Ryan's big, blocky shoulders lift. "I don't think she knows what she's saying."
"She's right about the video."
"Just because she's right about that doesn't mean…" Ryan shakes his head. "Maybe we need to call someone down to check her head."
Shortie takes a step back, his hand hovering over his gun. "Maybe we need to go upstairs and chat."
The temperature in the room heats.
The alpha scents change from tense to challenging. They double in potency until I’m fighting the urge to gag on scents that remind me of the worst colognes of all time.
"You know my name isn't Ryan. She's fucking with us."
"She's an omega." The short guy scoffs as if an omega designation also correlates to IQ.
Fuck him. I wish I'd pretended he was a double agent instead.
"Didn't you see that fucking get-up she was in? Bodysuit and everything? She was pretending to be an alpha!" Ryan folds his arms over his chest, defensive. Good.
"It's called a decoy. Body double. Fuck. Where did Pedro find you? Some back alley? Or maybe in Hypso?"
Oh, it's as hot as a campfire now. Wish I'd brought marshmallows.
I dip my head to the ground to hide my grin because I’m right. I knew it!
Pedro hired out mercenaries, and these guys don't know each other from Adam. Trust is tenuous at best, especially when they think someone might come between them and their money.
Ryan takes a threatening step forward. "Fuck you, asshole! Let's go upstairs. Run my background. I don't give a shit. But when you're wrong, you owe me a hundred bucks."
"No, I don't. Don't act like this is some game. You're not one of my boys. You're never gonna be."
Ohhh.
Somehow, the fiery agitation between the men doesn't just flicker—it blinks out, and now the tension is arctic cold. If Caran and I were watching this scene together on TV, he'd pause it to go make popcorn.
But I have to stay hunched in my spot. Frozen. Trying not to draw attention to myself as two guns-for-hire square off. I poked this bear. I started this Rube-Goldberg chain reaction, and I'm not quite sure where it ends.
If they go upstairs, excellent. If they start shooting, not so excellent.
Crap.
Should I intervene a little? I bite my lip, deciding.
Yeah, probably. The seed of distrust has been planted. No need for it to grow a whole tree in two minutes.
"Ugh!" I let my head waver. "I think I'm going to puke!"
That does it.
The alphas scurry upstairs as fast as they can go because the last thing a soldier wants to do is play nursemaid.
The metal door slams behind them, and I'm left in the dark to “vomit” alone.
"They're as sweet as Pedro," I mutter, before deciding talking's off the table until my face stops throbbing.
With a sigh, I drag my fingers over the cold chains and the lock that binds me.
It's time to find a way out of here.
