Chapter 8 #2
You found him at the mechanic? That’s some luck. Tell him what you need to within reason. Mention our cold case if you think the information will sway him.
Hmm. Yeah, I can work with that.
Me
Over and out.
Harlan
You’re ridiculous.
My lips twitch because I tend to sign off like that to irritate him. I love being a brat. I wonder if it’ll get my ass spanked later. Ugh, we’re going to need to figure out where we’ll be staying later. I hope this place has a decent hotel.
So many parts of this town are an enigma. Some businesses don’t even have an internet listing. It’s as if they chose to unplug from the grid.
“His engine is smoking,” Shep groans. “Motherfucking son of a bitch! It’s gonna take forever to figure this shit out.”
My lips twitch again before I pretend to put on a worried expression. Standing, I walk over to see what’s going on. Sure enough, the garage is full of smoke.
“Fuck,” I groan, pretending to be annoyed. “What the hell, man?”
“It’s not my fault your car is possessed!” Shep yells. “I’m going to call some of my staff in and ask them to help me air this out. We need to move Silva’s car in case this asshole’s SUV spontaneously blows up, Syrus.”
“Already bad luck,” the sheriff grumbles, his molars grinding together. “Can you change Silva’s tires in the parking lot?”
“Yeah, that’s an option, I just need more people for that,” Shep mutters, pulling out his cell phone. “Take a walk, Syrus. This will be a while. Take the newcomer with you. I’ll take the heat from Silva if necessary.”
“She’s not that bad,” he says, rolling his eyes.
A part of me wants to meet the omega that gets this kind of reaction. It’ll happen at some point in a town this size, it’s just a matter of when.
Shep grimaces as if she’ll have his balls for something that isn’t his fault, and it makes me even more curious about her.
“I’ll have her truck ready as soon as I can, and I’ll have Gerome work on the newcomer's SUV,” he promises, connecting a call.
I snort as he ignores me, and Syrus raises his brow at me.
“Let’s take a walk before Shep takes a wrench to your thick skull and I have a homicide to deal with,” he mutters.
“Have many of those?” I joke, following him out of the shop.
“Here? Nah,” he replies. “That’s why I moved to Widows Peak. What it lacks in crime, it makes up for in hilarity. Just last week, I went out to investigate who has stolen Duchess’s petunias.”
“Riveting stuff,” I tease him.
“It was since it led me on a chase through town. It reminds me of Clue without the murder part. Several seniors in the Garden Club worked together to replant them all over. Duchess couldn’t retrieve them because she was worried they wouldn’t survive the transplant back to her yard.
She’s won a lot of competitions for best flowers,” he explains.
“Never trust how petty a competitive senior can get.”
I can’t help but chuckle, because now I’m imagining how ridiculous that had to have been.
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “Now the petunias belong to the town and she can’t technically enter them into a contest?”
“That’s about the gist of it,” Syrus says, shaking his head. “So damn petty.”
The two of us chuckle at their antics as we walk before he glances over at me.
“I’m taking you to Mrs. Hall’s bakery for some of her chocolate cake while you tell me why you’re here,” he grunts. “I’ll tow your ass to the next town over to fix your vehicle if I don’t like your answers.”
“That’s harsh,” I comment, amused by him. I’ll tell him some of why we’re here, just enough so he’ll realize we’re not the problem.
The walk to the bakery is short, and it’s also fairly busy. People are dressed in work clothes, and appear to be on their way home.
“Mrs. Hall, my parents are coming over tonight. Do you still have any of your peanut butter cake?” a petite woman with short blue hair asks.
She looks like she should be performing in a rock band instead of being worried about making her parents happy. Her leather pants and crop top also lend to this idea.
“I do in the back,” a woman I assume is Mrs. Hall says with a smile. “I’ll go get it for you, Astrid. Are you thinking a few slices, or a full cake?”
“Can I do half a cake, please?” Astrid asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Maybe if they’re eating, they won’t freak out so much when I introduce them to my girlfriend.”
“Lily is lovely though,” Mrs. Hall says, frowning. “I’ll be right back, dear.”
Astrid wrings her hands as she nods, and I wonder about why she’s so worried.
“Astrid, is this going to be a safe conversation for you to have with your parents?” Syrus asks, getting her attention.
She makes a face as she turns, her nose ring winking in the light.
“They’re here visiting, and don’t understand why I prefer Widows Peak to Denver. I was able to open my bookstore here, and I can go for a run whenever I want without worrying I’m going to be kidnapped,” she sighs. “They want me to move back, but—”
“You have a life here,” Syrus reminds her gently. “That’s what you should tell them. I’ll have an officer patrol your street tonight. You know, just in case you need someone to stop by for cake, or help you out.”
“I’m glad I packed a few extra slices then,” Mrs. Hall says lightly as she returns.
Astrid looks more relaxed as she pays, and says goodbye. Syrus and I wait our turn and Mrs. Hall pretends she isn’t watching me as she serves us two slices of fudge cake.
“We’re going to use your patio, Mrs. Hall,” he says with a smile.
“It’s getting too cold to sit outside,” she replies.
Something secretive passed between them, and I have a feeling no one will be bothering us.
I take the bottles of water she hands to me, and we make our way outside. I can see the close knit community Syrus mentioned. It’s giving more small town that care about each other than deliverance vibes which is nice, but it’s not something I'm very accustomed to.
It’s easier to hide in larger cities, and it’s where much of our work has been centered. Astrid is right: it’s more likely for something bad to happen in a larger city than a place like Widows Peak. I can see the allure.
Sitting across from Syrus at the small patio table, I let myself take a deep breath of his scent. I’m taking the best scent blockers money can buy, and I’m still grateful for the slick wicking boxers I’m wearing.
I can feel it slide down my cock, and my asshole clenches as I shift in place. My natural scent is sweet and very strong. I’ve diluted it to the point where it’s barely there. So many sacrifices, I hardly remember it until I go off my blockers.
Get it together, Izzy. Fuck. I need to remember what’s at stake, and why I’m here to begin with.
I want to spill my story to this steadfast beta that gazes at me with patience and suspicion, but that might compromise my mission. There are too many people counting on my team to figure this out. The omegas that keep going missing deserve to be found, and I can’t fuck this up.
So instead, I plan to tell him just enough for him to be intrigued.
Syrus
Isidro’s nostrils flare as he stares at me before he forces himself to take a bite of the cake in front of him.
Was he smelling me just now? That’s weird, right?
He ignores me as he chews the bite he pulled off his fork with his teeth, and his low groan as the flavors hit his tongue makes my dick twitch.
Nope, not interested. The beta in front of me is trouble. There’s too many unknown factors, and I’m focused on that. I’ll compartmentalize and then send him and his friends on their way once I know what their impact will be on my town.
I can’t help my possessive thoughts, it’s why I have to rein myself in so hard when it comes to Silva. I don’t need a distraction. As hot as Isidro is, that’s what he is.
“Stop fucking the cake with your tongue and talk,” I grunt, sliding my fork through the dessert and taking a bite.
Goddamn, Mrs. Hall really does know how to bake a cake. Fuck that’s good.
“Your eyes just crossed, asshole,” Isidro chuckles darkly. “Don’t tease me about how fucking good this is.”
“Mrs. Hall is a treasure,” I grunt, cracking open the lid of a bottle of water and taking a sip. “So why our town? We’re out of the way of all the tourist towns. Fuck, we’re barely on the map at all.”
“I noticed,” he mutters. “Look, you kind of mentioned there were lower crime rates here than other places, so I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you worked as a cop once in a larger city.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Seattle chewed me up and spit me out. I worked on the force there for six years, and left with a healthy amount of distrust for just about everyone I worked with. If you had enough money, it talked loud enough to get you out of anything.”
“I’m not part of an organization or police department due to the corruption I’ve seen previously. I’d rather work with a small team to track down leads and find justice,” Isidro says.
He keeps his eyes on his emotional support dessert, pushing the words out with effort. I let him avoid eye contact as he tells me his story, filling in the gaps myself. If he’s rogue, that could bring trouble here.
I know first hand that law enforcement doesn’t like when people poke their noses in places it doesn’t belong.
“And what kind of justice is that?” I ask, indulging in another bite of cake.
I have a lot of questions I don’t have answers to, and I can’t bombard him with all of them or I’ll spook him. The best option I have is to keep my mouth busy…with dessert.
“The one where the people responsible disappear,” Isidro shrugs, his dark eyes filled with humor as he flicks his gaze up to me.
“Sometimes, the issue is following the breadcrumbs of a case gone cold. That’s why we work on it in the background, hoping that we’ll get a chance to warm it up enough to follow a trail. ”
“And let me guess, this so-called case is bringing you here?” I scoff.
Nerves twist my stomach, and I think about Silva and the founders of Widows Peak. Does this have something to do with them
“It did,” he admits. “I don’t have any credentials to prove this since we’re ghosts in the system, but I am telling the truth.”
“Is there a reason you don’t have a scent?” I ask, changing the subject to make him off balance. “Hiding your scent definitely doesn’t help your case.”
“I’m not doing that,” Isidro says, confusion moving across his features. It feels feigned in a way, though with the wind blowing in my direction, I can faintly smell gingerbread and pumpkin.
We’re too early in the season for gingerbread, but Mrs. Hall is still baking pumpkin desserts. Isidro is an enigma, because he can’t entirely blame the bakery for what I’m smelling.
If anything, his reason for being here makes me even more likely to overthink everything about him.
“I’ve never met a beta with almost no scent,” I say, trying to push him off balance. “It’s very odd.”
“I’m not here to make you more comfortable,” he says.
“I am running a lead down for a cold case that brought me here. I’ve been working on this for years with my team.
I’m asking for the space to figure out what my team is looking at, Syrus.
Your town is full of omegas and I’m trying to take apart a sex trafficking ring.
That has to count for something, right?”
Fuck. If there’s a trafficking ring operating nearby, then the omegas in this town could be in danger.
“If your story is true, it simply means that your presence here could pull too much attention. I meant it when I said this town is wary of alphas. They’ll need to get used to you all in order to want to say more than boo,” I reply.
“Don’t make waves. There are a few bed and breakfasts in town, but they’ll throw your asses out if there’s an omega who needs your bed. I’m not kidding.”
“I’m aware,” he grunts. “Omegas should have the rooms if they’re coming into town and figuring out their next moves. Do you get new people often? It feels like everyone knows each other.”
“About twenty percent of the town are new transplants in the last six months,” I say, spouting off facts.
I keep track of statistics, because it’ll give me an idea of what might be happening outside of our bubble. It’s why I also keep in touch with my ex-partner. I can’t stick my head in the sand, and I don’t intend to.
“For some reason, it seems to increase in the winter months,” I add. “These roads get rough as snow gets dumped on us, and people get twitchy if they’re in bad situations. They’re better off here if they’re running from something.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Isidro asks, polishing off the rest of his cake.
“I’m not hiding or running,” I correct. “I chose a different life for myself, one where I’m not worried the people I work with will stab me in the back. If you’re staying, I need to know this decision won’t fuck me over.”
“It won’t,” he promises, drinking the rest of the water to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.
The fudge in this cake is thick. That’s what makes it so damn good. Pushing away my own empty plate, I wait for him to finish drinking. I’ll run it off in the morning, for now I’ll enjoy the sugar high.
“No offense, but it sounds like you have trust issues,” Isidro observes.
“Let’s just say that leaving the police force shouldn’t be a reenactment of blood in, blood out,” I say.
“It takes a lot to gain my trust, and I don’t think you have what it takes.
You may also be walking around town without a car for a while.
Shep is a busy guy, and you’re not one of his favorite people. ”
Standing, he nods. “Understood. I’ll take a walk to find my guys and figure out where I’m staying tonight. See ya around, Sheriff.”
My lips purse as he lets himself out the side door leading out to the sidewalk from the outdoor patio. He just drew the line between us and I don’t like it.
Guess my new hobby of hyperfixation is going to have to include him.
Isn’t that a pity for him?