Chapter 7
Bram
The smell of garbage is practically fused to my nose.
I took a full shower at the station, smeared essential oil under my nose, and hell, I even got desperate I snatched a bottle of scent-suppressing spray and emptied half of it onto me.
Unfortunately, it didn’t do a damn thing, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Scent suppressors are made to neutralize pheromones, not the rancid grease of gas station trash.
I let out a rough breath.
This is all Ray Potts’ fault.
My shift was supposed to end at nine. Instead, I spent the last three hours tracking him down for shoplifting a lighter, eventually finding him behind the Gas-N-Go...
in a dumpster. Then I had to pull him out, put him in the back of my cruiser, drive him to the station, and process him.
I’ve basically been trapped in close quarters with a human garbage dump for three hours.
Between this and the impending doom of our financial ruin, all I want now is a stiff drink and my bed.
I cut across the dark grass toward the cottage, then freeze.
Is something... buzzing?
It’s faint, barely audible under the wind and the crickets, but it’s here. And my alpha hearing has never failed me. Just ask Ray and his muffled sneeze.
I close my eyes and focus.
I think the buzz is coming from Cabin Seven. That’d make sense as Jenna flagged a faulty outlet in there two weeks ago. I told Reed to fix it, but he obviously didn’t.
If that outlet is shorting behind the drywall, the whole cabin could go up. Given our current financial trajectory, no thanks.
Annoyance cuts right through my exhaustion. I adjust my duty belt and cross the weeds. The cabin is dark, but the hum grows louder with every step.
I take the porch steps two at a time and pause outside the door. The sound is definitely inside. Low, persistent, mechanical and... uh, is someone whimpering?
I hit the door with my fist, rattling the frame.
“Who’s in there?” I demand.
Frantic rustling kicks up inside. Someone scrambling. The buzz keeps humming.
“Open up,” I bark. “I won’t repeat myself.”
More rustling, but no answer.
“That’s it, I’m coming in!” I throw my shoulder against the wood. The frame splinters, and the door swings inward.
“Eeeeee!” The sound is a high, distressed whine. An omega whine. I freeze in the doorway.
An omega? What the hell is an omega doing here?
I take out my flashlight, the beam sweeping across a suitcase and a pair of sneakers, then lands squarely on the bed, revealing a woman with ink-dark hair and a porcelain complexion.
She is scrambling backward against the headboard, bare legs tangled in the sheets under the hem of an oversized gray T-shirt, yanking the blanket over her chest to cover herself, her chest heaving.
She’s small, fragile-looking, yet her eyes are shooting absolute daggers at me. For some reason, every protective instinct I have flares up and I desperately want to step closer and smooth the terror out of her.
The splintered door scrapes against the floorboards as it swings back with the wind, the sound snapping me out of the brief haze.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“Who am I?” she snaps. “Who are you, some badge-wearing creep?”
“A cree—” I bite off the word, my jaw locking. “I own this orchard. You’re trespassing.”
“I am not trespassing,” she shoots back. “I was told I could stay here!”
“You’re lying,” I say. “Nobody authorized that. The cabins are closed.”
“But—”
“No ‘but’,” I cut in, my hand dropping to the handcuffs on my duty belt. The low, mechanical hum is still vibrating through the mattress, a steady, rhythmic buzz that is definitely not an electrical fire. “And explain what that noise is.”
I shift the flashlight beam off her face, tracking the sound down to a tiny bulge in the center of the blanket, where the vibration is strongest. Her face goes completely red. “Nothing! It’s nothing.”
She scrambles, reaching under the blanket, but her sudden movement triggers my procedural training. Trespasser. Uncooperative. Reaching for an unknown object.
“Hands where I can see them!” I order, stepping forward.
“Are you serious?” she gasps. “What are you—”
“I am.” I lunge forward, grabbing her wrist, and snap the cuff around it, reaching for the headboard to anchor the other end.
But as she kicks out, the movements drag the blanket off the mattress, revealing a small, bright pink wand tumbling out.
It hits the wood floor with a loud thump, and goes skittering across the floorboards, buzzing angrily.
Is that a..?
My brain short-circuits. For a split second, my alpha goes absolutely rigid, a primal, heavy heat pooling low in my gut.
She sits there, one wrist bound in steel, her cheeks flushed dark pink and her light brown eyes wide.
A few strands of black hair are plastered to her damp forehead, and the oversized shirt has slipped off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her collarbone.
Fuck, there’s something about her... she really is staggering, isn’t she?
The sudden gust of wind howls through the open doorway, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Come on, Bram. Get a grip. She’s a suspect, and you’re in uniform. This is wildly unprofessional. I drag my eyes away from her collarbone, my face heating as the deputy in me reasserts control.
I look down at the buzzing toy on the floor, then back at her. “A vibrator? Really? If you’re gonna trespass, you should at least get something with a lower decibel count.”
She falls back against the pillows, her jaw clamped tight, her chest heaving as she glares at me. The flush on her neck goes all the way down to her collarbone.
“You’re a maniac!” she shouts, straining against the cuff. “I am literally not wearing pants, and you cuffed me.”
“You broke in,” I shoot back, hyper-aware of the long line of her bare legs under the hem of the shirt. I force my eyes up to her face. “You’re lucky I don’t drag you to the station right now.”
“Do it,” she snaps, her chin lifting. “I’ll tell everyone you handcuffed me to a bed half-naked, you creep.”
Did she just... try to blackmail me?
I step back, my hand on the radio at my hip. I should call it in. And keep her right there, a dark, heavy part of my mind whispers. Cuffed until morning.
I shake my head. Focus.
Calling this situation weird would be a massive understatement. And while I definitely need to figure out what’s going on, I am exhausted. The thought of a three-page incident report and a midnight drive to the county seat sounds like an absolute nightmare. So maybe...
I step closer to the bed and her breath catches, her eyes going wide as my shadow falls over her.
I lean in, reach down... and free her wrist.
She blinks, rubbing it in surprise.
“Get dressed,” I say, my voice rough as I step back toward the door. “I’m bringing you in for questioning.”