Page 26 of Remington’s Mate

Not to mention jabbing him in the shoulder with the barrel of a firearm.

Remy broke the kiss slowly, and looked up at Smith. “Did you want something?” It came out a snarl.

“Mr. Sutcliffe asked us to speak to you, sir.”

“About what?” One glance at Jaeda showed she was playing her part perfectly—looking tousled and flushed and a little embarrassed. Just as if this were all real.

Smith said, “If you could come this way.”

Remy reached over and stroked a wayward lock of hair back from Jaeda’s face. “Hold that thought, babe.”

Then he got up with a sigh of annoyance that was not even very fake.

Smith and Jones led him to the back of the bar. Jones just stood there attempting to look dangerous; only Smith seemed to have the power of speech.

“Mr. Sutcliffe is concerned that your possible involvement with his assistant could result in a… muddled chain of command.”

Remy made a show of being a guy with a big ego and little patience. “What, one night in the sack and he thinks she’s going to be loyal to me instead of him?” He shook his head. “I have to admit that makes me a little concerned about our partnership. A man with so little confidence in his ability to control his team makes me feel less confident in him, know what I mean?”

“You signed a contract, Mr. McCall.”

“And nowhere in it was a clause that said I couldn’t get laid. What it said was that I follow Sutcliffe’s orders, which I am happy to do as long as the money we agreed on keeps landing in my offshore bank account. Therefore, any orders having to do with his business that I might issue to his other subordinates would be in line with his orders. Also, if he can’t keep a lid on his damn secretary, he’s got more problems than me.”

Smith showed no reaction. “Mr. Sutcliffe just wanted to make sure you understood that loyalty is the quality he most prizes in all his employees. A lack of loyalty can induce serious consequences. Both your predecessor and hers can attest to that.” He paused. “Well, actually, they can’t.”

He let that lie there. It was tantamount to an admission that Sutcliffe had engineered Martin’s accident—and maybe one for the former executive assistant, as well.

Remy made a mental note to check up on her and make sure she was still alive.

“Tell Sutcliffe I’ll keep him firmly in mind while I’m getting laid tonight,” Remy said to Smith. “And also, if it makes him feel better, we’ll both scream his name when we come.”

He put his fingertip to the barrel of Smith’s gun and guided it back toward his holster. “So put your dick-substitute away before someone sees it, and find your own recreation. Are we done?”

Finally Smith’s façade cracked—Remy saw the anger in his eyes as he gave a curt nod. Remy deliberately turned his back on him to show a lack of fear, and walked back to the table.

“Come on, babe.” He took Jaeda’s hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go somewhere more private. It’s getting a little crowded in here.”

As they walked past the bar, the bartender was just opening a new bottle of top-drawer whiskey. Remy plucked it out of his hand and said, “Put it on my room.”

He walked Jaeda out like they didn’t have a care in the world. But the little spot between his shoulder blades where you’d knife someone in the back didn’t stop prickling until they were out of Smith’s sight.

Chapter 11

The minute they reached Remy’s room, Jaeda realized that flirting with him in the bar was one thing. Being alone with him in a hotel room was something waaaaay different. She’d forgotten how much sheer presence a dominant shifter could have, especially in a small space.

With a big bed in it.

She found herself overwhelmed with fantasies of checking to see if Remy had any tattoos. On his belly. Or his dick. She’d have to take all his clothes off to make sure.

No-shifter zone, she reminded herself frantically. My veejay is a no-shifter zone.

And any no-shifter zone should include a special roped-off no-McCall zone. All the girls who’d grown up with them knew the McCalls were Class-A womanizers, and they were never serious about anyone. The idea that even one of them had found a true mate was mind-boggling.

Jaeda had to keep her mind on the mission—and the only way she knew how to do that was to organize the fuck out of it.

So she got her notepad and pen out of her purse and sat cross-legged on the bed, physically taking charge of the most intimate space so it couldn’t mock her.

Remy raised one eyebrow, and then took the bottle of whiskey over to the minibar and unwrapped two plastic glasses. “We have to talk.”