Javier (Alpha Heroes #12)

Chapter Fifteen

Javier

On my way out of the treehouse, I snatched the laptop King had gotten for me. I glanced at the built-to-fuck bed, marched over, and grabbed the stupid terry cloth swans taunting me by the neck. Strangling them in one hand, I wrenched open the door and stepped out into an orange sunset. It would’ve been a nice one if I’d been able to appreciate it. As it was, I was too goddamn furious to appreciate shit.

I reached for my gun and almost drew it on the armed guy coming up the steps. When I realized he was in uniform and his nametag identified him as security staff, I released my hold on my weapon.

“ Buenas noches ,” he said, setting down a folding chair by the gate. “ Se?or Guzman ?”

“ Sí .”

“I’m Pedro,” he shifted to English. “I’m here to watch over the se?orita .”

“Nice to meet you, Pedro. Take these.” I handed him the limp, unraveling swans. “I’m sending up some stuff from the boutique as well as some food from the restaurant. You can knock and hand it over to her. Nobody else goes in or out but me. You got that?”

The short, weathered-faced man gave me two thumbs up.

With my hands fisted and my nails digging into my palms, I pounded the steps with my sandals on my way down the hill. The gall of the woman. She’d kissed me. She’d touched me. Intimately. She’d set me on fire. Her soft hand and crafty little fingers had unleashed the erection of a lifetime, the one that was still torturing me as I marched awkwardly with an extra limb trapped between my legs. I tugged on the crotch of my pants, unable to relieve the pressure.

She’d even told me that she’d dreamed about me before she met me.

What the hell was that shit about?

I’d been hyper focused on not spilling my come in my pants. She was soft, so soft. Her skin slid smooth and silky beneath my touch. Her breasts were small but firm. They fit in my palms perfectly. I’d gotten lost in the feeling of my thumb circling her generous areolas. I don’t know how I’d been able to control my overwhelming impulse to toss her on the bed and gorge on her pussy.

Fuck my brain .

If I kept visualizing shit like that, the damn stiffy wasn’t gonna go away.

The point was that she’d tested my limits and provoked me until I was mad with lust, and then she’d come out and outright admitted she wanted to fuck me. Just like that. Dared me to do it, really. I’d made a superhuman effort to be noble, and professional—virtuous, for fuck’s sake! Then, the very woman I craved with everything I was had accused me of finding her revolting.

What. The. Fuck?

My indignation hit a new high.

I’d had to remind her that she was beautiful, the most exquisite person I’d ever met. And then I’d had to share the tragic news. I couldn’t fuck her. How was that for a bad joke?

“Goddammit.” None of this shit was in my job description.

She’d proceeded to treat me as if I didn’t wanna fuck her until we were fused together; as if I wasn’t dying to fulfill the erotic fantasy that had been driving me batshit insane since I first held her in my arms. Before my very eyes, she’d transformed from sweet Missy into a different person, assertive, even forceful. She’d said her piece, as if actions didn’t have consequences. She’d even said she’d find herself some other fuck buddy.

Over my dead body.

How my head didn’t explode in that moment, I didn’t know. My temples were still throbbing. It sure as hell felt like I’d had a brain bleed. The woman had then dumped the entire shitty responsibility of having to be the adult and uphold the boundaries between us on me.

Me . The guy who didn’t wanna be the grownup in the room.

Me . The jerk who loved sex.

Me . The subpar asshole who wanted to fuck her for days on end until her pussy overflowed with my come and my dick wasted away.

My lust for this woman was eating me from the inside out.

Was it so hard for her to see that I was a professional trying to do right by her?

If all that shit wasn’t enough to make me miserable, she’d then dismissed me as if I were her fucking employee. Which I wasn’t. She’d pounded me with her Astor arrogance as if I were a lowly monkey in a zoo.

Maybe I was that, but she wasn’t my boss. I was doing her sister Thena a favor, but I worked for Dagger, for Tracker Team, and for Battle Brothers, not for Missy Uppity Astor. She couldn’t dismiss me.

Could she?

My irritation propelled my strides. Jaw clenched, hands fisted, I stalked across the grounds. People saw me coming and got out of my way. Good. Get the fuck away from me. Missy Astor had the capacity to turn me into a seething beast.

When I got to the lobby, I talked to the concierge. I told her Missy’s suitcase had gotten lost during our travels and asked her to pick out an assortment of clothing and other necessities for Missy from the hotel’s boutique. I also arranged room service for her. At the main building, I finally had enough reception to fire off a text to King.

She can’t fire me . I typed, pounding the screen. Can she?

He answered my text right away. What did you do?

Nothing . Maybe that was the problem. If she was half as frustrated by this situation as I was, then our frustrations had collided and compounded.

You must’ve done something , King texted back.

I trapped a snarl in my throat. Why do you always assume the fault is mine?

Because I know you?

FU

She’s tired . King wrote. Give her a break. Tomorrow will be another day.

Said the guy who hadn’t seen the outrage flushing her face or the fire burning around her pupils.

I’m not leaving her alone . I typed, pacing the expansive lobby. She’s my mission .

Agree. You can’t leave her alone. Simple. Don’t be an asshole .

I wasn’t an —

I stopped mid message and deleted the text. Maybe I was an asshole, but I was trying to protect her and be my best and noblest self. It was a reach. I didn’t even know if I could be my best. Or noble. Meanwhile, she’d tried to pull a powerplay on me.

Need to talk to Top Dog . Or to Thena. Maybe, if Missy spoke to her sister, she’d feel better about… everything.

We’re still in a no-contact protocol, King texted back.

“Shit.”

No news? I asked.

Nada.

Nuns?

On the way.

Why the hell did you get us the honeymoon suite ?

Honeymoon suite? A pause and almost thirty seconds went by before he added. I now understand your problem .

You understand shit . I pounded the keys. This is your fucking fault .

Negative. I didn’t request the honeymoon suite. I requested restricted access, best defensible position, and the safest location available on the grounds . John Allen, the head of security, must’ve decided that was it.

Now I felt like an idiot.

Have you made contact with Allen? King asked.

OMW .

I headed for the bar instead.

Behave, Goof . Kai’s text reached me as I pulled out a stool . You’re on the clock.

Fuck me. Now I had King lecturing me on top of everything else. All I needed to calm down and get back to my amiable self was a shot of whiskey or two or three, but King wasn’t wrong. I shoved the stool back into place and, laptop in hand, cut across the lobby.

I met with John Allen in his office. He was an old, grizzled Marine with the face of a rottweiler who was in charge of the resort’s security. He struck me as a seasoned veteran who knew his stuff. Given that the rich and famous visited the resort often and the paparazzi tried to trespass all the time, Allen’s security was top-notch.

We went through all the extra measures he’d put in place after King contacted him. He showed me the property’s map and explained how his patrols worked. Then we reviewed the profiles of all staff and guests he’d compiled. I asked him to email me the list. I wanted to do my own review and not necessarily follow the privacy rules that limited his range.

When I was done with Allen, I did my own recon. I identified all accesses to the resort, walked the grounds, scouted the trailheads, and engraved a 3-D map of the place in my brain. The place was extensive, and the resort abutted a national reserve, so it took a while.

By the time midnight came around, I was bone dead. I grabbed a burger at the bar and washed it down with a beer, because, well, why not? I talked to some of the guests, joked around a little, blew off some steam. I met lovely Rozina, a brunette beauty looking for fun and a vacation hookup.

Since I’d gone over the list of current guests with Allen, I knew she was a cop from New York. She had all the attributes I looked for in my bed partners. Curvy. Busty. Sexy. Lusty. She put the moves on me, and honestly, taking her up on her offer made sense. It would’ve done wonders for my mood and maybe even cure the severe case of blue balls torturing me.

Then I remembered I was on duty and trying to be my better version. Instead of rounding out the night with a fast, hard fuck in Rozina’s room, I made some lame excuse and headed back to the treehouse. The truth was I didn’t feel like having sex with her. Me. Mr. Always Ready. Missy had done a number on me earlier, but had she also killed my usually hyperactive libido?

Negative. My libido was just fine, thank you very much. The problem was, I didn’t want Rozina. I wanted Missy.

The night was crisp and the stars were out, but not even the vigorous walk relieved me of the tension that tightened my gonads. When I got to the cabin, Pedro’s replacement sat by the private walkway.

“ Todo bien ?” I asked.

The man nodded. “ Sin problema .”

The suite was dark and quiet as I stole inside. Draped in the translucent netting, Missy slept in the big bed. After checking the tray and confirming she’d eaten her dinner, I detoured to the bathroom. Under the light of the moon, I stepped into the circular outdoor shower. Working up the suds, I massaged my muscles to release the tension tightening my shoulders. I flirted with the idea of getting myself off, but once again, it wasn’t my hand I craved.

After the shower, my reflection in the mirror showed me a bunch of bruises. With my beard out of control, I looked like a damn Neanderthal. I took my time shaving, and then rewrapped the stitches Missy had embroidered on my biceps, courtesy of Snake.

Snake . I trapped a growl in my throat. I was gonna get that son of a bitch, and when I did, he was gonna regret hunting Missy and meeting me.

Rummaging through the suitcase King had packed for me, I found a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and put them on. As I approached the bed, I spotted the red petals piled up in the wastebasket. No more heart on the sheets and yet the bed was still enticing if only because Missy was in it. She was curled up under the pristine white covers, her eyes closed. She looked even younger with her face relaxed and her red braid spilled over the pillows. I got a whiff of fresh soap and flowery shampoo coming from her. She smelled so damn good.

I ambled to the other side of the bed, pulled the netting aside, and folded down the covers. Beneath the sheets, I spotted the long line of her bare leg and a glimpse of her creamy ass cheek, peeking out from beneath the T-shirt she wore.

My dick turned to petrified wood.

I couldn’t share a bed with Missy. I couldn’t stand the notion of her laying soft and half naked next to me. If I touched her, there would be no returning from that.

You’re a professional . Couldn’t let that happen. Keep it professional .

I wondered if the nun’s vow of celibacy was contagious. If it was, I might be sensitive to it, but my dick was immune. Missy, me, and the honeymoon suite. How the hell had I gotten into this shitshow?

I grabbed a pillow, padded out to the deck, and commiserating with the stars, lay down in the hammock.