Page 46 of Heroes & Hitmen
“How so?” I ask, a sick feeling of foreboding curling in my gut.
“I control the distribution of certain…productsthroughout the Midwest,” he states matter-of-factly. “The Detroit pack handles some of the imports with their access to the border crossing, and we’ve had an influx lately, more supply than demand. Which warrants an expansion of our operation. With the tourism in your home pack’s area and the high-end ski resort your alliance owns, this bond could open doors for all of us.”
I know exactly what he means byproducts. Alpha Gage’s reputation precedes him– he deals in guns, drugs, the kind of shit that destroys lives.
“Absolutely not,” I snap, shaking my head.
Gage folds his hands calmly. “This is a mutually beneficial opportunity, Raines. Easy money for all parties involved.”
“Let me make something clear,” I growl, sitting up straighter. “The six-pack doesn’t run drugs, or guns, or anything else that can’t pass a background check. We keep things clean. “
Elias snorts a laugh. “Boy scout.”
I ignore his jab, eyes locked on Gage. “We’re not interested.”
He stares back at me, his face an unreadable mask. “That’s unfortunate.”
A dense silence hangs in the air, wrought with unspoken threats and thickening tension. Elias is the one to break it, straightening the lapels of his ill-fitted suit jacket as he turns to Gage.
“Well, what about our arrangement?” he huffs, inclining his chin. “If the original deal’s off the table…”
“We’ll discuss privately,” Gage murmurs, turning back to me with a nod of dismissal. “Raines, I’m putting you on a protection detail today. Report to Kane immediately for your briefing, he’s expecting you.”
“Sounds like a blast,” I say, carding a hand through my hair as I slowly rise to my feet and turn to exit the office.
Elias flashes me a parting smirk as I move past him– the kind that sayswatch your back. And because I’m an asshole, I smirk right back, fanning the flames of his disdain.
My heart pounds as I step into the hallway, but not from fear. It’s adrenaline, fury, and frustration humming through me as I make my way to the elevator, mind racing, my inner beast close to the surface.
Elias Burke is going to be a problem. So is Gage Morgan.
This whole lie just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
CHAPTER 16
Ares
It’s beena long time since I’ve actually looked forward to going home at the end of the day. Hell, back in Colorado, I did everything I could to avoid it– closed down bars, crashed at other people’s places, filled the silence with strangers and noise. I like having my own space in theory, but an empty apartment? That shit gets bleak fast. I’m built for motion, conversation, connection. Not silence and solitude. I never felt lonely before moving here, but that’s exactly what almost every night in this city has been– fuckinglonely.
So yeah, the idea of coming home to someone sounds pretty damn good. I can’t wait to kick my boots off, crack open a beer, and annoy the hell out of my new ‘mate’.
The second I step through the door, I’m immediately struck by how much the apartment has changed; every cold, impersonal inch overtaken by Miley.
She’s been busy.
The boring stock art has been replaced with vintage prints of classic Hollywood starlets. The shelves are packed with books, spines worn and loved. The whole place smells of vanilla and freesia– her signature scent– and something sweet, like…birthday cake?
Hold up, did shebake?
I follow the smell into the kitchen and spot a flickering candle on the counter.Not cake, just ambiance. I chuckle under my breath as I move toward the refrigerator, noticing all the little touches she’sadded along the way. Floral tea towels, a stack of cookbooks, and a frilly pink apron hanging from a hook beside the stove.Cute.
I open the fridge on autopilot and grin when I see the beer from my downstairs stash neatly lined up on the top shelf. Good to know she has her priorities straight. I grab one and head for the living room, still clocking every little change in the scenery. Throw pillows, a salt lamp… even a damn plant on the windowsill. Arealone. But the best part of this place, hands down, is the girl snuggled up on the couch.
Miley’s wearing some silky pajama set that I’m pretty sure was designed to ruin men, her legs bare and a soft pink blanket tossed over her lap like an afterthought. Her hair’s piled up in a loose bun, eyes glued to the pages of a beat-up paperback. A lollipop stick juts out from between her lips, and the coffee table beside her is a war zone of wrappers and candy.
So this is who she really is underneath all the primp and polish: a sugar-addicted bookworm.
I just stand there for a second, staring like an idiot, soaking in the domesticity of the scene. Memorizing the way Miley looks when she’s completely relaxed and in her element.
