He thought I didn’t notice, but I did, and fuck, itturned meon.
Knowing I’ve got that effect on him, that I can make the boy blush and squirm without even trying, sends a heat through me I can’t ignore. He’s a Little, all sass and fire, but that look told me he’s feeling this pull between us just as much as I am.
I shift in my seat, forcing the thought down.
He’s a job, Travis. A threat.Focus.
I check my phone again, the tracker app glowing with Miles’ location. He’s leaving the Knox & Rain office, right on schedule.
Good boy.
He’s following my rules, heading straight back to my place like I told him.
The thought of him being obedient, even if it’s grudging, makes my chest tighten. I picture Miles in my oversized t-shirt, clutching that damn cow stuffy, Bean, his ass flexing as he moves.
The boy is trouble, but he’s playing ball. For now.
Across the restaurant, Kyle’s still at it, his voice carrying over the clink of glasses. He’s all charm, leaning in to tell the client some story, his hands animated, his smile too wide.
There’s a vibe to him, something slimy beneath the polished exterior, like a used-car salesman with a secret. It’s not proof of anything—Cole’s intel about Knox & Rain’s ties to a new cartel is still just a lead—but my gut’s screaming that this guy’s dirty.
The way he’s throwing around money, the way his client nods along, all smug confidence—it’s the kind of scene I’ve seen too many times in my line of work…
Power, greed, and secrets, all wrapped in a tailored suit.
I sip my coffee, keeping my eyes on them. The client’s got a hard edge, his posture too stiff for a casual lunch. Military, maybe, or ex-law enforcement. Someone who knows how to handle himself.
I snap another photo, my thumb quick on the shutter, and send it to Cole. If this guy’s tied to the cartel, or even to the threat against Miles, I need to know yesterday. His trashed apartment, that note, it all still looms large. Marcus Vane’s a possibility, but Kyle Knox and his firm are climbing higher on my list.
Kyle and the client finish their champagne, the bottle empty, and stand, shaking hands like old pals. Kyle slaps the guy’s shoulder, his laugh echoing as they head for the exit.
I wait a beat, then toss a few bills on the table and follow, keeping my distance.
The city’s bustling outside, the lunchtime crowd a perfect cover as I trail them to the curb. They part ways, the client climbing into a black SUV, Kyle heading toward a cab. I memorize the SUV’s plates, texting them to Cole, then check the tracker again.
My heart skips.
Miles isnotheading to my place. The little dot on the map’s veering off course, moving across town. I zoom in, my jaw tightening as the location pings: The Sugar Spoon, that cutesy café he loves.
“Goddamn it, Little,” I mutter, my Daddy instincts kicking in hard.
He disobeyed me. I told him to go straight home, no detours, and he’s off getting hot chocolate with his friend like we’re not in the middle of a fucking war.
That note wasn’t a prank, and he’s out there, exposed, with a tracker he doesn’t even know I’m monitoring. My hand grips the phone, a mix of anger and worry churning in my gut.
He’s pushing me, testing boundaries, and it’s time for another lesson in discipline. I’ve got no other option. It’s the right thing for the mission, and for the Daddy in me too.
I hail a cab, giving the driver my address but keeping my eyes on the tracker. Miles’ dot is stationary at the café, oblivious to the danger he’s in.
I lean back, the city blurring past, and let my mind wander back to this morning. That look on his face—part awe, part desire—when he saw me naked. It wasn’t just embarrassment; it was raw, unfiltered want, and it’s got me thinking.
I’ve spent years keeping my emotions locked down, but Miles is cracking that open, making me feel things I can’t afford to feel. The memory of him over my kitchen table, his ass reddening under my wooden spoon, doesn’t help.
The cab pulls up to my building, and I pay, stepping out into the evening air.
The tracker shows Miles is still at the café, and I’m torn between storming over there and dragging him back or waiting him out. I choose the latter, heading up to my apartment, the sparse space feeling colder without him in it. I pour a whisky, the burn grounding me, and sit on the couch, my phone open to the tracker app. He’s got ten minutes before I go get him myself, and when I do, he’s gonna learn what happens when he breaks my rules.
I think back to Kyle Knox, his smarmy grin, the way he threw around money like it was nothing. Cole’s digging, but I’m betting Knox is neck-deep in whatever’s threatening Miles. The cartel connection, Los Lobos reborn, makes too much sense. I was there when we took them down, lost Symon and Kent in that firefight.
