“The thing is,” Dex began, and Sloane could almost see all the little wheels and cogs working furiously in that sweet little Dex brain. “I, um….” A lightbulb went off somewhere, and Dex met Sloane’s gaze, his expression serious. “Sloane, I didn’t know how I was going to tell you this with everything going on, but….” He sniffed, and Sloane straightened.
“What’s wrong?”
Dex’s bottom lip wobbled, and he let out a shaky breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Sloane’s expression turned deadpan. “Really?”
Dex nodded. “It was a craving. I’m so sorry. I’m eating for two, you know.” He put the spoon and the empty carton in the sink before placing a hand on his belly. He gasped. “Quick, give me your hand. I can feel him kicking.”
Sloane rolled his eyes, and Dex let out a loud, disturbingly long burp. “False alarm. It was just gas.”
“Classy.” Sloane shook his head and walked around the counter as Dex washed his spoon. Dex then dived onto the couch when Sloane sat down. Sloane flipped through the channels, and Dex rolled onto his back, his head in Sloane’s lap.
“Don’t be mad.”
Sloane wasn’t mad, but that didn’t mean he was going to let Dex off the hook that easy. Dex knew better than to eat two cartons of ice cream in one night.
“You ate your ice cream and mine.”
Dex pouted. “I’m sorry. Being half Therian is hard. I’m hungry all the time.”
Sloane scoffed. “Nice try. You were hungry all the time before.”
“Yeah, but now it takes more food to fill me up.”
“Which we buy,” Sloane reminded him. “Admit it. You wanted ice cream, and since you’d eaten all of yours, you thought you’d eat mine and then pretend like I’d finished it.” It wouldn’t be the first time. Sloane knew Dex far too well by now. Sloane rarely ate dessert, which meant his lasted longer, or at least until Dex gave him the sad puppy eyes and Sloane gave in.
Dex threw a hand dramatically over his brow. “I can’t help it, Sloane. I’m weak, and ice cream is so tasty.”
“It also bloats you.”
“This is true.” Dex got up and shoved his butt in Sloane’s face, making him laugh. Damn it. He didn’t want to give in that quickly. “Does my ass look bigger?”
“Get your butt out of my face,” Sloane said, trying hard to sound annoyed.
“But you like my butt in your face.” Dex wiggled his ass, and Sloane slapped it. “Ooh, yeah, baby, just like that. I’ve been a naughty boy.”
Sloane let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my God, all right. I give up. I’m not mad.”
Dex dropped down onto the couch and resumed his spot with his head on Sloane’s lap. His smile was ridiculous.
“I knew you loved me.”
“Shut up.”
Dex did the opposite. He was relentless. Until he had Sloane where he wanted him, he wouldn’t give up. He snapped his fingers, and Retro Radio came floating through the speakers. Dex rolled off the couch, popped up like a jack-in-the-box, and broke off into song, replacing the lyrics “the boy” in “Let’s Hear It for the Boy” with “my Sloane” all while pulling his best Footloose moves.
Oh dear God. Sloane pressed his lips together and shook his head. He was not giving in. He was strong. He could do this.
Dex arched an eyebrow at him. He snapped his fingers, and the Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams” started playing. Dex arched his brows and sang along as he did deep lunges across the living room, his eyes never leaving Sloane no matter which way he turned.
Not happening, Daley. No dice.
With narrowed eyes, Dex snapped his fingers, and “Two of Hearts” came on. Sloane inhaled deeply and braced himself as Dex did his best eighties Jazzercise. Seeing as how that didn’t work, Dex moved on to the next song, and Sloane knew he was in trouble the moment he heard the first chord. He closed his eyes and shook his head. The couch cushions dipped, and Sloane was forced to open his eyes. He bit down on his bottom lip to keep from smiling as Dex lip-synched to Chicago’s “You’re the Inspiration,” dramatic hand gestures and all. Dex straddled Sloane’s lap and put everything he had into his performance, one hand going to his heart, the other out grabbing air. During the chorus, he grabbed Sloane’s head and brought it against his chest.
“Okay, okay. I give,” Sloane said with a laugh before he was smothered. Dex released him, and he sat back. “If I hold it in anymore, I’m going to pop a spleen.”
“Yes!” Dex jumped to his feet, then fist-pumped the air. He lowered his voice, mimicking a certain burly gladiator. “Call me Victorius Maximus.”
“All right, Victorius Maximus. Get over here.”
Dex happily obliged, lying down on the couch with his head on Sloane’s lap once more. Sloane grabbed one of the throw pillows. “Head up.”
Dex lifted his head, and Sloane placed the pillow under him. They settled in together, and Sloane ran his fingers absently through Dex’s soft hair as they watched TV together. Sloane couldn’t remember the last time they got to just hang out and spend time together like a normal couple without some kind of crisis hitting. So this was how the other half lived? Waking up, running errands, doing chores, cooking, watching TV, spending time together. They’d griped about how their laundry detergent wasn’t as good as it used to be and that they should try out a new brand. It was all so oddly satisfying.
Sloane dozed off at some point and woke up to find Dex gone. He checked his watch, surprised he hadn’t actually been asleep very long. The house was oddly quiet, with the only sounds coming from the TV. Maybe Dex had just popped upstairs to the bathroom. After half an hour and still no Dex, Sloane got up. He headed upstairs to their bedroom. It was empty, but the bathroom door was closed. Was Dex not feeling well? Sloane had a habit of worrying when Dex was sick. With Dex’s mutation, there was no telling whether a cold or stomach bug was just that or the start of something more.
Sloane stopped in front of the bathroom door and reached up to knock, but paused when he heard sniffling. Putting his ear to the door, he could hear Dex clearly on the other side. Dex was crying, and it broke Sloane’s heart. He felt the pain then. The heartache. Dex’s heartache. Sloane was torn. He desperately wanted to draw Dex into his arms and comfort him, but he also wanted to give Dex his privacy. It was clear Dex wanted to be on his own, or he would have woken Sloane up.
Instead of disturbing him, Sloane went back downstairs and checked the house, making sure everything was locked. He switched off all the lights, then returned to the bedroom. After turning down the bed and switching on his bedside lamp, he climbed into bed under the covers. He’d just settled down on his side and closed his eyes, when he heard the bathroom door open. A heartbeat later, Dex joined him in bed, and Sloane’s heart skipped a beat when Dex slipped his arm under Sloane’s and around Sloane’s chest, his body pressed against Sloane’s back from head to toe. Sloane placed his hand over Dex’s and laced their fingers together. He didn’t have to wait long.
“I’m sorry if I worried you,” Dex said, his voice quiet and rough. “I was thinking about the wedding when I kind of dozed off. I was half-asleep, but still awake, and I had this vision of us getting married, and my parents were there. I woke up, and….” Dex let out a shuddered sigh. “I realized it had been a dream. It hit me harder than I expected.”
Sloane turned to face Dex and wiped a tear from his wet cheek. Dex pressed his lips together and shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about it. That was okay. Sloane drew him close, and they lay together, limbs entangled. He rubbed circles on Dex’s back and kissed his brow, offering the comfort Dex sought.
“I love you,” Dex said, his voice so quiet Sloane wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close.
“I love you too, baby.” Sloane stroked Dex’s cheek—his mind, body, and soul feeling at peace. He inhaled the scent he’d know anywhere. His beautiful mate, his best friend, and his whole world.
CHAPTER 3
“I CAN’T believe we have t
o train during our time off,” Dex whined loudly.
Sloane refrained from saying a word as he walked alongside his disgruntled husband-to-be. Mostly because Sloane was aware Dex wasn’t really annoyed they had to train during their vacation time. Dex was eager to get in as much training as possible. Even though they’d be spending the next six months after swearing-in getting their asses handed to them in TIN’s Covert Operative Training Program, Dex wanted to be ready. Dex was whining because it bugged the ever-loving shit out of Sparks, and it had become Dex’s life mission to drive her insane at every possible opportunity. To what end, Sloane had no idea. His job was to make sure she didn’t end up pushing Dex in front of a moving bus.
“TIN doesn’t take time off,” Sparks informed them, oh so calmly.
“Never?” Dex eyed her. “You’re telling me we don’t get to take a vacation ever?”
Sparks rolled her eyes. “Every operative gets time off. However, if you’re needed while you’re on said time off, you report in. Criminals don’t take vacations.”
“I’m pretty sure they do. Are you telling me Moros didn’t have paid vacation time?”
Sparks arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him but didn’t respond, just kept walking.
“Fine, whatever, but not in the face. I don’t want to walk down the aisle sporting a black eye. It’ll clash with my color scheme.”
Sparks came to a halt and turned to face him, her hands on her hips. “Are you serious?”
Dex mimicked her pose. “Do you want to explain to my dad how I got a black eye during my time off before the wedding?”
“That would not be good,” Sloane agreed. “Tony’s already nervous about being the officiant.”
Sparks narrowed her eyes at Dex before spinning on her high heels and marching off.
Dex waggled his eyebrows at Sloane, and Sloane leaned in to whisper in Dex’s ear, “She’s dying to put you in a sleeper hold. I can feel it.”
Dex chuckled, and Sloane shook his head. Fine. If Dex wanted to continue baiting the scary cougar Therian, he only had himself to blame when he got bit. It wasn’t like Dex was going to listen to reason. He was on a mission of optimum annoyance.
They followed Sparks down yet another drab gray corridor that looked like every other drab gray corridor they’d visited over the last few months. Not that he expected TIN to put up any artwork or framed portraits, but would it kill them to slap some paint on these walls? Something to differentiate one facility from another? Since they weren’t officially sworn in yet, the location of each facility remained undisclosed, and although they had been informed that each site served a unique purpose, they all looked the same. The corridors varied in length, but it was always the same dull gray with the same steel doors, always closed. How many of these facilities were scattered around the city, most likely hiding in plain sight?
“So what’ll it be today?” Dex asked, breaking the silence. “Ooh, please tell me I get to ride some kickass motorcycles. I’ve had my eye on the Dodge Tomahawk.” Dex rubbed his hands together, and Sloane chuckled at his excitement. Something told Sloane whatever Sparks had in store for them did not involve a half-a-million-dollar motorcycle.
Sparks sighed. “Yes, because that would be so inconspicuous. Flashy equipment is used only when an operation calls for it.”
“Okay, how about a Kawasaki Ninja?”
Sparks didn’t so much as blink. “No. There are no motorcycles involved in today’s training.”
“Fine. You plan on telling us what today’s training is?”
They finally reached the end of the corridor and a set of doors. Sparks turned to them, her eyes intense.
“For months you’ve been trained in various forms of combat in a controlled environment. Today the real training begins, and when you return from your honeymoon, we’re going to be putting everything you’ve learned to the test, and then some.”
Sloane had no idea what that meant, but his inner Felid was awake and alert. Something on the other side of the door smelled familiar. Sparks opened one of the doors and motioned for them to step through. Was this an exit? It looked like there was a street on the other side.
Dex stopped in his tracks, and Sloane did the same.
“What the fuck is this?” Sloane asked, looking up and down the street. He turned and looked up at the building they’d just been in. It belonged to an apartment building just down the street from their house.
“This is the street you live on.”
Dex held up a hand. “Are you telling me you have a TIN facility on our block?”
“Your neighborhood and every home on these two blocks has been under surveillance for several months. After today, the facility will be relocated.”
Sloane’s brows shot up. “You planted surveillance equipment in every home?”
“In other words, TIN wiped their asses with the Fourth Amendment,” Dex scoffed.
Sparks folded her arms over her chest. “Allow me to impart some truth to you boys and your very naïve view of privacy. We’re creatures hardwired for connection, now made ever easier by the internet and social media. This privacy you seem to think we all have, it doesn’t exist. You leave a digital trail every time you turn on your computer, use a bank card, or even start your pretty orange car. Every aspect of our lives is out there, ready to be harvested with a few clicks of a mouse or strokes at a keyboard. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen. But what about when lives are at risk? What then? Do we sit back and wait for criminals and murderers to slip up? Do we allow law enforcement agencies to set up task forces and undercover operations that could stretch on for years with no results while citizens lose their lives?”
Dex opened his mouth to reply, but Sparks held up a hand.
“You do realize you’ve joined a covert intelligence agency. Most of our ops are undisclosed to even the President.”
“Okay, I get it. But we’re not talking about infiltrating a terrorist cell here. We’re talking about my neighbors.”
“Beck Hogan was someone’s neighbor. Isaac Pearce was someone’s neighbor.”
Sloane couldn’t help but flinch at the mention of Isaac Pearce. He should probably feel remorse for Pearce’s death, but he didn’t. The son of a bitch had killed Gabe and had planned on killing Dex. Sloane hoped he was rotting away in hell like he deserved.
Sparks let out a sigh, and Sloane was surprised when her gaze turned sympathetic. “I know this is all difficult for you to come to grips with, and I don’t expect you to flip a switch and suddenly see things the way we do. You need to ask yourself, how far are you willing to go to protect people? How far is too far? We’re the ones who get our hands dirty so no one else has to. When you look around you, all you see is your quiet neighborhood filled with Humans and Therians going about their daily lives, but what you don’t see are the operatives who risk their lives every day to make sure that’s possible.” Sparks pointed to the house three doors down from theirs. “You know Mr. Jonas, correct?”
Dex nodded. “Yeah, he’s a sweet old guy. A Pre-First Gen who fought in Vietnam.”
“His wife makes us cookies all the time,” Sloane added.
“Did you know Mr. Jonas has been losing the battle against his illness?”
Dex cursed under his breath. “I knew he wasn’t well, but he doesn’t like to talk about it, and when I asked Mrs. Jonas once, she burst into tears, so I didn’t ask again.”
“Mr. Jonas shares the same illness as several other Pre-First Gens we were monitoring who were dying at an alarming rate. They were all on the same prescription drug. Our operatives traced the drug to a large American pharmaceutical corporation located abroad. We quickly learned the drug should never have made it past the trial stage. Four out of the ten clinical trial subjects died after eight months of taking it. While the CEOs made billions, Therians were dying.”
“How come we never heard about it at the THIRDS?” Dex asked.
“Cause of death for each patient was determined to
be complications brought about by the illness. Not only were the drugs not helping the patients, but they were slowly killing them. Our intel led us to Mr. Jonas, and our surveillance led us to the corporation responsible for killing hundreds. Had TIN not become involved, how many more Therians would have died before the truth was revealed? I’m certain you believe alternative, lawful means could have reached the same conclusion, but what if we made it personal? We managed to do in weeks what could have taken other law enforcement agencies years.”
“But you don’t know that,” Dex argued.
“True. Would the timeline matter if I were to say the same medication was prescribed to Thomas Hobbs four months ago?”
Sloane swallowed hard. Fuck. “Was it?”
Sparks nodded. “Mr. Hobbs’s physician was convinced this new drug would alleviate Mr. Hobbs’s pain for a period longer than his previous medication. We made certain to collect every prescription out there, including the one sitting on the shelf at the pharmacy waiting for Sebastian Hobbs to pick up.”
“Does Seb know?” Dex asked, his voice quiet.
“Yes. As you can imagine, this particular operation was of great interest to Seb. How do you feel about our involvement now? It shouldn’t matter, should it? But it does because you care. You care what happens to these people. The world isn’t black and white. You need to be prepared for the worst, and be willing to do something about it.”
Sloane hated to admit it, but Sparks was right. They kept telling each other and everyone else that they were ready, but were they really? They’d spent most of their adult lives following their moral compasses and the laws their country was governed by. There was no telling where their operations would take them or what would be asked of them. In the end, they had to trust in their own judgment and hope they were making the right choices for the right reasons.
Rather than answering Sparks, Dex motioned to the street. “So, what are we doing here?”
“You’ve just received intel that a very dangerous enemy agent is inside one of the homes on your block. You need to find them, detain them, and bring them in for questioning before their extraction team arrives.”
Tried & True Page 4