Page 44 of Breaking the Code

Shaking my head, I look back at him. He’s staring at me. “Ghille? What assignment?” I ask again, trying to hide the thoughts plaguing me.

He grumbles incoherently. His eyes drop from my chin to my chest. He still has issues looking people in the eye, but he is getting better. He’s yet to tell me what happened to him after I killed his father. O’ course, he disnae ken that I’m the one who orphaned him.

“It’s a clean-up job. Someone needs erased.”

Erased means someone fucked up and I have to clean up their mess. It’s the type o’ job that pays well, not that I need the money, but it’s also something I’ve become good at over the last few months.

“Who?” I ask.

“One of the old Order.”

I shake my head. Why Everly kept so many from the old Order on, I dinnae ken. She had to be off her trolley to think it would work out.

I open my mouth to bitch about the stupidity behind that decision and Tavish interrupts with the shake o’ his head. I growl low under my breath, but I dinnae say anything.

“When and where?” I inquire instead.

A soft smile graces his face. “You know the rules, Draven.”

I groan. It’s not the least bit Dom-like, but I hate that fucking comms unit. I’m standing right fucking in front o’ him. I dinnae ken why the hell he cannot just tell me.

I pull the dreaded gadget from my pocket and Tavish, still looking at me, leans forward and taps a key. A notification pops up on the screen and I click the link. Reading through the missive, I scowl. There’s nae any reason the Ghost sent couldnae finish the job.

“The lavvy-heided wankstain,” I grumble as I continue reading through the information Tavish sent.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” Tavish asks, the words barely understandable through his chuckling.

I roll my eyes at him. “It means a toilet headed cumstain and ye nae kenning that is a crime, considering ye are descendent from two great Scottish families.”

“I can’t help that I wasn’t raised to your standards, sir. You’ll just have to keep educating me,” he snarks. The sassy wee jobby’s attitude makes me want to turn him over my thigh and blister his arse until it’s red.

The thought o’ educating him sends blood rushing to my cock. Every moment I spend with him has nasty, dirty thoughts o’ him spread out before me, ready for the taking. Just the idea has me prepared to fall on him like a starving man at a buffet.

He’s too fucking young for me.

Reminders like that spin through my head every time Tavish and I are in the same room since I joined the Society. The problem is, no matter how often I tell myself he’s off limits, my cock refuses to listen.

Swallowing, I back away from him. The sexy wee bit o’ temptation batters at my resolve just a wee bit too much.

“I’ll be back,” I say.

“Alright, Arnold.”

The scene is a mess when I arrive. There’s blood everywhere—floor, walls, ceiling. Furniture is flipped over and busted. The old Order member is leaning against the wall, blood seeping from multiple wounds. He’s alive, but only just.

Looking around the room, I see the target. He’s also just this side o’ death.

I squat in front o’ the eejit. “How did ye fuck this up so much?”

“I didn’t know who it was. He startled me.”

I shake my head. “Ye realize what this means?” I ask.

He nods, gasping for breath as he says, “It’s not like I’m going to be around long, even if you don’t erase me.”

Grabbing his head, twisting it until the pop echoes through the room, I put him out o’ his misery.

“Daft fuck.”

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