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He stops and turns to face me. “You’re right. Shit. I knew I was enjoying the ride, but I thought it was just because you were back on my bike. But it wasn’t just that. It was because you will always be on the back of my bike. Damn woman. I love you.” He kisses me as the elevator doors close and doesn’t release me until they open again.

“Welcome to the Executive Floor of 1%.”

We’re in a utilitarian hallway with several doors baring silver plaques. This hallway lacks the luxury of the hotel, but it’s still nice. He stops in front of the door with his name on it and opens it. Inside is where they hid the luxury. A chrome u-shaped desk with a black smokey glass top sits to the left, so the occupant has a view of the city skyline. To my right is a table with six matching chairs in black leather and chrome. Along the glass windows is a black leather couch.

“Take a seat. There’s a bar inside the cupboard if you want to get anything to drink or eat. I’ll just be a few minutes.” Wildcard sits behind his desk and pulls a laptop out of a locked drawer. He powers it up and gives me a nod when I hold up a bottle of water. Handing it to him, I take a seat on the couch and stare at the city that is now my home.

In Boston, my office was on the first floor and I didn’t have a window. Mike’s office did, but it only looked out into the parking lot. I shudder when I realize that Misha’s goons could have shot me from that window if they hadn’t chosen to chase me down instead. I got lucky. Shaking off that thought, I try to determine what floor we’re on. I hadn’t been paying attention in the elevator. Was busy getting kissed. We’re not at the top of the building, but I conclude that we’re at least ten floors up.

My mind drifts as I watch the cars drive up and down the popular road. I can just make out forms as people walk past. Many stop and make the trek to 1%. This hotel is impressive, much grander than where I worked before. Funny that Wildcardand I both ended up working at hotels. The biggest difference being that he owns a stake in this one. I hear Wildcard talking on the phone, but it’s just background noise. However, the knock on the door draws my attention. Turning, I see a man enter. He’s wearing a kutte like Wildcard. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here?” Wildcard asks as they share a bro hug.

“Came to fill in for Speedster.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Five stitches. Fucking idiot. Not sure what he was doing, but I think we need to have another class on safety in the workplace.”

Wildcard chuckles and beacons me to come over.

“Trouble, this is my woman, Brigit. Brigit, this is Trouble. He’s the President of the Shadow Borns. I told you about him earlier.”

“Hello,” I say, offering him my hand.

“You were here the other night,” Trouble says. “With a little boy. Your son.” He turns to Wildcard.

That’s when I realize where I’ve seen him before. He was standing at the front desk when I checked in. Along with a gorgeous woman. He’d been watching us.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: WILDCARD

“You saw Colt?” I ask Trouble, who grins at me.

“Cute little boy, you have there. He looks just like you. At least that’s what I told Puma when I called him. Sent him a photo.” Wildcard glances at Brigit. “Sorry about that. I did it without thinking. Colt looked so much like Wildcard that I just reacted.”

I remember the smug look on Puma’s face when I told him I was coming to 1% to get Brigit. The fucker knew about Colt and didn’t warn me. “Fucker.”

“What?” Brigit asks.

“Puma. The night I came to get you. He knew about Colt and didn’t tell me.”

“Tell your President he owes me a beer,” Trouble says. “Now, you two can get going and enjoy yourselves. I’ll stay until the night manager shows up. Dice is working, right?”

“He is. I updated him. He’s coming in early to relieve you.”

“Thanks, man. Nice meeting you Brigit. What are you two up to?”

“I thought I’d give Brigit a tour of the hotel. I’m trying to convince her to come work as our HR Manager. It’s what she was doing in Boston.”

“Yes, please, we’ll pay you whatever you want. Whatever you were making in Boston, we’ll double it. Fuck, triple it.” Trouble begs.

I glance at Trouble in surprise. Puma is usually the one opening the purse strings while Trouble keeps a tight grip. “What happened?”

“Chill is a fucking outstanding SOA, but what makes her so good at scaring the shit out of everyone doesn’t make employees comfortable enough to talk with her about their problems.”

“They’re scared of her?”

“Fucking terrified. We have people quitting rather than going to her.”