Page 15 of Sawyer

Gliding my tongue across my teeth, I turn to her personal wardrobe. Skimpy pieces all made to rip and tear as we move line the rack. Over the years, I learned that guys either love simplicity or extravagance. The in-between is never profitable, and outfits like nurses, cops, or sexy bunnies make no money.

But all black lace never failed me in the past.

Resignation sweeps through me as I flip through the outfits, my fingers brushing along the fabric. Even two years later, she still used the same ones that worked.

I hope they are washed.

“Is this her station?” Rumor asks, sneaking up on me once more. He’s like a panther moving through the night.

My heart rate spikes before I get it under control. “Yeah.” I look over my shoulder at the delta who stormed into my life in one afternoon, ripping it to shreds.

“Red,” he tells me as he filters through her drawer with no respect for the dead. To him, it’s another job.

“Excuse me?” I turn around, glaring at him.

Ever so slowly, he looks up, glancing from me to the wardrobe rack. “Red lace.”

My mouth parts, but unlike any man who ever told me what to wear in the past, a twisted part of me wants to wear exactly what he just told me to.

“I can see the indecision on your face.” Standing, he boxes me into the small space between Cherry’s station and the back of another one. As he towers over me, his scent thickens in the air. “Red is your color, Sawyer.”

I tilt my head back to stare at him, my lips parting in surprise as his chest brushes against mine. He reaches behind me, and I hear him pull a hanger off the rack.

“Did you talk to Tomi?” I ask a little too breathlessly.

“Yes.” He sets the hanger to the side, not moving away from me. “Never allow someone to disrespect you like that.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” comes my whispered reply. “You’re a delta. You’re respected.”

“And you’ve worked hard for that respect.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Sawyer Mueller.” He says my legal last name as though it rolls right off his tongue. It isn’t a name I use anymore. Instead, I only ever use my first name. “Born and raised in South Fair Harbor.” His lips tick up at that. “A harbor girl.”

“How—”

“I’m not done yet, Lotus,” he says. “You grew up in a pack. Your mom, an omega, has three mates—two alphas and one beta. I believe you have a younger sister who has been trying to call you all day. Poppy, an omega, currently resides at the castle. You have an older brother as well, Shepard, who is an alpha. He’s currently a captain on a warship.” He smirks at the name, the first genuine smile I’ve seen out of him all damn day.

“My parents liked unusual names,” I say as though that explains everything. “You had no right.”

“Oh, baby girl, but I did. See, my boss warned me about you. He told me you are a force of nature. This little gamma with the bite of a viper. At first, I was just curious, and then I dug through your past.”

“You knew this whole time, didn’t you?” I try to push him away, my ire growing with every second. “You knew I used to work here.”

“I did,” he says, not lying, but I feel like this delta will never lie to me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I get answers, Sawyer. That’s why the council calls me in.”

“So you used me,” I state, not surprised. I just met him, but he knows far more about me than any other. “You’re no better than Tomi.”

“You wound me, baby girl.” Rumor leans down into my space, burying his nose against my neck. His slow breaths brush his chest against mine, and damn me to hell for exhaling a shaky breath and pushing against him. “See, I planned to use you to get to the bottom of my case, but then I scented you. Lime and custard.”

My hand clenches in his shirt. To drag him closer or push him away? I don’t even know.

“Do you know what a scent match is, Sawyer?” he asks against the column of my throat.

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