Page 63 of Pack of Crooks

Put your ropes away, Kill. We’ll have her come in for a special meeting at the hub and discuss her moving in.

KILL

Fine, be reasonable.

MAD

You’re such a beta, Ez.

Someone has to keep the alphas in check.

KILL

I’ll let you keep me in check when you get home.

MAD

Don’t you two have your own chat for this?

Chuckling, I glance up at the building, see that Hazel’s light is off, and slip my phone into my back pocket. I wait an hour before silently crossing the street. The unusually warm late September breeze coasts over my cheeks and darkness curls around me.

Using Hazel’s code, which was easy enough to get from the shitty security company the landlord uses, I slip into the building. The hallways are quiet. Silence slithering beneath the doors of closed apartments, chasing the soft tap of my shoes up the stairs. It takes a few seconds to pick the lock. The snick of the metal sliding back is like the bang of a gong in the stillness surrounding me.

I wait another sixty seconds, breath steady as I listen for movement inside the cramped apartment. More silence. I slowly twist the door knob, grateful it doesn’t creak, and let myself inside.

Plugged in beside the fridge, a night-light illuminates a small circle in the darkness. Blinking as the faint outlines of her worn furniture come into view, I breathe in, savoring the rich strawberry scent of her perfume as sweat beads on my forehead. Then it hits me. That heavy musky scent.

Killian made her come. A grin tugs at my lips. What a good alpha.

Fucking hell. It smells so good. Quietly, I make my way to the couch, but it’s empty tonight. My gaze shifts to the bedroom door where she must be sleeping since her sister is at her friend’s house.

I move toward the door, a rush of adrenaline surging through my veins. It’s probably not normal to be this excited about creeping on an omega. Definitely a little unhinged. But some things can’t be helped. Like my pack’s desire to see her. My fingers brush against the knob right as the metal of a gun presses into the back of my head.

“Hello, Ezra,” Hazel practically purrs.

My heart skips a beat. Surprise washing over me. Raising my hands, I laugh. “Easy, baby.”

“Turn around.”

I do as I’m told, gazing down at her. She’s in a thin tank-top that stretches tight across her tits. Her black shorts ride up her thighs, revealing an expanse of tanned skin I want to sink my teeth into. Lips slightly parted, she breathes in, eyes narrowing and grip tightening on the gun.

“Why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow, taking a step to the side. She shifts with me, keeping the pistol trained on mychest. The threat would make any normal man panic, but my muted scent strengthens in the air between us.

I like the danger. So does she.

Something about my scent flips a switch inside her, and she closes the distance, pressing the gun into my chest. “Sit on the couch,” she says between gritted teeth.

Her aggressive tone has my cock stirring in my pants, and I do as I’m told, slowly walking to it and taking a seat. “Like this?” I ask her.

“Yeah, that’s good,” she rasps. With the gun held tight, she closes the distance between us, nostrils flaring as she breathes me in. Her hands find the back of the cushions as she climbs on top of me. The gun clatters to the floor behind the couch.

“That was dangerous.”

“The safety was on,” she says, looming over me. All curves and strawberry scented goodness. “You guys keep stalking me.”

“Yes.”