Page 11 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

Ares

“Damn, I still can’t get over how nice this place is,” Will remarks, making a show of glancing around my apartment as if he didn’t already do a full inspection right when he walked in.

He takes a long sip of his beer and tosses up an arm to rest on the backs of the couch cushions, letting out a satisfied sigh like we’re relaxing in some five-star resort.

The apartment’s alright. Everything’s clean, well-appointed, and sleek.

It’s decked out with high-end furniture, expensive art I didn’t pick, and some damn good whiskey was waiting in the cabinet for me as a welcome gift.

I’m settling in. Slowly. But the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city serve as an ever-present reminder of just how far I am from home, and my inner wolf despises the feeling of being trapped in a cage in the sky.

Will and I have been keeping in touch. He’s dropped a few not-so-subtle hints about wanting to see my new digs, so I finally took the bait and invited him over.

What I didn’t expect was lobby security practically holding him hostage until I came down to escort him up to my apartment.

Guess the Alpha doesn’t like surprises in his Tower.

“Come by anytime,” I say, settling back into the chair across from him with a fresh beer in hand. It’s some ugly, ergonometric design that I judged harshly on first glance, but I’ve gotta admit the chair is stupidly comfortable.

I didn’t invite Will here just to see the place and drink beers, though.

We’ve been shooting the shit for a while, but I’ve been casually guiding the conversation, waiting for the right opening to probe him for information.

He’s the only friend I’ve made thus far, and therefore my best bet at gleaning intel on the inner workings of the Chicago pack.

“So, I met a girl,” I say casually, like it just popped into my head.

Will raises an eyebrow, smirking like he already knows where this is going. “Yeah? The one from the other night?”

“That’s the one.” I grin, and this ridiculous heat spreads across my chest at the thought of Miley. “She’s... something else. I like her, but there’s a complication. Turns out she’s the Alpha’s daughter, and apparently, he’s already arranged for her to be mated to some other guy.”

Will chokes on his beer, coughing and pounding a fist against his chest. “Tell me you’re staying far, far away then?” he sputters, eyes wide.

I laugh, shaking my head. “C’mon. You know that’s not really my thing.”

He blinks at me like I’ve just grown a second head. “Bro… Nash said you were crazy, but I didn’t realize you were suicidal, too.”

“How bad could it really be?” I scoff.

“ Bad ,” he deadpans. “Really bad. You don’t screw with the Alpha’s daughters. They’re not family to him, they’re assets .”

My lips twist into a scowl in response to Miley being referred to as an ‘asset’. Fuck that.

“He arranges their mate bonds to seal business deals,” Will continues, his expression somber.

“Getting in the middle of that would be equivalent to walking into a boardroom and flipping the table. It’s not just a bad idea, it’s dangerous.

Alpha doesn’t take kindly to people fucking with his business, and he doesn’t give second chances. ”

I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay,” I chuckle. “Message received. I’ll steer clear.”

Will doesn’t look convinced– probably because I’m lying through my teeth. There’s no way in hell I’m staying away from Miley Beckett.

He drains the last of his beer and sets the bottle on the coffee table in front of him with a sigh.

“Well, on that note, I’d better get going,” he murmurs, raking a hand through his blonde waves as he pushes up to stand.

“Thanks for the beers. And the view. Just... promise me you won’t do anything reckless, man. I told my cousin I’d look out for you.”

“Me? Reckless?” I flash a grin. “Never.”

He gives me another look like I’ve gone insane, but I just laugh it off, easing to my feet and setting my beer bottle on the side table.

“I’ll walk you out,” I offer.

The two of us exit my apartment and make our way to the elevator, both quiet on the ride down. When the doors slide open into the marble lobby, I check my watch and have to fight the smirk tugging at my lips.

Right on schedule.

I’ve yet to receive my first job assignment from the Alpha, so I’ve kept myself occupied this past week by learning his daughter’s routine.

I know what time she usually leaves campus, which yoga studio she hits on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and exactly how long it takes her to walk back from class.

She’s a creature of habit. Predictable. And predictability makes these little ‘coincidences’ easy to engineer.

Will says goodbye and heads out with a wave while I hang back near one of the columns in the lobby, posture casual and eyes on the entrance.

She should be walking in any second now.

I don’t have to wait long before the front doors of the Tower glide open and Miley struts in looking like she just stepped out of some glossy fashion spread, all smooth lines and effortless poise.

There’s a satin ribbon tied in her hair– pale pink this time, neat as a bow on a gift box.

She always looks perfect, always composed, but I’ve seen flashes of the fire underneath.

That sharp tongue, those stunning eyes that flare when I push her buttons.

She heads toward the elevator, luscious tits bouncing with every step, and reaches out to press the call button.

That’s when I move in.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I say casually as I step up beside her, as if I didn’t just time this whole encounter down to the minute.

Miley turns her head slowly, eyeing me with the same mixture of irritation and disbelief she always harbors. “What are you doing, Ares?” she sighs.

“Just heading up to my place.” I nod toward the elevator bank as the light above one of them illuminates. “Same as you. ”

She heaves another sigh and shifts her weight, arms crossing. “Of course you are.”

The elevator doors slide open and she quickly steps inside, hitting the button for the twentieth floor. I follow right behind her, leaning into her space to press the button for floor thirty-two.

Goddamn, she smells like heaven.

Miley sidesteps to reclaim her space as the doors close, the elevator humming softly as it begins to rise.

“So,” I say, pocketing my hands. “Big night ahead? Face mask, trash TV, that sort of thing?”

She doesn’t even glance at me, her glare practically burning a hole into the metal elevator doors as she folds her arms over her chest again. “Stop stalking me.”

I grin. “Stalking’s such a loaded word. I prefer serendipitous proximity. ”

“Do you ever listen to yourself?” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

Playing hard to get, as usual.

A chuckle rumbles in my chest. “I’ll have you know that most people appreciate my humor.”

“Most people are morons,” she deadpans.

“Fair point,” I snort, bumping my elbow into hers. “Hey, look at us finally agreeing on something. Wanna come up to my place and find out what else we’ve got in common? I’ve got beer and a balcony with a view.”

“No,” she replies flatly.

“Your place, then?”

She whirls on me, arching a dubious brow. “You do remember the rules, right?” she scoffs. “No males on the twentieth floor unless it’s by Alpha’s orders.”

“Rules are meant to be broken,” I say with a wink, my gaze shamelessly dropping to her cleavage.

She snorts a laugh. “Maybe wherever you’re from, but that’s not how things work here.”

“Colorado.”

“What?” she asks, scrunching her cute little nose.

“That’s where I’m from,” I reply smoothly, an easy grin spreading across my face at the mention of home. “A little town in northern Colorado. It’s in the middle of a forest, we’re free to shift and run whenever we want… I’ll take you there sometime, let you see it for yourself. ”

Miley just stares back at me expressionlessly, the elevator slowing as it approaches her floor. “Do you have selective memory or something?” she huffs. “By this time next week, I’ll be mated . I’ll be in another state, with another pack…”

“Should we just run away together now, then?” I cut in, wagging my brows.

She heaves a long-suffering sigh as the elevator chimes and the doors slide open, her dark blonde hair whipping behind her as she pivots to exit.

“See you around, sweetheart,” I call.

“Not if I can help it,” she mutters, hustling away down the hall as if she can’t get away from me fast enough.

I chuckle to myself as the doors slide closed and the elevator continues its ascent. Miley Beckett is going to be the death of me– or maybe the thing that finally makes me feel alive. Only time will tell, but either way, I’m not done with her.

The elevator doors glide open on the thirty-second floor and I step out, walking the familiar hallway to my apartment and letting myself in. The place smells strongly of the cedarwood diffuser plugged into the wall, but the artificial scent is a poor substitute for the real thing.

I miss the forest.

Miss home.

Fuck.

I scrub a hand over my face as I cross to the living room, returning to the ugly ergonomic chair and flopping down into it with a heavy sigh.

The moment I lean back and reach for my beer still resting on the side table, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket, prompting me to pull it out and thumb the screen open.

It’s a message from the Alpha’s office– my first assignment.

I’m lying flat on my stomach, the cool metal of the rifle steady against my shoulder, eye pressed to the scope. The rooftop beneath me radiates leftover heat from the sun, now long gone, the sky washed in deep navy. From here, I’ve got a perfect view of the docks below.

The meeting’s set to go down at the far end.

Two SUVs are already parked under a busted floodlight that’s flickering like it’s trying to stay alive.

Figures mill around, tense shadows barely moving as the Alpha’s men get into position for this ‘business meeting’ of his.

Considering it’s happening after dark at the docks with armed security, I’m guessing whatever business he’s conducting isn’t exactly above board.

Not that it’s any of my concern. Derek Kane, the lead enforcer for the Chicago pack, said as much when I asked questions after my briefing.

He informed me of my orders for this assignment– to be a hidden sniper on Alpha Gage’s protection detail– and made it clear that any other information would be disseminated on a strict need-to-know basis.

His polite way of telling me to fuck off and just do my job.

Turns out, this new job of mine goes beyond carrying out hits for the Alpha whenever he snaps his fingers.

According to Kane, most of the time it's less murder, more muscle, and tonight’s one of those nights.

Alpha Gage is here to meet someone, and I’m here to cover his ass if they try to pull something. Easy enough.

Through the scope, I track Alpha Gage stepping out of one of the vehicles, dressed in a dark suit.

His jacket shifts with his movements and the grip of the handgun tucked in his waistband catches the light.

An intimidation tactic, I’m sure– he’s decidedly the type who prefers to have others do his dirty work for him .

Case in point, me on this roof right now.

He’s calm and unhurried as he strides away from the vehicle, wearing a look of bored confidence that probably makes most people second-guess their spine. I’m not most people. I see right through this asshole’s scare tactics.

Remembering my directive, I sweep the area again. Shadows shift. A seagull screeches overhead. Wind pulls off the lake, crisp and cold.

This isn’t a job I particularly enjoy, but it’s one I’m good at.

Too good, probably. It’s easy to shoot at someone from a distance, far away enough that you don’t get sprayed by their blood or see the life drain from their eyes.

It’s easier to compartmentalize that way; to trivialize the value of a life.

A dangerous thought crosses my mind– that it’d be far too easy to pull the trigger right now on the very man I’m here to protect.

The one who views his daughters as nothing more than commodities for trade.

He’s the obstacle preventing me from making Miley Beckett mine , and one tiny movement of my index finger could remove that obstacle from the equation…

Another SUV pulls up and my finger finds its place along the trigger guard. I steady my breath as the engine shuts off.

A man steps out– tall and broad, dressed in a dark coat that looks expensive.

He’s flanked by two others, both bristling with the kind of stillness that says they’re packing heat.

I track them all through the scope, zeroing in on faces, fingers, any twitch or sign of aggression.

I wait for the signal, either to stand down or to put someone in the dirt.

They approach Alpha Gage slowly and deliberately, projecting a carefully restrained confidence.

It’s instinct, like prey puffing up to look bigger in front of a predator.

The conversation starts, and while I can’t hear them from this distance, I can read body language.

The other guy’s talking with his hands, as if he’s trying to sell something, while Gage doesn’t even shift his weight.

He just stands there cool and calm, arms relaxed at his sides.

Tension hums under my skin like a low buzz. It’s not adrenaline, per se– more like readiness. I’m not hoping things go sideways, but if they do, I’ll be the one to bring about a swift resolution.

The wind picks up again. Someone lights a cigarette. One of the goons reaches into his coat and I tense, sight snapping to his hand.

Gun?

No. Just a phone. He checks it, then pockets it again.

I exhale slowly.

A few more minutes pass. Whatever deal they’re making, it doesn’t end in bloodshed. Alpha Gage gives a nod of dismissal, and the two parties start to drift apart. No handshakes, no smiles. Just business.

I keep watch through the scope of my rifle until the other men get in their SUV and pull away, the Alpha’s team loading back into their vehicles. Only then do I let my eye off the scope and rest my cheek against the cool roof tile.

I sit up slowly, cracking the stiffness from my shoulders. Below, the SUVs shrink into the shadows, swallowed by the dark.

No shots fired. No mess to clean.

And yet somehow, I still feel dirty.