Alexander gunned the engine of his sports car as he tore down the streets of San Francisco. He was driving fast—much faster than he should've been, but he didn't care. The meeting tonight was one he'd been dreading for weeks, and he figured that the faster he got there, the faster he'd get it over with.
Tonight, he was going to be making his case for a contract for his mercenary team, the Elders, and he'd found that the bear shifter team that he'd be going up against was none other than the Red Fangs—the team for which his former lover and the man she betrayed Alexander.
He gritted his teeth as he drove, and part of him thought he might shift right then and there in the car. Alexander pictured the face of Sarah, the woman with whom he'd had a child and thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with, and felt nothing but blinding anger, despite the fact that she'd died over a year ago in the line of duty.
But though Sarah was gone, Marcus Sharpe, the leader of the Red Fangs and the bear who'd convinced Sarah to betray Alexander, still lived. And not only lived, but thrived. The Red Fangs were quickly becoming one of the top mercenary teams in San Francisco. The Elders were easily in the top three, and Alexander didn't want to relinquish his position to a group of scummy upstarts like the Red Fangs.
So, tonight, they were each going to be making their case to the Langford family—one of the most powerful bear families in the city—for why their respective teams should be leading up the personal security detail for the family during the upcoming months. Alexander knew that his team's record of success spoke for itself, but he'd have to do a little charming to secure the contract.
He whipped around a corner and drove toward the Golden Gate Bridge. The Langford family's home, where the meeting was to take place, was across the bridge in Sausalito, and Alexander was eager to get here as fast as possible.
But though his mind was almost laser-focused on the meeting ahead, the image of his new nanny found itself flashing through his mind.
Damn, he thought, picturing Hannah's face, she's going to make it hard to keep focused on this shit.
He told himself that he'd hire a girl who wouldn't be too much of a…distraction for him, but she was more than qualified for the job. The thorough background check came up clean as a whistle, and something about the way she was during the interview made him feel like she was the right girl for the job. And she seemed to be hitting it off right away with Grace. All that was left to see was how she'd handle herself during the party this Saturday.
But still, though he tried to focus on the more practical matters of Hannah's employment, he couldn't help but imagine her in a more physical way. He pictured the curves of her full body, the fullness of her breasts that seemed to be on the verge of bursting out from her top, and the voluptuous legs that begged to be free from their skin-tight pants.
Jesus, he thought, crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge, the water glittering on both sides of him as he drove. Eye on the goddamn ball.
Alexander pulled up to the massive Langford estate and killed the engine of the car. A sharply-dressed valet hurried to the driver's side door. Alexander handed him the keys and stepped out of the car, his eyes on the enormous house in front of him. He knew that between his mercenary work and his investments he was pretty well-off, but people like the Langfords were on a whole other level of wealth. As fancy as this house was, Alexander knew that they had more like it all over the world.
But he stood to profit off of this; he knew that if he could secure the protection contract he'd be set—the payout would be more money than he and the Elders had made on a single job.
The valet drove his car off toward a small lot packed with luxury cars, and Alexander knew the rest of the crew, as well as the Red Fangs, were already here. He shook his head as he looked over the massive luxury Humvee that belonged to Marcus, taking special note of just how silly the massive chrome rims and silver paint job looked. He headed up to the massive front doors and gave them a knock. A well-dressed butler opened the doors and spoke.
"Mr. Price?" the butler asked.
"That's right,” Alexander said. "Here with the Elders."
"Right this way."
The butler led Alexander through the luxurious interior of the house. They arrived at a small door that the butler opened, revealing a small drawing room where the rest of the Elders were already waiting.
"There he is,” Curt said, the barrel-chested, head-shaved second-in-command, as he stood up and gave Alexander a hearty handshake and slap on the back.
Alexander looked over the rest of the five men, who all stood as Alexander entered. They were a though collection of rough-looking men, all seeming uncomfortable in their business clothes.
"We ready for this?" asked Alexander. "This is ‘good impression' time; which means I'm doing all the talking."
The men chuckled among themselves.
"I swear to fucking God,” Sam said, a slim, sharp-eyed Elder with a man of fire-red hair, "if that little shit Marcus gets this contact, I might just put out a hit on his ass."
"I'm sure that'd go over well as far as our reputation's concerned,” Alexander said. "The Elders—give us the contract or we'll wipe out whoever you hire."
Another rise of laughter.
"But seriously, boss,” Curt said, walking over to the bar and making himself a drink. "Guys like Marcus give the rest of us mercs a bad name. That little asshole does whatever kind of shady shit he wants to get the job done. He keeps shit like this up and before too long all us mercs get that reputation."
Alexander knew he was right. But what could he do? Clients paid for results, and as long as the job got done they didn't care if it was through underhanded means or not. At times, Alexander found himself wondering if his above-the-board ways were making him a dying breed.
"Not to mention,” Sam said, "that shit with Marcus and Sarah. I still can't believe tha—”
Alexander shot him a hard look, making it clear that the subject was off-limits. Sam shut up right away.
Before anyone could say anything else, the door to the drawing room opened up. The same butler as before stood in the door.
"The Langfords are ready for you.”
"Remember,” Alexander said, "not a word out of any of you, chucklefucks."
The Elders finished their drinks, formed up, and followed Alexander and the butler. Soon, they arrived in an elegant, stately dining room where three members of the Langfords were seated at an impossibly long dinner table. And on the right side of the table were the Red Fangs.
Alexander knew that the best move was just to pretend that the Red Fangs weren't even there, to not even give them the dignity of being recognized. But he couldn't help but let his eyes flick onto Marcus, anger building inside of him as he did.
Marcus was the kind of guy with a face that just cried out for a slap. He was handsome, with features that were almost too pretty for a man, his red lips nearly always in the form of a smug smirk. His hair was bright blonde, long on top and shaved on the sides. In front of him was a glass of whiskey, his slim fingers on the rim. He met Alexander's look and made a kissy face at him. It took all of the self-control Alexander had to not fly across the table and throttle him right there. And on both sides of Marcus were the other half-dozen Red Fangs, all with the same smart-ass expression on their faces as their boss.
"Welcome,” Stefan said Langford, the leader of the Langfords, an older bear shifter with a slim frame, expensive clothes, and handsome dignity. "I've been looking forward to this meeting for some time."
On both sides of Stefan were other members of the Langfords, men and women all with the same good looks, fancy clothes, and air of importance and wealth.
Alexander and the rest of the crew slid into the fancy, high-backed chairs opposite the Red Fangs.
"It's a pleasure to be here,” Alexander said. "Thank you once again for considering us for the job."
"Looking forward to kicking some serious ass for you all,” Marcus said, his voice sounding to Alexander like that of a teenage boy eager to get into his first fight.
Stefan continued.
"As you both know, the Langford family is going to be participating in some intense negotiations over the next few months. Nothing you all need to know the details of—just some property purchases. But we've been receiving threats in the mail from sources unknown. They know of our bear nature, so we assume that they're fellow shifters. It's likely nothing, but we want to make sure that all members of the family are taken care of during this process."
Then he leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
"And we want only the best. Your teams are the most talented we could find. So, we're going to determine just which one of you is the best of the best."
"So, what,” Marcus said. "You want us to fight it out? ‘Cause I'd be down as shit for that."
Marcus flashed Alexander a sinister look.
Stupid little shit, thought Alexander. He's lucky he's got a rep—the Langfords would've tossed him out on his ass for talking like this otherwise.
"Nothing so barbaric,” Stefan said. "What we're going to do is entrust you with a little bit of an escort mission over the next week. Just a little test to see which one of you is the best team for the job. And we're confident that we'll find out, one way or another."
"Who the hell are we escorting?" asked Marcus, impatience in his voice.
"You'll find out at the soiree this evening, which I trust both of you two teams are attending."
"Of course,” Alexander said.
Then, totally out of nowhere, the image of Hannah appeared in his mind. She was dressed in an elegant gown, looking gorgeous. Alexander shook his head and tried to focus on the meeting.
"Then,” Stefan said, "that will be all for today. I thank you all for taking the time to come."
The Langfords then left the room as quietly as ghosts.
"You know,” Marcus said, a shit-eating grin on his face. "If you want to just give up now and let us have the contract, it might save you all some embarrassment."
"Fuck off, Marcus,” Sam said, rising from his seat and looking like he was ready for a fight. "Just give me a goddamn reason."
Marcus laughed.
"Enough,” Alexander said, turning a stern face toward his team. "Let's go."
Truthfully, he wanted to clobber Marcus just as much as Sam likely did. But he knew that starting a brawl at the Langford's estate wouldn't exactly endear him to the family. The tea left the room, but Marcus had a few more words to say as Alexander and the rest of the men left.
"No room for old men in this game," he shouted out. "Save yourself the fuckin' trouble."
Alexander let the image of him ripping Marcus apart like a well-cooked steak float through his mind.
"Fucking assholes," said Ian, one of the other members of the team.
"Best way to put those little fuckers in their place is to kick ass on this mission,” Alexander said. "Let himself dig his own grave."
But as he and the rest of the team made their way to their cars to head back into the city, Alexander couldn't help but wonder if Marcus was right, that he was getting too old for merc work.
One way to find out, he thought, gunning the engine and heading back onto the road.