
Chief Lopern is slightly crooked in the fact that he accepts bribes written out to his station. It helps his budget for training and salaries, and keeps his police officers safe from budgetary constraints.
“Yes, Chief. I just need to see you for a moment,” I say.
I walk with him to his office, watching as the bull pen’s activity continues around us. There are people getting booked in, a woman wearing practically nothing who is handcuffed to a desk, and she opens her legs wide in my direction to show off her cunt.
“I see things are busy for you all today,” I say drolly. The Chief winces as he follows my gaze.
“Kat,” he yells, getting the attention of one of his officers. “Do you mind telling me why that woman is handcuffed and not already in a cell?”
“It’s a long story,” the officer says, appearing harried. “I’m trying to find out who she is, but she doesn’t have any identification. Add to that the fact that she tried to spit on me, I lost my patience and resorted to handcuffing her.”
“Do you have any clothing available so she’ll stop flashing her pussy at everyone that walks by?”
“Ugh, I should have called in sick today,” Kat complains. “I’ll find some shorts for her. I need to fingerprint her so I can run them. Something tells me that she’s been picked up before.”
“Keep me updated,” Chief says on autopilot. The female officer almost looks surprised before nodding and scurrying away.
Once I’m in his office, he closes the door behind us and I swear, the noise drops several decibels.
“I don’t know what it is about mid-January, but there’s always an influx in crime around this time after the holidays,” he sighs.
“Mr. Reid wanted me to drop a donation to you,” I explain with a small smile. “Hopefully, it’ll help with how busy you all are.”
Handing him the large check, I watch as his jaw drops.
“This is very generous of him,” he breathes.
I notice how he doesn’t refuse it and I hold in a smirk. The city isn’t willing to give more money to their police departments, which makes it easier to bribe him on Lucas’ behalf.
“It’s not a problem at all. I have to head out, but wanted to make sure you got that,” I say, already reaching for the door knob.
The Chief of police can talk if you let him get going, and I don’t want to get caught up in his gift of gab and gossip.
“Understood,” he murmurs, still mesmerized by the amount on the check.
Using his distraction as leverage to escape, I leave his office and walk out of the building without anyone stopping me.
Getting in the car, I find myself heading to an upscale store that has really nice sheets.
I know she didn’t like that I bought her cart, but if I drop off a few bags without being caught once I find where she’s staying, then Isolde won’t be able to pin her ire on me.
Feeling better about this, I drive past every strip bar without any inclination of stopping. My job is to take care of Lucas. I’m going to live under the delusion that by extension, that means his omega as well.
Isolde
I was so involved in running away from Grant, I forgot to change.
Instead, I had to stop at a gas station to use the restroom, brush my teeth, and change into a pair of gray cargo pants, long sleeved cream shirt, and a coat.
I unravel my braids and quickly add product so it’ll curl well, and then hurry out to meet Mr. Adamíc at his home.
My hands tremble with anxiety as I pull into the driveway. I feel like I’m playing dress up, even though the clothing is comfortable. My leather and black shirts are packed in the trunk, but I won’t eschew my love for pants.
I also don’t think I’ll ever wear skirts or dresses. My legs get stuck in the fabric, and I don’t like the way it feels. I’m more likely to tear it off my body instead. However, I don’t want to scare Mr. Adamíc, which is the entire reason why I went shopping.
Blowing out a breath, I get out of the car. I went to the post office before the store to pick up my new identification. It’s currently in the bag that I’m wearing. It’s nothing fancy, just another part of Isa Zeo. If I want to exist under the radar, it’ll mean not using my name.
I’m not delusional, I fully understand that the anonymity won’t last for long, but I don’t need it to. I just need a bubble of space so that I can breathe without very persistent alphas at my doorstep.