“Her story isn’t our job,” Dante replied stubbornly, his handsome features set in a scowl. “Her safety is our job. She can take all the time she wants as long as the checks keep clearing. And wewillkeep her safe, whether she likes it or not, ‘cause their deposit has already gone through and we’ve got bills to pay. Unless you want to be eating ramen for the foreseeable future. And we’re too damn old to survive on ramen now. I’ve developed some expensive fucking tastes.”
Quentin laughed, lifting his hands in defeat. “We’re taking the job, Dante. I’m just saying let’s be smart about it. No half-assing or underestimating the asset. Find out everything there is to know about Bianca Bonnycastle. And do it fast. I want to know exactly what we’re walking into.”
“We doing something dangerous? The lobby smells like money, and Teresa said those silver beards who just left had sticks so far up their asses they spit sap, so they must be loaded enough to afford whatever they’re asking for.”
Pack King’s third, and youngest, member filled the doorway to Dante’s office. Quite literally. While Dante was tall, svelte, and leanly muscled and Quentin was bulkier and taller still, Daniel “Van” Anderson was a mountain of a man. Quentin, who dwarfed most other alphas, looked only slightly above average in comparison.
He’d obviously come straight from a workout, his t-shirt draped around his neck, his broad chest and massive arms gleaming with sweat. Tattoos covered his tan skin, glistening across both arms and most of his chest. Basically, he looked like the picture you’d see beside the wordintimidatingin the dictionary.
Of course, his toothy smile and general demeanor immediately contradicted that impression. The former offensive lineman was pretty much an overgrown puppy—until someone activated the guard dog in him. After that, things tended to get bloody real quick. Many an opponent had learned not to test “Dan the Van” on the football field before a neck injury ended his promising career.
If Dante was a scalpel, and Quentin a hammer, Van was a chainsaw wrapped in barbed wire.
“We got a gig that can pay off the rest of the loan on this building in six months,” Dante said proudly, lighting another cigar and taking a longpull before handing it to Van. “King is being very serious about it, and I’m trying to remind him to celebrate the win.”
“King? Serious?” Van gasped in mock surprise, running a big hand through his short, blonde hair. “In other news, water is wet.”
Quentin shook his head, ignoring them both, though he was suppressing a smile. The excitement pulsing through their pack bond was hard to resist, and King loved nothing more than seeing his packmates happy. He smoked his cigar, feeling loose and relaxed, as Dante caught Van up on the particulars of the assignment.
When he’d finished, Van let out a low whistle. “Round the clock protection for one omega? Are we sure these dudes aren’t mafia or something? Not that I mind. Protecting the daughter of mob bosses sounds like way more fun than constantly surveilling some poor woman just to make a pack of loaded pricks look good to their equally loaded friends. We could be a trio of brown-eyed bandits working forThe Family. We could become made men!”
“The mob is not in our five-year plan,” Dante said, grinning at Van. “But this job is going to accelerate the plan. We don’t need to rush to find tenants, so we can take our time to cultivate a selection of businesses who match our core values. We can bring on a few full-time employees, and rely less on contractors, meaning we can take on more jobs. Hell, a few more like this and we can finish the basement renovations before we start taking tenants, and then we can ask for higher rent. That reminds me, we need to make sure our insurance covers access to the gym. Should we include that in rent or grant access for an additional fee?”
King smiled quietly as Dante went on dreaming out loud. He loved his packmate’s ambition, and he knew Dante would make sure they accomplished everything they wanted, but King couldn’t imagine being happier than he was at that moment. When he and Dante had been onthe streets, hustling to survive, he’d never imagined this life. They hadn’t had a consistent bed until bootcamp, and now Dante was building an empire.
They owned their own business, and in less than a year of being operational had already purchased property. It was a live-work situation with their packhouse on the top floor of the commercial office building, and King’s Guard headquarters directly below. They’d claimed the entire fifth floor though they barely needed a quarter of that space yet, given that their staff consisted of the three pack members, a few independent contractors, and Teresa, their part-time receptionist. They were working on finishing the basement themselves and had already put in a spacious gym and sauna. Dante was planning to add custom storage units and maybe a conference space. The plan was to rent out the remaining offices but, knowing Dante, he probably intended for King’s Guard to expand to fill the entire building eventually.
“We should put a restaurant on the first floor!” Van punched his fist into his palm enthusiastically. “A cafeteria and lounge area for employees and guests. We can stay on brand with the company theme and call it the Great Hall or something like that.”
Dante pounded his fist on his desk in agreement, his dark eyes bright with excitement. “The restaurant motto could befood fit for a king! All the tenants will eat there, and the restaurant will cater any events that use the conference space. Breakfast, lunch, and coffee menus should be easy to maintain, and we get the profits instead of giving it to the food delivery apps. King, you can make a weekly special.”
Quentin felt his smile widen at the picture his packmates painted. They knew how much he liked to cook. When the pack had first discussed going into business, one of Van’s wild ideas had been opening a restaurant. Quentin had shot it down immediately. He liked cooking,liked the regimented, methodical process of following a recipe, but he had no desire to lead a restaurant. He was no chef. Adding flair to food wasn’t his thing. But making hearty, wholesome, simple cafeteria food would be right up his alley. He’d have his pack, his business, and even his hobby, all here in this place they were creating together. Quentin thanked his lucky stars again, his chest warm with pride.
Though Dante was the most business-minded of the three, Van was definitely a dreamer. He believed in their pack without reservation, despite being the newest member, and had enthusiastically traded his football dreams for ambitious business pursuits. He hadn’t hesitated to invest his nest egg of NFL savings into their company, enough to cover the substantial gap between operating costs and how much the bank was willing to loan them, which was the only reason they’d been able to get King’s Guard Security off the ground.
“I love that idea,” Quentin said cautiously, knowing they were going to tease him about being overly serious again. “I love all these ideas. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Our contract is month-to-month, until the event of Ms. Bonnycastle’s mating. That’s an uncertain period of time, so we shouldn’t start counting our chickens before they detonate.”
“That’s not a saying, King,” Dante replied, rolling his eyes. “And we’re not counting them; we’re just making sure we have a plan to use them wisely when theydodetonate. Or when we keep them from detonating. I really don’t understand your metaphor. Just relax, cabrón. We’ve got this.”
“I’m proud of you, Dante,” Quentin said. His heart lurched when Dante’s olive skin flushed at his praise. Quentin turned his attention to Van. “I’m proud of you, Van. I’m proud of us and what we’ve accomplished together. I love you. No matter what happens next, I’m so happy to be sharing thislife with you.”
Quentin stood and pulled each of his packmates to him. They pressed their foreheads together and just breathed for a moment. Then Van slapped the other two on their backs with his meaty paws, making them both wince. His grin was wide and bright.
“Bianca Bonnycastle is going to change our lives,” Van declared.
They had no idea how prophetic those words would turn out to be.
Chapter three
Dante
Bianca Bonnycastle was not going to make their job easy.
It hadn’t taken Dante much time or research to realize King was right about there being more to this assignment. Between reputable news and shady hearsay, he’d developed a fairly clear picture of Pack Bonnycastle’s only daughter.
In a word, Bianca wasdifficult.
Still, the gossip rags and loose-lipped society ladies hadn’t done her justice. She wasn’t simply difficult. The woman was impossible. Dante was incredibly relieved that pleasing her wasn’t their job. Her assistants had to be robots or something. It was the only explanation for their survival under the beautiful tyrant. Dante would bet good money that there was a lot of turnover in their position.
