Bad Boy Alphas Series - Book cover

Bad Boy Alphas Series

Renee Rose

Chapter Two

Kylie

Holy awkward, Batman. So much for acing the interview. I didn’t think it could go more wrong, but being caught in a tug of war between Stu and Jackson is another precious moment in this craptastic day. I can’t believe I just had a meltdown in front of ~Jackson King~. And gushed like a schoolgirl about what type of nerd he was and whether he was gay, and ~oh God did I really insinuate that he whips his sexual partners?~ What the fuck is wrong with me? Not even ~Interviewing for Dummies~ can save me now.

Of course, he let me think he wasn’t the CEO. Kind of a dick move, really. I should be glaring at him, but no, I’m still flustered from him touching me. Too bad getting felt up by Jackson King isn’t one of the perks of the job.

Damn, I really, really want this. Groping aside, SeCure is the pinnacle of cybersecurity. As a teen, it was the ultimate hack. After almost ten years of hiding, it feels like coming home. Like I’ve trained my whole life to stand here, and now that I’ve gone legit, I can step into my rightful place.

The fact that I’d be working under Jackson King has nothing to do with it. Well, maybe a teensy, tiny bit. My body would certainly like to be under him—right now. Lordy, I have to get through the interview without imagining his hands on me...

The death stare between Stu and Jackson has gone on long enough.

“Where’s the conference room?” I chirp. I take several deep gulps of breath and follow Stu into a large conference room. I can do this. I’ve handled much more difficult things—major heists at the age of twelve, losing my mom and dad, being trapped in an air duct for ten hours… This is nothing. It’s only an interview.

I sit down, and the three men position themselves across from me. The chairs are big and plushy but barely accommodate Jackson’s muscular frame. He swivels a little, eyes on me. The man can intimidate even sitting down.

I allow myself a tiny frown in his direction. He lied to me. And now he’s making me interview with him, as if this day could get any more awkward.

He meets my glower with raised eyebrows.

Why, oh, why did I say all those things in the elevator? It was like I’d swallowed truth serum.

Maybe that is one of Jackson’s superpowers: making people tell him every thought that pops into their heads. I’ve never been so real with anyone in my life. I’ve told a million lies, but a little bit of comfort after a panic attack, and all my training fell away. My dad would lecture me—if he was still alive.

Stu shuffles some papers and shoves one toward Mr. King. “Here’s her resume,” he says. “You can see her qualifications are quite impressive.”

Stu definitely overstated my resume. Sure, I’d graduated summa cum laude with an IS degree from Georgetown—after convincing them to let me take all my classes online—but my work experience was writing code for the gaming company where I currently work. At least, the only work experience that was legal. There’s plenty of stuff I can’t mention. The result: I don’t look that impressive on paper.

“Her professors all gave her rave recommendations,” he goes on, seeming a little flustered.

Not half as flustered as I am, though. It doesn’t help that Jackson King gazes at me like he knows my life secrets. Now that’s a terrifying thought.

“Do you want to start?” Luis asks King.

King leans back in the chair and crosses his long, elegant legs. Damn. I’ve always drooled over his pictures online, but he’s even more handsome in person. Photos didn’t do him justice—not even the spread in Time Magazine when he was named “Man of the Year” for solving the world’s credit card fraud problems. Nothing about him says “geek” at all, actually. With thick dark hair, kept on the long, shaggy side, a square jaw, and jade-green eyes, he looks rugged. He also holds an air of danger, his power barely contained by his expensive suit.

He looks back at me, his face an inscrutable mask. “What do you know about infosec, Kylie?”

I lace my fingers together on the table. No sense being nervous. I blew any chance I had of winning this job when I called him a deviant sociopath in the elevator. He probably just wants payback, and making me sit through the most awkward interview in the history of the world is his preferred form of torture.

Fuck this. I’m not getting the job. Why stay and suffer?

I push my chair back and rise. “You know, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Stu shoots to his feet, looking angry. “Why not? Wait just a minute.”

“I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

Stu steps between me and the door, like he’s not going to let me go. His job must be on the line if he can’t fill this position. Not my problem, buddy. What’s he gonna do, body check me if I make a break for it?

“I think, actually, I screwed up this interview back in the elevator. So I’ll just see myself out. Thank you—”

“Sit down, Ms. McDaniel,” King commands, his deep resonant voice like steel.

I stop in my tracks. Damn, he’s even hotter when he’s stern. Like in the elevator, my body responds, nipples getting hard, pussy dampening.

His nostrils flare as if he can smell it. But that’s ridiculous. He’s still sitting, but there’s no question who holds the power in the room.

I reach for my chair, a bit wobbly. And not just because of my heels. “Yes, sir.” I sink back down.

“Thank you. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Damn the man. He’s determined to make me suffer. I rub my thumbnail with the pad of my index finger—then drop my hands to my lap to stop fidgeting.

“Mr. King, I apologize for the things I said about you in the elevator—I was very rude and...disrespectful.”

King’s expression doesn’t change. He watches me with that cool assessment. “Answer the question.”

Okaaay. Guess he’s just going to ignore my apology. I’d fight back with sarcasm, but I promised myself I’d keep a lid on it. “My knowledge of infosec is mainly practical. You won’t see it on my resume, but I do know all areas of security—how to assess weak points, how to mask code. No code is impenetrable, except maybe yours.”

“How long would it take you to hack the average guy’s Gmail?”

I allow a tiny smirk to curve my lips. “That would be illegal, Mr. King.”

“So do you, or don’t you know how to hack?”

He knows. That’s my first thought. I shift in my chair. He’s figured out I’m Catgirl. ~No, that’s silly.~ All infosec professionals probably know how to hack. Maybe it’s a prerequisite. Like the way the home security companies hire busted burglars to improve their systems.

Not that a security system—physical or virtual—has ever been able to keep me out. Although my skills might be a bit rusty. My cat burglary days died with my dad.

“If I knew how to hack, Mr. King, I certainly wouldn’t admit it here, and that’s why you won’t see it on paper. But if, in theory, I wanted to hack the average guy’s Gmail, it might take me ten to twenty minutes.”

Stu gives him a tight smile. “We do have a series of tests we’ll give Ms. McDaniel, after the interview.” He returns his attention to me. “Now, why don’t you tell us about your programming experience?”

King looks as bored as I feel as I rattle off my programming accomplishments. Luis grills with all the standard kinds of interview questions: Do I work well under pressure? On a team? Am I willing to work nights and overtime when necessary? How do I feel about relocating to Tucson from Phoenix?

I answer automatically, studying Jackson King without making it obvious. He hasn’t asked another question. What’s he thinking? Is he still mad about what I said in the elevator?

“Do you have any questions for us?” Luis asks.

“How many candidates are interviewing for the position?”

Stu shuffles his papers as the other two men look to him for the answer. “Three.”

“When do you expect I’ll hear something?” Probably a bit presumptuous, but presumption is all I have left.

“In a few days. We’re interviewing everyone today.”

“Better get that elevator fixed, then,” I quip, my voice lighter than I feel.

Stu stands. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to an office for the test.”

Thank God. Tests I can handle. I don’t dare look at King as I stand, my cheeks still burning. Ducking my head, I follow Stu. When I get to the door, I risk a glance.

King’s looking at me, his lips quirking at the edges.

Sadist. He enjoyed making me squirm.

***

Jackson

I watch Kylie’s long muscular calves strut out of the room, her ass a perfect heart-shape in the short, fitted skirt. My wolf is still going nuts, snarling to get out. I’ve never let him get so out of control, especially not in the office. But there’s never been a temptation like Kylie.

I force my thoughts to business. At least the parts of the business that concern her.

“I want the results of her tests sent to me.”

Luis bobs his head. “Of course. Will you be sitting in on all the interviews today?”

“No.” Luis probably wants me to elaborate, or to explain myself, but he won’t push. Everyone knows I’m a minimalist when it comes to conversation.

“May I ask...what did she say in the elevator?”

I shrug. “She insulted me. It’s fine. I’m sure most of my employees have said similar or worse things about me behind my back.”

Luis plays with his paper coffee cup on the table, too diplomatic to agree. “What did you think about her?”

“She’s bright, that’s obvious. Her resume isn’t that impressive. How did Stu say he found her?”

“Headhunter.”

“I wonder why the headhunter thought she’d be a good fit when she has no infosec experience on her resume.”

“She’s totally a hacker.”

“Obviously. But how did the headhunter know that?”

Luis taps his paper cup on the table. “Good question. Want me to find out?”

“Yeah. And get me her test results.”

“So did you like her?”

No one that hot should be so anti-social.

She thinks I’m hot. Yeah, I’ve heard it before, but never cared what humans thought about my looks. All shifters—well, all paranormals, actually—are more beautiful than humans. At least, I thought so, until I met Kylie.

“I found her... Fuckable? Intoxicating? Adorable in a tough-girl kind of way? Right... ~the tough-girl thing is an alpha trait~... ~If Kylie were a shifter, she’d lead the females of the pack. She had all the qualities of a top female.”

Luis waits for my comment. What the fuck am I going to say? Her scent is addictive. ~My wolf wants to claim her.~

“Interesting. I found her interesting.”

I stand, wanting to prowl after Kylie into whatever office Stu has set her up in just to watch her work. My wolf doesn’t want her alone with any other male. And I like a good hunt, especially if Kylie’s my prey.

***

Ginrummy

He didn’t expect Kylie to be so hot. Or poised. Brilliant, yes. But he pictured her mousy. Awkward. Socially anxious like him, perhaps with glasses and her hair pulled into an absentminded knot. Maybe with a nose-piercing. Not the cute diamond-chip in the nostril, but the bull-ring in the septum tough-rebel-chick kind.

He supposes not all computer geeks are misfits, but well, anyone who spent her entire childhood online and out of the real world shouldn’t also be a certifiable brick house with high heels and juicy tits. Shouldn’t be able to look that intimidating asshole Jackson King in the eye and run her own interview as if she was the one hiring.

She looks bored, now, as her fingers dance over the keys, solving the security problems they laid out for her.

In a way, this makes things easier. She’s more like Jackson King than him. Dammit, Kylie—Catgirl—McDaniel is way out of his league. So framing her for the demise of SeCure won’t hurt as much as he imagined. Because, in his mind, she’s always been his cyber-girlfriend of sorts. Yeah, it’s stupid, but she’s female and he’s male and they’d been accomplices in the hacker world since puberty when his raging hormones needed nothing more than the name “Catgirl” to get off.

They cut their teeth together as young hackers, sharing information and their successes, passing along tips, advising others. It was dumb luck he found her after she disappeared for the past eight years. But she re-surfaced on DefCon, the old secret hacker forum where they’d always interacted, looking for help with cracking into the FBI. Naturally, he’d assisted.

He’d been looking for her for a long time. Not just out of nostalgia, although he wondered about her. She’s perfect for what he needs. There are very few hackers capable of breaking SeCure’s code. And he happens to know Catgirl is one of them. She did it before—as a teenager, no less.

So when she resurfaced, he helped her with the FBI and then followed her through their doors to see what she was up to. She deleted files on three people—a deceased married couple and their daughter, vigilante burglars, known for stealing from the dirty. She also added evidence on another criminal, including tips on his whereabouts. By digging, he gathered enough evidence to surmise she was the daughter of the cat burglar team. It fit with the sorts of questions she’d posed years before—about security systems and safes. Based on the FBI’s limited information, the criminal she’d set up for arrest had probably murdered her father during a job.

After that, it had been difficult, but he eventually found her IP address, and then it was a matter of sending a headhunter after her for a job at SeCure. Imagine his surprise to find out she lived a mere two hours away in Phoenix.

He watches her now, her glossy hair tucked behind her ear, whizzing through the stupid tests they made up for her. Oh, they were real tests—they would’ve been a challenge to anyone else, but he knew she’d pass with flying colors.

If that damned power outage hadn’t thrown her together with Jackson King, hiring her would be a sure thing. But it sounds like she said or did something to piss the CEO off. He sure as hell hopes King won’t block them from hiring her.

***

Kylie

I push open the door to the house I share with my grandmother. My legs are stiff after the two-hour drive back to Phoenix, and I’m ready to trash these heels. “Mémé, are you home?”

My grandmother appears from the kitchen, her lined face split into a grin. “Minette!” My pet name, Minette, is the French word for ~kitty~. My parents came up with it. My mom was French—Dad met her on a crew working an art heist in Arles. It was love at first sight, the way he told the story.

“Well, how did it go?” Mémé always speaks to me in French, and I always answer in English. I speak five languages fluently, and French is one of them, but at home I’m lazy. Or maybe it’s part of trying to be normal.

I sink into a chair at the kitchen table and kick off the evil black patent leather high heels. What a poor choice they were.

Mémé sits down beside me. “I’m waiting.”

I blow a raspberry. “Not well. I screwed up, actually. Big time, Mémé. The power went out while I was in the elevator.”

“No.” Mémé gives an exaggerated gasp and covers her mouth in the animated way only people of her generation still employ. Mémé knows about my claustrophobia. She can probably guess its origin, although we never discuss my parents’ profession or my former illegal activities.

“And I got stranded in there with Jackson King—the Jackson King.”

Mémé gives me a blank look.

“He’s the founder of SeCure. But I didn’t know it was him—it was dark. And I said some not-so-flattering things about him.”

Mémé looks sympathetic. “Ah. That’s too bad, ma petite fille.” She pats me on the shoulder and stands up. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you some soup.”

Of course. Because food fixes everything, doesn’t it? Mémé’s cooking is as good as therapy. She moved in after my dad died, and, for a few months, her crepes were the only reason I got out of bed.

Mémé moves to the stove and ladles the hot broth into a bowl. Today’s fare is French onion, my favorite. Mémé serves the rich brown broth with a baguette and Swiss cheese.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

I grin up at Mémé. After Maman died, I spent my entire childhood taking care of my dad—trying to keep him out of jail as he played Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to right the wrongs of the world. After all those years, it’s sweet to be coddled by Mémé. Though she’s tough when she has to be. I wouldn’t have finished college if she hadn’t convinced me. I’d always taken online courses—just for fun. But she insisted I take classes above board, from the same college and finish a degree. Get the diploma and put myself in the real world, even if it was under a false identity. So I did.

But I still barely have a social life. I’m too used to being a loner, keeping my secrets hidden. After what happened—after my father’s… Jesus. I still can’t think about it without a searing pain in my chest. His ~murder~. His betrayal and cold-blooded fucking murder. Yeah. After that, I stopped all illegal activity. I erased our identities, not that Dad and I had ever been on the grid anyway. I went legit. With Dad’s double-crossing murderer looking for me, I hid in plain sight, as an ordinary American citizen.

The heists were my parents’ gig, anyway. They’d been a regular Bonnie and Clyde. But mom died in a car accident when I was eight, so I became Dad’s new partner. I’d refused to leave his side, even though he would have preferred I sit safely in a boarding school or with Mémé in Paris. But his vigilante Thieves for Justice thing wasn’t my calling. I just liked to hack.

That’s how Mémé talked me into taking my current job for the gaming company. But I’m barely tied to the real world. I rarely leave home. I don’t date or have any close friends. In some ways, I’m still Catgirl, lurking in the shadows.

Maybe that’s why the elevator encounter threw me so much. I’ve never been touched by a man, much less a hottie like Jackson King. Frightening, how easily he breached my walls.

My cell phone buzzes, and I grab my purse to rummage for it. A SeCure number. “Hello?”

“Hi Kylie, it’s Stu, from SeCure.”

“Hi Stu.” Brilliant K-K, really brilliant.

“I’m calling to let you know we were impressed with your skill set, and we’d like to offer you the job.”

“Really?” Part of me wants to fist-pump the air in triumph. I gave the worst impression ever, and I still got the offer. Take that, Interviewing for Dummies.

The rest of me is skeptical.

“There’s no second interview or anything?”

“Nope. You scored 100 percent on the test, and management liked you.”

“Management?” He can’t mean King.

“Yeah, Luis thought you were great. So the HR department will call you with the real offer, but I have permission to discuss salary with you. We’re offering one hundred thirty-five thousand dollars plus moving expenses. Full health and dental insurance, profit sharing, and stock options add another third to the salary package.”

Er...wow. I smile at Mémé, nodding. It’s fifty K more than I make at the moment, and I never expected them to foot the bill for moving. ~Probably too good to be true.~ But I can’t turn it down. “Thank you, that sounds great.”

“So you’ll accept the offer?” He sounds enthusiastic.

I should play hard to get, but fuck it. “Yeah. Absolutely. I’m thrilled.”

“Great. HR will send you a written offer tomorrow. How soon can you start?”

“I don’t know...a month?”

“I was hoping two weeks,” Stu says.

“Really? That’s pretty fast.”

“We are paying for relocation, so that will simplify the move for you.”

“Is two weeks a requirement?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be there,” I say.

“Great. We’ll finalize the paperwork tomorrow. Welcome to the team.”

I hang up and beam at Grandmere. “I got the job!”

Mémé throws her arms around me and kisses my temple. “That’s wonderful! Congratulations.”

I accept the hug, wondering what King thinks of my hire. At least he didn’t veto it. That shouldn’t excite me as much as it does.

Next chapter
Rated 4.4 of 5 on the App Store
82.5K Ratings
Galatea logo

Unlimited books, immersive experiences.

Galatea FacebookGalatea InstagramGalatea TikTok