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Piece of fucking cake.
I clear the file off my screen before plastering on a polite but slightly vacant smile. Don’t show too much interest, and don’t look any of them in the eye. They won’t remember me, and that’s the way it has to be.
“Can I help you?” I ask the one in front. Holy hell, it’s all I can do not to swallow my tongue as he gets closer. The man oozes sex appeal. He’s of Asian descent, and his dark gray suit looks like it’s tailored to fit his body, meaning it doesn’t hide the fact that he is fit. His short hair is as lustrous as onyx, but it’s still long enough to run my fingers through it, and when his brown eyes meet mine, I can see flecks of red and orange in them.
Holy shit! I don’t think I’ve ever had such a visceral reaction to a guy before, and right now, this stranger has me panting inside. In order to prevent myself from visibly reacting, I bite the inside of my cheek.
I’d always been warned about making intimate connections, and it’s company policy not to date outside. It brings up unanswerable questions that, more often than not, make relationships difficult.
Also, due to my status as a ghost operative, I haven’t had much contact with any of the other agents either, so I am a rather awkward loner who takes satisfaction in her job. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an innocent virgin. Sometimes I need to use sex to get the job done, but it’s easy enough to detach oneself from the situation, especially if you’re going to kill them or have them arrested. Feelings just never come into play, so this reaction to the yummy guy in front of me is completely unexpected. A feeling of unease starts to worm its way in, causing a rock to sit heavily in my stomach.
Give. Me. Strength.
A small chuckle has me blinking, and a light flush heats my cheeks as I realize I’ve been staring far longer than what’s considered appropriate for someone who is supposed to act detached. Tearing my eyes away from Asian Hottie, I scan the rest of the group, trying to distract myself. Each and every one of them looks like they don’t miss the gym, like ever, yet every one of them has a very different appearance. This makes sense though. When MITHOS allows teams to form, they are more likely to be approved if they offer a variety of options, so to speak, and this group seems to be very well-rounded. They also radiate this feeling of danger. Maybe there is something to this team that I need to be careful about.
Huh, Team Basilisk, why have I never heard of this team before or come up against them in one of Dad’s tests?
They look too comfortable with one another and the whole process to be a new team. New teams walk into their first assessment practically pissing their pants, and these guys have an air of relaxation around them, like nothing fazes them. The sense of unease grows, and it’s all I can do not to squirm with anticipation.
Jesus, send help, because this isn’t like me. At all. What in the actual fuck is happening?
“You’re not Gwen.” My gaze moves to the man who points out the obvious, and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. This one’s wearing a black waistcoat and a long-sleeved button-up with rolled back sleeves, exposing dark mahogany tattooed forearms that almost make me drool. He has short cropped, curly black hair and eyes that are such a deep brown they are almost black as he stares at me like I’m a science experiment he wants to dissect.
“No, I’m not,” I reply to Mr. Hot Chocolate, but I don’t elaborate. I need to get them into Dad’s office pronto before I do anything stupid or they ask too many questions and I stumble over my responses. I look back at the guy who I assume is the team leader and raise an eyebrow.
Again, someone snorts in amusement.
“Aww, pretty thing, don’t be like that.” This one is wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeved Henley with the sleeves pushed back over his forearms. I swear forearms are going to be the death of me. What captures my attention even more, however, are his vivid blue eyes, which sparkle behind black-rimmed glasses. He has that sexy nerd look down pat, with his tousled black hair that’s long on top and shaved on the sides. “How about you tell us your name? That way we can all be friends and make this a bit more pleasant rather than awkward.” The genuine smile on his face has me second-guessing my behavior. Fucking hell.
Hmm, using the friendly, boy next door routine to lull me into a false sense of security in the hopes that I might give them more information. Nice try, Nerdy Sexy, but no dice. I’m smart enough not to fall for that, so I continue to raise one eyebrow at the team leader and ignore the flirty nerd.
Again, someone snorts with amusement, and when my eyes swing to him, Mr. Latino Lovely is smirking at me, his hazel eyes crinkled with his barely contained laughter. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and holds himself with an arrogance that is familiar to me. This guy thinks he’s all that and a bowl of sprinkles. “Well, would you look at that, someone is immune to your charm, Lathan.” There’s a slight hint of malice in his tone, and Lathan, Nerdy Sexy, scowls at him but doesn’t respond. I feel my expression blank in response to his observation, but I don’t engage.
“Hmph.”
It’s all I can do to stop my eyebrows from rising as the last one finally speaks up, or was that a grunt from a caveman? He has that stereotypical bad boy look with tattoos covering his arms and piercings in his eyebrow and lip, and he has shoulder-length brown hair that doesn’t look like it’s seen a brush recently. Apparently his face hasn’t seen a razor either, considering the stubble covering his sharp jawline. Unlike the others who have put a bit of effort into what they are wearing, he has on a pair of ripped jeans and a band shirt with flip-flops. It’s so totally not professional at all.
He sneers at me when my eyes meet his green ones like he wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire. Charming, but also fascinating, because the agency frowns on distinguishable features such as tattoos and piercings. They don’t like it if you’re easily identifiable, but from the looks of this team, that apparently means nothing to them, because Bad Boy is not the only one with tats.
“Team Basilisk, reporting to see Director Watson,” Asian Hottie states, interrupting my stare down with Bad Boy, his face devoid of any emotion. It’s like he’s not impressed that he has to introduce the team and their reason for being here.
“Ah, of course, go right through the door, he’s expecting you.” I press the intercom on my desk. “Director Watson, your eleven o’clock is here,” I tell him, but the team has already blown past me without another word, and I breathe a sigh of relief as they disappear into Dad’s office, closing the door behind them. I can hear them through the intercom, which Dad deliberately left on, and while there’s a jovial exchange of greetings, I quickly mute my end. I can feel my forehead crinkle and my lips purse. What is Dad up to? He’s not greeting them in his usual, formal boss-like manner. It sounds like he’s greeting old family friends, and that has me a little worried.
“Hey, Percy, who’s the new girl out front? I haven’t seen her before.” That’s Lathan asking the question. Dammit, I must have made an impression, and that is not what I was aiming for. Also, Percy? What the hell? Only his family calls him that.
“Gwen’s out sick, so I had to call a temp agency. We have one we use occasionally, and their staff has been vetted and cleared to work for upper government agencies. She’s no one important, just a pretty face with good clearance.” Ouch, Dad. His brush-off seems to be good enough, because there are no more questions.
He invites them to take a seat and gets started straightaway. “Okay, guys, how is the new assignment coming along? Have you all settled in and established your cover?”
His question is met with grunts and groans. I can’t help but roll my eyes at their reaction. Dramatic much?
“Yes, we’re all firmly entrenched in the town in different capacities, but I’m going to be honest, we are really looking forward to a break after this one.” That’s Asian Hottie’s voice, and it sends a shiver up my spine that’s almost enough to distract me from gathering information, but not quite. Shaking off my reaction, I focus on the conversation.
“I know, I know. You’ve been undercover for a while now, and I have news on that front, but first, I have another quick assignment for you.” He pauses to build up the suspense, and I roll my eyes. Again.
Dad has always had a flair for theatrics. From the outside looking in, you would only see a stern, authoritative director of a secret spy organization—or you would if it wasn’t a secret, so maybe he seems like a banker or a lawyer—but the reality is, there’s so much more to him. My dad has the best sense of humor. He’s fun, and he’s my best friend. Huh, maybe that explains why I’m so bad with people my own age.
“Intel says there’s been a hit put out on me, and I need you to apprehend the assassin before they can kill me.”
