Page 7 of The Omega Project

“Bike?” I can’t disguise the excited hitch in my voice as we stop beside a sleek black and red superbike. “Oh, wow. Is this a Panigale?”

Langston is tugging on his helmet, but he looks at me in surprise. “You know Ducatis?”

“A little.” It’s impossible to grow up around a bunch of soldiers and not absorb a few of their obsessions. “But I’ve only ever been on a Kawasaki.”

“Time to take off the training wheels, then.”

“Don’t let my sister hear you say that,” I snort, accepting the helmet he presses into my hands. “Although, she’d probably sell her six-year-old for a beauty like this.”

He chuckles as he swings a leg over the bike, extending his hand again. “Sisters and six-year-olds aside, want to go for a ride with me, Emily?”

I eye the few inches of supple leather seat behind his broad back. “There’s not a lot of room.”

He hooks a finger under the chin of my helmet and pulls me towards him. “Guess you’ll just have to sit close then.”

I know I shouldn’t. I have a shift at the pub tonight, and at the very least I should call Claudia to tell her I might have to go straight to work, but instead, I slip on my backpack and scramble to climb up behind him. Even though we’re stationary, I clutch at the back of his jacket, because this is the definition of a tight fit.

“Comfy?”

I squirm on the narrow seat. “Is that a trick question?”

His chuckle vibrates through his broad back. “Then hold tight and enjoy the ride.”

Not a difficult task, since the bike moves like liquid heat, and Langston handles it with the skill of a Superbikes champion.The helmet he gave me doesn’t have a built-in mike, so as we cut through the morning traffic, I close my eyes and rest my head against his back. It’s easy to lose myself in the silky rumble of the engine, the scent of leather and exhaust mingling with Langston’s honey-tinged goodness. It’s impossible not to feel excited by his closeness, and my blood starts to hum when we reach the highway that takes us to the industrial district. He opens the throttle, and I can feel the sizzle all the way through me. Before my family fell apart, I was just as much of a daredevil as Claudia, but it’s been a long time since I did something as reckless as climb on a bike with a guy who turns my bones to jelly.

We’ve been riding for nearly half an hour when Langston taps my thigh, and I look up to see he’s turning off the road towards a pair of black metal gates. They’re imposing, but they open as if by magic, and we roll forward down a slope into an undercover garage. There are a lot of SUVs and dark sedans parked in neat rows, and I look around curiously as we get off the bike, wondering exactly what kind of research facility we’re visiting.

“This is Tyler Creed,” Langston says as he stows our helmets and nods towards a man headed in our direction. “He’s the Head of Security for all of Finn’s businesses.”

The security guy is almost a foot taller than Langston with dark hair brushed back from a sharp widow’s peak and midnight eyes that somehow manage to be both cautious and piercing. If someone can give off an aura that’s both aloof and dangerously engaged, it would be the alpha who comes to stop in front of me.

“Good morning, Ms. Nash. I’m here to escort you up to Mr. Visser’s office.”

I’ve never met this man before, but I recognise him all the same. Even in a sleek black suit, it’s obvious he’s a soldier. It’s in the way he holds himself, his hands behind his back in a deceptively relaxed pose, and his gaze friendly on the outside buthard as steel underneath. It’s the same stare that was levelled at me every morning over the breakfast table, and I have to fight the urge to jump to attention.

Screw that.

Plastering a polite smile on my face, I extend a hand. “Thanks, Mr. Creed. Or do you prefer to be addressed by rank?”

“It’s just Creed and I’ve been out almost three years,” he tells me, a rueful glimmer entering those hard eyes. “What gave me away?”

Everything.

“Nothing. I grew up in a military family, so I’m probably just good at spotting the tells. Plus, you all smell like metal and gun oil to me.”

It’s not true. To my beta nose, even alphas who aren’t soldiers smell like musk or meat, but Creed has a sweet woodsy edge, like sage or sandalwood.

Langston gives a smug chuckle from behind me. “She says I smell like honey, if you’re wondering.”

“Don’t forget the bee saliva,” I remind him, and Creed gives me a small smile. It’s polite but guarded, and I decide I’ve had enough of the small talk as well. “Before we go any further, do you know about my family?”

“We do a background check on all potential employees,” he admits. “I didn’t go too deep, but I know about your sister and father.”

He doesn’t need to mention my mother. The fact her high-profile and connected mate left her for another pack speaks for itself. “And does this job offer have anything to do with him?”

A glimmer of curiosity flickers in his eyes, but he shakes his head. “No. Other than the fact you’ve been privy to confidential information in the past.”

“And you don’t know him personally?” I push, because this is a big deal for me. Anyone who associates with my father isn’t worth another second of my time. “You didn’t work with him?”

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