Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 147789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“I guess we’re done for tonight,” Kreed joked, gathering his things. The guy tossed his plate in the trash as Aaron hit the conference room door.
“No, you guys continue. Stay all fuckin’ night talking about the same thing over and over.” Aaron added his own hint of mockery to his tone. Aaron walked out the door, leaving it open, and never looked back as he headed toward the elevators. Fuck Kreed Sinacola!
“He’s got his period,” Kreed drawled from behind him. Aaron quickened his pace. Maybe he could get on the elevator and downstairs before Kreed caught up to him. Did taxis wait out front of the FBI building? Only one way to find out.
“Fuck you. I’m taking a cab to the fuckin’ airport.” Aaron readjusted his laptop bag strap on his shoulder as he reached for the elevator call button. He absolutely wasn’t cutting his hair or wearing the standard Men’s Warehouse rack suit—not that they had even mentioned that yet, but he knew it was coming. No fucking way. He drew the line right there.
Lord knew he’d dedicated his life to helping the underdog, but this was asking too damn much. He reached out and punched the down button again when the doors didn’t open. The small arrow lit up then went dark. Angry, he pressed it again, achieving the exact same results. Why didn’t the elevators work? Immediately he scanned the small entryway, looking for the stairwell.
“Come on, smart boy. It’s not so bad,” Kreed taunted from behind. “You need to wave your badge in front of the reader like this if you want to get anywhere.” Kreed pressed the button and when it turned green, he lifted his wallet over a small section above the button. The doors opened.
Smartass!
Aaron stayed rooted in his spot. He didn’t want to get in the elevator car with Kreed. He’d take the next one down. In Kreed’s typical annoying way, the guy stepped toward him, hooked an arm around his neck and hauled him against his side, forcing them both inside the small box. Kreed’s scent filled the air around him, engulfing him in exotic spices. His brain cells momentarily went on hiatus again as his dick plumped and, damn it, that pissed him off even more.
Aaron was mad as hell, nowhere close to being attracted to the cocky guy, no matter how his body betrayed him. Aaron couldn’t afford to get involved with anyone right now, and he damn sure wasn’t going to get tangled up with the irritatingly bossy Deputy US Marshal Kreed Sinacola. It had to be that damn cologne Kreed wore—cinnamon, clove, and a hint of citrus. Aaron liked that scent way too much for his own good.
“I promise to get you all fixed up tomorrow—just a little styling. You won’t have to look like Connors. Believe me, nobody but Connors can pull that tight-laced, chronically constipated look off with such ease.”
A laugh came from behind them and Aaron jerked his head up. He hadn’t noticed Brown or Connors stepping on the elevator with them. Brown gave a few quiet chuckles before a hearty side-splitting laugh erupted.
“Fuck you all,” Connors said, pressing the first floor button. “Short hair’s easier to deal with.”
“I’ll feed you and make everything better. You’ll see.” Kreed stared right at him, and he finally lifted his gaze to look back. Great. Another teasing jab, but Aaron took a deep breath and chose to let the remark go. The mention of food seemed to work in elevating his mood. Aaron didn’t say anything more. His earlier annoyance hadn’t dissipated by much, but he also hadn’t moved out from under Kreed’s arm. The weight of the guy’s arm over his shoulders somehow calmed him, plus Kreed smelled too damn good and his attitude was contagious. He’d stay right there in that quasi-embrace and think about what he wanted for dinner.
Chapter 6
Kreed stirred, listening to what sounded very close to a mechanical typewriter clicking away in the distance. He cracked an eyelid and looked toward the curtain. There wasn’t any light peeking through the bottom yet so that meant it was still dark outside. When the sound didn’t lessen over time, he looked at the alarm clock by the bed. 4:30 am. Weirdly enough, this had been the first night in longer than he could remember that he’d actually slept. He wasn’t in a mindset to give that up. Kreed turned over, pulled a pillow over his head, and snuggled back underneath the warmth of the blanket, hoping to fall back asleep. Several minutes passed and all he could do was concentrate on whether he could hear that irritating noise.
Yep, there it was. What the hell? Tossing the pillow aside, he fisted the blanket and threw it toward the end of the bed.
Kreed kicked his legs over the edge and stood, before quietly padding across the hotel suite toward the partially opened door separating his room from Aaron’s. He’d insisted on leaving the door open before bed. He knew that made no sense to Aaron, and it honestly hadn’t made much sense to him either, but it was something he and Mitch had done while in the field. Being on the marshals’ special teams task force meant they hauled in the worst of the worst criminals. On rare occasions, the bad guys found the deputies first and Kreed never wanted a locked door to be an obstacle that slowed him in getting to his partner’s side. Now, apparently that same protective instinct applied to Aaron as well.
The sounds grew stronger as Kreed ducked in the closet to grab his gym shorts before pushing the door to their adjoining rooms wide open. Aaron sat at the desk in the dimly lit room, two monitors, a keyboard, and a tower in front of him. Where the hell had all that equipment come from?
“Have you slept?” Kreed asked, stifling a yawn as he pushed his fingers through his hair. Aaron looked up from his computer, a startled expression crossed his face as their gazes met. That was when Kreed noticed the earphones. Aaron reached up, pulling one of the earbuds from his ear, letting it dangle from the wire around his neck. He looked younger than his twenty-nine years, especially in the light reflecting off the monitors. Aaron was shirtless, wearing only a pair of shorts as he sat kicked back in the desk chair. He’d stretched his long muscular legs across another chair, the one originally placed in front of the suite’s window. He must have moved it across the room. All the screens went dark as Aaron angled his head to look at him over his shoulder. Kreed had no idea how he accomplished the feat of turning off the monitors when his hands were no longer on the keyboard.