“Not particularly. Sounds like he realized he was going to jail for the rest of his life and decided to end it.” DB’s voice is smooth across the line.
“Such a shame,” I say, leaning him against the railing as I look down the fifteen flights of steps. “Does Jake still have the cameras?”
“Indeed, I do. Weird how they’re not working tonight.”
I make sure to get his handprints on the railing, then turn his slack jaw in my direction.
“Hey, how ya doin’? I’ll be hosting your one-way trip to hell tonight, and I wanted to leave you with a little fun fact.”
Odd’s voice comes in on the line. “Anders, we don’t have time for this.”
“Sure we do, brother. I’ll make it fast.”
Refocusing on this sixteen-person douche canoe, I continue, keeping it snappy. “So, here’s the thing. My parents are from Norway, and when something is really crazy, Norwegians call it Texas,” I say, slightly appeased by the fear in his eyes. Doesn’t quite make up for the fact that I won’t be using my 10 blade on him tonight, but I’ll take what I can get. “Tex is my mother’s nickname for me because even she knows I’m batshit crazy. Anyway, thought you might find that amusing on your way down.”
Omar, completely unimpressed by my Viking humor, helps me tip the asshole over the edge. I wave as his body moves through the air. Unfortunately, it’s a very narrow space, and about ten floors down his shoulder catches a railing, cartwheeling him the last five floors. I bet that hurt.
As I make a note to send a bonus to whomever has to clean this up, an echoey, pained “Fuck!” filters up from the bottom floor.
I tap the comms right away. “What happened to Odd?”
His voice crackles across the line. “Some asshole decided to throw a body down fifteen flights of stairs and didn’t give anyone a warning. I tripped while ducking a mostly headless dead guy falling from the sky, and now I’m pretty sure my knee is fucked-up.”
Dammit. In addition to being my brother, and one of a handful of people for whom I would sacrifice my own life, Odd is the sweetest guy I know, and I hate it whenever he’s hurt. The fact that I caused him pain, twists my stomach in knots.
I spin around to head down the stairs, losing my footing as I slam into Omar. He grabs me before I plummet down the stairs, preventing all manner of painful injury.
His grip on my waist lasts longer than is entirely necessary. I look down at the connection and give him my full-dimple smile. His lip snarls up, and he pushes me against the railing as DB’s voice reaches out across the line.
“Maintain your position. Someone’s entered the stairwell at thirteen.”
“Odd?” I ask as Omar steps back and leans against the opposite railing, rolling up his sleeves, revealing enough veins and tattoos to make anyone question their sexuality.
Not that I’ve ever questioned mine.
The majority of his tattoos are in Arabic script, wrapping beautifully around his sculpted, bronze muscles, and I just want to lick them. Meanwhile, he’s unbothered, unruffled, and unimpressed. Guess I’ll have to do something about that.
“I’m fine, brother. They’re walking me to the car.”
That catches my attention. Odd needed help getting to the car? I’m the fucking worst brother ever.
“Painkillers in my duffel. I’ll check you over when we’re done here.”
“Ten-four.”
We end the connection, and I turn to Omar, continuing to admire his physicality. “Thanks, man. Being perfectly honest here, I’m surprised you didn’t let me fall down the stairs just then.”
His expression remains carefully blank, not even an eye twitch as he draws his gun, standing at the ready. I swear, it’s like trying to get a reaction out of a palace guard. But considering I fucked a uniformed palace guard in an alley last time I was in London, I like my chances.
I pull my weapon and cross the two feet or so between us, smiling as I lean in. My heart drums out of rhythm as I remember how thrilling it is to be in his personal space. Goddamn, his eyes are exquisite against his perfect skin.
“Maybe it’s because you secretly like me,” I whisper, pushing when I damn well know I shouldn’t.
His lack of response doesn’t surprise me, but it doesn’t exactly deter me, either. I inhale his scent, and fuck me spinning, his soap smells like his cock would taste delicious.
“Maybe…” I continue, relentless. “Maybe you’d like to push me up against this railing and have your way with me.”
Still no comment, but…jaw clench.
