Page 7 of Pack of Crooks
“The job posting?”
Keeping my expression neutral, I nod.
“Great. Apparently so is everyone else.” She flips her long brunette hair over her shoulder. Her baby blue bodycon dress is cute, and I stole the exact same one last year. “But like I said when I joined the line,” she says loudly. “You should all give up now. Obviously the pack is going to pick me.”
“Oh go choke on a knot, Tiffany!” a male omega further up the line shouts.
She smirks. “I have and that’s exactly why I’ll be the chosen one.”
“I thought they wanted someone good with picking a lock, not sucking dick,” I quip.
Tiffany rolls her eyes. “Please, if there are males in that pack, they’ll want someone like me.” She gives me that look that bitchy women give to other women, the overexaggerated once over with a look of disgust. “Besides, you’re nothing special, sweetheart.”
Okay, bitch. She’s wrong though. I know for a fact I’m pretty. It’s one of my greatest assets. Maybe not so much with this nose, but fuck her. “If I’m not special, neither are you,” I say with a shrug. “What if they pick me?” Was it my plan to start an argument with this omega? No, but she’s being a dick and someone has to put her in her place.
“We’re all here for the same job, but you’re all D-list omegas.” Her gaze skips down the line. “Rain would know all about that, right? Didn’t your ex-pack put up a sex tape when you broke up? They definitely won’t want you.”
The male omega drops his head in shame.
I rear back. Who the fuck is this cunt? “I mean this in the most offensive way possible, your extensions are trash, your contour is done wrong, and that dress is so last year.”
“Oh fuck,” someone whispers right as the rest of the line falls eerily quiet.
Almost in slow motion, Tiffany turns toward me, fingers curling into fists and eyes shimmering with anger. “Excuse me!” she screeches. “Do you even know who I am?”
“Do you think I would care even if I did?” I fire back.
She takes an aggressive step toward me, raising her palm. My instincts scream to life before she can even lay a manicured nail on me. Years of dodging Mom’s fists taught me a lot about myself. First and foremost, there’s no way another omega is getting a hit in. I sweep her feet out from under her, and she hits the ground with a solidthud. I press my foot against her throat, smirking as her eyes bug and panic flits across her features.
“Silly me. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m about to be your worst nightmare.” I apply more pressure on her throat as she tries gouging my calf with her acrylics. Cursing the cute but thin leggings, I press even harder until she goes completely still. My mind flits to the gun in my purse. Shooting her is probably too dramatic. “You’re really starting to piss me off,Tiffany.”
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
My head whips up at the smooth voice full of amusement. Standing a few feet away, a guy wearing a loose black hoodie is staring at me. Or at least, I think he is. He’s wearing a purge mask, black material with a smile lit by red neon lights. The two Xs that make up the eyes are glowing crimson and set right on me. Staring down at me is a better description. He has to be at least six feet tall, and as he walks toward me, it’s pretty obvious that he’s fit and strong. Every step he takes is full of power.
“Do you want to let her go?” he asks, tipping his head to the side.
Oh shit, Tiffany. Easing up but keeping her pinned, I cast a worried glance at her, hoping I didn’t accidentally kill her. She’s bright red, wheezing, and depending on who you ask, fortunately still alive.
“Who started it?” the guy asks.
“She did!” Tiffany groans right as a dozen people shout “Tiffany!”
The guy laughs and takes another step toward me. He’s close enough now that he could reach out and grab me. His scent brushes over me: the rich vanilla and sweet chocolate of fresh baked cookies. A midnight temptation wrapped up as a muscled, mask wearing man.
I freeze. He smells like that alpha from earlier today. But there’s no way it’s him. That alpha was rich, probably worked in an office. This alpha looks like he’d murder someone for looking at him wrong. Besides, a lot of alphas smell sweet. It’s a coincidence.
Muscles coiled tight, I stay completely still, ready to slip out of reach if needed, but all he does is look me over. The red X eyes move down my body. Unlike Tiffany, I didn’t come dressed for clubbing. I’m in a pair of high waist black leggings with a bit of lace that exposes the sides of my thighs and a simple black crop-top. The application said nothing about dressing up. My heart flutters as his focus settles back on my face. The mask is unnerving. Then again, that’s the point.
I tip my chin. “Do you have something to say?”
A collective gasp rises up behind him. The rest of the omegas in line either cast worried or fascinated glances in my direction.
The masked man ignores them all. There are so many scents, I don’t know how he’s keeping his head on straight, let alone able to focus on a single omega, but he does. Staring straight at me. Only me. Blood rushes through my ears. It’s as if everyone else is invisible. Even as a few omegas next to him start vying for his attention, clearing their throats, tossing their hair and sending a fresh wave of their scent over us, he only looks at me.
My throat tightens, a shiver of warning skating down my spine, but I stay put, refusing to budge, to bow out of whatever this is. A battle of wills. A fight for control. After a few seconds,he steps even closer, his chest brushing against the side of my arm. The simple touch sends my heart into hyper drive. I would turn to face him, but I’m still pinning Tiffany to the sidewalk, so I settle for a side-eye.
Giddy anticipation swirls inside of me, my body confusing his proximity for something else entirely. Dear lord. Someone put this omega on a leash. I seriously can’t afford losing my head because I’m horny.
