Page 31 of Wreck Me

“There’s an unscheduled visitor insisting on seeing you. I’ve already turned him away twice and he’s refused to leave.” She quirked her lips. “I’ve had him sitting in the lobby of King Tower for ninety minutes.”

“That long before you brought it to my attention?”

“It’s Damien Thorn.”

Well, that explained her demeanor.

And the little timeout she’d given him.

He was known for going into any situation hot, so he’d earned a cool down period. It would do that temper of his good. And his severely overly-inflated ego.

“Send him in.”

“As you wish.”

We exchanged a nod, then she went on her way.

While I was waiting for her to have him summoned from the lobby and escorted up to the top of King Tower, my phone buzzed with a text notification.

I swiped it open to see a communication from my Head of Security.

Luke: Intel points to Bane’s people planning to interfere with Transport 8A3.

King: Reroute as per the specs I laid out. Send a decoy with a welcoming committee to their intercept point along original route.

Luke: Copy that.

I locked my phone and slid it into the inside pocket of my black Armani suit, just as Damien was escorted into my office by a member of building security and under the extra watchful eye of Daria.

I gave a nod and they filtered out, closing the door behind them.

Damien shoved a hand through his unruly shaggy brown hair, his eyes flashing my way. “Finally. Did you have a laugh keeping me waiting like some common shit, King?”

“I didn’t give it much thought.”

“Is that right?”

“I had other pressing matters to concern myself with, not your impromptu drop-in.”

He hissed. “It wouldn’t have been impromptu if you’d returned any of my texts.”

“They were redundant.”

“What?”

“The matter is already closed.”

“The hell it is.” He gestured at the door behind him. “And why did you let me in here if that’s the case?”

When all he got from me was a glare, he stormed up to my desk and slapped his palms down on the ornate walnut.

“This is fucking bullshit,” he seethed. “You can’t just cut me out!”

He wasn’t making the point he thought he was. Believing my decision to be unjust was a far cry from the reality of the situation. Then again, that was him, especially lately. Teetering too far from the line between reality and twisted falsity.

His easily unchecked aggression was just driving home how unsuited he’d become to our nightly operations.

“Sit. Down.”

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