Page 37 of Chase

“You got this traineeship through connections, not talent,” she replies instantly. “And I fucking hate people who get where they are without deserving it. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be late for your shift.” I glance up at the digital clock on the wall; three in the morning and I start work at seven. “I suggest you get some sleep, because it's going to be a busy day.” With that, she follows the others into Russell's room. I watch them disappear with a large, dangerous man attached to each elbow.

Once the door is closed and the others are out of sight, I pull at my arms again. “Let me go,” I mutter. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not going anywhere. If you want to escort me home, I couldn’t care less.” Both men release my elbows, then Hunter takes the lead, walking in the direction of the elevator. I follow with Damon behind me like a wall at my back, close enough that if I move out of line he can grab me.

The doors open as we approach. The compartment is empty, and we all step inside in the same order as we leave the reception area. Neither of my companions speaks during our descent to the parking garage below; they act as if they don’t know I exist. The doors reopen, and we step out into the deserted garage, where only a handful of cars are scattered around. One large SUV sits in a space in the far corner of the basement. Damon leads us in its direction.

Everything about this car screams underworld, from the black paintwork to dark tints on the windows. I am surprised when a man steps out of the driver’s side. He’s big, most likely in his thirties and sporting an array of tattoos.

“Greyson,” Hunter says in a brusk form of welcome.

“Boss,” he replies with a nod. “Where to?”

“If you can take Miss Samantha home, then drop McKinney. Where is Annie?” Hunter asks as if only just remembering Damon has a daughter. His nanny, who also became his lover, left him a matter of months ago when he was a complete and utter asshole with her. She disappeared to Scotland. They should be together, but neither seems willing to drop the stubbornness and reach out, according to Violet, anyway. My friend is a fountain of gossip and keeps me entertained with Harrison, her brothers, and their friend's stories.

“Her grandparents have her,” he says casually.

“Really?” Greyson interjects.

“Yes. It’s a work in progress but when I called them needing childcare, they were keen to help.”

“It takes a village to raise a child,” Hunter mutters, waving his hand around as if signaling to thousands of invisible people surrounding him.

“How would you know? You don’t have any,” Damon counters.

“Perhaps not biological, but I’ve taken plenty under my wing.”

“I don’t think bad boys from young offenders programs count, Boss,” Greyson says. “It’s not what the proverb means.”

“Maybe not,” Hunter replies with a shrug. “But I see you all as my children, under my supervision and protection.” He holds his arms wide, steps back, and looks to the ceiling. “May I always be able to provide you and many others with employment, shelter, and a prosperous future.”

“Are you for fucking real?” I snarl, stunned by his ego. Hunter’s focus shoots to me, his head immediately straightening. He’s a slim man; he doesn’t have the bulk or strength of the other two. His long dark hair is scraped back into a bun, but there’s a sophistication to him that comes across as natural. Violet says of all the men who frequent The Level, he’s the most deadly.

“I’m always fucking real,” he says, his tone calm but icy. “Do enlighten me as to what you find fake?”

“It was a figure of speech.”

His head cocks to one side as astute eyes run over my face. “I liked you the first time we met back in September when you squared up to Russell. You have potential, Miss Samantha, if you’re ever looking for employment…”

I laugh out loud. “What? And become one of your minions, the men you have surrounding you to do your dirty work? No, thank you.”

He steps toward me; Damon tenses at my side and Greyson moves a step closer, both of them readying themselves in case shit kicks off.

“Don’t worry, boys,” Hunter says, his eyes flicking between them then back to me. “This one is too precious to good friends, and I can see the appeal.” His hand lifts, his fingers grabbing my chin. “How I would love to cut out that smart-ass tongue, though. A mute, feisty little demon would be easier to manage.”

I don’t think—my knee lifts on impulse and connects directly with his balls. He lets go of my chin, stumbling backward, his hands over his crown jewels. The other men glance at each other and burst into laughter while their boss hops around the parking garage.

“Don’t ever touch me or any woman without her consent,” I warn, my eyes moving between all three of them as all their mouths drop open. “You bastards may think you’re big and brave. You may think you’re in control of the fucking world. But know that your guns and dangerous reputations don’t scare me.”

“Maybe they should,” Hunter shoots back. I walk forward so I’m within inches of supposedly the most dangerous man in London. After blowing out firmly through my nose, I allow my eyes to move from his face down his body, pausing on his cock still covered by his hands.

“I’m not the one standing in the middle of a parking garage after three in the morning holding my privates,” I tell him. “All of you fuck off. I’m going home, and I’ll take the night bus.”

With that, I turn and walk forcefully away from the three men, leaving the basement without looking back.

Chapter fourteen

Varley Medical, London

Russell

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