Page 74 of Only for Love

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Grayson

As job interviews go, this beats out all others. There’s a million dollars’ worth of weapons in this war room—I’m sure of it. The table is long and sleek. The room is low lit and ice cold. The two men sitting across from me are Titan, but only one of them gave me a name. Parker Black. He’s been my phone contact and was the man behind the truck and cash. The other one… I don’t know whether he’s sizing me up or waiting to share, but we sit here in an intense standoff.

“You’re looking for a job.” The unnamed man leans forward, his shirt sleeves loose and rolled, exposing colorful tattoos and a thick tactical watch that nearly matches mine. He personifies Special Forces.

I was a grunt and good at what I did. I have the honors and medal that show I mean something to someone. But I’m a risk—even if I don’t know what position they’re interviewing for. My medical chart is filled with PTSD. My unit can’t vouch for me because they’re all dead.

“A job? Maybe.”

His eyes cut to Parker’s before snapping back to me. “How old are you?”

“Not sure why that matters.”

“You’re Army.”

I shift in the cold chair. “Was. Yeah.”

“And now you’re not.”

My tongue runs over my teeth as I try not to react to what he must already know. “IwasArmy. Now I’m not.”

He leans back. There’s a thickness hanging in the air. This guy doesn’t want me here? Fine. Fuck it. Don’t care. I’ll work the fry basket for minimum wage and work my way up till I own the goddamn joint. I need income, stability, and whatever else it takes to prove I’m solid ground for Emma. So, all of that means I don’t give a shit about unnamed tattoo man’s evil eye. “What is this? Job interview, waste of my time, or what?”

Parker’s lips pinch, but there’s a laugh in his eyes.

I growl. “You want the truck back? Take it. You interviewing for a job? Interview me.”

The man pushes forward in his chair. His eyebrows pinch. The guy wasn’t relaxed before, but now he’s a wall of resolution. “You’re a young-buck hard-ass. Not what we need around here.”

“You know my name. I know his name.” I lift my chin toward Parker. I’m done with this. He either talks to me or doesn’t. “But who are you?”

“Brock Gamble.”

“And how long have you worked at Titan, Brock Gamble?” This will either make progress or hurry up my exit.

“Since I was your age.”

“And what the fuck did someone say to you when you walked in for an interview?”

Brock leans forward, a growl coming from his chest. “Didn’t interview.”

Thought so.I slap the table. “Seems about right. Like you guys didn’t know everything about me before I walked in the door.”

A hard smile cracks on Parker’s face.

“If you’re interested, let me know. Otherwise, I’ve got a shit list a mile long, and I don’t have time for BS.” I watch Brock’s face then give him a nod. “Peace.”

No reaction on either guy’s face. I push out of my chair. They’re going to want the truck back, and I’m not going to have a set of wheels. That’s a predicament when I’m trying to prove to this fucked-up county I’m not a runaway dick, but I can work through it.

“Thanks for your time.” I turn for the door.

Brock’s chair echoes in the war room as he stands. “There’s a job. Local.”

Local?Now that’s interesting. I wouldn’t expect Titan to run an op this close to home. I turn back. “What do you guys have going on around here?”

His jaw works back and forth. “Traffickers working their way up and down the coast.”

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