Page 13 of Break Me Knot

Adrian already has his phone out, his movements sharp with tension. His fingers stab at the screen. Despite the early hour, he's calling Elliot, our admin manager. At least one of us is thinking clearly through the haze of desperate need.

Adrian presses the hands-free button, so we all hear the phone ringing three times before a groggy voice answers, “Mr. Blackwood? Is everything all right?”Elliot sounds like we've woken him from a deep sleep, but there's an edge of alertness creeping in. He knows Adrian wouldn't call this early without good reason.

Cole and I crowd close to Adrian to better hear both sides of the conversation. Adrian's jaw is clenched so tight I see the muscle jumping.

“What cleaning company do we use?” Adrian cuts straight to the point. He struggles to remain professional when every instinct from all three of us screams to tear the city apart looking for our omega.

There's a pause, then, “Oh, uh, I actually switched companies recently. The previous one raised their rates, so I've been trialing a new service.”

“The name, Elliot,” Adrian growls. “I need the name of the company and their manager's contact information. Now.”

“Of course, of course. If there's a problem, I’ll terminate—”

“The cleaning was fine,” Adrian interrupts, his patience visibly fraying. His free hand clenches into a fist at his side. “I need to track down the female cleaner who was in our offices this morning.”

“This morning? The cleaning crew should have finished hours ago,” Elliot says.

“I don't care about that. The company name and manager's contact information. Now,” Adrian says.

“Oh, um, yes, of course. It's Squeaky Clean Cleaning Service. The manager is a beta named Stacey. I'll text you her number right now.”

The phone pings with an incoming message just as Adrian ends the call, cutting off Elliot's stammered apologies. Adrian stabs the screen again and puts the phone back to his ear, the morning light as the sun rises casting shadows in the worried grooves in his face.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Each unanswered ring ratchets up the tension until I taste copper in my mouth from biting my cheek. Cole paces behind us, his shoes scraping against the frozen concrete.

Finally, a click. “Squeaky Clean, this is Stacey.” The voice is clearly annoyed at the early hour.

“This is Adrian Blackwood from Pinnacle Therapeutics. I need information about your cleaner who was in our offices last night.”

A pause. “Mr. Blackwood? Is there a problem with the service?”

Adrian inhales through his nose and clenches his eyes shut. “The female cleaner you sent last night. I need her name and contact information.”

Through the phone, I hear Stacey's sharp intake of air. “Mira's one of my best workers, but if she hasn’t done a good job, I’ll send someone…”

Mira. Her name is Mira. At least we know something about her, even if it is only her name.

“No, that’s not necessary. I just need to speak with her,” Adrian says, his knuckles whitening around the phone. “It's about an important document she might have seen in the trash. It was stupid of me to put it in there and I’d like to ask where she emptied the trash before I dig through all our industrial skips to find it,” Adrian says smoothly, though I smell the anxiety rolling off him.

Cole has stopped pacing, his breath held as we wait for Stacey's response.

“I’ll ask her and pass along a message,” Stacey offers.

“I'd prefer to handle this personally. The document is important, and I’d like to maintain discretion. The more people who are in a chain, the more discretion is hard to control.” He chooses each word carefully, despite his inner turmoil.

“Well...” Stacey hesitates. “I can give you her number…”

“I’d prefer to ask her in person. I’m sure you understand.”

The long pause drags on my raw nerve endings, and finally she speaks. “Mira lives in the Fletcher District, in the big apartment block on Marx Street. Unit 3C.” She pauses. “But if anything happens to her…”

I cannot hide my recoil. My horrified glance locks on Cole. The Fletcher District is a cesspit of human scum. I hate to think of anyone living there, alpha, beta or especially omega. It’s not safe at all. In fact, it’s downright dangerous.

“You have my word I will treat her with the utmost gentleness,” Adrian says, though his free hand is clenched so tight his nails must be cutting into his palm. “This is purely about maintaining company information and keeping my ownstupidity a secret. We can’t have the public finding out its CEO lost important documents because he filed them in the trash.”

Stacey chuckles. “Of course. Your secret is safe with me… although if you weren’t happy with the service, I have other cleaners—”

“The service was more than fine. I’ll have Elliot pay you triple to ensure this hiccup is kept to ourselves.”

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