Page 49 of Garrison's Creed

“Why?”

“What if it’s impor—”

A voice growled through the door. “Nicola, I know you’re in there. I need to talk to Cash, and I can’t find him anywhere.”

She lost the battle, laughing out loud, eyes watering. “We’re so busted.”

And Jared was so killing the mood.

Nicola sat up, pushing the covers off of them, and Cash looked ready to kill his boss. She could only imagine the things Cash would say once the two men were alone.

Cash-the-sniper, not the man from the bathroom, lumbered out of her bed, grabbed his gym shorts, and stepped into them, cursing Jared with every passing step.

He opened the door and leaned his elbow above his head on the doorjamb, blocking any view inside the room. Good, it gave her a chance to watch without Jared seeing her wrapped in the comforter. It also gave her one hell of a view of Cash. Those gym shorts might as well have been made for his body.

“Better be good, boss man.”

“I thought you two were old history.” She could hear everything Jared said, and maybe that was Jared’s point.

“What do you want?”

“Hey, princess, I thought we talked about keeping it in your pants.”

“Watch yourself, Jared,” a woman’s voice warned from the hallway. Mia Winters. It had to be. No other woman was around, at least that she knew about. From what she’d heard, Mia was one hell of a firecracker. Maybe Nicola could hang with her some this weekend.

“Hey, Mia,” Cash said. “Still wandering the halls?”

Jared ignored Cash, responding to Mia. “Just ’cause you’re all cute and pregnant doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like that.”

“My house, my rules, big boy. Play by them or go home.”

Jared spoke back to Cash. “I need high explosive, incendiary tipped, green tracer .50 caliber ammunition by oh eight hundred. I’ve got nothing armor piercing. Can you and Miss Betty hook me up?”

“Nothing at home. You ask Roman?”

“He’s got nothing incendiary. You two are worthless.”

“Brock normally keeps a stash of—”

“We’re all dry. Fuck special requests from governmental bureaucrats. They want to start picking the color of tracers? They’ve played too many games of Call of Duty.”

“Sorry, man. Don’t know what to tell you.”

“Find a shirt. You and Roman have to head over to HQ. Check everywhere, I need that ammo.”

Hard pause. Nicola almost felt his jaw drop to his bare feet. “What?”

“Not kidding. Get your ass dressed, Cash, and get to work.”

“Fuck you.”

“More like fuck no one tonight, buddy.”

Jared would pay for this stunt. Jerk. She’d have his ass if Cash didn’t.

Cash didn’t move from the door. “You can’t be serious.”

“Never more,” he said with a grumpy laugh.

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