Shelby
“Don’t we get a folder?” Francis pipes up.
It’s Monday morning, just another unpredictable day at the Ranch. Hayden has gathered us into his library and, without comment, handed Diego, Declan, and Jaxson each a file, a sturdy manila folder approximately three inches thick.
I know this because after a glimpse of a furious Jaxson, I resorted to staring at those files. As if whatever is listed inside of them will ease the tension in the room and make my decision about accepting a position at TORC all the more easier to get used to.
Jaxson warned me to keep away.
As if I could.
I’m here for the money—no ifs, ands, or buts about it. How else am I to come up with thousands of dollars in a short period of time? Other than work for the Pricks—just the mere thought makes my blood boil. Although I never expected Jaxson to flash me a wink and a friendly welcome-back-to-the-Ranch wave, I had a glimmer of hope he’d be happy to see me. Because truth be told, part of the reason I’m signing on at TORC is to see how this thing between us develops.
I love him.
And . . . I’m stubborn.
See, Jaxson. When I want something, I take it, too.
Except . . . he doesn’t see. Hell, he won’t even make eye contact. I abruptly glance up, anxious to prove this theory wrong and catch him staring at me. The rickety chair beneath him creaks. Like it, too, is angry with me for returning to the Ranch. The two seasoned professionals next to him are clearly pissed off. And uncomfortable, their muscular bodies far too big for the folding chairs by the wall of books in which the three of them are seated in.
Nope. Nada. Jaxson’s ignoring me, keeping his head bent as he intently scrutinizes the thick packet of paperwork Hayden’s handed him. Acting as if what’s listed inside is what’s infuriating him so when I know better.
A sense of loss washes over me. Less than forty-eight hours ago, I’d been on my side and curled into him. Loved. Comforted. Hopeful, while I’d fallen asleep in his arms. Only to be shaken awake, plopped on the back of his Harley, and dropped off in a rush at the Shelby Quick-Mart, all because of Hayden’s rude, threatening, get-your-ass-back-to-the-Ranch wake-up call.
You sign this contract, you’re his.
I give a mental sigh and sit up straighter in my leather chair, the same one a nave, angrier version of myself sat in four weeks ago, I focus on finishing up the contract before me. Yeah, I’m still out for revenge, but it takes third fiddle to my reasons for agreeing to work for a ruthless, manipulative man I detest.
“About the manila . . .” Francis repeats. He clearly hasn’t learned that with Hayden, there’ll be no prompting. That his awkward silences are intentional. A wordless weapon meant to put you on edge. Humble you. Make you understand exactly who’s the boss and who’s to be obeyed.
“First, we have to clarify a few minor contractual details. Unofficially, of course,” Hayden finally says.
I do my best not to react to his harsh tone.
“Okay . . .” Francis replies anxiously.
Perfect segue. I lean forward in my seat. “Terrific. So do I,” I inform him. “Officially, of course.”
Hayden arches an eyebrow.
Using one finger, I pass my contract across his desk, careful to keep my finger pinned over the two amendments I’ve made.
His eyes narrow as soon as he spies what’s been added. One: Said contractor shall be given permission to attend to family needs, with little notice and at no set time duration as long as aforesaid assignment is addressed. Two: Said contractor shall reside off premises but will report to the Ranch or assigned territory previously agreed upon.
“Sign on the line and then we’ll chat,” I tell him.
For all my bravado, I swallow hard as he sits back in his chair, folds his arms across his chest, and stares at me. Damn it. If he won’t agree to let me go home to Mama . . . and Madelyn, though I’ve kept my lips firmly sealed about her existence. Not even Jaxson knows. “I’d like to meet your family,” he’d told me. Yeah, I’d been about to confide in him but I’d fallen asleep.
“I like my ducks to be lined up a bit neater than what you’re requesting.”
Ducks. Right. “You mean you demand absolute control over my life. My every movement.” Or you think you will—I’m a bit of a rule bender, buddy. You’re going to have your hands full roping me in.
He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to.
“I can only sign if you agree to my amendments.”
He taps his pen on his desk, and I readjust myself in the leather chair, preparing for a long, drawn-out wait.
“Here. I signed without a single change.” Francis thrusts his contract at Hayden, but when Hayden doesn’t take it, he’s forced to drop it on the desk.
“If you screw up, they’ll be consequences.” The warning is directed at me.
Yeah, it’s abundantly clear what the consequences will be. Case in point being the three men listening carefully from their seats to my right. Two of them have had to repeat Hell Camp twice. Jaxson, an astonishing five times in five years. Yeah, I understand what might happen if I mess up.
“You talk to anyone about TORC, unintentionally spill the beans, or intentionally rat me out, give me any reason to doubt your commitment, and you’ll be terminated. Unconditionally.”
Holy shit. Did he just threaten us?
“Mierda,” I hear Diego swear. A hush falls over the room as I turn my attention toward Diego . . . and the man seated next to him.
Jaxson’s eyes connect with mine. He shakes his head, slightly and ever so quickly, before turning his attention back to the paperwork.
But I catch his meaning, nevertheless. No. Don’t do it. Don’t sign. You’re making a mistake.
Or maybe this is what I’m telling myself at the moment. My job description reads simply: “member of task force sworn to secrecy and hired to prevent threats to national security.” Vague as hell, like Hayden himself.
Am I really ready to give up my life for a job? Yet what choice do I have? Besides, if he agrees to the necessary amendments . . .
“We have the same goal, you and I. Remember?” I say sweetly, and flash my new boss a faux grin.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Hayden signs my contract, then passes it back to me, along with a thick, letter-size envelope busting with what I think are bound hundred-dollar bills.
My hand shakes. From nervousness. From my excitement at having the means to pay Johns Hopkins up front, and in turn force away any reservations about offering Mama their precious miracle drug. Supply and demand . . . and I’m in a position to demand it. Hey, money talks, right?
The thought causes me to clutch the pen tighter and to firmly pen my signature by the X. Just like that, my life changes. For the better or for the worst, that remains to be seen.
Kylie Smith.
Private security contractor.
Mercenary.
“Now about our folders . . .” Francis prompts.
“If you ask me for a folder one more time, I’ll rip this contract up, then rip your throat out. Not necessarily in that order.” Hayden glares at him. “Practice having a little finesse. You’ve got the qualities of a great snitch. Except when you start yapping your trap and drawing unnecessary attention upon yourself. Don’t make me regret hiring you. There’s a hell of a lot more disciplined, capable men waiting for my call. But for this assignment, I’m taking a different approach. So you’re it. Don’t question me again. What I say is the law. Now get the fuck out.”
“But—”
“Go,” I cut the suicidal fool off. “I’ll fill you in . . . if I can.”
Hayden stands and Francis immediately sprints for the door.
“Take care working with him, muchacha. Something about him is off.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” Hayden snaps.
“So we’ll work together? All five of us?” I interrupt, drawing our boss’s attention off of Diego.
“It’ll be you and Francis.”
I frown. Jaxson and I won’t be working together?
Hayden continues, “The two of you will accomplish what these three have failed to do. Establish yourselves inside DiCapitano’s organization.”
“Ay dios mio. You fuckin’ pulled us too soon,” Diego practically hisses, furious. “A little longer—”
“It was the wrong approach. A machismo like Franco likes to hire men within the family. Weaklings. Men he can dominate.” Hayden snorts. “You three will never get in close enough to learn anything of value.”
“She’s no weakling.”
“Thank you, Declan,” I reply, although he didn’t waste his words for my benefit but to argue his case. And Jaxson? He’s so bleeding silent. I wonder what he’s thinking but don’t dare cast a glance his way. Not under Hayden’s watchful eye.
“No, she’s no weakling. Which makes her the perfect person for the job. Smart. Beautiful. A local Franco is familiar with. If she can control that temper—”
“She’s right in the room,” I say, doing just that, reigning in my temper.
“Franco will be whispering sweet nothings in her ear. We need to work fast. Get a bigger picture of what Novák is up to before he makes a move and surprises us. His trips to Shelby are becoming more and more frequent. The timing is perfect. The sooner we know what he’s doing with the money the mob collects for him, the sooner we put an end to it . . . and him.”
I can feel them staring at me. But I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around what exactly I’m being asked to do. All that training, running obstacle courses, hand-to-hand combat, knives . . . and I’m assigned to do what he’d initially told me I’d do—whisper sweet nothings into the mobster’s head while he fills mine with information about the Pricks.
“You’ll do whatever is necessary to earn DiCapitano’s trust. Understand.”
Bite me. Give that slimy drug dealer a blow job? Not on your life. I’ll earn his trust—there’s got to be a better way.
I give into temptation and glance at Jaxson. Immediately, I wish I hadn’t.
Jesus. His lips are drawn into a tight line and his fingers are fisted. And I’m not the only one worried that he’s about to charge Hayden and beat the living daylights out of our manipulative boss. Diego’s got a hand on Jaxson’s shoulder, like he’s steadying him, holding him back.
I’ve been warned about leaving Jaxson alone. Warned Jaxson about getting involved with me. My mind races. This is your fault for coming back. You can’t let him be hurt by this.
Shit. Do something . . .
“You’re wrong, you know,” I inform Hayden.
He scowls. Yep. I’ve got his undivided attention now.
“A woman isn’t at her most powerful over a man when she’s bobbing for apples.” I slink back in my chair and cross my legs. Giving my words time to bounce off the library walls and sink into their heads. Before I make them do what men do best—think with their dicks.
Hayden smirks. A first. He’d be downright attractive if he wasn’t such an asshole.
I do the same—faux-smirking back at him. Then I wait for him to prompt me to continue, playing the same game he’s so bleeding fond of.
To everyone’s credit, no one butts in. They let the silence play out. Silently cheering me on? You will be, trust me, boys. You will be.
Somewhere in the Ranch, a clock chimes, then Hayden breaks. “I’ll bite. Do fill us men in.”
Terrific. He’s manipulating them into thinking it’s me versus mankind. Maybe it is.
“Don’t get me wrong. There’s something to be said for the power of a good mouth fucking.” I draw out the last two words, and am rewarded by someone hissing. I think it’s Declan. I ignore him, and the sexual tension that’s always prevalent in any room full of men when the word blow job has been raised. Relentlessly, I continue. “Fondling my naked breasts, playing with my nipples, making them hard before I fall to my knees. Rubbing the heel of my palm against the big, fat beast zipped up inside his . . . your pants. Assessing your size and wondering how I’m going to fit all of that beast down my tight little throat.”
I resist the urge to wince. God, where did she even come from?
“Dios mio,” Diego whispers, his tone harsh and aroused.
I keep my eyes pinned on Hayden, who hasn’t shown the slightest reaction. Asexual? Yeah, right. I’ll bet a wad of Franklins that if I bend over and checked out his crotch from beneath the desk, his pants will be tented tight.
“With my teeth, I’ll drag the zipper down and free your tool. That is, if you’ve gone commando like the naughty boy you are.” I wiggle my finger at the three by the wall without looking at them and am rewarded with another one of Diego’s curses. “I’ll lick your penis from the smooth tip and all along the pulsing vein beneath.”
“Cock. Lick my cock. Not penis,” growls Diego.
“That’s right. Your big cock.”
I blink back the memory of my doing just that to Jaxson.
Damn it. Way too personal. Bad call. Reality has filtered into my story. I need to get a grip, forget how freaking beautiful Jaxson is. How much I loved taking him into my mouth.
“I’m choking . . .” I add, bringing an invisible hammer down on the truth and smashing it to pieces. “You’re so aggressive. So powerful. So in control . . .”
“She’s made her point,” Jaxson interrupts.
I jump when I feel his hand on my arm.
“Sit down or leave. That’s a direct order,” Hayden says in a low voice.
“She’s not ready for the kind of commitment you require,” Jaxson grinds out.
“Sit your ass down. Or . . . are you putting her before TORC? Is that what this is? You disobeying my directive because of her? I warned you . . .”
Damn it. I jump to my feet and face Jaxson, furrowing my eyebrows at him in silent warning. “Men,” I say with a huff, thrusting a hip to the side and my breasts out. “Everything always boils down to weapons and sex. Black and white. The act itself instead one of the emotional kind. Most of you see an attractive woman. You want her suck your willy then fuck you silly. It’s all about the physical act. Just like the bas—Hayden here, who believes actual blow jobs give women power.”
That magic phrase—blow job—does the trick. The tension in the room subsides, and although Jaxson remains by my side, as I turn I can see my direct challenge has caught our boss’s unwavering interest.
“Hurry up and wrap things up, chiquita. I need to use the restroom.”
“Fine. You men always miss the point. You’re in such a rush.” I gesture toward Diego, and Hayden actually laughs.
Now that’s progress.
“Genuine power comes in the promise of a single word.” I fall silent. A naughty, manipulative move, pulling a Haydenesque stunt on them at a time like this.
The room erupts with noise, each man trying to fill the silence.
“Orgasm,” Hayden says with authority.
I shake my head no.
“Orgasms,” Diego adds, stressing the plural s.
I shake my head again.
Jaxson stares down at me. “Foreplay.”
“Be more precise.”
“Verbal foreplay.”
Yep, I learned it from the best, I think but can’t risk saying.
“Verbal foreplay,” Declan repeats. Yeah, the concept is probably as foreign as chef’s salad in his book.
“Or in one word . . . titillation. The promise of what can be. Why do you think lingerie was invented? Or lipstick? Or why women sway their hips. Fuel for every man’s fantasy.” I drive my point home. “While I was telling my tale about getting my tonsils tickled, who was in control?”
Dead silence. Guess losing control isn’t something these alpha males will ever ante up to. I arch an eyebrow at Jaxson.
He rolls his eyes at me.
At least he’s no longer the focus of Hayden’s anger. I give myself a mental pat on the back. Yep. Way to control a bad situation.
“She’s good. Had me going, real hard,” Declan adds.
“Where did you find her?” Diego asks. “Franco’s going to be eating out of her hand.”
Hayden speaks. “Point taken, Kylie. Do what you must. You’re all . . . dismissed.” He chuckles once more.
Holy hell. I deserve a medal.
Taking a manila folder out of his desk, he passes it to me. “Share this information with Francis.” Then he addresses Jaxson, and whatever good humor lingers within the room is balled up, speed washed, rung out, and then hung out to dry.
“Go.” Hayden points to the door.
What the hell?
“Kylie, leave us,” Jaxson says.
Oh shit. This isn’t going to be pretty. He hasn’t dismissed Jaxson’s action.
I take my time. Scooping up the envelope with the thick wad of Franklins, lining up the papers inside my three-inch manila, adjusting the leather chair . . .
The silence in the room is deafening.
“You done?” Hayden demands.
I nod.
“You know where my suite of rooms is located . . . if you have any questions.”
I stiffen at the subtle reminder of what happened before in his bedroom.
From beneath my lowered eyelashes, I send a silent message to Jaxson. Please don’t let him goad you. Except he’s scowling at our boss, returning glare with glare.
I agonized over the pros and cons of signing on with TORC. Money for medication versus leaving my family to their own resources. My house with a white picket fence versus life on the Ranch, or wherever Hayden needs me. Dreaming of a lover who will never be versus being with a lover who might never be. Never in my wildest imagination did I anticipate how my return would put Jaxson in jeopardy.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
“Kylie . . .” Hayden grounds out.
“Leaving.” I bow my head and calmly head for the door. Except what I’m feeling is the exact opposite of calm. I step away from the library, away from a man I undeniably detest, away from a man whom I wholeheartedly love. But when I hear his harsh warning to Jaxson, my heart skips a beat.
“If you ever put her before an order again, I’ll personally terminate you.”