Page 6 of One Winter Knight
No, he took me on dates. Sent me flowers and chocolates. Murmured sweet things to me in Spanish. Made nice with Saoirse.
Carlos didn’t want access to my family or money. He didn’t want to use me to gain advantages.
All he wanted was my affection.
He was also fun as fuck.
One thing I liked about Carlos was that he didn’t blink at the fact that Saoirse was part of the deal–unlike some of the people my dads tried to set me up with.
Finn Gallagher, akaDad, was head alpha, and CEO of Gallagher Holdings. My fathers owned a lot of Boston.
“My dads let me keep you,” I added. The street below had gone quiet for New York. Like eerily silent and still. How odd.
She laughed. “They’re afraid of me.”
“As they should be.” When I’d gone off to Ireland, to attend thesame omega academy my mother had, they hadn’t expected me to bring home an assassin girlfriend.
They should have.
I loved my family, but after my mom died they clung too hard to me. Their recent attempts to pack me up were just another version of that.
Which was why I’d exerted my independence as a legal adult and was choosing to spend Christmas at a multi-day rave in Switzerland, instead of with them.
While I was nowhere near ready to form a pack, when I did, I think I wanted them both to be in it.
Certainly, I was ready to be more serious with Carlos.
Finally, movement caught my eye as a car approached the hotel’s service entrance.
“Look lively, Mo Stóirín,” Saoirse murmured over the earpiece.
A man came out of the service entrance wearing a hat and trench coat. There he was, off to make a deal and rip people from their families, while his own family slept peacefully. Gross.
“Target identified,” Saoirse stated.
All of the sudden the quiet street below filled with cars. Fast,loud,cars raced down the street like their life depended on it. Lots of them.
“Fuck, I’m not clear,” she muttered.
I captured our target in the crosshairs as he went to get into the car. “Got the shot.”
“Get him,” she ordered.
“Oh, I will.” Before she’d even finished speaking, I fired, bracing for the recoil. He slumped to the ground.
“Get the fuck out of there. I don’t know why there’s so many speeding cars,” she ordered.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I disassembled my rifle with a rapid precision that only came with timed practice, and shoved it in my backpack.
The cars kept coming. Keeping low, I snuck through the door to the roof and down the back stairs, a small device in my bag not only scrambling the cameras, but erasing any record of doors opening.
I barreled down the stairs as fast as my short legs could carry me. As I did, I changed my appearance–taking off my hat and letting my red hair pool out, removing my gaiter to show my face, reversing my jacket to be another color.
Now I no longer looked like an assassin. Just someone who could have just gotten off their shift at the theatre.
“We have a problem. The streets are blocked off for some race. We can’t exfil as planned. Are you near a metro station?” Saoirse asked.
Horns honked in the background and I heard sirens.
