“Remy, you’re still in your pajamas? It’s almost nine.” His best friend Trish rounded up on his miserable position in the living room couch. Given the apartment they shared was tiny there wasn’t much space to hide and shrink away from her.
Remy groaned. “Give me break, Trish. It’s my day-off and I want to relax.”
“And what exactly do you intend to do until then? Muck around in your jammies, eating junk food in front of the television?” Trish demanded.
“Well...I have other plans,” Remy answered lamely.
“It’s the only thing you’ve been doing for the past week.”
Remy squinted at his best friend. Trish was already in office wear—in a smart blouse and pencil skirt.
“Was it really worth sacrificing your pride to quit that tutoring job?” Trish finally asked. Remy hadn’t exactly filled her on the details, but she knew the reason why he quit.
“I can’t see Ethan Drake without wanting to sock him. Since he’s an alpha werewolf, he probably won’t feel a thing,” Remy scoffed. “Anyway, I’ll be fine. You’ll be late for work.”
“Well, a couple of us are heading to that new bar that just opened up. Mark’s going to be there,” Trish pointed out.
Remy groaned again. Mark was Trish’s co-worker who she kept setting Remy up with. Mark was also coincidently, a shifter. Heck. Did Trish have an impression he liked dating furry bastards?
“Not this again.”
She frowned. “What’s wrong with Mark? I’ve been dazzling him with tales of you over the last few days. Least you can do is say ‘hi’. If he isn’t your type, then no harm done right?”
After his horrible and violent run-in with Lindsay, Remy would rather steer clear from the supernatural for the moment. But Trish did have a point.
While Remy hadn’t been ready to go back to the dating pool, maybe a fun night out would do him some good. Besides, he’d been taking extra hours at the diner or hardware store lately to supplement the income he’d lost tutoring Ethan’s daughter.
“Yeah, alright. I do need a drink or two,” Remy eventually mumbled.
“Great! I’ll set it up. Mark’s excited to meet you,” Trish gushed.
But I don’t want Mark the shifter. He’s not Ethan. At this rate, I won’t be able to be a decent date either, a childish voice inside Remy insisted. Remy quickly silenced the voice. This was good. Remy was moving on, or at least attempting to try.
“Well, I’ll most likely disappoint him. Now shoo.”
“Alright, but remember to keep your phone beside you, Rem.”
When Trish finally left, Remy leaned against the couch again, munching on his chips. He glanced out the windows of the apartment. Over the past few days, the hairs on his back seemed to stand up and his skin crawled. Remy had a nasty feeling he was being watched, but that was ridiculous. Could Lindsay O’ Connell be true to her word?
Remy could still hear her voice in his head, her tone dripping with venom. “Me? I’m Ethan’s wife and mother of his cub. You on the other hand, are nothing but trash. Ethan’s fuck toy of the week.”
Remy shuddered. She certainly had the money and resources. Maybe she hired someone to spy on Remy, and when the opportunity arrived—
Damn Ethan Drake for dragging Remy into a mess.
Speaking of Ethan...Remy’s thoughts wandered away from his imaginary watcher and centered on the stupid alpha werewolf. A week would have been enough for any other guy to forget a one-night-stand, but Remy still couldn’t stop thinking of the alpha at work, hell, even in his bed and shower. No other man ever strung his body like that. Make his head spin and turn his insides to jelly. Remy was already rock-hard just thinking about it. Ethan might be a stranger, but Remy had trusted him more than he’d trusted anyone else.
“We can talk about the nature of my desires and yours another time. Tonight though, all I can think of is fucking you.” Ethan had said. Remy couldn’t quite forget those words, or the erotic images that accompanied them.
BDSM and bondage had been fantasy to him. The dirty little secret he never told any other soul. Growing up in a conservative town always taught Remy to be careful, but with Ethan there weren’t any brakes. Just one wild ride, and one night was only the tip of the iceberg. Remy shivered, remembering Ethan’s gaze spearing through him.
As if on cue, his cell phone vibrated on the coffee table in front of the couch. Another text message from Ethan asking, or demanding (judging from the text) they meet to talk. No way Remy would fall for that trap. The alpha knew what kind of effect he had on Remy. If they met face-to-face, Remy didn’t trust himself. He would rage, try to get a couple of useless punches in, but in the end his resolve would crumble.
What could happen next? Angry and wild make-up sex, maybe? In the end, who would end up getting hurt?
Him. Again. Poor sucker.
“What’s done is done, Remy. You told him you never wanted to see his face again,” he whispered to himself.
Remy dragged himself out of the couch. He threw out his junk food, and decided to drop by the mall to buy a new shirt, maybe a pair of jeans for his date tonight.
* * * *
“The target is leaving the premises, but two of Drake’s hired security is still tailing him. Please advise,” Raker Willis reported to his employer through his cell.
“Ethan is a careful bastard. Don’t pursue, simply observe. We cannot afford to mess this up,” said the cultured female voice on the other end.
Raker’s shifter hearing caught the sound of glasses, soft music and polite laughter on the other hand. Socializing this early in the afternoon? Then again, Raker wasn’t surprised.
Lindsay O’ Connell was the darling of the O’Connell business emporium. She was also daughter to the alpha of the Cronus pack, the largest pack in the area. Lindsay might be a bitch, but she didn’t do things half-assed. Hiring him was proof enough Lindsay did her research, and wanted things done fast and efficiently. She paid good money for Raker’s services, and Raker never once failed in his assignments.
Raker peered through the lens of his sniping rifle. Remy Carlson didn’t look much of a threat. Hell, Raker could’ve walked pass by the average-looking human on the street and never notice him. Poor sucker probably didn’t understand what kind of trouble he landed himself in.
Humans in Raker’s opinion were only good for one thing—food. Those who existed on the higher rung of the evolutionary ladder like Raker, Lindsay, and the rest of the supernatural community didn’t fuck their food.
Rumor had it billionaire Ethan Drake preferred the exotic and had an eye for beauty. Raker supposed it was a personal blow to Lindsay why Ethan would pick this particular human. He would be insulted too, if he learned his lover would chose a lower being over him.
Ethan was a lone wolf not bound to any pack in the area. The alpha was powerful in his own right, but sometimes numbers and skill could overwhelm everything else.
Raker wasn’t just damn good at his job. He was the best the field had to offer.
Right now, all Lindsay had to do was give the order and he’d pull the trigger without hesitation. No one would even notice the human crumple on the sidewalk with a neat little bullet hole embedded in his heart. Even if a passerby managed to get help in time, or call for an ambulance, no human survived a direct shot to the heart. Raker never missed because his animal group had the sharpest eyesight in the kingdom.
Lindsay was the boss though, and Raker could see her reasoning. If Remy Carlson died today, Ethan Drake would immediately suspect Lindsay for foul play.
“Call me if the situation changes,” Lindsay said in clipped tones.
“Copy that, boss.”
Observing Remy had dressed up after looking like a disgruntled slop all week, Raker sighed. It looked like he had a long night ahead of him.