“Finally. What the hell took you so long?” Jules stood and crossed to greet him. “Fallon's being an ass. I could use the head of reason by my side.” Mrs. Sharpe took her hand from Kisho and patted his shoulder. “So nicely mannered. You should teach Gunnar a few lessons.”
“No shit,” Jules muttered when she moved out of earshot.
Then again, Mrs. Sharpe saw and heard all. Who knew what the hell her limits were?
“Where were you?” Kisho asked.
“Busy entertaining our newest team member,” Jules muttered. “He's an asshole. I don't like him already.”
A snort of deep male laughter came from the individual next to Olivia. The one Kisho couldn't see but felt like a bad rash.
Spikes of anticipation filled him, and Kisho had a terrible feeling deep in the pit of his gut.
“You know, I'm not feeling so good—”
Jules latched on to his arm. “Uh-uh. I gotta be here, you gotta be here. Come on. Might as well get it over with.” Jules pulled him around to face the ex-mercenary still seated in the chair.
Kisho started his inspection from the bottom and worked his way up, putting off the inevitable as long as he could. The merc crossed his huge feet at the ankles. He had long legs, a flat belly, and broad chest.
Kisho's heart raced, but he continued his scrutiny, past thickly muscled arms, visible under the rolled-up sleeves of a flannel shirt, until he found himself transfixed by familiar lips.
Full and firm, a muted red, and quirked with amusement. That quirk patronized, annoyed, and intrigued him to no end.
“Meet Morgan Reynolds. Reynolds, this is Kisho Hayashi, another member of Dawn Endeavor, and my demolitions man,” Jules said by way of introduction.
Kisho finally looked at the man's face. Bright green eyes blazed with a familiar hunger that made Kisho want to run. Simultaneously, images bombarded his senses.
Tersch, Jules, and Fallon sneered at him, rejecting him because of his association with Reynolds. Then another image. One of death, of agony. “You did this!” the man with green eyes shouted, pointing at Kisho, who lay still on the ground. Next to him Jules bled out, dying slowly, painfully.
Over the years he'd had them, the visions constantly changed, but in each one they featured Morgan Reynolds. In recent months, however, the visions had changed in tone from sexy to deadly. Kisho's team turned on him, casting him out. A fate worse than death, in Kisho's opinion.
But there was death too. In every damned vision he'd had since falling from the Sunfield building, he saw his own death, followed by Jules's death. And lastly, always, Morgan Reynolds's accusation, pointing at someone else. “It was you,” he'd say again and again. No matter how Kisho died, that never changed.
Kisho's instinctive fear pushed him to curl his toes and stand tall. He glared down at the male until Reynolds stood. Then they stared at one another. To his surprise, Reynolds was huge.
He stood an inch or two taller than Kisho himself.
Reynolds's smile faded. “Kisho, pleasure to meet you.” He held out a hand.
To refuse to take it would be the soul of discourtesy.
Kisho thought a split second about refusing, shored his nerve, and reached out. The minute their hands made contact, something shifted inside him. A flare of recognition burst in Reynolds's green gaze, and his eyes darkened.
Kisho quickly withdrew his hand. “Reynolds.”
“Call me Morgan.” A deep voice, firm, yet filled with warmth.
Kisho didn't like him. He turned to Jules. “When are we debriefing?” Unfortunately, he glimpsed Olivia's curiosity directed his way. Terrific. With his luck, she read his unease as well as his attraction, and she'd no doubt share her findings with Fallon.
Mrs. Sharpe answered with a frown and glanced from him to Reynolds, as if warning him to behave. “Be at the conference room in an hour. Oh, and Kisho, would you mind showing Morgan around on your way upstairs?”
“I'm going outside.” He'd intended to go upstairs and lie down in his room, to soothe his growing headache. Now he had a sudden need to see the garden.
“Perfect. You can show Morgan the evergreens before you go upstairs. His room is right next to yours.”
Kisho clenched his jaw and glanced at Jules, who looked no happier at the announcement.
What the hell was Mrs. Sharpe thinking, inviting a civilian to join their team? Olivia at least was Circ. She fit Fallon to a tee. But she didn't accompany them on missions, and she had no problems submitting to her mate and to Jules, their team leader. Kisho sensed this man would demand to be in charge and included. And that would cause some major problems.
He turned on his heel. “Come on,” he growled but didn't look behind him to see if Reynolds followed. Because the way his day seemed to be progressing, he'd just found a new shadow, one he had a feeling would be hard to shake.
Morgan followed Kisho Hayashi, stunned and trying not to show it. The job offer from Alicia Sharpe came with strings, and he'd both expected and accepted that. But this…
He couldn't stop staring. Kisho kept some distance between them but didn't look back, thankfully missing Morgan's slack-jawed expression. As it was, the empath and mind reader in the living room had done their damnedest to penetrate his shields. Hawkins had scrutinized him from head to toe for a good hour, hoping to read his aura. But none of them would see anything Morgan didn't want them to see.
Morgan assessed his new teammate. Alicia and her fucking stipulations. For once, the woman had what he needed, and instead of giving it to him for past services rendered, he had to play her game to win the prize. The old Morgan would have taken what he wanted. To hell with everyone and everything else. But he was trying to be a better man.
For those broad shoulders, long legs, and that tight ass in front of him, he'd have to be better. Do better.
Then Kisho turned around, and he lost his train of thought, drowning in that dark, fathomless gaze that sucked him deeper. The need to possess hit him hard, and Morgan almost tripped over an uneven flagstone.
“You okay?” Kisho asked, his deep voice gruff. Despite the man's displeasure with the situation, he vibrated with sexual tension. An added bonus and just one more reason for Morgan not to mess up his shot.
“Just fine.” I was so busy staring at your ass I tripped. No worries. Morgan flashed him an arrogant grin that had annoyed so many others, and smothered a chuckle when Kisho tightened his lips in annoyance. “So what's it like, living in this big place and working for Mrs. Sharpe?” Kisho shrugged. “It's a job.”
“Not too many rules, I hope.” He walked closer, testing to see how close Kisho would allow him.
When the handsome Asian growled low in his throat, Morgan pretended he hadn't heard him and stopped to look at the sculpted evergreens in the garden. His heart raced; he was so near what he'd been looking for for so long.
Kisho let out a breath. “Back off, Reynolds.”
“Morgan.”
“Morgan. Back the fuck up.”
To Morgan's delight, Kisho neared him until they stood nose to nose. He could feel the heat bleeding through their clothes, could scent the subtle flavor of cinnamon on the air.
“I don't know who you are or why you're really here. This team is my family. So you try screwing with anyone, you'll answer to me.” Kisho's threat sounded all the more impressive, delivered as it was in a quiet, controlled growl.
Morgan licked his lips, and Kisho's gaze fixated on the movement. “Easy, Kisho. I was hired by Mrs. Sharpe to assist you. Not to hurt anyone or make waves. I'm here to help. Anything you need, I'm your man.” He leaned closer, so that his lips were nearly brushing Kisho's. To his delight, he had an inch or two on the man, and it gave him a heady feeling of dominance he wasn't sure he could continue to pull off when he and Kisho eventually tangled.