Page 52 of Retribution
“What are your plans today?” I ask.
“I have some things to work on for clients on my computer. It’s nothing too intense. One of my clients needs intel on a building commissioner that he thinks is crooked and messing with permits for a transitional property build in Minneapolis.”
“What kind of transition?” I ask, not understanding.
“The organization is one for omegas who are homeless and trying to get back on their feet,” she explains. “It’s called Omega’s Haven. Sometimes, there are omegas who aren’t ready to move on, so the organization wants to offer them a halfway point between the shelter and moving fully back into society.”
“Wow. Is this city funded?” Lucas asks.
“Not to my knowledge,” Isolde says, taking a bite of her food. Her facial expression relaxes completely as she chews, and her eyes close to half mast.
She’s right, the food is good. However, the way that she is enjoying it makes me want to make sure she enjoys every meal like that. Shoving a forkful of quiche into my mouth, I chewto keep myself from asking anything or apologizing that Lucas didn’t answer the phone fast enough when she called.
I heard her tone last night when she said she was having a sandwich. We could have taken her out to eat anything else if she didn’t want to come over for dinner. It’s a fine line between wanting to give her everything and smothering our omega.
“Omega’s Haven is a private non-profit organization. The founders are omegas who have had a less than kind past and wanted other omegas to have more support than they did,” Isolde explains. “It didn’t exist when I was sold, but I don’t know if I would have gone to it either way. I don’t enjoy people.”
“Join the club,” I grunt. “I’m an introvert by trade, Kitten. My name isn’t any part of a transaction when I’m doing a job on the dark web. I’ve taken money for a lot of shit. Sometimes, when I’m bored, I teach people how to do a modified version of what I do because I have more than enough work.”
Isolde almost chokes before grabbing her water to take a sip.
“Are you alright?” I ask, rubbing her back.
“It went down the wrong side,” she gasps. “I’m okay.”
My lips purse because I think there’s something more to that. She had a visceral response to my words, but I don’t know why.
“Glad to hear it,” I murmur.
Lucas’ eyes bounce between us, though he keeps his mouth shut about why. Breakfast continues in peace, and the promise to check in.
“Isolde, can I have your phone?” I ask.
She glances curiously at me until I instead unlock and hand her mine. Alesso and Lucas’s jaws almost unhinge because of how much I guard my privacy.
“Put your number in my phone please,” I say instead.
“Oh,” she whispers, inputting it into contacts.
“I want you to have our numbers. Alesso and I live off the information grid. It’s harder to find us, which is why I know you called Lucas last night.”
Lucas winces at the memory of how long it took for him to be able to get in contact with her, but we’re moving past that by giving her the tools to contact us.
“Mine too,” Alesso says, unlocking his phone and handing it to her.
I text her while she’s putting in her number, since she wouldn’t give me her phone. She’s an adorable feral gremlin, and I’ll restructure my intentions until she understands what they are without batting an eye.
“Same, please,” Grant says. “I’ll just get it from Lucas otherwise. We both know I’m a heavy handed asshole, Little Nightmare.”
“I’m going to end up stabbing you,” she grumbles.
“I have a thing for pain too,” he shrugs.
“You’re insane, and that’s something for me to say,” Isolde says, taking his phone.
“I get results,” Grant smirks.
I mean, he’s not wrong, but my dick jerks behind my zipper as I imagine Isolde stabbing him.
