Page 13 of Heroes & Hitmen
His gaze sharpens, measuring me. Alpha Gage’s eyes are grey like his daughter’s, but where hers are wild and free, his are cold and calculating. They also lack the distinctive violet hue, but even so, there’s no mistaking the resemblance.
“You’re not here to get comfortable,” he growls, frowning at me. “You’re here to pull your weight.”
“I can handle that,” I reply confidently.
“Good,” he says with a dip of his chin. “Because we run a tight operation here. No excuses. No personal drama. You’re here to work.”
Right.
No drama… like popping his daughter’s cherry the night before my official intake.
Real smooth, Raines.
He pulls open a desk drawer and reaches inside while I glance around his office idly. Everything is sleek and modern, sharp lines and steel. I don’t know what I was expecting– dark wood and leather, maybe– but this actually suits him. Cold and hard. Expensive and impersonal.
This isn’t a place I plan to spend a lot of time, if I can help it. Then again, I didn’t plan to spend any time with the guy’s daughter,either, but I’m already plotting out how I may be able to track her down.
He pulls a manila folder from his drawer and tosses it onto the desk in front of me, where it lands with a loud slap. “You’re assigned to unit 3207 here in the Tower. This is your briefing packet, and you can pick up your keycard at the front desk down in the lobby. Your first assignment will come down within the week, so have your phone on you at all times and be ready.”
“Understood,” I reply.
He stares at me a beat longer than necessary, his eyes like knives trying to slice past the surface and see what’s underneath. I keep my expression locked down tight, casual, like I haven’t already unknowingly broken the rules.
“Thanks again for your hospitality,” I drawl, tipping my head to him. “Is there anything else you need from me, or am I free to go?”
I hope he can’t detect the impatience in my voice. Not exactly the best way to get off on the right foot, but I have other things on my mind.One thing in particular that I should definitely stay away from, but know I won’t.
“Don’t make me regret bringing you in,” he warns, as if I had any choice in the matter.
I flash him a grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He levels me with a stern stare in return, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
I can already tell this guy doesn’t like me. Whether it’s because I’ve got Alpha blood or just because I’m an asshole, I’m not sure, but I can’t say I’mhisbiggest fan, either. The air of condescension about Gage Morgan has my wolf clawing at the inside of my chest, eager to put him in his place.
“You’re dismissed,” he says blandly, nodding toward the door.
My skin prickles under his patronizing command, but I force myself to stand and turn away, swiping the folder off the desk before leaving his office with tension buzzing in my veins. I make my way down the hall to the elevator, stepping inside and hitting the button for the lobby. The moment the doors slide shut, I exhale through my nose and press the back of my head against the smooth, mirrored wall.
So much for staying out of trouble.
For once, I was actually going to try to keep my head down, follow the rules, and stay far away from anything that lookedremotely like chaos. Then Miley Beckett walked into my life and wrecked all of that without even trying.
And the worst part?
Now that I know who she is, Istilldon’t want to stay away.
It’s even hotter– the whole forbidden fruit thing– and having had a taste, I need more. I can still smell her skin, still hear the way she said my name. It’s burned into my goddamn soul.
By the time the elevator reaches the ground floor, I’ve almost convinced myself that this is a good idea. I step out with the folder tucked under my arm, biting back a grin at how I just managed to charm, lie, and nod my way through an intake meeting with the scariest asshole in the city after defiling his daughter last night. The Tower lobby is sleek and sterile, all glass and metal and silence, save for the ding of the neighboring elevator arriving.
The doors slide open, and I swear it’s fate when Miley steps out like she owns the place with her back straight, chin high, projecting that same tightly-wound confidence I saw in her at the bar. Her hair’s pulled up in another bow– pale blue, to match the cropped hoodie she’s wearing with her high-waisted black leggings– and she’s got a messenger bag slung over her shoulder, looking maddeningly casual for someone who basically upended my world less than twelve hours ago.
“Hey Miley,” I call out, a little too fucking enthusiastically.
She stops in her tracks, head slowly turning in my direction. “You stalking me already?” she asks coolly.
My lips spread into a grin. “Why? You want me to?”
