She smiles. “My favorite knife. It’s what I was grabbing from the bushes which led you to me.”
Mr. Stabby. Her favorite knife.
"Slit his throat," she finishes. "When you all showed up, I stripped down and played the damsel. You know the rest." She flashes a grin that shouldn’t be this damn charming. "By the way, I had Mr. Stabby in the car before the wreck. What happened to all my stuff?"
"It’s still in the car," Gears growls, clearly struggling to keep his composure. "We had it towed to our garage. You can grab whatever you want."
"Sweet," she hums, satisfied.
There’s a pause, the air buzzing. Gears’ jaw tightens, he is clearly fighting his instincts but his tone stays even.
"Kenny was dealing tar, and that’s not what we dabble in. He also broke our rule of selling to kids. We’re not saints, but we keep our streets clean. Kenny was double-dippin’. Getting shit from someone else. We need to know who."
Brydgett tilts her head. "I don’t know anything about that."
"One of our informants said there’s a new player in town. Might even be an outsider. He’s making moves on our turf, and we need to put a stop to it."
"Wish I could help, but no fucking clue," she replies with a smile. Infuriating. Gorgeous.
"Dammit!" Gears slams his fist on the desk. The impact rattles the room, but Brydgett doesn’t so much as blink.
"No need to get so worked up, boss man," she purrs, savoring his frustration. "But I might have an idea."
I narrow my eyes. "What?"
"Where did Kenny hang out?"
"The Rusty Nail. Downtown."
She scoffs. "Typical."
"What are you thinking?"
"I go down there," she says, shrugging like it’s obvious. "Act like I was sweet on him. See what I can find out. Someone there has to know something if that was his spot."
"No." Gears’ voice is sharp, the alpha authority bleeding through.
Brydgett tilts her head, that sly little smile curving her lips. "You’re not my boss. Not my president. And definitely not my alpha. You don’t get to bark at me."
I shouldn’t enjoy the way she says it. But fuck if it doesn’t send a bolt of heat straight through me.
"You wanted the Slayer as your ally, you got her."
"Brydgett," Gears warns, but she just leans back, daring him to challenge her.
"Gears," she mocks, like she’s tasting the name on her tongue. "You can’t change your mind now that you know we’re scent-matched. Kismet or not, you’ll never control me. Don’t even try. So… you coming with, or not?"
"We’ll be going with," I say, the words slipping free before I can think twice. There’s no way in hell we’re letting her walk into a place like The Rusty Nail alone.
"Perfect!" she claps, practically glowing with satisfaction. "I’ll meet you out front in twenty."
And just like that, she sashays out of the room. Gears drops his head into his hands with a groan.
"Of all the omegas we could be Kismet with, we get a goddamn serial killer. She’s never gonna let us have peace. I can feel it already."
I light a cigarette, inhaling deep. The smoke does nothing to smother the lingering scent of her. Sweet. Dangerous.
"I’m good with it." I smirk.