“Ms. Stone is staring at you again.”
Stavros and I had managed to get through the entire evening without exchanging more than a few pertinent words regarding the security of the space the QFindr crew had rented for their “pop-up” event. It was an old factory in Industry City that they’d fashioned into something that looked, to me, like a purple Apple Store. There were two bars, one on either end of the loft, and an open space for dancing and mingling if people chose, but there were also rows of glass platforms with smartphones hooked up so people could sample QFindr’s newest app—QFindr Plus.
I didn’t even know what the app did.
“Maldonado.”
“I heard you.” I kept my focus on the crowd, and the couple of rando dudes who seemed more interested in talking to each other and people watching than sampling the app. “But I’m not interested in what Ms. Stone is doing.”
I expected Stavros to leave it at that. He had about fifteen years on me, was probably the most physically fit person I’d seen outside of the military, and wore his longish light-brown hair pulled back in a severe knot. He was a serious-looking guy. A no-nonsense dude uninterested in shooting the shit. It should have been perfect, and yet here we were. Talking.
“Did she say anything to you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then why does she look like she wants to cut your throat?”
I shrugged. “Holding a grudge, most likely.”
There was another pause. Then, “Over what?”
Finally, I met his dark eyes. “Because about a year ago I made her squirt, then left her sitting on a dressing room table with her underwear around her ankles.” He stared at me, and I lifted my chin. “Does that answer your fucking question?”
We stared at each other for a long moment, then he swung his gaze back to the milling crowd. Satisfied, I did the same. The two guys had disappeared into the mass of people, but a quick scan allowed me to locate them again in the middle of the room. They had joined the people near the platforms and were finally using one of the phones. Or at least pretending to use them. I didn’t know why something about them put my back up, but I wasn’t one to ignore my instincts.
“So, I take it she didn’t know you would be here.”
I shot Stavros a long, exasperated glance. “I don’t really like talking to people.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then what’s with the cross-examination?”
He didn’t look at me as he replied. “When a business or individual hires guards from Redline Security, Redline asks them to send a detailed evaluation of the services rendered. And since she is our point person, she will be doing the evaluation.”
“And?”
This time, he was the one giving me an impatient glare. “And I want to make sure my file isn’t tarnished because you fucked the woman who will be filling out the evaluation.”
Ah. Hadn’t thought of that one.
Stavros’s curiosity had turned into outright irritation at the prospect, and guilt kicked in. It was only my third assignment with Redline, a company that I’d already decided I hated due to the blatant sexism of the higher-ups, but Stavros had apparently been at the nightmare agency since he’d left the military ten years ago. In my opinion, working a decade and hitting a glass ceiling of forty thousand a year wasn’t exactly a retirement plan, but whatever. According to a couple of the older guys at Redline, that kind of thinking made me an entitled millennial.
Double middle fingers up to them too.
I found Meredith standing by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows looking like an absolute goddess. If Athena had leaped from Zeus’s head, Meredith must have jumped out from one of his lusty daydreams. She was distracted and talking to a catering person, so I took the opportunity to drink her in.
She had her usual red lipstick and heavily lined eyes, but her hair was longer than when I’d seen her last—curls hanging down nearly to her waist and golden blonde at the bottom while darker closer to her scalp. I knew there was a word for that type of color, but it was beyond me. I went to the same barber as Angel and Chris, and my hair was cut short with a hard part, a fade, and racing stripes at the sides.
My eyes dropped from her face to the rest of her body, and it took everything in my power not to bite my lower lip. Her dress defied gravity. The neckline plunged to her waist, and her breasts seemed to be supported by magic alone. She was already quite tall, and the combination of the short hem of her dress and the sky-high heels made her legs go on forever.
Those legs had been my undoing over a year ago when I’d first seen her on the QFindr cruise. She’d been wearing a ragged tank top and torn-up shorts, and I’d spent the better part of dinner picturing myself shoving her thighs apart so I could go down on her while she squirmed and moaned in that sexy voice of hers. I loved her voice. She sounded almost hoarse, like she’d been born smoking three packs a day, but it turned me on.
Months later, after I’d agreed to model with the rest of my squad for the QFindr photoshoot, I’d had her dress hiked up around her waist and my fingers plunging in and out of her pussy, and her wild, hoarse cries had gotten me almost as hot as how hard she’d gushed.
“Eye-fucking her probably isn’t the best way to get back into her good graces.”
I glanced at Stavros, who still looked unimpressed with me and the entire situation. Maybe he’d be giving me a bad evaluation of his own. Somehow, it didn’t bother me. He had a reason to be a pillar of salt.
“Normally, I’d be pissed off by your nonstop commentary,” I said.
He arched a dark brow. “I figured you were.”
“Well.” I redirected my attention to Meredith again. “Most of the men I’ve met at Redline would have asked me for visuals or threesomes, and I’d have had to rip their nuts off.”
“Most men are scum,” he said. “It was pretty brave of you to assume I’m not.”
“I figured you wouldn’t be interested in being scummy in that capacity since you’re gay.”
We gave each other another silent stare down. I prided myself on the fact that he cracked first.
“How’d you figure that one out?” he asked, going a bit gruffer.
“You have linked gender symbols tatted on your middle finger.”
Stavros smirked, and I went back to ogling Meredith. Unfortunately, she wasn’t where I’d left her. She was right in my fucking face. Some armed guard I was turning out to be.
“Ms. Stone,” I said, making my voice even and formal. Respectful or whatever. One thin blonde brow rose as Meredith’s ice-blue eyes slowly slid down my body, taking in the black suit I wore. I knew I looked good, but the flush that spread up her chest and over her face made it clear she thought I looked really good. And she wasn’t shy about wetting her lips, even if the gesture was subconscious.
Stavros cleared his throat, and her gaze jerked to him. There was no sign of embarrassment. She just smiled politely before focusing on me again.
“Do you need anything from us?” I asked, wishing she’d go back to her goddamn party. The closer she was, the more things about her I noticed. How her lips were a perfect cupid’s bow, upturned slightly even when she wasn’t smiling. The hint of a tattoo beneath the gravity-defying plunge of her dress. How she had to have taped her breasts in place, because everything stayed just so even as she moved. “Or did you just want to stare at me?”
Her lips curled down.
Stavros gave me a look that made it clear he hated every bit of my soul. I didn’t blame him, but I couldn’t handle her. Not this close to me. I already felt hot beneath the suit and long-sleeved white button-down I wore beneath. Before I’d had this blonde temptress standing here fucking me with her angry blue eyes, the industrial fans had done a good job of keeping the heat wave outside the building where it belonged. Meredith was a walking-talking heat wave in and of herself.
“I don’t need anything from you,” she said clearly and coldly. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”
“You hired Redline to do the security.”
“I know that, Maldonado. Because Caleb told me to. He’s overreacting to some petty shit on social media.”
Actually, it wasn’t petty. After being handed the assignment, we’d been informed that a request for armed guards had been made by QFindr for every event going forward due to upper management having been doxed online, and escalating threats made by 4chan trolls after Caleb, Oli, and Aiden had fired their former IT person. Most people would brush it off or will the situation away, but from what I’d heard of Caleb Stone, he didn’t take such things lightly. I didn’t either.
“He takes safety seriously. I commend that.”
“Good for you,” she said, sarcasm thick in her tone. “But that’s not what I meant. Why are you here. Why would you take this job?”
“I was assigned this job,” I shot back. “I’m here in a professional capacity. I was under the impression that it was the same for you. Clearly, I was mistaken.”
Her eyes widened, and Stavros stepped forward.
“Ms. Stone—”
Meredith turned and walked away, moving faster than I would have expected in the spiked heels. Her back was stiff, hands balled into fists.
“You fucked that up,” Stavros said, voice low. “Fix it.”
I ripped my eyes away from her ass to sneer at him. “She had it coming. I don’t give a fuck about her attitude problem.”
“I do. Maybe you have bigger plans than Redline, which is all fine and dandy, kid, but I don’t. This is my job. And I take it seriously.”
I inhaled slowly and turned just in time to see Meredith disappear out of the showroom. Beyond the space, there wasn’t really anything in the building except deserted hallways, empty floors above them, and a couple of somewhat-functioning bathrooms. The place was eerie, and watching her go into the gloom prompted me to jerk my head at Stavros before following Meredith.
On my way, I swept the room for a sign of the two dudes I’d been keeping an eye on. They were nowhere to be found. I breathed a sigh of relief right before it morphed into the sharp edge of paranoia. I quickened my stride, then picked up the pace further when I stepped into the silent corridor.
The building was boiling hot without the arsenal of fans QFindr had deployed in the large room. It had topped out at over a hundred degrees for the eighth day in a row, and I was fucking sick of it. Although, at least there hadn’t been anymore blackouts. Or there better not be any more. This would be a really shitty location to be caught in the pitch-black.
If there was one thing I hated more than a crowded room with low visibility, it was an empty building with enough doorways, corners, and staircases for someone to get the drop on me. On a regular day, I didn’t suffer lingering effects from my time overseas. I wasn’t jumpy, I didn’t have nightmares, and I wasn’t haunted like some of the others I’d served with. But what did remain was a wariness about being caught off my guard. I had no idea why that wariness was sinking into my bones here, at a goddamn party for a queer dating app, but it was being triggered by two corny-looking white dudes with undercuts. I wasn’t going to ignore my instincts even if there was a chance I was overreacting.
I glanced over my shoulder, moving more cautiously, and approached the bathroom at the far end of the hall. There was no line, which I credited to the fact that no one at the pop-up event was drunk enough to want to be in this creepy-ass factory alone.
Except Meredith.
“Mere,” I growled, yanking the heavy door open. It shut slowly behind me. “You in here?”
The interior of the bathroom was just as grim as the hallway. Low flickering light, sinks that had probably been installed at the turn of the century, and the same dirty-looking concrete. When Meredith stepped out of a stall in all her shining wet-dream glory, I had to bite back an urge to drag her the hell out of this dreary-ass place.
Instead, I leaned against the door and crossed my arms over my chest. “Everything okay?”
Meredith sneered and turned to wash her hands. It wasn’t even a sneer. It was more of a sulky scowl.
“Don’t act like a kid,” I said impatiently. “You have Stavros sweating that you’re going to give him a bad eval.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Meredith turned off the water and shook her hands, sending water flying everywhere as she glared at me. “You’re the one pissing me off.”
“How the fuck am I doing that?” I mimicked. “All I did was show up for work.”
“Uh-huh. Yep. That’s all you did, Tonya. Showed up for work.”
“If I offended Her Highness in some other way, Her Highness should spell it out for me,” I said, bored of this back-and-forth. “Because I’m getting tired of the side-eyes and stank looks every time we cross paths.”
“And I’m tired of you treating me like shit,” she shot back. “You are the meanest person I’ve met in the past year, and it makes me furious. So furious that I can’t shake it off and get over it like I do with just about every other asshole in my life.”
In the space of fifteen seconds, she’d insulted me multiple times, and yet she was the one standing there looking aggravated. I wanted to laugh, but instead I pushed away from the door and crossed the distance between us. She immediately dropped her arms from where she’d folded them over her chest. A flash of uncertainty flitted across her face, but she didn’t back up. Instead, she lifted her pointy little chin and arched an eyebrow.
Something about her bratty defiance just . . . turned me right the fuck off. Scoffing, I said, “Explain how I treat you like shit.”
“You ignore me.” At my blank stare, Mere swallowed audibly. Then she licked her lips, shifting in her heels. “Pretend I don’t exist.”
“What should I do instead?” I couldn’t hide how incredulous I was, or the way my voice sounded louder and harsher than I’d meant it to be in the empty bathroom. “Bow down and thank my lucky stars that Meredith Stone, queen of Page Six, ex-lover of Ruby Rose—”
“That was one night six months ago,” Mere protested. “Besides, how do you know about it? Keeping tabs?”
I briefly clenched my jaw before continuing. “—and best friend to the famous Ashton Townsend, let me touch her little pink pussy? Nah. That’s quite all right.”
This time, all the blood rushed to her face, and I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or rage. “Just because you hate where I come from doesn’t give you the right to treat me like I’m nothing. And just because you think I’m Miss Rich Bitch, and you’re Mis—” she stumbled over the title, uncertainty swamping her again. “Um. Whatever. Fuck you, is my point.”
My mouth quirked. “What were you going to say?”
Mere looked away. “‘Miss Alpha Vet,’ but I wasn’t sure if you prefer miss or mister, so I stopped. I’m sorry.”
Without thinking about it, I grabbed her chin and made her meet my eyes. She was gnawing on her lower lip now, squirming in her tight little dress. I stepped closer.
“I go by either. Or you can call me Sergeant if you want to be cute about it.”
“I’m always cute,” she snapped.
I rolled my eyes. “This is why I fucking ignore you. You’re always doing the most and dying for attention. Making a big show of ice grilling me, so everyone in the vicinity is all up in my business, asking what I did to you. You have no chill, and it makes me tired.”
She cringed, shoulders hunching forward. “Fine. Sorry. I’ll never look in your direction again.”
It was the perfect opportunity to say, Cool, glad to hear it, and walk the fuck out, but I didn’t. Her flip-flopping between sassy immaturity, and bashful insecurity was starting to tug at my interest. I wondered how much of her attitude was an act. Or a shield she threw up when she was feeling unsure of herself.
“Why does it matter if I address you?” I asked, lowering my voice so it hopefully sounded less irritated. It was hard. I’d been born with my bastard father’s harsh tones, and I had to work to not sound aggressive. “We fucked once. Almost a year ago.”
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and said nothing. I took another step forward until there was barely any space between us, and I didn’t miss her sharp inhale. Or the way her eyes briefly closed when I put a hand on her waist.
“Talk.” I dragged my thumb over the sheer part of her dress, feeling her smooth skin beneath. “Last opportunity.”
Mere shivered but wrenched her gaze up to my own. There was no challenge in her eyes this time. Just agonized desire. “I want another chance.”
“To do what?”
“To convince you to not walk away.” She lifted her hands, letting them hover on either side of my shoulders, before she slowly touched me. “To show you that I can ruin you just as badly as you ruined me.”
“Oh my God.” Mere threw her head back, strands of blonde hair sticking to her damp gaping mouth and spilling over her shoulders. “Please, please, please . . .”
I held her thigh to the side with one hand, and with the other, I slid my fingers in and out of the wet heat between her legs. With each thrust of my index and middle finger, she fell further apart. The shining picture-perfect version of her unraveled into someone wild and needy, someone who didn’t give a damn about the fancy dress or hours’ worth of makeup the crew had put on her.
She just wanted to get fucked. And she didn’t care that people outside the door could probably hear the wet sound of my fingers driving in and out of her.
“Oh . . . like that.” Mere’s brows scrunched together and disappeared into her messy hair. Her lips quivered. “Don’t stop doing it just like that,” she pleaded, voice hitching into a wail.
I smirked as her body locked up, and it took every bit of control in my own body not to kiss the hell out of her when she came—soaking her thighs, the bits of fabric hanging down from her dress, and my fingers.
My nostrils flared, and I jerked her against me so hard her hair tumbled forward to curtain both our faces.
“So show me.”