Apparently, our little thief doesn’t have a last name. I snort. A lie. His first name was probably a cover-up, too.
After some failed searches for Ezra in our system records and on Google, I pick up my desk phone and hit the number for Alaric. He doesn’t try to mask his frustration when he answers my call.
“You know I can’t finish anything if you keep dumping tasks on my desk.”
I permit my brother’s attitude because he’s our most skilled person at cracking systems and talking code, but I’d hoped in time he’d pick up proper social skills working here.
“You earned this task. The guy that snuck by your supposedly hawkish eyes twice? I want you to dig into him.”
“He didn’t sneak past me,” Alaric mutters. I remain silent until Alaric gives me the response I’m looking for. “Okay, whatever. Not like I had plans or anything.”
“I know you don’t, so quit acting like you’re put out by my request.”
“Maybe one day I will be,” he counters. “You know, when I find somebody.”
I chuckle, envisioning his pout. “People like us, who obsess over work, don’t find significant others.”
Almost too quietly to hear, I catch him saying, “You did once.”
That wipes the smirk from my face.
“Give me a bit. I’m in the middle of hacking into a security system for Salem. Then I need another bag of Cheetos.”
Alaric hangs up on me, leaving me remembering why I rarely call him. His ability to drop social bombs doesn’t mix well with my inability to channel anything but a prickly nature ninety percent of the time.
Pushing up from my chair, I grab my thermos to refill it with coffee, knowing I’m going to be pulling late hours tonight.
As soon as I step out of my office, I can’t help my gaze from drifting to the glass windows of the corner office.
Irritation burns in my chest. The thief—Ezra—is laid out on the desk in his blood-stained button-up shirt and slacks. He has one leg propped up, and his arms are draped wide, hanging over the edges.
I suppose his quirkiness is why Rev likes him. They both seem to enjoy pushing buttons to get reactions, almost as if life is just one big game to them.
Maybe he’s smart like Rev. A master of manipulating emotions.
I hold back a growl of frustration. Regardless of what Alaric digs up, I know I won’t be satisfied with my decision on what to do with Ezra until I have another discussion with him.
I set my thermos in the break room before cutting back to the corner office. Turning the lock, I step into the room and close the door behind me.
“Okay, little thief.” I force a deep breath to keep my head level. “Either you’re cunning enough to fool a diagnosed psychopath with an IQ off the charts, or you’re actually in a tight spot with a notorious crime lord.”
Ezra’s head lulls to the side, blood now crusted on his cheek. I’m thrown off by the dark shadows forming under his eyes. If he’s been running around with Gabriel, he probably hasn’t had much rest lately.
His gaze sweeps over my body, and I’m enraged by the skip of my pathetic, weak heart. I fiddle with my cufflinks, not wanting him to catch on to how he affects me. Whenever Rev senses discomfort, he leans into it with honed claws.
“Is that supposed to be a question?” Ezra asks in a bored tone.
So much for maintaining my cool. His lazy posture and lack of fear shove me to the edge of reason. Crossing the room, I wrap my hand around his delicate neck and shove him down hard on the desk.
“Enough with the jokes. Which is it, Ezra?” I push through clenched teeth.
He swallows, and I feel his pulse quicken against my fingers, a beautiful little flutter under sun-kissed skin.
A strange warmth floods through me when his pupils expand. It only makes me clutch him tighter.
“You like this position, don’t you?” he murmurs, thick eyelashes fluttering.
I squeeze hard enough to bring a flush of red to his skin. His soft, warm hand encircles my wrist, but he doesn’t attempt to fight me. Overwhelmed by a surge of guilt, I draw back from him.
