Whatever It Takes

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Briar

M y stomach churns as I stare at the front entrance of Shadow Security. I’ve done a lot of research these past few weeks. If anyone can help me, it’ll be them, but there’s no way to know if I’ll be able to afford their fee.

My head twists, but the rideshare driver has already pulled away.

Is that a sign?

Maybe the universe is taking pity on me for a change. It could be trying to tell me to get my ass inside, otherwise, I’ll never know if they’ll be willing to help.

A loud echoing sound rips through the air, making me jolt. I bend in half to get low to the ground and pull my arm up to cover the top of my head as I scan the area.

It’s an unnecessary move. A bullet would fly through my arm just as easily as my face. A barrage of bloody images plays through my mind, and I do everything I can to breathe through the panic and force them away.

My face heats as it registers—it was a car backfiring from the nearby street.

Not anything terrible.

No one is actively trying to kill you .

My heart still pounds erratically. That psychologist wasn’t kidding when she said I had PTSD from my wedding day.

Finally making it back to standing, I try to force my legs to stop wobbling. My hands slide down my sides, and I move to readjust my purse.

A man approaches from the parking lot. He takes the step up onto the sidewalk and appraises me. Realizing he must have seen everything while I was preoccupied, I feel heat rise in my cheeks.

He’s tall and dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt with the name of a band I don’t recognize plastered across his chest. He has dark blond hair that’s wavy and falls over his forehead, but it’s shaved close on the sides. His strong jaw flexes minutely, but he gives me a confused smile when he spots me running my hands down my sides.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a lilt to his voice.

Oh yeah, he saw my mini freak-out.

“All good,” I say weakly.

“Right…” He scans me from head to toe. “Did you plan to come inside? Still debating? I heard the boss is a dick, but the others aren’t so bad.”

I swallow thickly, nodding. “Yeah, I think I’m going in.”

He chuckles, extending an arm to the sidewalk that leads right up to the front door. “After you.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, rolling my shoulders back. The entire walk up, I try to remind myself that just because I have a little trauma, it doesn’t mean I’m weak.

Weakness got people killed where I grew up. And I can’t afford to show any now, especially when I’ll likely have to ask them for a favor.

The man shuffles up behind me, tugging the door open before I can reach for it.

I give him a soft smile over my shoulder and scurry inside the building. It looks like any modern waiting room in a doctor’s or lawyer’s office, with oversized chairs lining two walls. A large television with a display of brochures under it takes up the far wall. Straight ahead is a cutout window for speaking to a receptionist. To the left of the check-in area is a door.

I approach the little window and frown when there’s no one at the desk.

“We’re short-staffed right now.” The guy walks over to the door and scans his badge. “We’ve been taking turns covering the desk, but come on back.” He flashes a set of pearly white teeth as he holds the door open. “I’ll get you all set up.”

Anxiety pulses through my system, and my gaze darts between the door to head into their office and back to the exit.

What am I even doing here?

It’s not like they’re going to help me out of the kindness of their hearts.

“Seriously, don’t stress, we’re desperate,” the guy says, waving his hand to indicate I should head into the inner office. “Easton growls and yells a lot, but he’s harmless. If you can deal with a little ranting and raving and answer phones, you’ll be golden.”

My head tilts.

Does he think I’m here for a job interview?

Holy shit.

Maybe the universe doesn’t hate me. They’re unlikely to help a random woman, but if I were to work here for a while, I bet I could make friends.

They’d be much more willing to help a coworker, right? At the very least, they could give me a discount or take some of their fees directly out of my paycheck.

I scramble forward before I can talk myself out of my new plan.

“I’m Calder, by the way,” he says, following me down the hallway. “Christian Calder, but everyone calls me by my last name.”

I spin around and nearly blurt out my real name. My brain catches up two seconds later. “Briar Maxwell.”

Shit.

Here’s hoping my new identity holds for the background check.

Calder directs me to a chair and drops a clipboard and pen into my lap. My heart beats so violently, I can feel it in my temples and ears, but I do my best to scribble down all my new information.

I’m screwed as far as job history goes. If I knew this was coming, I would have bought a burner phone and listed myself under a different name as the contact for some non-existent old job.

They’re going to have to be pretty desperate to hire me, but I’m an omega.

I’ll bat my eyelashes and beg while complaining about how hard it’s been to find a place to hire me, considering my designation. I’m even on suppressants, so they won’t have to worry about giving me mandatory time off for heat leave. This couldn’t have come at a better time.

I’ve been renting a crappy month-by-month apartment—if you can even call it that—but I’ve been scanning job listings all week.

I didn’t settle in Burlington just for the chance to beg them to help, but it didn’t discourage me from coming to this area either.

Shadow Security Services is a highly sought-after security company. I’m sure the owner is an alpha. Hopefully, I’ll remind him of his own omega, and he’ll take pity on me or something. Getting this job would be a perfect way to ensure I stay safe.

Alphas are notoriously protective of omegas, even if they aren’t their own bonded mate. It’s something ingrained in their DNA. There are exceptions to that rule, but I’m in my positivity era. I’m not letting any negative thoughts slide in.

My foot bounces erratically, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop fidgeting. I’m delusional. They’re never going to hire me with no past work history.

“Come on, I’ll take you up,” Calder says, appearing at the side of the wall I was sitting in front of. “This level is basically just for intake. Everything exciting happens on the second floor.” He chuckles awkwardly as I shove myself out of the chair. “Not that it’s all that exciting, but you get the idea.” He collects my clipboard and guides us to the end of the hall. On the right, a small area opens up with two elevators. He steps inside the one on the right, and I follow.

The ride is mostly silent as he glances over my paperwork.

Thankfully, employers aren’t allowed to ask for designation on a job application, but it’s not like they won’t see it on my driver’s license if they take a copy. It also wouldn’t be impossible for one of them to pick it up by smell.

I came here with the intention of wooing them into doing a favor for me. In that capacity, I considered my scent to be an asset, so I didn’t bother with scent-blocking soap.

Kinda regretting that.

The doors pop open, and my jaw falls.

The room is made up of glass offices on the left and right walls. The middle of the spacious area has cubicles and several long desks with whiteboards behind them.

Calder guides us through all of that and straight to the opposite wall. It’s also a glass office, but this one has blinds. My tour guide nods to a small desk off to the left. It has several spacious seats in front of it and two more on the wall at the edge of the office wall.

“Have a seat.” He smiles and gestures to the chairs. “Just a reminder. East is a grumpy dick, and he yells a lot, but he’s not cruel.”

Plopping down into one of the chairs, I pull my purse into my lap. Maybe my plan is hopeless, after all.

I give Calder a tight smile and work on getting myself together. I’ve lived through much worse than being yelled at.

I’ve got this.

I do not, in fact, have this.

My eyes dart around, taking in everything besides Mr. Easton. That man is far too attractive to focus on for long. My better judgment might melt right out of my ears if I’m not careful.

He has black hair that’s thick and longer on top than the sides, which are shaved at the same length as his short, well-trimmed beard.

It’s probably a good idea for him to cover that chiseled jaw with some facial hair. That way, he doesn’t have crazy women throwing themselves at him left and right. Although, I’ve always been a sucker for a solid beard.

Mr. Easton wears dark jeans and a black T-shirt with the Shadow Security logo. It stretches over his chest in a way that proves how much time he spends in the gym.

There’s something about his energy that screams dangerous , and it takes everything in me not to scurry back out the open doorway.

“You’re thirty-five minutes early, which might be a good sign, or it could indicate an inability to follow instructions. Which is it?” he asks, lowering his hand so he can see my face over my application papers.

“G-Good,” I stutter. “I-It’s a good sign. I’m a hard worker, and you can tell I’d be punctual.”

“Punctual means on time, not early or, God forbid, late.” He quirks a well-manicured eyebrow.

“In the future, I’ll know how long it takes to get to the office from my apartment. Traffic can be unpredictable, and I assumed early would be better than running behind.” I give a tight smile, trying to breathe through the anxiety in my stomach. “Mr. Easton, I really am a dedicated worker. You just have to give me a chance.”

“It’s just Easton,” he replies, once again scanning the papers I filled out—with very little actual information. “Do you have reliable transportation?”

I nod. “I use rideshares or the bus, but once I save up, I intend to buy a car.”

“I see,” he says, placing my application on his desk. “Tell me why you’d be a good fit to work at my company.”

My forehead wrinkles.

Saying I’ve been barked at by aggressive alphas for the entirety of my life, so I’m basically immune, would probably raise more questions that I don’t have answers for.

It also would do me no favors to admit that I came here with an agenda.

Instead, I give him a standard spiel about being committed to finding a long-term position and swearing I catch on quickly. I even ramble about how important security is for women.

By the time I’m done, my face burns as I stare at my lap, shaking my head.

I wouldn’t hire me either.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time, Mr. Easton.” And with that, I shove myself out of my chair and bolt for the door.

I stride across the office with my gaze on my feet.

How am I supposed to survive on my own? My family purposely avoided teaching me any life skills, outside of how to take care of a household, because my father wanted me to be reliant on my future husband.

When I finally make it to the elevator, there’s a man inside. He holds out a tattooed hand, blocking the door from closing.

It would be rude to tell him I’ll wait for the next trip, so I climb inside and hit the button for the ground floor.

“Here for the interviews?” he asks, leaning against the back wall with a friendly smile on his face.

I rest my hip on the rail that lines the side of the elevator car and nod. “I was, but I think it’s pretty safe to say I won’t be getting a callback.”

“Nah, it can’t have been that bad.” He chuckles, holding out a hand. “Jameson, I’ll put a good word in for you.”

I shake, giving him a tired smile. “Briar. And thank you, but you don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Jameson shrugs. “But I want to. I was just about to head down the street for a coffee. Can I buy you a muffin to help cheer you up?” His bright blue eyes sparkle as little crinkles appear at the edges. He’s clean-shaven and blond, but it’s the lighthearted energy that surrounds him that’s so different from what I’m used to.

I could kill a few minutes while I wait for the rideshare.

I nod, shoving my hair behind my ear. “Sure, why not?”

“Perfect,” he purrs, holding out his arm and gesturing for me to go first as the elevator doors open.

Damn.

He is smooth.