Page 62 of Assassin's Game
I raised my eyebrows in a what-about-him? motion.
A low growl left her lips, the sound lighting a spark in my cock. “Get your head out of your ass and into this op.”
I winked at her. “My head is definitely not in my ass.” I shifted my hips, and Mikaela’s attention dropped to my crotch.
“For fuck’s sake. Stop!”
She said that to me a lot. I couldn’t wait to have her in my bed, hear her begging menotto stop. But for now… “Quit biting your lip like that and maybe I could.”
“God.” Mikaela brought her free hand up to rub at what was probably an ache between her brows.
“Yeah, my brothers feel the same way sometimes.”
“I can imagine,” she said, but I noticed the hint of a smile peeking out. Then the moment passed, and she squared her shoulders. “He’s not reacting right.”
I agreed, but we had to look at both sides of the coin. “Maybe he’s humiliated and trying to hide it. Some men with high-powered jobs need to let go outside of work.” Most of them didn’t wear diapers, but for those that did, the shame might run deep.
Mikaela glanced at me, an eyebrow raised in speculation. I scoffed. “Not me. But some men do.” I refrain from pointing out that she’d just admitted I had a high-powered job. Much better than being seen as my brothers’ flunky.
Her mouth curved in a full grin this time before she turned her attention back to Sullivan. I was counting that as a win. Mikaela had smiled at me—without holding back.
Definitely a win.
“I thought that was the case here, but not anymore,” she said. “Come on.”
I followed her across to stand in front of Sullivan, giving Rhys a nod.
“Here’s my problem.” Mikaela set her coffee on the table, her voice losing the patient edge it had held for the past hour. “When you walked in here this morning, my very first thought was, if I hadn’t known those pictures were of you, I’d have bet money you weren’t the man in them. The way you hold yourself, your presence…” She bit her lip in thought, her eyes narrowed on a wary, silent Sullivan. “I don’t know why, but I’m pretty sure that if we strip you naked, your body won’t match that one.” Her chin jerked toward the folder of pictures on the table in front of him. “Close, probably. Similar build and coloring. But not exact. And there’s a quick and easy way to prove it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Sullivan sputtered.
Mikaela was on the right trail, and I followed her lead. “You’re saying those are definitely you?”
He hesitated a fraction of a second too long, the protest flickering in his gaze before he said, “Of course they’re me.”
Pride; it would get you every time.
“I’m not buying it.” Mikaela looked to me, jerked her head toward Sullivan. “Rhys?”
I was already striding forward. Rhys grabbed Sullivan by an arm and dragged him out of his seat. The man’s protests rang through the warehouse, but it wasn’t until I grabbed his shirtfront that he started to fight.
He was good. He trained hard. Maybe if it hadn’t been two to one—or three to one when Monty loped over to join the fight—he might have actually managed to keep his shirt. As it was, the fabric gave way when I popped the front open, buttons pinging everywhere, and the headlock Rhys managed allowed me to rip the material down his back.
I paused when Sullivan’s torso was bare.
“I thought we were on the same side,” he bit out. Even now, his go-to response was anger. There was no backing down, no pleading like most men would have done if they faced an overwhelming force determined to strip him naked.
“We would be on the same side if you were being honest with us, Sullivan,” Mikaela said. “You’re not.”
“I am,” he protested. “I—”
Remi appeared at my side. “Eli,” he whispered urgently.
I stepped back, leaving the struggling, sputtering,lyingSullivan to Rhys and Monty. I leaned my head toward my brother without taking my gaze off our target. “Yeah?”
Remi stepped close, dropped his voice. “Levi is outside.”
I jerked to look at him then. “What? Why?” Levi shouldn’t be anywhere but with Abby. He wouldn’t be, unless…
