Chapter Six Tyler #2
“I take it that went well,” Julien greets as he alternates his soccer ball between his knees.
A habit I’ve grown used to. He’s a rabid football fan who rarely misses a Premier League game, sometimes tuning in even during missions.
Initially concerning, but Julien is a soldier of a different breed who makes the term ‘multitasking’ seem lacking.
He got his undercover wings past Tobias only after converting a good portion of Antoine’s ranks in our favor before we took him down.
A year after earning his ink, he’s proven to be the most loyal and valuable of our birds.
I’m not sure what he’s getting out of it yet, but one day, I know he’ll call on us to have his back.
Of all our birds, he’s the one I converse with most on tactics—his skills unparalleled.
He fascinates me with his thought processes, along with his personal beliefs.
What we have most in common is our ability to walk the moral line, skipping back and forth whenever it suits us, but always for the mission. That comes from Julien’s years in the French army, which only gained him more of my respect.
“Better than well. Wish you could have been there,” I relay, pride for Preston evident in my tone.
Julien nods, somewhat pleased that our planning paid off.
Although I’ve found he’s not easily animated about anything but football.
Proving my point, he immediately shifts gears.
“How many total?” he asks about Ciro’s family.
“On American soil alone, the DiCicco crime family has close to four thousand, including made men, their soldiers, political connects, and other known associates. Worldwide, we’re still fucking counting.”
Julien tilts his head, his sign that he needs more.
“Most soldiers and associates aren’t made men because they lack the blood. They’re dirty politicians or the street rats who do hits and sell guns and narcotics for a cut. But they’re the biggest branch.”
“Ah. A little army.”
“Our army is much bigger.” I grin. “Narrowing it down, thirteen hundred blood-made. Untouchables. Over a hundred pushing into higher ranks, including captains she conveniently hasn’t started with yet, and over two dozen coming up fast.”
“So convenient,” he muses while doing an impressive combo on each knee. “Big family,” he utters, palms the air, starts footwork. “Easily done,” Julien concludes, as if he’s laid out his blueprint, and I fix my focus back on him.
“Too big for a day’s work if we weren’t concentrating on taking out high rank only, but even still, not so easily done,” I counter. The main reason is the purposeful lack of cooperation from the woman in my guest room and her infuriating indifference about our timeline.
“Uh … shit, Tyler,” Russell says with a nervous chuckle from the monitors. “You want to maybe cut surveillance at the penthouse? Or at least limit access?”
“I can answer straight away with a fuck no.” Annoyance flares because it’s clear this interruption has to do with the devil I’m thinking of. “What is it?” I ask as Julien stops his ball, intrigued.
“You sure?” Russell asks, flashing me a shit-eating grin. “Just thinking it would be smart if you want to keep our birds sharp, because I’m about to have to rub one out if I keep watching.”
Irritation simmering, I stalk over to the monitor and see Larissa walking through my penthouse in nothing but a scrap of fabric.
Even more scantily dressed than the night I met her, and fuck if she doesn’t look every bit the picture she’s painting—temptation.
The thin scrap of black lace she’s slaying the room with is cut in a V front and back, barely covering her pussy and nipples.
It’s the fucking sexiest lingerie I’ve ever laid eyes on, heightened by the high curve of her hips.
The fabric straining against her nipples accentuates the fullness of her tits, the lack of fabric elsewhere enhancing her build.
Cursing the fact that multiple security cameras give us an in-depth, explicit view, every nerve in my body lights fire at the sight of her onyx hair swaying to the middle of her back, hovering inches above her perfect, round ass.
The sight of her is fist-biting, and I’d put money that every bird in the room is now sporting a semi.
We all remain speechless for a few damning seconds as my blood boils.
“Fuck me,” Julien chuckles as I take her in. “Give me two days with her,” he jests, elbow on my shoulder. “I’ll solve all our problems. Might even manage world peace.”
We track her every movement as her toned legs eat up the space. While she’s the definition of voluptuous, her flawless face … Fuck. My subconscious refuses to forget that I’ve tasted a lot of the parts drawing my attention. If I hadn’t tasted her … Fuck. If only.
“She clearly has no self-image issues,” Russell chuckles. “Think she’s ringing the dinner bell for you?”
“I think maybe more the boxing round bell,” Julien says, his eyes heavy on my profile.
“One I won’t answer,” I snap, wheels turning. “But why the sudden distraction?” Alarm bells go off. “Check on everyone,” I order.
“On it,” Russell says, pinging every bird as I watch the biggest threat to our club prance near-naked in my penthouse.
“No need. She’s bored,” Julien surmises, eyes back on the screen, “and testing you.”
“If you’re looking for volunteers to keep her entertained, I’ll take one for the team,” Russell jests as I try to pinpoint her motive.
“Why make it so obvious?” I ask.
Julien considers me. “How have you been treating her?”
“As expected, three squares a day. Civil enough.” I have little sympathy for the tempting devil that knocked on my door and haven’t masked my contempt.
If I feign niceties, she’ll see through it.
“She stopped cooperating when I refused to be more personable and shut down. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I really was hurting her with my aversion to her. ”
“Then you know what that is,” Julien states, and I nod as she lies on the couch, subtly spreading her legs while pulling a blanket to cover herself. She picks up one of the books on my table, thumbing through it.
“All clear,” Russell reports.
“Then the show’s over,” I say. “Limit the feed to only those in this room and only when I’m not there. Cameras off the minute I clear the door.”
“Right there,” Julien clips, “she won this round.”
“I’m not reacting,” I counter as he gently shakes his head.
“But you are. She knows she won’t get a face-to-face reaction. You’re too disciplined, so the next best thing?”
A reminder that I’m attracted to her. Like I need one.
“That look in your eyes is exactly why she did it,” Julien declares.
“This is going to come to a destructive head at some point,” I expel as I stalk away from the panel. This room is for those inked. Our mini-Pentagon.
“Trust yourself,” Julien says simply. “But if you give in, I’m willing to bet it’ll be the best fuck of your life.”
“She’s toxic,” I grumble.
“I envy you,” he chuckles, resuming with his ball.
“Don’t,” I tell him, pushing yet another image of Larissa out of my mind.
“Trust yourself,” Julien repeats, confidence in me clear as I slide on my jacket before stalking to the door. Eyes follow me out. To them, this is entertainment. To me, an utter waste of fucking time I don’t have and can’t get back.