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“And that’s why I told Big Al to hire her,” Shep boasts.
“Oh, stop,” I coo while sarcastically flexing my fingers toward me in akeep goinggesture. “You’re embarrassing me. Please, stop.”
“Mia did the heavy lifting on this one.” Tomer spins his chair around, putting his back to his workstation. “The enhancements she made to my face rec software are worth their weight in fucking gold.” To me, he adds, “I could kiss you right now.”
A low rumble comes from across the room.
Cal.
Tomer scoots away from me. “But I won’t.”
I blow an air kiss at Klein.
“That’s a new development,” Kri muses, puckering her lips and letting her line of sight volley between Cal and me. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, though.”
Ignoring her, I focus on the panty wrecker who’s shooting a homicidal glare at Tomer.
Damn.That man wears jealousy like a perfectly tailored suit.
It’s arousing as hell to be the only one who’s made him go from cinnamon sugar to habanero five-alarm spice. Almost as if my mere presence flipped some kind of alpha-activation switch. Or a better metaphor would be that I’ve modified his operating system to restore a baser model with caveman tendencies.
Kri catches my gaze and tilts her head at me. “Back to the case. How did you get a picture to run through the software?”
I regale the group with my heroic tale of social media stalking, hashtag onedickchick, and bathroom selfies while only including minor references to the FBI hack.
“So where did you find them?” Kri asks me.
“Two of them are at a bar, and the third is at Yuri’s strip club.”
Shep growls.
Because I’m a shithead, I toss, “Kri, we should calm Shep down. Surely you know what eases his…tension.”
A tight-lipped chortle shakes Kri’s chest, but she doesn’t answer.
“That’s not an all-ages topic.” Shep faces Kri, bending to get in her face. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?” He kisses her.
Val pantomimes gagging herself, and laughter carries around the room.
Except for Tomer.
He’s back at his desk, dragging his fingers over his scalp and bouncing his knee.
Jonesy’s voice booms, signaling his entrance. “Hey, hey, hey. Is this a private party, or can anyone come?”
Aaron and Junior trail behind, offering chin tips and shoulder pats as they pass by the others.
Junior ruffles Val’s dark brown hair on his way past her. Instead of sassing him as I would expect, she beams at him, doe-eyes twinkling. That’s odd.
Then it hits me.
Oh my friggin’ goodness.The fifteen-year-old sweetheart has a crush on the twenty-six-year-old former soldier. She’s been shot in the chest by Cupid’s stupid arrow.
Junior is one of Val’s bodyguards. When she’s at home, she doesn’t need a guard since she lives with two former special ops soldiers, but she does need protection at school. Until Lenkov is behind bars where he belongs, she’s not safe from his retribution. And since she’s one of the youngest billionaires in the country, she’ll never be free from threats.
I bet Junior makes her feel safe, which she deserves after such a traumatic life. Although he’s one of the smaller Redleg guys, he’s strong and projects confidence. It’s that military swagger. I see why she’d be attracted to him.
But I only have heart eyes and coochie flutters for Cal.
