Emily
I’m not sure if Professor Fall was trying to spook me into staying silent, or if he was just trying to unnerve me in general, but the next few days are so hectic, I barely give his job offer another thought. Derek is so slammed at work, we only catch up on the phone, and then Jacob brings a stomach bug home from school, and we all go down like very germy dominoes. When I’m finally able to drag myself off the couch, I’ve lost another couple of days, and our petty cash tin is nearly empty. Claudia scolds Mum for spending money we don’t have on fresh flowers, and she retreats to her room in a flood of tears, screaming that she’d rather be dead than living with a penny-pinching bully. Claudia goes very quiet, after that, and even Jacob can’t get a smile out of her. Sick at the tension in our house, I spend as much time as I can with my nephew, promising him all sorts of treats at Christmas that I have no way of ever delivering.
The only bright spot in a very bleak week is that there’s no sign of my ex. Rick’s ultimatum is ticking in the back of my mind like a timebomb, but I cling to the hope that he’s all bluster and no bite. Unfortunately, personal experience has taught me otherwise, and I wake more than once rubbing the messy scar tissue on my wrist.
By Friday morning, I can tell my family is at breaking point. Claudia has an early shift, so once Jacob is at school, I take Mum a cup of tea, then head straight to the university. Professor Fall isn’t in his office, but a few helpful directions steer me towards the cafeteria in the student guild, and when I finally track him down, he’s attacking his breakfast with obvious relish.
“You eat crumpets?” I ask in surprise, staring down at the plate of honey-smeared goodness. It’s not that I don’t think crumpets are manly, but Langston definitely has a bacon and sausage vibe about him.
“Best on campus,” Langston replies, chasing a dribble of honey down his fork, “but they’re still not as sweet as me.”
I blush, remembering the first time we met, when I blurted out that he smelled like bee pollen. I’d gone on to explain it’s the stuff that’s stored inbrood cells, mixed with saliva, and sealed with a drop ofhoney, but he’s never let me live it down.
“I came to tell you that I’d like to meet with the project sponsor,” I tell him, ignoring the way he licks a dollop of syrup off his thick, brown thumb. “If the job you mentioned is still available, I mean.”
“Great.” He stands so abruptly, I take a rapid step back, but he just wipes his hands on a napkin and scoops a black helmet off the chair next to him. “Then let’s go meet the boss.”
“Now?” I glance down at myself, not sure my denim skirt, converse, and vintage Bee Gees tank is suitable for a job interview. “Shouldn’t I… prepare first?”
“Finn doesn’t care about clothes.” He gestures at his own vintage motorcycle jacket and worn jeans. “Trust me, he’ll want you exactly as you are.”
He starts towards the door, and for some inexplicable reason, my feet seem happy to follow. But when we reach the staff carpark, I force myself to slow down. I thought Langston might set the meeting up in his office, or we’d connect over Zoom, but it looks like he’s headed off campus. “Where are we meeting him?”
“At his research facility across town. It’s not far, but it’s faster on the bike in this traffic.”
“Bike?” I can’t disguise the excited hitch in my voice as we stop beside a sleek black and red superbike. “Oh, wow. Is this a Panigale?”
Langston is tugging on his helmet, but he looks at me in surprise. “You know Ducatis?”
“A little.” It’s impossible to grow up around a bunch of soldiers and not absorb a few of their obsessions. “But I’ve only ever been on a Kawasaki.”
“Time to take off the training wheels, then.”
“Don’t let my sister hear you say that,” I snort, accepting the helmet he presses into my hands. “Although, she’d probably sell her six-year-old for a beauty like this.”
He chuckles as he swings a leg over the bike, extending his hand again. “Sisters and six-year-olds aside, want to go for a ride with me, ?”
I eye the few inches of supple leather seat behind his broad back. “There’s not a lot of room.”
He hooks a finger under the chin of my helmet and pulls me towards him. “Guess you’ll just have to sit close then.”
I know I shouldn’t. I have a shift at the pub tonight, and at the very least I should call Claudia to tell her I might have to go straight to work, but instead, I slip on my backpack and scramble to climb up behind him. Even though we’re stationary, I clutch at the back of his jacket, because this is the definition of a tight fit.
“Comfy?”
I squirm on the narrow seat. “Is that a trick question?”
His chuckle vibrates through his broad back. “Then hold tight and enjoy the ride.”
Not a difficult task, since the bike moves like liquid heat, and Langston handles it with the skill of a Superbikes champion. The helmet he gave me doesn’t have a built-in mike, so as we cut through the morning traffic, I close my eyes and rest my head against his back. It’s easy to lose myself in the silky rumble of the engine, the scent of leather and exhaust mingling with Langston’s honey-tinged goodness. It’s impossible not to feel excited by his closeness, and my blood starts to hum when we reach the highway that takes us to the industrial district. He opens the throttle, and I can feel the sizzle all the way through me. Before my family fell apart, I was just as much of a daredevil as Claudia, but it’s been a long time since I did something as reckless as climb on a bike with a guy who turns my bones to jelly.
We’ve been riding for nearly half an hour when Langston taps my thigh, and I look up to see he’s turning off the road towards a pair of black metal gates. They’re imposing, but they open as if by magic, and we roll forward down a slope into an undercover garage. There are a lot of SUVs and dark sedans parked in neat rows, and I look around curiously as we get off the bike, wondering exactly what kind of research facility we’re visiting.
“This is Tyler Creed,” Langston says as he stows our helmets and nods towards a man headed in our direction. “He’s the Head of Security for all of Finn’s businesses.”
The security guy is almost a foot taller than Langston with dark hair brushed back from a sharp widow’s peak and midnight eyes that somehow manage to be both cautious and piercing. If someone can give off an aura that’s both aloof and dangerously engaged, it would be the alpha who comes to stop in front of me.
“Good morning, Ms. Nash. I’m here to escort you up to Mr. Visser’s office.”
I’ve never met this man before, but I recognise him all the same. Even in a sleek black suit, it’s obvious he’s a soldier. It’s in the way he holds himself, his hands behind his back in a deceptively relaxed pose, and his gaze friendly on the outside but hard as steel underneath. It’s the same stare that was levelled at me every morning over the breakfast table, and I have to fight the urge to jump to attention.
Screw that.
Plastering a polite smile on my face, I extend a hand. “Thanks, Mr. Creed. Or do you prefer to be addressed by rank?”
“It’s just Creed and I’ve been out almost three years,” he tells me, a rueful glimmer entering those hard eyes. “What gave me away?”
Everything.
“Nothing. I grew up in a military family, so I’m probably just good at spotting the tells. Plus, you all smell like metal and gun oil to me.”
It’s not true. To my beta nose, even alphas who aren’t soldiers smell like musk or meat, but Creed has a sweet woodsy edge, like sage or sandalwood.
Langston gives a smug chuckle from behind me. “She says I smell like honey, if you’re wondering.”
“Don’t forget the bee saliva,” I remind him, and Creed gives me a small smile. It’s polite but guarded, and I decide I’ve had enough of the small talk as well. “Before we go any further, do you know about my family?”
“We do a background check on all potential employees,” he admits. “I didn’t go too deep, but I know about your sister and father.”
He doesn’t need to mention my mother. The fact her high-profile and connected mate left her for another pack speaks for itself. “And does this job offer have anything to do with him?”
A glimmer of curiosity flickers in his eyes, but he shakes his head. “No. Other than the fact you’ve been privy to confidential information in the past.”
“And you don’t know him personally?” I push, because this is a big deal for me. Anyone who associates with my father isn’t worth another second of my time. “You didn’t work with him?”
I can sense Langston moving restlessly behind me, but Creed doesn’t look put out. Maybe he’s just in good soldier mode, or maybe he shares my dislike for Brigadier Nash. “I knew of him, the way I knew about the rest of the PsyOps division. But I was a chicken strangler instead of a head twister.”
I relax a little, although I’m not surprised. A chicken strangler is slang for a Special Air Service or Commando soldier, referring to their ability to live off the land. They’re also the toughest, most elite soldiers in the field of special ops, while my father heads up the army’s psychological operations unit. Most people would think Creed is the more dangerous of the two, but that’s only because they wouldn’t see my father coming.
“From what I’ve seen on paper, you’re more than qualified to be here on your own merits.”
I acknowledge the comment with a nod, and then Creed turns and leads us through a security door and past a room full of screens. “This is a shortcut. Next time you’re here, you’ll have your own pass and use the personnel entrance.”
Assuming there’s a next time , I think as he punches a code into a panel, and we step into an elevator. I’m guessing this is the one the security team uses, because there’s no camera in the ceiling, and the air smells like gun oil and alpha musk. We ride to the top floor in silence, then Creed leads us down a long corridor before stopping outside a reinforced door. This one requires him to place his hand over a sensor panel before the lock pops with a mechanical hiss. He gestures for us to go through, and my first impression is of empty space and darkness.
I’ve never visited Derek in his basement office, but I’m guessing it’s a lot like this, only on a much smaller scale. This room is bigger than my sister’s apartment, with enormous screens on every wall, lit up with both video feed and lines of code that flicker like dying stars. A massive steel desk mimics the vibe of the security elevator, although it’s flanked by floor-to-ceiling cabinets in an imposing dark wood. Instead of a sitting area, there’s one large leather sofa against the wall, as if the interior designer insisted on a token nod to hospitality.
As imposing as they are, our surroundings seem to blur into the background as the alpha behind the desktop computer leans back in his chair and stares at us. With his shoulder-length dark hair, pale grey eyes, and complexion that’s almost translucent against his black clothes, you’d be forgiven for thinking he’s the least dangerous man in the room. Right up until you got close enough to breathe him in.
Holy shit.
He smells like a wild wolf in the woods.
“Finn, this is my mentee, Nash,” Langston says from behind me, and I’m vaguely aware that Creed has left the room. It’s poor spatial awareness on my part, but I can hardly look away from the man behind the desk. I’m used to both alphas and soldiers, but I’ve never felt a level of dominance like his, and my dad’s new pack includes a retired general.
“Ms. Nash, thanks for taking the time to come in today.” Finn Visser’s voice is polite, but he doesn’t get up from behind his desk to greet me. For anyone else, it’d leave him in a position of submission, but I get the sense he’s doing it deliberately. Like he thinks that if he rose to his feet right now, I’d bolt from the room like a terrified rabbit.
Gritting my teeth, I hope my beta scent is too faint to give me away as I walk over and take one of the visitor chairs. It’s a supple leather that feels like a cool kiss on the back of my sweaty thighs, but I can’t convince my body to relax into it. “So, what’s the job? Professor Fall didn’t have a lot of information to share.”
“I’m to blame for that,” he admits, flicking a glance at Langston. “Lang is always telling me I’m too secretive.”
“I imagine it comes with the territory,” I reply, looking around at the banks of computers. “I googled Vise Solutions, and it’s part of a much bigger security company, correct?”
“Yes. Security is my core business, although I’ve been branching out recently.” Those unsettling eyes are watching me closely, and I have to remind myself not to tumble into their depths. A pretty face shouldn’t be enough to distract me, but I get the sense that this wolf is good at hiding his true nature. “Particularly in the field of designation manipulation. I can’t be more specific until you sign your contract, unfortunately, but this project is part of it, and I can promise it’s important work.”
Requiring NDA’s, no doubt. Because designation manipulation doesn’t sound like safe science, especially with a man like Finn Visser at the helm.
But my father always said that the best way to get information out of an uncooperative source is to build rapport through sharing a personal experience. “My father likes to say that humans require pain to change. If it doesn’t hurt, we’ll forget what we’re striving for, and slip back into mediocrity. This also applies to teenage daughters who haven’t presented as they’re expected to.”
Finn blinks at me, those long dark lashes sweeping over his pale cheeks. It’s like watching a tiger peer at me through the undergrowth. “He wanted you to be an alpha.”
“Well, he would’ve settled for an omega, like my mother, but betas are of little interest to him. The mediocrity of the middle, as he likes to put it.”
Langston makes a growling sound beside me, and something flashes through Visser’s pale eyes. It’s hard to read him in the low light, and in the next second, it’s gone. “He’s not alone in that thinking, unfortunately.”
I shrug. “People can think what they want. I learned a long time ago that one person’s mediocre is another person’s perfection.”
“Too true.” Visser glances at Langston and then says, “The project involves a number of global teams, so we have a lot of information to filter through. We need to improve our data modelling and build some more effective sampling algorithms. We also need to touch base with some of our participants for follow-up interviews. Most importantly, the project has reached a phase where fresh eyes would be beneficial.”
Which tells me a whole lot of nothing, except that it sounds like I’d be a glorified data analyst. Not that I mind – selling textbooks and collecting empties isn’t rocket science, either, but I’m curious why Langston put me forward. “You must have people in this building who are better suited to this work. Why me?”
“Not only were you raised by the head of the army’s psychological operations unit, you completed a year at the Defence Force Academy.” It’s not something I put on my academic resume, but right out of high school, I’d still been in awe of my father and wanted to follow in his footsteps. A year later he’d left us for his commanding officer’s pack, and I dropped out of the academy and transferred to a science degree at the local university. “I only mention it because aspects of this project overlap with military research.”
As if sensing my resistance, Visser leans across his desk, a halo of light behind his head. “We all want similar things here, Ms. Nash. In my case, it’s more information on designations, so that everyone has control over their own actions.”
It's the closest he’s come to admitting the purpose of his study, and I decide it wouldn’t be the worst way to earn a paycheck. Especially if it’s as generous as Langston implied.
I’m on the verge of signing when he taps his desktop and says, “I should probably let you know that I’ve had past dealings with your boyfriend, Derek Summers.” I must look shocked, because his voice drops to a soothing timber. “Nothing bad, although he probably thinks I’m holding a grudge. I’ll talk to him in person, but I’m hoping he can look past it to also come work with me.”
I blink at him. “Derek already has a job.”
“For another few days at best,” he replies quietly. “Cyber Point Holdings, the company he works for, has been under investigation by the Criminal Intelligence Commission and the AFP for nearly a year. It’s why I acted so… forcefully when he breached my security. I thought he was part of their off-the-books ‘cybercrime-as-a-service’ team.”
I don’t know what that is, but any kind of federal investigation is a nightmare. It also explains why he’s been so slammed with work. I quickly fumble for my phone. “I’ll need to call him.”
“There are no unsecured calls from this office,” Visser tells me with a touch of apology in his voice. “But if you’re still interested, I’m happy to talk to Derek as well and make sure he knows things are good between us.”
Am I still interested? I think of Claudia dragging herself through a double shift while mum hides in her room, sobbing into her lace-edged pillows over all the things she’s lost. And now I’m hearing that Derek might be out of a job soon, which makes the weight on my shoulders even heavier. Do I even have a choice?
“I’ll sign a temporary contract, if that works for you.” I glance at Langston, who gives me a small smile. “I have a lot to juggle, but I’ll commit to three months.”
Visser tilts his head, those pale grey eyes narrowing slightly. “Six months.”
“Three,” I counter. “It’s the most I can take from my job at the campus bookshop before they’ll blacklist me.”
I’m not kidding. Caroline – the owner and manager – is a slavedriver who is as tight as a bee’s butt when it comes to employees taking time off.
“Deal,” Visser says, his unfairly pink lips tilting up at the edges. “Your contract, along with the NDA, are on here. Please read them and get back to me with any questions.”
As I reach for the flash drive he’s placed on the desk between us, his fingers slide over mine. Somehow, he manages to turn the action into a handshake that I feel all the way to my toes.
His skin is cool, his fingers surprisingly strong. But it’s the lick of pheromones in the air – more alluring than anything I’ve ever encountered in my life – that has my knees almost buckling – and my underwear becoming embarrassingly wet.
Despite the alarms going off in my hindbrain, I cling to him, every instinct at war as his pale gray eyes smile into mine.
“Thanks for coming on board, Ms. Nash,” he says, his voice wrapping around me like a caress. “I’m hoping we’ll both get a great deal out of this arrangement.”