Chapter 2
Nick
March 27
Wednesday morning
Nick studied the yellow triple-decker,or “trip” as the residents of Southie called this cookie-cutter style, three-story apartment house.
Alexi Steele lived in the third-floor apartment. Nick focused on the window at the top floor with its white curtains drawn together. He hadn’t been watching her place long, but long enough that he’d seen lights come on behind those curtains ten minutes ago. They’d just clicked off.
A petite brunette, maybe five-three, five-four at most, shot through the front door of the trip, slammed the door behind her and jogged down the steps.
Nick was surprised when he felt an unexpected attraction. His attention sharpened on her, all senses becoming painfully alert as they focused on this one woman. Damn, she was hot. Alexi Steele was a small package, her features delicate, making him think of a fairy that should be tucked safely away somewhere. But her body ruined all pretense of delicate innocence. She had curves in all the right places, curves that drove him to imagine touching her, stroking her, feeling her. That short, chin-length hair looked so soft, ready to be caressed, to run his fingers through. He suddenly felt primal, like a wolf that had suddenly caught scent of his mate.
So this was his new partner. Damn, he’d never be able to keep his hands off of her.
Lucky for him, he wouldn’t have to. He’d have his hands all over her within a couple of days.
He watched as she climbed into a black Jeep Cherokee parked at the curb and she started the vehicle. She barely glanced at the empty street before pulling out and gunning the engine. Her tires squealed as she spun the Jeep around and headed in the direction that would take her to the RED HQ.
Special Agent Lexi Steele, the head of Operation Cinderella. A supposedly tough, “kick-ass” agent, Lexi would have looked like a fragile doll—if it wasn’t for the tight, angry expression that had been on her features when she’d come out of the apartment building and climbed into the Jeep.
Nick’s work phone vibrated against his hip. He drew it out, checked the caller identification screen. “Slave Nandra,” he said when he answered and at the same time glanced at the digital clock on his dashboard. “You’re late. Looks like you’ve got yourself a punishment first thing tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Master Dunning.” Nandra’s voice shook a little. “I couldn’t help—”
“No excuses.” Nick put a growl in his voice. “Ten o’clock tonight, Dungeon Room.”
“Yes, Master Dunning.” Then she hurried to add, “I won’t be late.”
“Make sure you’re not,” Nick said before he snapped his phone shut and stuffed it back into its belt clip.
“The goddamned hunt begins,” he murmured as he started his Ford Explorer and headed on out.