Chapter Seven
“Please fucking tell me that was the last one.” Tossing the file across his desk, Bash slumped into his chair and slammed his eyes shut.
“For today, yes.”
Barely opening his left eye, Bash looked across the room at Brandon, one of his teammates, before launching the ink pen in his hand at his head, intentionally missing him by quite some measure.
“Son, you need to masturbate less and learn how to throw like a man.” Brandon teased as he caught the pen with ease. “Don't forget, it was your idea to open a new office on the West coast, so you get to suffer through the hiring process like the rest of us.”
Bash wasn't ready to have the conversation as to why he’d pushed so hard to open the new California office. Keystone Securities sat comfortably at number three in the world for personal protection, with dozens of brick and mortar buildings stamped with their logo to give the tax-paying public an illusion of what they provided. It was the carefully-constructed rooms built in places the average person would never dream of, which housed the heart of the company. Men, much like himself, trained to take out a target by any means necessary, hired by anyone with enough cash to make it worth the risk.
“Besides, listening to these cocky bastards talk about shit they don't know, gives you something to focus on besides the hacker who’s giving you the slip.”
Flipping Brandon his middle finger, Bash agreed with Brandon to an extent. It was mind-numbing to listen to the individuals who’d applied to work for Keystone, lying through their teeth as to their skill level on the computer, only to walk away with sad faces when they failed the simple troubleshooting test. It was, however, the touchy subject of Gridlock and his continued ability to stump not only Bash, but a friend he’d called early this morning, who was just as skilled as himself.
“They remind me of you, Hashtag.” Keeping his eyes on the screen of his computer, he used Brandon’s call sign to bait him, as Bash watched as the yellow flower he’d assigned Milena swayed over the location on the map of her uncle's shop.
“Bunch of pimple-faced geeks who’ve been chased out of their momma’s basement, told to wash the powdered cheese off their hands and go find a job.”
Tossing the pen back at Bash, “Fuck you, Trespass.” Brandon struggled to hold back a laugh. At twenty-three he was the youngest of the group and had struggled to find his place among the men of this team who were far more worldly than him. Born with a photographic memory, a skill which gave him a permanent seat at the loser table in middle school, it gave him an all-access pass when MIT came knocking at his grandmother’s trailer door.
“The girl I banged last night had no complaints about my cheese-covered fingers.” Brandon learned early on if he sat quietly and internalized the banter the guys tossed at him, he lost the game before he even tried to play.
“Motherfucker, what have I told you about toys?”
“A must for any situation where you’re expecting company.”
Bash snapped his attention to the female voice on his left, anger filling his chest as his gaze landed on Gretchen.
“Can we help you?”
Jumping to his feet, “I’ve got this, Brandon.” Bash, like the other men on the team, considered Hashtag family. And while he may tease the fuck out of him, he would never let someone as vapid as Gretchen sink her claws into him.
Stepping toward the much younger version of Sebastian, Gretchen licked her lips at the thought of having them both fuck her into unconsciousness. “Now don’t be selfish, Sebastian. No reason we can't all have a little fun.”
“He’s engaged.” The lie fell from Bash’s lips as tipped back in his chair. “She’s a black-belt and habitually jealous.”
Confusion colored Hashtag’s face for the briefest of seconds as he kept his mouth shut instead of contradicting the lie. He’d never known Bash to act this way with another female, however, there was a first time for everything.
Seductively swaying her hips as she crossed the room, Gretchen inwardly celebrated what she considered a minor victory in Sebastian’s possessiveness toward her. Leaning over the desk, she pushed her chest forward, placing her ample tits front and center. “I heard through the grapevine you are conducting interviews for a receptionist.”
Bash allowed a smile to curl the left side of his lips, keeping his gaze locked with Gretchen’s. Having dealt with his fair-share of vipers, he knew exactly what the coiled snake before him was up to.
“Is there something we can help you with?”
Ignoring the dent his lack of reaction created in her mission, “I’ve come to apply for the position.”
“Really?” Shifting his body to the side, Bash lifted his boots to the edge of the desk. “Did something happen to your property management job?”
“Well, no—”
“Then why are you really here?”
Leveling a determined glare, Gretchen licked her lips, “To see you of course.”
Shifting his focus to the spacebar of his laptop, “You’ve seen me. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
“Actually, I do mind.” Deciding on a new approach, Gretchen moved around the desk, sliding her ass on the corner which gave an unhindered view of her panty-less pussy. “I’d like to cash in the rain check you offered.”
