I don’t really want to do this. It’s never a single favor for a man like Enzo. But I’m out of options.
“I can set up a system, monitor it for a while, and hand it off to one of your guys.” I’m not too sure about the ongoing retainer thing.
“You could find a really good place for yourself in the organization.” Enzo raises an eyebrow.
I ignore that. “What if I wanted to explore alternative forms of compensation?”
“What kind of trouble did you get yourself into, Liam boy?” Enzo’s voice is smooth, but there’s a warning in it. He’s a beta, but he’s the kind of beta who can have you found at the bottom of a river with a cinder block for company. I curl my lip, pretending I’m not nervous.
“What if I need someone found?” I say, keeping my voice even. “And then make sure nobody finds him again?”
Enzo takes a long drag, considering. “We’ll need a risk assessment, but that’s something we can discuss.” He flicks the butt across the parking lot. “Come down to Mama’s on Pico and 8th. We’ll get you keys, get you the codes to the cameras and the security system. We’ll get you all set up with what you need for the laundromat and car wash.”
I nod, then shake his hand and turn my back on him, praying this isn’t going to bite me in the ass.
I pull open the heavy door to the gym just as David Lee Roth tells me to “Jump”. The echo is such a bitch in this place that even if Van Halen wasn’t being cranked on the sound system, the HVAC would sound like a jet engine.
I stop dead, staring at Pierce in the middle of the boxing ring. He’s sparring with a client I don’t recognize. The kid is sloppy with his footwork, it’s too bouncy. Every time Pierce throws a jab, the kid flinches and backpedals. Great. He’s in the ring with some bonehead who shouldn’t have moved beyond mitt work.
Pierce is downright fucking delighted. He’s having the best time of his life. Which means he doesn’t like this kid and is using sparing as a cover to fuck him up.
Blake, our new trainer, slides up next to me with a fresh stack of towels in his arms.
“I thought Pierce didn’t spar anymore; he just does mitt work. This is a bad idea, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” The ring and Pierce are not good friends. He got into MMA hard in Detroit. Getting the guilt beat out of him was not smart.
“You fucknut!” I yell, cupping my hands around my mouth to cut through the 80s glam rock.
Pierce’s head snaps my way, and in that split second, a fist sneaks through his guard. It lands with a string of cuss words.
As I stalk across the gym, a pair of betas scatter and hide behind the squat racks. I push open the office door with my foot. There’s a pillow and blanket on the edge of the couch, his leather jacket thrown over the armrest. I snatch up the blanket and fold it with rough snaps.
I turn just as Pierce steps in from the hall. His sweaty tank is clinging to him, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s about to break it off.
“You’re a fucking idiot. You’re going to have to get it reset.” I say.
He ignores me and closes the distance, his hands bracing my hips as he pushes me back against the filing cabinet. Even post-workout, Pierce smells good. My hands find his face, and I turn his head to get a better look at the black eyes that haven’t had time to fade.
Fuck Julius. He owes me and he does this to my packmate? Next time I see him, I might suggest a little of my own blackmail.“Nice little omega you got there. Be a shame if she finds out how we hacked her email and nuked all her clients.”I can’t pull off the Enzo accent though. They’re happy now apparently, so I’m not going to fuck that up.
Pierce is practically vibrating with leftover adrenaline. He tugs at my belt and rips down my zipper, hand in my pants before I can even cuss him out again. His mouth finds mine, rougher than his hands.
He jerks back with a hiss when his busted nose bumps my cheek.
“Dumbass,” I say between panting breaths. And I’m about to ruin the mood. “We have to talk.”
“Later.” He shakes his head, trying to wedge my jeans over my hips.
I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the envelope, flashing it in front of his face. He bats it away, but I smack his nose with it.
“Fuck.” He winces and steps back, putting space between us. My dick is throbbing. Pierce, regardless of circumstance, has always had the power to take me from zero to sixty in two seconds.
He stalks around the room in a tight circle, shaking his arms out. He’s ditched the gloves, but his knuckles are still taped.
“So is the fucker just gonna taunt us with little love notes?”
I toss him the envelope. He catches it, rips it in half, and lets the pieces flutter to the ground.
