I don’t have time for this shit.
Neither does Landon.
And usually, I could give a fuck less about what that little preppy boy needs, but this affects us both.
That was the best goddamned cookie I’ve ever had in my life.
Then suddenly, said creator of those cookies was on the pavement, bruised up because some idiot Beta thought it would be fun to speed through a parking lot.
None of this should bother me.
It isn’t my problem. It’s not my concern that a random Omega waltzed in here, thinking we’d take on a missing persons case.
And she brought cookies.
Fucking macarons.
I hate the effect she’s had on me. I keep my Alpha instincts locked up, never letting myself be drawn to any Omega’s scent.
But hers was different.
It was sweeter and almost impossible to ignore.
For one wild moment, I fantasized about whisking her away from this bullshit.
I’m a fucking idiot.
I watch as she’s loaded into the ambulance, then turn my attention back to the driver that ran her over.
His windshield is wrecked.
Good.
Landon is ridiculously calm, like usual, trying not to escalate the situation as he interacts with the asshole driver.
My eyes hurt, my head aches, and I need a fucking cigarette.
But not before I walk up to the driver, interrupting his dramatics.
“If you keep running your fucking mouth, I’ll have you arrested for attempted murder,” I snarl, and I hear Landon huff in irritation next to me.
The Beta’s eyes widen. “You can’t do that! You’re not a fucking cop!” he snaps, his voice wavering slightly.
I bark out a cruel laugh. “You have no idea what I can do, asshole,” I hiss.
“I suggest you leave before Detective Cain makes good on his threat,” Landon says calmly. “I have your insurance information; I’ll be sure to pass it on to Miss Bloom.”
Omega.
I feel a phantom twinge of jealousy that Landon is planning on talking to her again, but I shove that feeling down.
It doesn’t matter. I have better things to do.
And if Landon wants to waste his time being a bleeding heart, I don’t care.
This isn’t my problem.
My hands start to shake, and I curl them into fists.
I need to eat. Or sleep.
Or something.
I stalk off, not trusting myself to not lose my shit on the driver or Landon. Walking over to the the curb, I fish into my jean pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I light one, already anticipating the uncomfortable conversation I’ll be forced to have with Landon when he makes his way over to me.
I steady my breathing. I focus on calming down.
I need sleep.
But I can’t fucking sleep. These overdoses are haunting me. There’s no reason for so many in such a short time period—
“I thought you were quitting.” Landon’s annoying, arrogant tone fills the air, and I scowl around the cigarette.
I fight the urge to put it out in his eye.
The sooner we solve this shit, the better.
Landon’s an insufferable partner.
“I still am,” I say, fighting to sound neutral. My emotions are haywire, and the three cups of coffee, two cigarettes, and one macaron aren’t doing anything phenomenal for my mental state.
He follows my gaze, and we both stand in silence as cars drive past on the main street. I’m hoping he’ll go back inside; I don’t want to talk about the Omega or anything else non-case related.
“Her car is still here,” he says conversationally. “Someone will need to give her a ride home from the hospital.”
“I don’t care,” I say too quickly.
He hums thoughtfully. “I was thinking you should do it.”
Landon’s smart, I’ll give him that. I shouldn’t have let it slip that I found her pretty. I know what he’s doing; he’s probably happy I showed an interest in anything and is offering some type of pity break so I don’t kill myself over these cases.
“You can do it,” I snap, dropping my cigarette on the grass and stamping it out. “Why would I care about her?”
And of course she’s pretty, she’s an Omega.
She’s designed to be beautiful. It’s in her DNA to attract my inner Alpha.
It’s not special.
She’s not special.
I’m sure if I tried hard enough, I could perfect a cookie recipe too.
“I’m going to visit her at the hospital out of courtesy,” Landon says slowly, talking to me as if I’m a child. “Since she came all this way only to be told ‘no,’ then hit by a car.”
He glares at me pointedly.
“What?” I snarl. He’s slightly taller than me, but I’m bulkier, and I’m almost positive I could kick his ass in a fight.
“You like her.” He quirks an eyebrow, daring me to deny it.
“I’m not five years old. This isn’t kindergarten.” I shake my head.
“We actually have downtime tomorrow. Meet us at the hospital, give her a ride home, then get some rest, River. You look like shit.”
I fume internally. I could argue with him. I don’t believe in ‘downtime,’ and I certainly don’t need him telling me what to do.
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” I say bitterly.
But I hate that he’s partially right. Usually, I don’t have a partner to rein me in, and it feels foreign to have someone else looking out for me.
Unfortunately, I can’t stand my partner, so any gesture of good faith he shows makes me want to vomit all over his polished shoes.
It’s a miracle I don’t.
“Do you have her address?” I ask finally, turning to scowl at him.
He fights a smile. “I do. She’s in Isleton.”
I freeze.
“Fucking Isleton?!”
Ben must have told her about us.
I’m going to kill that fucker.
“Yes,” Landon says, looking far too smug. “It will do you good to get out of town. And you know, maybe actually return your cousin’s calls.”
I scoff. “You need to stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Did you ever think that maybe you don’t have the all the answers, asshole?”
But Landon just shrugs. “I haven’t found that to be the case yet.” He grins, and I groan.
Isleton is more than two hours away.
And if giving the Omega a ride home means I can be a hundred miles away from my partner…
“I guess I’m going to Isleton,” I sigh.
