by Jane Cousins
The Maat production offices were no slouch either. Reception was on the 75floor and from the hardwood gleaming floors and solid furniture in reception no expense had been spared. Hadleigh had been so busy musing on the cost of such an operation that it wasn’t until her name was called a second time did she register that she had made it to the next stage of the interview process.
Amongst hushed angry whispers she made her way over to the reception desk along with the other three candidates whose names had been called. Four out of … what fifty candidates? Tough first round.
The receptionist rose from her desk with a beaming welcoming smile. “Congratulations, if you’d just like to follow me through to the workout area I’ll hand you over to Michael Preston, the CEO of Maat Productions.”
Hadleigh bought up the rear, working hard at trying to build up some sort of enthusiasm for this whole exercise. Not easy, even the thought of invisible sheep protection duty was starting to look good in comparison to jumping through Goddess knows what hoops the rest of this interview involved.
“So only four of us hey?” A girl with long straight dark brown hair walking beside the receptionist had decided to strike up a conversation. “Those are good odds!”
Hadleigh couldn’t see the expression on the receptionist’s face from her position but her tone sounded apologetic as her response drifted back.
“Not really. This is day five of auditions so the team are getting a little, er, weary.”
Day five, just how many candidates had applied for this role and why was the production company being so Goddess darn picky? Just exactly what was the criteria to fill those tiny sparkly purple short-shorts?
The workout area was located on the 77floor. Exiting the elevator after the receptionist and the other candidates Hadleigh felt the first small stirring of interest. The area was huge, filled with only the top of the range exercise equipment but what really drew Hadleigh’s attention was the challenge area. The wall directly behind it was packed with the most amazing weaponry collection she’d ever seen outside of a museum, swords of every type, from every continent, from every culture. They were long, short, fat bladed and ice pick thin. The only thing they had in common was that they were all very sharp and in the right hands … her hands, they could be used to maim, kill and Goddess yes, behead.
* * *
Vaughn stared at his boots blindly, contemplating that of all the ways to commit suicide this had to be the slowest. He loved his brothers in arms, he did. He had fought by their side for over one hundred years but being trapped in a small enclosed room with them for five days straight was bordering on acts against the Geneva Convention laws on torture.
Rafferty never shut up … literally never shut up. Drum who rarely spoke had chosen this week to become Chatty Cathy and no matter what Rafe said, Drum chose the opposing argument. Just for shits and giggles as far as Vaughn could tell. Not because he had actually any deep meaningful beliefs or affiliations.
Dash was playing Desert Zombie Wars on his game player and even though the volume was on mute his personal sound effects of whoops, hollers and verbal threats were acting like a power drill against Vaughn’s skull. Marcus was on the internet, possibly buying or selling a small country knowing him. Whatever he was doing the continual fast click of the keyboard keys echoed and rebounded in the small space until by the time the noise hit Vaughn’s eardrums it had magnified by what felt like jet engine proportions. Then there was Nate, who had to be juggling fifty girls on his dating schedule. Every five minutes one of them would ring his mobile and in not so hushed whispers Nate would proceed to charm, seduce and just plain hound dog his way into their hearts.
And listening to Nate not only annoyed him, it kind of depressed him. When was the last time he had been on a date? Shit when was the last time he’d felt attracted to a woman? Maybe it was an age thing, over a hundred years of dating was bound to send anyone into a stale spell, though not Nate apparently.
Plus what was with women these days? If nothing else sitting in the mirrored booth observing the last four days of interviews had confirmed for him that the modern woman really wasn’t his style. Not that he didn’t love their confidence and independence; that was great. No it was their preoccupation with their looks, they were all so skinny and still obsessed with how much they weighed. And Maat forbid you touch their hair. There seemed to be some sort of worldwide law now that if you tried to run your fingers through a woman’s hair an arrest warrant would be issued. And don’t even get him started on the mysterious disappearance of pubic hair. Why did every woman insist on shaving, waxing or plucking in order to look like a pre-pubescent girl? Just thinking about it made him shudder.
Give him the women of the 1930’s or 40’s, gorgeous curvy women who ate and had enough energy to dance and play all night. Now days most women wouldn’t eat after 5pm and then they were out of bed before 6am, power walking to the gym. Geez he sounded like some cranky old man.
It wasn’t just that he was bored, he was kind of worried. They all were, though no one had said anything out loud. Serena had just up and left with little more than a scrawled note and it made absolutely no sense with only four more episodes remaining to film for the season. Worse she knew them, knew their methods, no wonder their investigation team had found no trace of where she had run and just exactly why. All he knew was that in those last few days she’d been worried about something.
Small mercies at least Flynn wasn’t in here with them. He’d drawn combat duty today, currently standing next to Mike waiting for Vivian to bring the latest batch of candidates up for interview. Yesterday when it had been Nate’s turn out on the floor Flynn and Dash had played Desert Zombie Wars for five straight hours. Since they’d been on opposing teams there had been a lot of ‘Die you Zombie Bastard’ and ‘Take that you tasty little Human treat.’ Just the memory made him glance up to glare through the one-way glass at an oblivious Flynn. Which made the timing just perfect as the day’s candidates walked off the elevator and She walked in. And he knew he spoke the word out loud because his brothers in arms started hurling jealous abuse at him a split second later. “Mine!”
“I saw her first?” Nate rushed out the words, accidentally hanging up on some Honey he had been romancing just seconds earlier.
“Too slow.” It was a miracle Vaughn could still speak; his mouth was so dry it felt like he’d eaten a handful of sand. And the room, it was so hot or was that just his blood pressure going through the roof?
“Man she’s gorgeous. Do over guys. I was lost in the game.” Dash demanded.
“No do overs. Mine!” Growled Vaughn, his eyes never leaving Her. She was incredible, a feast for the eyes. Tall, curvy and then some and that hair! It looked like she’d just climbed out of bed … and the thought of that made his cock hard. How was that possible, he hadn’t even seen her face properly yet and he wanted her?
“She’s tall” Rafe commented. “How tall do you think she is?”
“That is a whole lot of woman.” Drum’s deep bass was approving and it was all Vaughn could do not to haul off and hit his second.
There was a speedy click on the keyboard and Marcus spoke up. “I’ve just pulled up their CV’s. Meet Hadleigh Valhalla gentlemen. According to her bio she’s 6ft.”
Vaughn smiled, no way was she 6ft! Mike Preston was 6.2ft and that red headed angel was staring down at him with an arrogant tilt to her head like he was a smashed bug on a recently cleaned windshield. She had to be 6.5 maybe even 6.6ft.
“What else?” He demanded, his eyes never leaving her … no, Hadleigh, he had a name for her now.
“This would have to be the skimpiest bio I’ve ever seen. No contact details. No previous job information. Other than her name and her basic stats I have nothing.”
Vaughn shrugged, his eyes remaining fixed on his target, her name was enough for now. He tensed as the group followed Michael Preston over to the matted challenge area where Flynn stepped up and ran through the protocols for the ph
ysical challenge. For a moment Vaughn actually hated Flynn … his friend, his comrade. He got to meet Hadleigh first and the man was no slouch in the looks department. Women positively doted on him. What if Hadleigh took a fancy to him? Bodies were relativity easy to dispose of if you knew how but he’d regret having to take Flynn’s life, probably … eventually.
Chapter Six
Hadleigh hoped to high heaven above that if the Goddess were observing her she would make allowances for the fact that she was positively drooling over the shiny wall of weapons. Thy should not covert other people’s property but now that they were standing closer the workmanship and detail was positively stunning. She just wished she could ditch this group and inspect the collection up close and personal. She must have made a small sound. Maybe a moan for the girl next to her, the one with the long perfect dark hair elbowed her in the ribs, sending her a conspiratorial smile as she muttered under her breath. “I know he’s gorgeous! Lucky us we get to spar with him.”
Whoa, what? Head in the game Hadleigh! What had she just missed? The older man in the suit Michael Preston had greeted them. With his greying short back and sides black hair and stiff stance she was guessing ex-military. He’d blathered on about Maat Productions being a family then he’d introduced the man the girl next to her had mentioned was gorgeous.
Hadleigh supposed he was. Tall, taller than her even, which she always appreciated in a man. He was dressed in black combat fatigues, kind of mirroring what she had on in fact. Great it was official, she was dressed like a man, so much for being fun, flirty and feminine.
Worse the guy was downright pretty; he could give Declan a run for his money. Though where Dec was simmering sexy this pretty boy exuded more of a mischievous air that made you think he’d be a lot of fun in and out of the sack. All that burnished tan skin, dark tawny hair, flashing white smile and a killer dimple in his right cheek. There was no doubt he was gorgeous and from the reaction of her fellow candidates they must have come to the same conclusion. Then why did her attention keep wandering back to the wall of weapons? There must be something seriously wrong with her that she’d rather salivate over sharp shiny objects than a living breathing hunk. Goddess she really was burnt out on men.
The second round of the interview process consisted of having to face pretty boy on the challenge mat. Someone must have mentioned his name at some point but for the life of her Hadleigh couldn’t recall it. Michael Preston had a clipboard and called out a name. Hadleigh watched, doing her best to keep her expression neutral as the first candidate Deedee burst into tears after breaking a nail and failing to make pretty boy move in the slightest.
The second candidate was the girl with the long dark hair, Ginni. She must have had some martial arts training as she applied textbook moves but each one was blocked and repelled. She ended up flat on her back, more from over extending on a high kick than her opponent making any offensive move. The next candidate Suziee, stated that she hadn’t realised how physical the role was going to be and as she had another audition lined up tomorrow for a body wash commercial she wasn’t going to risk any bruises.
Hadleigh bit back a sigh as Michael Preston called her name. The humiliations of this infernal day just kept on rolling in. Taking up her place opposite pretty boy on the mats she ignored the twinkle in his eye and the slight smug smile as he gave her the once over.
“Hel..”
Who knows what he’d been going to say. She wasn’t there for conversation. She was there to knock him down. So she did. With a lightning fast jab to the throat and then a chop to the back of his neck. She was back in the place she started between the inhalation and exhale of one breath, staring down at pretty boy as he lay on his back struggling to breathe.
Suddenly men, dressed exactly like the one on the mat surrounded her. In fact his mirror image, twin she supposed, only with dark gold hair, rather than tawny brown was crouched over his brother staring up at her with interest. “What happened?” He directed the question her way.
Hadleigh shrugged, it seemed obvious to her. “I think I broke the pretty one.”
“Flynn … Flynn.”
Ah so that was the name of the man lying winded on the mat.
“You alright bro? Talk to me, do we need medical?”
Flynn managed to take one deep breath and then another, slowly relaxing. “She thinks ... I’m … pretty.”
Snorting with disgust his twin dropped his brother’s head with a muffled thud and rose to his feet to face Hadleigh. A grin on his identically gorgeous face, though his dimple was on the left. “You’re lucky we have a policy here, you break it, you buy it.”
“Not if the product is defective in the first place.” The deep bass issued from a man who looked like every mother’s bad dream and every girl’s bad boy fantasy. Easily 7ft the man had light coffee coloured skin and liquid black eyes. A brutal buzz cut added to both his menacing appearance and at the same time drawing attention to sharp cheekbones and the stark black mamba snake tattoo that started just below his granite jawline, disappearing beneath the collar of his tight shirt until its tail appeared to circle down his right arm to the wrist.
“It was a surprise attack Drum. I want a do over. Best two out of three.” Flynn had managed to sit up.
“What is it with you flyboys and do overs? There are no do overs in life. You got knocked down, 2 seconds flat. Deal with it.” This came from a blonde giant of a man as he stepped over the recovering Flynn to come to a stop directly before her.
Thankfully he directed his immediate attention over her shoulder to Michael Preston, requesting he escort the other candidates out. That gave Hadleigh precious seconds to lock her knees so she wouldn’t melt to the floor in a pile of drool. It was like this man had stepped directly out of the sun. Everything about him was golden and glowing. From his mesmerising burnished gold eyes, to his skin that glittered and glistened as if brushed by the finest purest white sand. His hair was a golden white, brushing his ears in a careless mop as if he had a habit of running his fingers through it. And that body … she sent another message to her knees demanding they do as they were told. Her years of training kicked in allowing her to sweep a quick assessing gaze along his physique before focusing once more on his face.
But oh the good Goddess! The memory of what she saw caused her mouth to water and her stomach to flutter in a way she had never experienced. Was this instant lust? What woman in their right mind wouldn’t lust after this man ... this God? Maybe this just proved she was normal after all. Who wouldn’t take a look at the 7.3ft hunk of man candy in front of her, in that tight black t-shirt that emphasised his broad shoulders and muscular arms and not want to take a bite out of him?
Then like a bucket of cold water she remembered who she was, what she was. Her history with men flashed before her eyes. Starting with her first boyfriend from college, the water polo captain, who had pursued her, complimented her and taken her virginity. Only to turn on her the next day, telling all his friends she was too manly, too cold. Maybe Charisse was right and he should have been good-natured enough to joke about her faux pas after their lovemaking or manly enough to try again. In what rule book was it written that you couldn’t ask a simple question after your first sexual experience? Okay so now she knew asking if the activity was supposed to be that brief was wrong but still Jeremy should have taken her inexperience into account and not reacted as if she had pulled out a knife and emasculated him.
Following that debacle had been a parade of brief, all too frustrating encounters. All hampered by her inability to be soft, feminine and essentially loveable, or so her many suitors had claimed. The other common theme they seemed to agree upon was that it was her fault that she never attained fulfilment. That she was too controlling to ever really let herself go. Which was why after many frustrating years of hollow one-night stands, she had invested in the pulsating showerhead. Goddess she needed to pull herself together here and remember that this was a job, a four-week job at that. Internally snapp
ing to attention as the blonde god extended his hand to shake her own.
“Welcome, I’m Vaughn, head of the operations team here. Meet Drum my second.” The tall Latino with the snake tattoo nodded in her direction. “You’ve met Flynn, our crash test dummy for the day and this is his brother Dash. They’re in charge of transport and logistics, so if you need anything in that arena talk to the Flyboys. Intel belongs to Marcus, he’s the one who does all the research and finds the assignments.”
Vaughn gestured towards a tall man dressed in their uniform of black pants and a t-shirt off to the side. Marcus appeared to be simultaneously tapping away on a handheld keyboard whilst carrying on a conversation on the phone clamped to his left ear. Perhaps sensing he was the current focus of the conversation he flicked his head back getting his slightly too long black hair out of his eyes so he could send her a quick genuine smile of greeting along with a rather cheeky wink from one of his stunning bright blue eyes.
“Then we have Rafferty on comms, visual and general equipment. Rafe will be the one to fit you out with an earpiece and a camera for the onsite visits.” A casual wave and smile was sent in her direction from an auburn haired, green-eyed man standing directly behind Marcus. “And lastly this is Nate, public relations and all round Mr Fix-it.”
