Knot A Trace: Part One

Entering the building is extremely anticlimactic. I’m greeted by an empty reception area, with two chairs to the left and a vacant desk directly in front of me. A tiny potted plant sits on the desk, along with half a dozen business card holders.

The only sound is the gentle whirring of the air conditioner. There aren’t even any lights on, and for a second, I wonder if the entire building is empty.

Then, I smell it.

Alpha.

My entire body tenses and I’m temporarily paralyzed.

I’ve never reacted this way to a scent. I take my suppressants like I’m supposed to, never missing a dose, especially after what happened with Jason.

But tingles shoot down my spine and my thoughts sputter.

Strong imagery fills my imagination, and I never want to stop inhaling the scent.

It’s rain in the forest with a touch of gentle pine.

It’s the subtle smoke from blowing out a candle after stepping out of the bath.

Romance.

Longing.

Comfort.

I almost drop my macarons as I stand there slack jawed, looking like an absolute weirdo.

Part of me wants to leave and never look back.

I feel a damp spot forming in my panties, and I’m shocked.

What the hell is going on?

But this isn’t about me or my body’s obnoxious reaction.

It’s about April.

And if that scent leads to someone that can help me, I need to suck it up and locate the source.

My palms are sweaty and my breathing is ragged, but I force my legs to move. I wander down a hall, following the incredible scent.

Almost every door I pass is closed and its window is dark. But there’s a light that shines near the end of the hall that streams in from an office.

One that has a door partially open.

There’s the faint sound of typing as I inch closer, allowing the scent to lead the way.

My heart pounds in my chest as I clutch the box of macarons tightly in front of me, as if the cookies offer me a sense of confidence that I don’t possess otherwise.

By the time I reach the cracked door, I’m holding my breath.

Do it for April.

Holding the cookies in one hand, I knock on the door with confidence, rapping loudly three times with my knuckles.

The typing on the other side of the door stops, and I want to run away.

“Come in,” a voice, low and silky, responds.

Of course, Alpha, my inner voice says, startling me.

Then I slowly push the door open.

I don’t even think. My body is on autopilot, and when I meet his handsome face, it’s all I can do to not drop the damn macarons.

He’s sitting at a desk, a computer in front of him. His light brown hair is cropped short and stylishly messy on top. He regards me with dark brown eyes, a slightly curious expression on his clean-shaven face.

And his scent.

It envelops me like an invisible embrace. It’s safety, kindness, and warmth, all rolled into one delectable man.

My inner Omega does backflips, awakened after months of being shoved to the side.

Mine, she snarls, and I ignore her feral claim, because what the fuck is happening?

Instead, I just stare at the Alpha like an idiot, my mouth slightly agape, standing in the doorway.

He’s dressed in a fitted white button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves that show off his forearms. His strong jaw and full lips make him the hottest detective I’ve ever seen in my life.

If Devyn could hear my thoughts, she would be shrieking with delight.

I’m ogling him.

“Can I help you?” he asks politely, his brow slightly furrowed.

“Uh…” I dart my eyes away from his gaze and focus on the nameplate on the desk.

Landon Burrows.

“I…” I try again, shifting from one foot to the other, searching for the right words to say. “Um…hi.”

Great job, Skye.

His dark eyes dart to the box in my hand, then back to my face. “Is everything all right?” he asks gently, not the slightest bit annoyed.

He’s the exact opposite of Jason.

That makes me snap out of it.

I clear my throat and find my words.

“Yes,” I say clearly, swallowing my nerves down. “My best friend is missing, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

The worst he can say is no.

But please don’t say no.

His eyes narrow and his expression falls.

Oh, no.

He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him.

“I know this isn’t normal, and I apologize for barging in like this,” I continue, standing up straighter. “But I’ve heard you are some of the best private detectives in the country, and I’ve done all I can with our local police.”

I swallow nervously, the action betraying my confident tone.

His scent still swirls around me, lingering in the air, and I use it to calm myself.

Even if he rejects me, I know he won’t be cruel about it.

He shakes his head slightly and frowns. A flash of pity crosses his face, and my stomach sinks. “I’m sorry, Miss…” he trails off, and I want to cry at the inevitable rejection.

“Skylar,” I say, my throat suddenly dry. “My name is Skylar Bloom.”

He gives me a sad smile. “Well, nice to meet you, Skylar. I’m Landon. I’m truly sorry about your friend, Skylar,” he says. “But our caseloads are full, and even if—”

“Please,” I say. Gathering my courage, I walk closer to his desk until I’m standing just a few feet from him. Even though he’s sitting, he’s so tall he almost reaches my standing height. “If I could just have five minutes of your time, I could make my case,” I murmur, my gaze locking onto his.

He wants to deny me. I can tell.

But he inhales deeply, and his pupils suddenly dilate.

Oh.

Does my scent affect him as much as his affects me?

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and I have the sudden urge to lick it.

Focus, Skylar.

He nods. “But two minutes,” he quips. “Not five.”

My stomach flutters and I inhale sharply. Even his harsh tone is attractive.

“April Waters disappeared a few weeks ago, along with her car. And it’s not like her,” I insist. “She didn’t show up for her shift at the café we work at, and when I went to check on her, her car was gone but her purse was still inside her house. I told the police, and we’ve done searches for her, but there’s nothing. No one is taking this seriously enough for me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Did the police assign someone to her case?”

I scoff and shake my head. “They told me the only detective they have is stuck with another case. They’ve taken a report, but that’s all they’ve done. It’s not a priority,” I mutter, huffing and shaking my head.

He stares at me a moment longer, as if debating something in his head. Then, with a small sigh, he reaches for his keyboard and begins to type. “What city are you in?” he asks, staring at his screen.

“Isleton,” I reply.

He stops typing and gazes up at me. “Oh, so you know Ben,” he says amusedly, as the corner of his eyes crinkle. “That’s how you know about us.” He chuckles to himself.

“Ben said you were the best,” I insist, hoping the name recognition is a good sign. “And that if anyone could help, it would be your bureau.”

“Of course, he said that,” he murmurs, sighing deeply. “Well, at least you saw me, and not River.”

I frown. “River?”

“His cousin.”

“Oh.” I shift on my feet as he regards me with his sympathetic dark eyes.

“I’m sorry, Skylar, but your two minutes is up,” he says gently. “I’m truly sorry about your friend, but our entire bureau is booked with cases.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I pray they don’t fall down my cheeks.

“Could I hire you?” I blurt desperately. “I have reward money saved up, and…”

He stands up and walks out from behind the desk, his tall frame towering over me. “Our entire team is busy,” he says softly. “I would work with your local police department—”

He’s rejecting you.

I place the box of macarons on the desk harder than necessary. His eyes widen a fraction as I flip open the box, showcasing the delicate cookies placed in their paper sleeves.

“April and I run a coffee shop, and we’re famous for our macarons,” I say, my eyes dropping to focus on the treats. “I just wanted to leave you some and thank you for your time.”

“Miss Bloom—”

“Or maybe convince you to change your mind,” I chuckle bitterly, shaking my head. “Well, enjoy them. I made some flavors specific for you. I appreciate the help,” I add sarcastically.

I don’t even want to look at him anymore.

We’re running out of time to find April, and I don’t want this Alpha to watch me burst into tears as I think about it.

I need to get out of here now.

“Let me walk you out, at least,” the detective tries, a polite smile on his face.

I shake my head and try to return his smile. “That’s okay, I’ll be—”

“Hey asshole, I need your help with—” a gruff voice interrupts, and another Alpha in a dark brown leather jacket enters the room, his spicy scent overwhelming.

He quirks an eyebrow as he regards me, a messy stack of papers in his hand.

“Who are you?” he demands, and my mouth turns dry.