Page 193 of Retribution

Welp, I’m sure Grant will train with me to regain it.

Moving carefully across the limb, I’m grateful to the grip on my boots as I work my way up to where the tree kisses the house. It has a bay window on the second floor, allowing me to step onto the sill. Pulling out my lockpicking tools, I look around the curtains, ensuring this is an empty bedroom.

Using a thin and flexible tool, I slide it between the sash and the frame to release the latch.

The security system is completely down, right?I ask Grant through the bond. I’d usually do my own legwork for this, but this was spur of the moment, and Oli has his computer with him.

I don’t want to trip the damn thing if I don’t have to.

You just gave us several gray hairs with that leap through the tree,Grant growls.The windows aren’t hot. Everything is down. Please get inside before you fall.

Smirking, I pull the window up and step into the house. I see the SUV pulling away from the curb and blow them a kiss they probably can’t see before shutting the window. I leave it unlocked so I can jump out if necessary, though I may just use the front door.

I'll feel it out.

Walking silently out of the bedroom, I search for the man who is either sleeping across the hall, or is downstairs. Pulling my gun from my pocket, I hunt him down, careful to make sure that the house doesn’t shift under my feet.

Reginald Mathers is single after a nasty divorce, and my earlier research didn’t suggest that he had anyone that he was seeing regularly.

My search finds him downstairs, drinking, a gun in his hand. Brow raised, I grin as I stay just outside of the living room.

“Are you going to play with me?” I croon. “I’ve got time, baby. I heard that you were a very bad boy. What do you have against transitional housing anyway?”

Rolling his eyes in the low light, he shakes his head.

“These omegas are uppity,” he complains. “They’re the scum underneath my feet. Why should I give them handouts?”

“Is it a handout when the world has put them beneath you?” I ask, dropping to the ground and rolling as he pulls the trigger.

I roll toward him, hitting the gun out of his grasp and shoving my own in his face. I send my alphas reassurance that I’m fine, but I can’t split my focus right now.

“I have plans for you, but I’m good with shooting you in the face and letting your house cleaner find your body,” I growl.

This is the type of person who doesn’t give a shit about cleaning up for himself, and my preliminary research did find that he does in fact contract with a cleaning service.

“Fuck, why are you so fast?” he grumbles, breathing deeply. “You’re a goddamned omega.”

“Mmhmm. It will be my greatest pleasure to teach you why you shouldn’t be a douchebag to my designation. We’re all tired of your shit, Reggie.”

Standing, I motion for him to stand up.

“Do you happen to bring your work home?” I ask, shooting a quick glimpse at the table he was sitting at.

No paperwork.

“It’s in my office,” he grumbles. “I could make you let me go.”

“If you could, you already would have,” I correct, pushing him to begin walking. “I don’t have a sense of humor today. Let’s get this done.”

Reggie whines the entire way to his office, and I flip on the light as I force him to sit in a chair that isn’t behind his desk.

“Where are the building permits for Omega’s Haven?” I ask, glaring at the piles of paperwork everywhere. “It’s no wonder nothing gets done if this is what the city is working with.”

“This is where I drop things that I don’t care about,” Reggie scoffs. “I know where everything is.”

“Find me any paperwork in regards to Omega’s Haven,” I insist. I put my gun in my opposite hand and pull out my knife to press against his neck.

It’s clear that he’s been home for hours. He’s wearing pajamas that match, and his hair is a mess. I wonder if he heard me come into the house and figured he’d wait for me to find him, or if there was a reason he was drinking so much.