Lockout (The Alpha Group 2)

I tried to remain composed. "I wish. It's just my sister trying to make up for forgetting my birthday."

She frowned. "That was two months ago."

"What can I say? She's a crappy sister."

She studied me for several seconds, but eventually gave a short nod. "Fair enough. Get anything good?"

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Movie vouchers and chocolate. Original hey?"

Elle laughed. "Not really, but I wouldn't be complaining. Anyway, the others are waiting, so I better bail. I'll catch you later."

"Sure. Seeya."

Even after she'd gone, it took a few minutes for my muscles to unclench. That had been a lot closer than I'd hoped. I had to admit though, again, part of me had enjoyed the perverse thrill of coming so close to exposure. It was such a simple thing, but so naughtily creative at the same time. I had no idea where Sebastian's mind came up with such ideas.

The afternoon passed slowly. As my excitement wore off, I began to find my groove again. At about two o'clock, my desk phone rang. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number.

"Hello," I said tentatively.

"Hello, Sophia. I hope you enjoyed your present."

I let out a little sigh. It was nice just to hear his voice again. "I did. I'm wearing it right now in fact."

"How's the fit?" he asked, his voice playful.

I laughed. "It was a little tight to begin with, but I think you got my size just right."

"Excellent. How about my other requests?"

"All done."

"I'm impressed. Had any close calls?"

"One, but I dealt with it."

He chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it."

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully, not wanting to sound too needy. "So how's the trip? Are you nearly done there?"

"A few more days probably. There's still one or two things to take care of."

"Good, because after this morning, I'm thoroughly in need of a good seeing to."

He laughed. "I know the feeling. Christ, I'm hard just thinking about you sitting there with no panties on. But in any case, good behaviour deserves a reward. Since you did such a wonderful job this morning, I'm going to lift the rules. You're free to come as many times as you want until I return."

I blew out a slow breath. Part of me wanted to run back to the bathroom that very moment and finish what I'd started. But I restrained myself. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You've earned it. But save a little something for me. I've got plans for you when I get back."

"I'll do my best. And you should know, I'll be thinking of you the whole time."

"I would expect nothing else," he said. "On another note, I saw on the news yesterday that your firm has picked up that big pharmaceutical class action suit. I bet that's pretty exciting."

I sighed. What a way to kill the mood. "It is, for the people working on it."

"And I take it by your tone that you're not one of them?"

"Not at the moment."

"I'm sorry, Sophia."

"Hey, it's okay, I'm used to it," I replied. "Anyway, I should go. I may not be working on Wrights, but I have a pile of other stuff to do."

"No problem. I'll be in touch when I get back. Have a good night."

"I most certainly will. Bye."

Knowing I had Sebastian's blessing to relieve the pressure made the rest of the day a little easier. I got through everything I had to do by six o'clock.

I think I was beginning to appreciate the new side of me that Sebastian was gradually teasing out, because I found the walk out with no underwear on immensely enjoyable. It was my little secret that nobody else knew, and it made even the simple act of saying goodbye to people sexy. Plus I knew that somewhere, a thousand kilometres away, it was driving Sebastian crazy, which made it hotter still.

A few people tried to stop me on my way out to chat, but I politely excused myself. I had more important things on my agenda. Like a long overdue date with a battery operated friend.

CHAPTER THREE

The next night, I gave myself an early mark and headed home from the office at five on the dot. If they weren't going to assign me the work I wanted, I sure as hell wasn't giving them maximum effort. I decided a little me-time was in order.

After taking a long, luxurious bath, I settled on the couch with a bowl of bolognese and a glass of wine, and flicked on the television. I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone full couch potato. Even those rare moments when I did find a little spare time, I usually felt like I shouldn't waste it on the likes of commercial television, but there's something to be said for just sitting down and zoning out occasionally.

I channel surfed for a while, flicking from one terrible reality show to the next. Even by my vegging out standards, most of the stuff was truly appalling.

At some point in my wandering I skipped to BBC News.

"—been nearly a week and police still don't know the motive behind the killing, but a source inside British parliament says it could have been politically motivated."

I froze. There was a picture of a shirtless man on the screen. He looked to be in his sixties, but was still fit, with a broad chest and thick arms that belied the wrinkles on his face. I'd never seen him before, but nonetheless there was one very familiar thing about him. Tattooed on his right bicep was a stylised letter A. The image was grainy and indistinct — it looked like a hasty camera phone holiday snap — but the mark appeared almost identical to the one Sebastian wore.

The shot cut to a police man. "Our initial findings indicate that Mister Reynolds was tortured, possibly for several days, before eventually dying of his injuries. We're working closely with the government in our investigation."

The program moved on to another story, but I was no longer paying attention. I'd never seen that symbol before meeting Sebastian. If the two of them had shared a different tattoo, a dragon or skull and crossbones or some other generic ink, I wouldn't have thought much of it, but this was a very specific image with very specific typography. It looked to be a different size, and was in a different place on his body, but still, it was a little eerie.

Firing up my laptop, I began looking for more information. The man's name was Christian Reynolds and he'd been the environment secretary of state for the British Government. He'd been a British citizen his whole life and a government employee for thirty years. No one knew for sure why he'd been killed, but based on the extensive torture he'd suffered, it was suspected to have been about information. I couldn't find a better picture of him, but after taking a closer look at the one shot that was circulating, I was fairly convinced that the marking was the same.