Page 22 of Roulette Rodeo
"Nah, it's a damn storage unit. Only staff can get in." Another voice, younger, impatient.
"We have to go soon before we get caught?—"
"What are you doing on this side of the gym?"
Oh shit…
Briar.
I'd recognize that voice anywhere—cigarettes and challenge, wrapped in false sweetness when she wanted to be dangerous.
"Just looking for someone, grandma." The first alpha again, dismissive.
"Grandma?" Briar's laugh was razor blades in velvet. "Honey, I've made more alphas beg than you'll ever learn in your childish life thus far. Now get your knock-off Armani asses back to your side before I call security. Or worse—before I tell your wives that you’re using for show why you're really here."
"Crazy old hag," one muttered, but I could hear their footsteps retreating. “How the fuck does she know shit?”
“I don’t know! Let’s just move for now. We’ll hunt down that scent again.”
"That's right, run along." Briar's voice carried satisfaction. Then, quieter, almost to herself, "Where the hell is Red?"
Her footsteps lingered near the door for a moment, and I held my breath.
The alpha holding me—I still didn't know his name—remained perfectly still, his breathing controlled and silent. Military training, obviously. The kind that let you hide from enemies in worse places than gym storage closets.
Finally, Briar's footsteps faded down the hallway.
He waited another thirty seconds—I counted them—before moving.
Carefully, he set me on my feet, keeping one arm around my waist when my legs wobbled.
"I'll go deal with those alphas," he said, and it wasn't a suggestion. It was a tactical decision already made. "You stay here."
"I don't need to stay here." I bristled at the command. "I'm not a pet."
That smirk returned, and he leaned in close enough that his breath ghosted over my ear.
"My little cherry going to wait for her Daddy?"
L-Little cherry?!
My entire face went supernova.
The heat spread down my neck, across my chest, pooling low in my belly where it had no business being.
"How—how old areyou?" I stuttered, desperate to deflect from the way that word in his voice made me clench.
His chuckle was dark chocolate and sin.
He reached up, moving a few strands of my sweat-damp hair away from my face with surprising gentleness.
"Old enough to know better. Young enough to not care."
"That's not an answer."
"Thirty-two." He pulled back, and I could breathe again.Sort of."I'll be back. Be good. Or at least wait for me."
"What if I don't?"
