Page 2 of Down & Dirty: Reaper

“Damn,” he murmured. “A bossy woman is a helluva turn-on.”

“Then you must walk around with a hard-on all day, every day.”

“It’s fucking tiring. Hence the nap. If this continues, I might need a new job.”

With a shake of her head, she turned and headed back down the hallway.

Of course he followed. He was a sucker for a badass woman with a spine of steel and not afraid to get a little dirt—or blood—under her fingernails. Or kill a bad motherfucker with a single shot between the eyes.

Vi was all of that.

And more.

Since day one on the job, they had danced around each other.

While flirting was fun, fucking would be a hell of a lot better.

But as much as he wanted to, that didn’t mean he would hit that. Mixing business and pleasure was always a bad idea.

And he liked his job. It paid very well.

He also liked his team. They were solid.

But, of course, he liked his boss most of all.

“Want me to close the door?” he asked as he stepped over the threshold.

“No need.”

Well, that was a fucking pity. “You know how to tease a guy.”

She grabbed a cardboard box off her desk and shoved it at him. It wasn’t sealed but the flaps had been folded together to keep whatever was in it from falling out.

“What is it?” He put it to his ear and shook it, knowing it would annoy her.

She rolled her eyes. “Open it.”

“It isn’t my birthday.”

“When is your birthday?”

“Should be in my employee file.” He pressed his lips together.

“I’ll check with HR.” She leaned back against her desk and crossed her bare arms over her chest, emphasizing both.

He pulled his eyes from her cleavage and turned them back to the box. Unfolding the flaps, his head jerked back once he saw what it contained.

A cut.

Not just any cut, but a Dirty Angels MC cut.

He knew he’d been voted in but hadn’t been told when he’d be getting the undeniable proof he now belonged to an MC. He had also expected it to come from the club’s officers, not Vi.

Lifting the black leather vest with both hands, he let the empty box fall to his feet.

“I got your patches put on for you.”

So, that was why she had it. “Doesn’t the club normally do that?”