I look out the window, expecting the gleam of a private jet on the tarmac. Instead, we’re parked in front of a dull office building tucked at the edge of the airport. “What is this place?”
“I need to register Autry and Charlie with the pilot,” Rhett says, already opening his door.
Charlie slips out of the car without hesitation, quiet and obedient, like he’s used to following orders. Rhett moves around to the passenger side and leans in, carefully unbuckling the sleeping omega. Every motion is deliberate. Gentle. Too gentle.
“Don’t forget you still need to pay me,” I remind him, watching as he lifts Autry against his chest like she’s made of spun glass.
“I’ll get your cash once we’re done.” His tone is clipped like he’s annoyed.
I want to bite back with something sharp, something that’ll make him bristle—but I can’t get past the fact that he has an extra few thousand on him after paying so fucking much at the Morder.
“Let’s go,” Rhett whispers, more to Autry than to me, as he adjusts her weight in his arms.
I climb out and stretch, joints cracking in protest. First my knuckles, then my back. I twist side to side until I feel the satisfying pull along my spine. Too many hours in a car, and now my body’s staging a revolt.
The office building is small and stale, a time capsule of outdated furniture and flickering fluorescent lights. A row of plastic chairs lines one wall, and a long information deskstretches across the middle of the room, separating us from a scatter of desks and humming computers. Paper is stacked everywhere, like the room gave up on organization years ago.
But the place is empty. Silent except for the low hum of old machines and the steady tick of a wall clock overhead.
Ten till midnight.
Fuck, it’s been a long day.
“Charlie?” Rhett’s voice is low as he eases Autry onto one of the hard plastic chairs. She stirs with a soft whimper, her tired eyes fluttering open. She looks disoriented as she scans the room.
“Do you have your identification?” Rhett asks Charlie without looking away from his omega.
“Yes.” Charlie unzips a hidden seam in the side of his scrubs and pulls out a thin, black wallet.
Rhett leans in closer and lowers his voice. “Remember what I told you. No touching.”
Charlie nods with too much enthusiasm. Then he sits beside Autry. I notice his shoulder brushing hers the second Rhett turns around. Autry’s pink lips curl at the corner—soft, secretive. She looks at him like he’s safe.
And that’s when the hair on the back of my neck rises.
Lovers? No way. But there’s something there. Something I don’t like.
Before I can think too much about it, the front door creaks open, and an older alpha steps inside. His coveralls are smeared with grease, and his forehead shines with sweat. The namePatchis stitched over his breast pocket.
He walks in like he owns the place—but his eyes land straight on Autry. “Can I help you?” he says to Rhett, but his gaze doesn’t budge. Autry shrinks under the weight of his stare. I see her shoulders tense and her scent sharpens.
“I need to add two people to the flight manifest,” Rhett says as he flips through the paperwork the Morder gave him. It instantly angers me that he’s not paying attention.
“The girl at the desk’s probably on break.” Patch takes a single step toward Autry. His gaze drops to her pale, smooth neck, and something inside me snaps.
“Back the fuck up!” My voice bounces off the walls, louder than I intend.
Autry flinches hard, and Rhett’s head snaps up like he’s been yanked by a leash. He turns, posture instantly aggressive, his entire body coiled as he steps forward.
“I’m not doing shit,” Patch says, lifting his hands like this is all clearly some kind of misunderstanding. But he doesn’t back off. Not an inch. “You need to get your packmate under control,” he tells Rhett. “Before he picks a fight he can’t win.”
“I’m not playing around, old man.” I curl my fists tight, ready to earn this paycheck. “Now back the fuck up away from my omega or I’ll rip your goddamn throat out.” Rhett snarls when I call Autry mine, but he is paying me to pretend to be her mate.
That, and it feels good to pretend she’s mine.
“I’m going to suggest you leave,” Rhett says coldly, stepping beside me. Together we form a wall between Patch and Autry.
“Mr. Sesto.” A bright voice cuts through the tension, and we all turn.
