Chapter Three
WeleftWill’soffice, and I was furious. Like a muscle spasm rage that coursed through my limbs, making me want to punch something.
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” I seethed, slamming the passenger door closed as I got into Alex’s truck. “He’s an egomaniacal asshole.”
This morning I had woken up well-rested, in a good mood, and richer than the day before as all thoughts of Alesso Nissaney had disappeared.
Nothing felt better in the morning than knowing the world had one less demon in it. But William Jones promptly ruined that high.
I grumbled all the way home and finally decided to crawl back into bed for a few hours before having to start recon for the Weston case.
I came down to the kitchen a couple of hours later, freshly showered, with my damp hair tied in a topknot and my Newfoundland baby bounding happily behind me.
Alex was busy typing on his laptop at the breakfast bar, his clear Ray-Bans perched on the end of his nose and a dip in his brow as he concentrated on whatever he was doing.
“Nice nap, Stevie baby?” he asked without looking up from his screen, surprising me that he even realised he was no longer alone. I started to ask how he knew, when he said, “You always nap the day after a job.”
I shrugged. “Well, killing a guy kinda makes me sleepy.” I laughed with a yawn, walking to the cupboard we stored the dry dog food.
“Thought it was hungry?”
“Sleepy and hungry.”
Rocky’s wet nose shoved between my legs as he tried to push his snout into the cupboard, desperate to get to his food. Poor dog was getting fed late. I pushed him away, pulling the almost empty twenty-kilo bag to the floor, and reached in deep for the scoop.
“I’ve ordered him more food,” Alex announced, as if reading my mind, as I tipped the bag to the side, pushing my whole arm to the bottom of the fresh pack bag. “It should arrive later today.”
I dropped the meaty chunks into a bowl and placed it in front of a very excited dog. Then, skipping over to Alex, I hopped onto the empty barstool, smacking a big wet kiss on his cheek.
“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” I asked, swinging my leg over the back of the chair so I was straddling it with my back resting against the counter. Alex side-eyed me and pushed his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, the shadowed outline of bones made of ink flexing as he surreptitiously flipped me the bird.
He leaned back and ran his gaze over the little denim shorts and pink vest top I wore. I didn’t care what Will said about my attire; it was like a million degrees outside, and he could kiss my ass if he thought he could control my wardrobe. Alex shook his head, but the grin he was trying to curb said he didn’t care what I wore either. Pushing back from his seat, he bowed his back with a crack and ran his hand down his bare torso. The man hardly ever wore clothes when he was in the house. Not that I was complaining. My best friend was a piece of art and I’d have to be a fucking blind idiot not to be aware of how good looking he was.
The complicated swirls, geometric patterns, and beautiful outlines of unknown women that decorated his arms, chest, and back seemed to change each time I looked at them. I’d never truly know the total length of time Alex had spent getting his ink, but I did know he looked hot as fuck and ever so easily slotted into the bad-boy stereotype. But when dressed in a shirt, along with his glasses, he could totally pass for your standard IT guy who was mega into steroids.
Angling my body towards his laptop screen, I checked out what he was working on as he left the room. I scrunched my nose at the number of porn site tabs that were open on his browser, along with several relating to a pharmaceutical company. My side started to strain as I twisted further to swipe across the mouse pad, clicking on the word document that was half-hidden by another browser.
Alex returned, slamming down the lid of the laptop with his left hand splayed across the top, the perfect image of a pocket watch with its hands reading four-twenty-six staring back at me.
“A man’s laptop is private, Stevie baby,” he said with a grin that was absolutely sinful as his brown eyes twinkled with delight. He slid over the same manila folder we’d taken with us from our meeting with Will. “C’mon, read this before you check out the Weston Pharmaceutical website again, so you know who you’re looking out for.”
I groaned at the folder and began flicking through the pages. Will was definitely taking the piss.
“So I’ve already started digging into their financials and —”
“You’ve already done what?” I questioned, not that I should be surprised he had already started his part of the job. He was the great computer geek, after all. “How long did I nap for?” I leaned to the side to see past his huge chest at the time displayed on the oven. The blue lights flashed twelve-eleven.
“Some of us don’t sleep like demented angels after we’ve killed people, Stevie baby,” he deadpanned, and I flipped him off.
“Technically, I didn’t kill Nissaney,” I argued. “I just stole his heart.”
His lips twitched in amusement as he quirked an eyebrow. I knew he was going to argue what the difference was, but his attention switched to his watch, and he tapped the glass, watching Mickey Mouse’s hands slowly move around the face, deep in thought for a second.
“You’ll have to leave soon to make it to the coffee shop across town.” He dug around in his grey sweatpants pocket and pulled out his phone, then typed something before turning the device to face me.
I didn’t need to look at the website he brought up to remember the standard industry headshot that would shine back at me. A stubble-lined jaw, perfectly styled “boardroom” hair, and a cheeky smile, all belonging to the painfully beautiful man that had become my next assignment. The image had been burned into my memory. But it was his eyes that had me wanting to stare for a second too long; bright blue orbs flecked with grey that were memorising.
Jacob was so smoking hot that he could have been a model, but moreover, he didn’t appear to look like my usual target at all. He didn’t have that glint of wickedness behind his eyes that kept evil secrets that were desperate to be unleashed into the world. His cerulean eyes looked kind, his smile relaxed and almost charming.
But looks could be deceiving.
I jumped from my seat and jogged to the hall to get Rocky’s lead hanging from a hook, then grabbed my converse trainers and the baseball hat Alex had left on the sideboard, before returning to the kitchen.
“Can I take your truck so I can bring Rocky?” I asked, sliding to the floor with a shiver at the cold tiles freezing my ass cheeks, which had peeked out of my denim shorts as I sat to tie the shoelaces of my well-worn trainers. I crossed my legs, looking up at Alex, my hand stretched out, waiting for the keys. When he didn’t move, I said, “C’mon, Alex, I can’t very well put the big bear in the back of my McLaren, now can I?”
He sighed and reached over to the bowl we kept our keys in. “One scratch, Stevie…” he warned, holding the keys by the fluffy pink dice I bought him as a joke one Christmas. I hopped up from my spot on the floor, grabbed the keys before he could change his mind, and smacked another sloppy kiss on his cheek. Tugging on the baseball cap and latching Rocky onto his lead, I led my dog to the back of the truck.