Page 2 of Heroes & Hitmen
“Will’s looking forward to meeting you,” my friend Nash comments from across the table, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, thanks again for hooking that up,” I reply, grateful for the connection. Nash has family in Chicago– he even spent a coupleyears living out there a while back– and his cousin Will just so happens to be a single dude in his mid-twenties who likes to party. With so much in common, I’m sure we’ll hit it off.
“I told him he’d better take good care of you while you’re out there, show you the ropes,” Nash adds, his tone shifting as he gives me a pointed look. “And don’t forget what we discussed.”
I smirk back at him. “You mean the warning about pissing off the Alpha?”
“That’s the one,” he sighs. “Just keep your head down and do your job. Trust me, you don’t want to get on his bad side.”
“I’ll try my hardest,” I promise, though I know full well that keeping a low profile might not be as easy as it sounds. I never go looking for trouble, but it has a way of finding me anyways.
I’m not the only one– my sister Andie is proof that more than just excellent marksmanship runs in the Raines family. She snickers a laugh as she swipes a shot off the tray, plopping down into Nash’s lap and hopping right into our conversation. “Try not to tarnish the family name, either,” she teases, tossing back the whiskey with a wink.
I furrow my brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“To keep it in your pants?” another of my friends suggests.
Andie barks a laugh. “I meant he should brush up at the range when he gets there so he doesn’t look like an amateur, butthat, too.”
I roll my eyes, waving her off. “Whatever, my skills are plenty sharp. Better than Archer’s, anyways.”
“Which is why I agreed to let you go in my place,” our older brother cuts in.
“Sure, it has nothing to do with your mate,” I snort, shifting my gaze to the pretty brunette perched in his lap.
“Hey, don’t blame me,” she chuckles, looking up at Archer with hearts in her eyes. “Blame fate.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh, raking a hand through my auburn hair as I turn to sweep a glance over the crowd on the dance floor. There’s no shortage of sweaty bodies grinding up against each other, but that’s not what snags my attention– it’s the girl posted up at the bar beyond them, eye fucking the shit out of me from her perch on a barstool.
Yeah, it’s probably about that time.
The party is winding down, and I’m definitely not spending my last night here alone.
Excusing myself under the guise of needing a drink, I work my way across the packed dance floor to get to the bar on the other side, shoulder-barging through the swarm of people and refocusing on my prey when I emerge.
Melody Crane is dressed to kill tonight in a skimpy black dress that leaves little to the imagination. Her honey-blonde hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, silver eyeshadow dusting her lids and her lips painted a deep pink. I slowly rake my gaze up her body as I approach, knowing exactly how she looks naked but suddenly eager to refresh my memory.
“Hey, Mel,” I drawl, sliding in beside her to lean an elbow against the bar top.
“Ares,” she replies with a coy smile. “So, you’re finally getting outta here, huh?”
“Eh, only for a year,” I shrug.
She gazes at me thoughtfully, reaching over to set her empty glass down on the bar. “Still counts. I haven’t forgotten how you used to say you wanted to experience more than just this little corner of the world. I hope it’s everything you want it to be.”
“Eh, it probably won’t be that different from here,” I mutter, carding my fingers through my hair.
A smirk pulls at her lips. “So you’ll just be drinking and fucking in a new setting, then?”
“Pretty much,” I chuckle, my gaze unabashedly dropping to her cleavage. “And speaking of fucking…”
“What, you want a proper send-off?” she laughs.
I roll my lower lip between my teeth as my eyes return to hers. “You offering?”
Not gonna lie, part of me hoped I’d run into Melody tonight. Things between us are comfortable, uncomplicated, and purely physical– we swiped each other’s v-cards when we were sixteen, and we’ve hooked up countless times since. A little no-strings-attached fun with Mel sounds perfect for my last night at home.
“Sure, why not,” she quips, hopping down off her barstool and slapping a hand against my chest. “One more for old time’s sake.”
