Page 4 of Ready or Not

“Call Patrick,” Bishop growls, stomping off without a backward glance.

I wonder if he realizes he’s bleeding like hell from where I jabbed his bullet wound.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Tonight went to hell real goddamn quick.

Chapter Two

Cooper - Before

The Kitty Cat Lounge is packed to capacity. My nose wrinkles with the scent of body odor as a group of men pass by.

This place is a fucking shithole.

Seriously, after determining the possible hit on Sparrow Cavanaugh was a misidentification, I never intended to come back.

Only, I caught sight of her.

Vale Reed is a beautiful woman, but more than that, she’s an omega.

There’s no reason she should be trapped in a place like this. Her long blonde hair falls in waves around her lithe shoulders as she weaves between a mass of drunk men focused on the stage.

It makes my impulses itchy.

I fucking hate that she seems at home in this garbage dump.

I’ve come in as often as I can get a night off work.

It’s finally paying off.

She barely made eye contact with me during the first few weeks, but now, when she sees me, a bright smile always crosses her face.

That smile does my damn head in.

Not only is she a scent match, I don’t even have words to describe it. She smells like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

My head whips up in time to catch sight of Ranger Cavanaugh as he slides into the booth across from me.

My teeth grind together, and I exhale heavily.

This is the last damn thing I need.

Ranger isn’t one of the good guys, but he’s not a bad guy, either.

He exists in the gray.

Not that most of us at Assurance don’t, but Ranger is a legitimate psychopath. He’s incapable of experiencing human emotions, which can get a little intense at times.

Luckily, he’s on the right side of the silent war we’re fighting.

“I vaguely remember telling you to check this place for my sister a few months ago.” He stretches back in the seat, tilting his head animalistically. “Only, you reported it was a false identification. So, imagine my surprise when I realized my right-hand man has been coming back to the same dingy club every single week.”

I raise my right hand from the table, flipping him off. “Am I not off the clock?”

My foot taps against the shitty linoleum flooring.

In no fucking universe do I want my pretty little omega anywhere near Ranger. He might not kill innocent people, but he’s a legitimate serial killer with a basement of horrors.

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