Page 26 of Revenge of the Blood Pack

"I'll send you everything I've got. Including the details to speak to an informant. But, Max, you need to hurry. They've sent in Grim."

Fuck on a stick.Grim is another Enforcer. One who walks a very thin line between ruthlessly good at his job and an absolute psychopath. If his team reaches any of Asha's pack before we do, they're dead. Grim won't even try to talk to them, he'll paint the streets with their blood and call in a clean-up crew.

"And Max?"

Here we go...

"The rest of your team is almost ready." He says it in that tone, the one that tells me I sure as hell better not challenge him on this.

Not that I can help myself. "I already told you--"

"And I've already told you that if you can't learn to work with a team, you're not going to be a field agent any longer. This whole stick of being a lone gun and pushing away everyone we assign to work with you has gotten old."

I snort softly. "If the others were any good--"

"Max, I'm not kidding. I pulled a lot of strings to get your brother assigned with you, and with his record, it wasn't easy. The only reason I did it is because I'm hoping having a person you actually care about might be the thing to finally get you to be a team player."

I don't even know what to address first, but I'm troubled in more ways than one. "His record? I knew he was having trouble finding work, but I didn’t see anything in his file to indicate why."

"That information is classified," Carl says, and he doesn't sound happy. "At least for most people. All I'm saying is that if he doesn't work on your team, I doubt he'll be hired anywhere thathe can use his skills from the military. And if you can't work with this team, your desk will end up right next to mine, and you can spend the rest of your life filing papers. And your brother? He’ll be gone."

"Understood," I say, but I really want to tell him to screw himself. I'm good. Good enough that I don't need a team. Asha and my brother are here right now, but it doesn't mean Ineedsomeone at my side all the time. It might sound like a cliche, but I work best alone.

"See it as an opportunity to grow your people skills. Because, Max, you're good at a lot of things, but people? Not so much."

What a fun call."Thanks for the info."

"We'll talk soon when I know more, and I’ll send the name and contact details for the informant. He's expecting you to stop by and see him." He hangs up without a goodbye, and I take a deep breath, then head back into the hotel room.

Braxton has his stuff packed and is currently staring at a football game, leaning back on our bed, his dog beside him as Braxton slowly strokes the beast’s head. "What was that about?"

That's one thing about him that I've never understood. Even as a kid he had a way of seeming like he didn't give two shits. Our parents were honestly shocked when his teachers wanted him tested for the gifted program. I was that typical smart kid, rigid in all ways, meticulous, and organized. No one was surprised when I went into honors. But I'll always remember the day mom and dad came home and asked my brother if he realized he was grades ahead in math and reading. He shrugged, fell over a table, jumped to his feet, and screamed, "Nice!"

My brother. The casual. The smooth. The shockingly deep. Right now, he's not just watching football and making conversation, he knows something is up.

Not that I have a reason to hide anything about the call from him. "I let our superiors know that our car trouble has beenhandled and that we're heading to the correct location. I was also told that they're almost finished assembling our new team." I hesitate, then press on. "And I was told that with your record they had to pull a lot of strings to get you a position as an Enforcer."

I sense the tension that sings through his body. "Oh? Cool. I didn't realize I'd be working with a whole team."

Of course he doesn't address the bit about himself."Any idea why your record might make it hard for you to get a job?"

His gaze is locked on the TV. "Dunno."

My teeth grit together.Hard. He absolutely knows. "You're my brother. And we're working together. Don't you think I deserve whatever info you're hiding?"

He looks at me, those pale blue eyes of his intense. "Is that how you want this to work? You don't want us to keep secrets from each other? Because I thought you enjoyed keeping your secrets just as much as I do."

Damn it. He's not wrong."I'm your superior."

"Maybe," he says, then flashes me a grin before turning back to the TV.

A moment later, Asha steps out of the shower. Her pale hair looks darker now that it's wet. It's left loose, which is a rare look for her. She wears a white t-shirt and jeans with her familiar boots. The top of her shirt is a little wet, a little see-through, but not where it matters. And she hasn't put on any makeup. Not even the basic stuff she usually does. Which, for some reason, makes her look younger. More vulnerable. Beautiful in a different way, especially when combined with the bruises on her face, chest, and arms.

Unable to help myself, I inhale her scent. It's tinged with her bath products, flowery and feminine, but can do nothing to hide her more natural scent. The perfume that seems to follow me everywhere I go, even into my dreams. It makes a shudderroll through my body and my muscles flex, like I’m preparing to fight.

Or to fuck.

Neither of which I’m planning on doing, so I tell my body to calm the hell down.

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