His palms settle on his hips, trying to draw my attention once more to the deep lines veering down into his low-slung pants.
“No idea.” He nods, a smirk tilting his lips.
My gaze darts slowly around the room. This definitely feels like an awful idea.
“You guys are just squatting in this mansion in plain sight?”
“Well, we intended to stay downtown, but this gorgeous assassin kept fucking with our plans.”
I force myself not to smile at his words.
“What if the owner comes home?”
He shakes his head.
“She died two days ago. Rory found the old chick in a patio chair out back.” Another content smile as if he’s just describing another average day in his life.
The tension in my shoulders relaxes just slightly. I suppose we could stay for a while. Unless someone comes to check on grandma. Then we’ll have to slip out.
My brows lower as I reconsider my own thoughts.
There were a lot ofwe’sin my mind just then…
I shift, trying to push out the thoughts of newfound friendship.
“Where’s Tylin?” There’s a meeting to be held. Some discussions to be had. Some angry words to be spoken.
Jameson nods, his blonde locks falling into his pretty eyes. He turns on his bare feet and pads down the glossy tile floor. A severe zig zag of lines create a symbol that must represent his electric power is just beneath the script that swirls down the lean muscle of his ribs. I can’t tell what language it is, and I don’t ask either. I trail after him, careful not to step on the heirloom rug. I avoid the damn thing like the floor is lava.
He leads me through the entry room and down a long hall. It’s dimmer here. Intimate almost. I keep my gaze held on the span of his wide shoulders. Of course, I make note of the etched lines of muscle that define every beautiful inch of him. He walks like he’s been used to people watching him his entire life. There’s a confidence in every step he takes.
He turns, jogging quickly down white stairs into what must be the basement. It must be a very remodeled basement. Honestly it doesn’t look like any basement I’ve ever stepped foot into. It’s as pristine as the rest of the home. My fingertips skim down the smooth white walls, and the farther down we go, the louder the music starts to become. It pounds through the foundation and into my chest.
When we finally stand at the base of the stairs, my lips part without words. A wide space opens. A white couch and flat screen television line the walls as if they’re in the way of what’s really on display in this room; the two men pounding their fists into each other’s faces. Tylin clings onto Rory’s neck with one arm while he plummets him with blow after blow. Sweat clings to their bodies and every move they make is fluid. The muscles of Tylin’s biceps and shoulders tense with power as he slams his fist into Rory’s bloody nose once more.
Rory brings his knee up, jarring into Tylin’s chest before pulling him down to the crisp white carpet. Crimson blood smears over the clean flooring.
When they land, they spot me.
Their chests heave, glistening beneath the bright lighting of the room. For several seconds, they just stare at me.
My arms cross and I have to put thought into closing my open mouth. Yes, I am openly gawking. But I don’t have to continue to do it.
I have some manners.
Some.
“Is that how you treat your teammates?” A weird part of me can’t help but imagine them manhandling me. What would it feel like to have Rory’s big body cover mine? To force me down beneath him?
What is wrong with me?Mouse should have led me to an insane asylum, not a mansion.
“I guess not all my teammates. Only the ones who can handle it.” Tylin kneels there on the floor, his chest rising and falling as he holds my narrowed gaze.
What an asshole.
He’s so fucking cocky. He wouldn’t be that belittling if I showed him my real skills. He’s in for a happy surprise.
Everyone has a past.
