Page 63 of Hell Breaks Loose

Leaving my brain trust behind and wondering if keeping them around as my tech crew makes me an even more questionable leader, I head back down to the main building. No doubt, there will be a list of things waiting for me to take care of even after only an hour away.

Put on your big-girl pants, Ora.

And your mean face.

And cuss. A lot.

The cool confines of the clubhouse ease some of my woes, at least on the physical end of things. I’m through the door into my office before anyone can bombard me with requests, rooting through my fridge a moment later.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alaya chirps from behind me.

So I make a show of wiggling my butt while I dig around for a soda.

“Penny for anything you want, sugar-buns,” I shoot back instantly. Alaya has such a way of getting me on point.

Best. Wing woman. Ever.

She plays defense, offense, has my back like I can’t believe.

And she might or might not rev my engine just a little. In a ‘keep each other on our toes’ sort of way.

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind if I need a little company in my bunk.” She jingles her pocket with a clink of coins.

“What do I look like, a vending machine?”

“You are a snack.”

Speaking of snacks. Dayum.

She’s sitting in my chair, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing a cutoff tank top straight out of an 80s rocker vid, with ripped jean shorts to match. Shorts might be a generous term.

The untied combat boots seal the deal, though, kicked up on the desk.

Legs for fucking days.

“Go ahead.”

“Here? Now?” Alaya drops her feet, sitting forward with a lip-biting grin that would make any guy jizz his jockeys.

“I fucking wish. No. I mean the bad news you’ve been sitting in here waiting to give me.”

We both sigh, just slightly. In that way where I can’t decide if I’m bummed that it didn’t escalate, or relieved that it got diverted again.

Or maybe it’s that I don’t really know whether she’s joking with me or not.

And I can’t afford to lose my best lieutenant.

“Lieutenant. Fuck.” I huff another sigh, this time of exasperation at my frame of mind. Grandpa Xavier really tried to hammer a lot of his military training and regiment into the framework for the Block.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I was. 2nd Lieutenant.”

“Oh. That’s not surprising. But not what I meant.”

Alaya shrugs, then salutes before standing and circling the desk, offering me my seat.

---