Chapter 6
Travis
“Damn, this feels good,” I mutter, my voice drowned out by the shower’s powerful spray.
The hot water pounds my shoulders, steam curling around me in the gym’s locker room shower. My muscles already ache from the brutal workout I just put them through—deadlifts, pull-ups, a punishing set of burpees to burn off the tension that’s been coiling in me since I got involved with this mission.
The water’s scalding, but it feels good, washing away the sweat and the doubts that have been bubbling up inside me. This isn’t my usual kind of mission. Nowhere near enough action. All observation, guesswork, trying to outsmart a damn boy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m up for the challenge—I guess I just never imagined that it would be this challenging so quickly.
I close my eyes, letting the heat sink into my skin, but his face is there, uninvited.
Miles.
Those defiant eyes, that stubborn tilt to his chin, the way he glared at me in that meeting room, all fire and no quit. I shake my head, water sluicing down my face.
“Get out of my head, boy,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.
But he’s stubborn even in my thoughts. I picture him in that ridiculous delivery uniform, the cap slipping over his eyes. But all the while I know he had a damn stuffy too.
He’s a puzzle—part fierce investigator, part vulnerable Little—and it’s messing with me.
My body reacts before I can stop it, a low heat stirring as I imagine him looking up at me, all sass and spark, calling me out even as I towered over the him. My cock hardens in double quick time, straining upward, thick and stiff as I mentally undress Miles, his naked body appearing in my mind, each and every inch of his slender but toned body appealing to my most basic of instincts.
If Miles were here at the gym, I would pull him into the locker room, take him into the shower with me right now, and do the things to him that I know would shake him to his very core.
The boy would submit to my desires, take everything I could give him, and beg for more. I’d pull on his nipples, lead him around the room at my command. I’d slap his hard cock from side to side and watch with delight as he submitted himself to me. Fuck, it would be hot.
And that ass… that peachy, round, perfectly spankable ass…
“Damn it, get a grip,” I growl.
I groan, slamming a fist against the tiled wall.
This isn’t me.
I don’t get distracted, especially not by a target.
But Miles is not just a target, and that’s the problem.
I twist the knob to cold, the shock snapping me back to reality. Focus, Travis. He’s a threat to the Guard, to everything we’ve built.
I let Miles walk last night, gave him a chance to back off, but I know his type.
He’s not stopping. And if I don’t handle this, Mr. G will, and his methods won’t be as gentle as mine—he’s older, wiser, and moves with a clinical lack of emotion when the time is right. Miles’ looks and sassy Little side won’t mean a damn thing to Mr. G if he feels he needs to be removed from the picture. And I don’t want that, not if it can be helped.
I step out of the shower, water dripping off me as I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist. The gym is a lot nicer than the kinds I used to work out in during my twenties. Now in my forties, I actually enjoy the fact that I can train in places that have somewhat more luxurious changing facilities. Hell, I might even be going soft in my old age but I even like the luxury skin moisturizer dispensers they have here.
The locker room’s empty, the faint hum of the gym’s air conditioning the only sound. I sit on the bench, letting the cool air dry my skin, and grab my phone from my bag. A notification from our tech team waits, and my gut tightens as I read it:
TECH: Miles Nadal accessed encrypted Guard servers, multiple occasions, continued breaches. Several queries on Obsidian Ventures. Recommend immediate action.
“Damn it, Miles,” I growl, tossing the phone onto the bench.
He didn’t listen.
I told him to walk away, warned him what would happen if he kept digging, but he’s at it again, poking into our shell company like a dog with a bone.
Part of me—stupidly—admires his guts.
