Page 60 of Laurels and Liquor

“You do whatever you have to, pay whomever you need to. I mean it.”

I get to my feet and lean over the phone, and as if he can sense it, he gives me another quick “yes, ma’am” before hanging up. I switch over to Rhett and Jason, sighing.

“Ted’s going to call you in a minute. I’m heading to St. Mary’s. I’ll text you when I know more,” I drone, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

Rhett grunts out an acknowledgement, but I don’t have time to talk him down. Instead, I hang up and stride out of my office and out to my car.

1.Where is your turn signal, you motherless baboon!

2.What's going on back there?

Chapter twenty-eight

Rhett

Iendmycallwith Ted, a bittersweet warmth filling my gut. I’m free. They’re dropping all charges due to failure to indict. I’m going home. I should be over the moon, shouting and dancing because I'll finally be able to see my pack again. But instead, all I can feel is overwhelming anxiety over the situation with Lydia.

I’ve tried calling her several times, but she’s not picking up. Does she not have her phone? Or is she too hurt to answer? I have to slam the door in my mind that cracks open with those terrifying questions. I promised myself I wouldn’t go back there, to that place of anxiety and desperation. A spot above my heart aches, and I massage it slightly, trying to sense anything. Lydia has me convinced now about this “pseudo-bond,” despite my early skepticism. But the longer we’ve been apart, the less I’ve been feeling that longing, the random flashes of emotions that don’t relate to anything I’m doing. And in this moment, I can’t tell if I’m not feeling anything because the bond is so fragile, or if there’s really nothing to feel.

Trying to distract myself from that dangerous line of thinking, I fire off a text to Lucas, asking if he’s heard anything from Lydia. I wander around the apartment, trying to gather as much of my stuff as I can onto the bed I’ve been sleeping in. I want to be ready to sprint out of here as soon as this monitor is cut free from my ankle. But I can’t get much accomplished while I’m constantly checking my phone for a reply.

The minutes drag like decades, but no one is answering me. I remember latently that Lucas has work right now, and probably isn’t answering because he’s actually doing his job. But Lex still hasn’t texted, and I know she would have reached the hospital at this point.

“Dude, you have to sit down. You’re driving me crazy,” Jason snaps from the kitchen island.

I growl at him, my patience too short to deal with him, too. Not that he has a whole lot of room to judge me and my coping mechanisms. His face is placid, but he keeps fidgeting, messing with the couch cushions, straightening the coasters in their little holder on the end table, refolding the kitchen towels. I swallow the sharp words threatening to come out, not willing to start a fight when we both have better things to worry about. I keep refreshing my phone, waiting for someone to tell me what’s going on. I feel so useless, like I have for the last two months. My omega needs me, and I can’t leave this fucking apartment.

Finally, I get a message from Lex in the pack group chat.

Lex: Lydia’s fine. Sylvie went into labor.

Me: Thank God she’s not hurt.

I relay the information to Jason, and his shoulders slump in relief. He slides into a dining room chair, pulling out his phone. I return my attention to my own device as it buzzes again.

Lex: Sylvie won’t let her leave, not that Lydia wants to go anywhere.

Mat: What? Why?

Lucas: Sounds like an omega thing. It’s in their nature to protect and care for other omegas, especially during the birth process. So we probably won’t be able to get Lydia to leave until after the baby’s born.

Lex: Well, she may not have a choice.

Lex: She’s starting to go into heat.

I swear under my breath, running a hand through my hair. The others go back and forth, figuring out how to best proceed, but my mind is elsewhere. I fight the urge to call Ted again and tell him I’m going home, with or without getting my ankle monitor removed, but Jason’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Look, I’m going to go through with our plan. I’ll take my time and let you get home and get settled in, but I need to leave tonight. Sammy isn’t sure he can cover for me for much longer.” Jason sighs.

“What’s going on? Have you heard something?” I ask, abruptly focusing.

Jason shrugs. “They’ve figured out stuff’s missing, but they are having a hard time pinning down exactly what I took or what it means. But I should get it out of their reach before they do. You know what I mean?”

I nod thoughtfully. I’d looked over the documents and files, and while I consider myself to be pretty finance savvy, the sheer amount of information contained in the spreadsheets was overwhelming without his explanations. Lex wanted us to send copies of the files, but sending massive amounts of encrypted files from my computer to hers via a highly secured line seemed a little suspicious. Jason has the boxes loaded back in his car and is going to drive them to Everton, and then the forensic accountant can get to work.

If Jason’s this worried and wants to leave, I don’t think it would be smart to stop him. There’s really nothing to keep him here any longer, especially now that I’m leaving, too. The company over the last week has been a welcome change, but it’s time for us to get him safe. We can protect him better in Everton when he inevitably faces the backlash of his formal petition for pack severance. After a long pause, I nod and pull out my wallet. Sliding out a thick white plastic card, I hold it out for him to take.

“This is the access card for the elevator to my pack’s suite at Wickland House. I don’t know what the situation is going to be once I get home, and I don’t want you to not have anywhere to go while things get sorted,” I explain.

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