Silence.
Both in her earpiece and in front of her. Barry’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowered. “Who are you?”
“I’m someone who knows you don’t belong with your current employer.”
“You better start talking before I call security.”
“I’m hoping you won’t, Barry. I’m hoping that the sin I sense churning in your gut tells me otherwise.”
His eyes widened, he paled, and a sheen of sweat broke out on his shaved upper lip. “Which one are you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you want to make things right.”
“I-I can’t. It’s not possible.” Barry’s wide eyes darted about the room. “They’re everywhere. They could be listening or watching now.”
Sloan opened her clutch and pulled out a business card with a single number on it. No name, nothing else, just her number. “In case you change your mind.”
He took it, fingers trembling.
“Before I go,” she asked. “An old friend would like it very much if I get a picture with you. Do you mind?”
She pulled out her cell and activated the camera. Standing next to him, she aimed so they were both in the shot and smiled. Stunned, the man stared into the lens as she took the snap. She took the shot from two more angles, feigning a complaint about the lighting. Packing her cell away, she went to leave but he stopped her.
“Did he find his nun?”
Sloan almost laughed. Back when they worked in the lab, Mary had disguised herself as a nun to work with the children. They’d had no idea she was one of the world’s most dangerous assassins. Possibly still didn’t. Flint had fallen in love with Mary—even when he believed she was a nun. He still joked about how Mary had taunted him.
“Yeah, Barry. He got the girl, and they’re happily married. They saved our lives. Because of their sacrifice, the Deadly Seven protect the innocent and the redeemable, every day.”
Barry’s eyes glistened and he gave a curt nod.
“Instead of destroying them, you can save lives too, Barry.”
Walking away, Sloan knew she’d done the right thing. Barry could be reached. He’d call. And if he didn’t, they had his fingerprints, and a high definition photograph of his face. It was all she needed to create a synthetic match to fool the biometrics at the black site. They’d get into that black site one way or another.
When Sloan left the ballroom, she disconnected the call with Flint and made her way to the elevator. She checked to make sure no one was around, then said loud enough so Parker and Tony could hear. “We got what we came for.”
Crackling feedback was her response, then Parker’s: “And more. Risky, Sloan. Not happy. Not happy at all. You could have completely taken away our anonymity. If he snitches, they’ll know we’re coming.”
“They know our true identities. And if he snitches about us being here, we’ll know by the morning,” Sloan added. “But he won’t.”
Parker cursed. “You’re done for the night. Go back to the room.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it, heat flaming her cheeks. Why was she defending herself like a child? She was a grown woman, a part of this team, and he was sending her to her room like a naughty kid. This leadership role was going to Parker’s head.
“Good,” she said. “I don’t want to stay out here with you losers anyway.”
“Harsh, Sloanie.” Tony’s voice was punctuated by some feminine giggling. “You should use the time to work out your shit.”
Work out my shit? Oh, now she was definitely pissed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You will soon.” Tony laughed. “Don’t wait up. I’m off to do what I do best.”
Ass-wipe. While he got to have fun, boozing it up and no doubt satiating his desire for gluttony with women, she was told to relax and work out her shit. Riled and irritated, she stormed toward the lobby. Damn these heels. And the thong giving her an eternal wedgie. She was dying to get back into her Converse.
After a few moments, the elevator doors opened. Empty. Thank God. She entered and swiped her card for the top level. Just as the doors were closing, a tall, lithe body slipped in on light feet.
Max.
He waited for the doors to shut before speaking. “You and I need to talk.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk about the mission. Had enough from my jerk brothers.” She pulled her mic at her strap and growled into it: “Jerk. Jerk. Jerk.”
Max’s wince of pain made her smile. If Parker and Tony still had their pieces in, they would feel the shout in their ear too.
She plucked the little instrument from her strap and stuffed it into her clutch, along with her earpiece. She made the gimme sign to Max until he did the same. Damn her brothers listening in on every word she said.
“You know what I meant.” Max untied his tie and popped his collar. “You and me. I think we need to get it all out in the open.”
She blinked, looking at him properly for the first time all night. She hated to admit it, but he worked that simple tuxedo like a model. The understated charm suited her much better than the flash of most gala attendees. His hair, as usual, was trim and simple. Still always somehow lighter at the tips, as though years of time in the sun and salt water had ingrained in his DNA.
“Sloan?” He angled to face her. “I swear to God if you avoid this conversation—”
The elevator jerked to a halt and she stumbled, palm flying out to his hard chest for support. What the hell?
They both stilled at the contact, and then Sloan jumped back until her shoulders hit the cold press of the mirrored glass around the cabin.
Max swiped his room card at the security fob, and hit their floor button, but the elevator wouldn’t move.
“Are we stuck?” he asked. He pressed the emergency call button, but it didn’t connect. When his wary gaze met Sloan’s, she knew something was up. For a second, she feared Parker was right. Barry had gone straight to his employers and this was their doing. They were trapped in an elevator, half way up a multilevel hotel building. Shit.
“Give me a minute.” Sloan pulled out her cell and dialed. “AIMI, it’s Sloan.”
“I’ve been expecting your call.”
“Hey, I said maybe I’ll check in. Not definitely.” Sloan put the cell on speaker so Max could hear.
“Tony said you would call.”
“Tony?”
“You are stuck in an elevator.”
Narrowing her eyes, she met Max’s.
“How does she know?” he whispered.
“AIMI?” she prompted.
“Tony said, and I quote, ‘Debbie Downer needs to sort her shit out before we go on this hike.’ Then he ordered me to stop the elevator until you had. Debbie Downer is you, Sloan.”
“Very funny, AIMI. What happened to Oh, Masterful One?” Sloan laughed nervously. “Joke’s over. Start the elevator.”
“To answer your first question, Tony changed your salutation. To address the latter comment: Unfortunately, this is not possible.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re not supposed to do anything unless I tell you. How did he manage to override my access?”
“It’s perhaps best I play you his response.”
Two-seconds later, and Tony’s smug voice came over the speaker. “Who’s the dumbass now, Sloanie?” he laughed. “Now, you two sort out your shit. We’re not going on this mission tomorrow until you have. I expect rainbows and unicorns the next time I see you both.”
Then AIMI disconnected.
“When the hell did he find the time to do this?” Sloan ground her teeth.
“Must have been planning it for a while.” Max folded his arms, fighting a smile. “That Tony is a sly one.”
“He’s a dead one. Tony just moved up to numero uno on my hit list.” She tapped her cell, trying to access the app which gave her access to AIMI, but it wouldn’t open. She expected this level of tech savvy from Parker, but not
Tony. This was why he’d gotten one over her. She’d underestimated him.
“Well.” Max removed his jacket and lowered himself to the floor, resting an elbow on his knee. “Knowing how stubborn you are, this could take some time. May as well get comfortable.”
“No.” She paced. “There must be some way to get out of here. Surely the hotel will notice an elevator has stopped. What about the cameras?” She looked up at the ceiling and squinted, then checked the instrument panel with a groan. “No cameras! How can a luxury hotel like this have no cameras? Wait.” She stopped. “What do you mean, stubborn? I’m not stubborn.”
Max huffed. “You kidding me? Woman, you’re the most stubborn person I know, including Bailey.”
“Am not. I’m totally easy going.” She pointed at herself with two thumbs. “Sloth, remember? It’s not in me to hold a grudge.”
“So why have you been pranking me from the moment I arrived in the city?”
“Pfft. Tss.” She snorted incredulously. “I am not.”
Clearly not fooled, he arched an eyebrow. “So, the cooling in my office magically switched to heating the other day. On its own?”
She tried not to smile. “That’s the first I’m hearing of it.”
“And, then I suppose you know nothing about AIMI calling me Maxi-Pad.”
She shrugged.
“Or switched my pizza order to remove the pineapple? Oh yeah, I noticed.”
“Not me.”
“Or the fact someone was logged into my internal office CCTV the other day.”
Heat flushed up her neck as she remembered how little clothing he’d been wearing when he’d caught her. “Look, sometimes AIMI does things I can’t control.”
“You just said AIMI isn’t supposed to do anything unless you tell her to.”
She punched the emergency button again, but no response. Dammit.
This was hopeless. She leaned her forehead against the cool mirror in an attempt to abate the sweat prickling her neck. Her reflection wavered, the air in the room disappeared and she had to gulp in a few breaths from underneath the shroud of her hair. It was all too much. The room too small. She hated being forced into a situation she wasn’t ready to face. She hated it. Damn Tony. Damn Parker. She should have stayed in her nice cozy little apartment.
She missed Luna.
Max got up and stepped toward her. “Hey. It’s fine. We’ll get out of here.”
“When?” she asked. “When Tony decides he’s played enough games?”
“I guess when we’ve sorted our shit out, as he so eloquently put.”
She sighed. Right.
The two of them leaned on opposite ends of the elevator, staring at the other, neither willing to take the first step. The man in front of her had broken her heart. She’d had so much anger for so many years and, yet, she found none in her now. No fuel to light the fire, nothing to start the conversation. The man in front of her was exactly like the one she’d fallen in love with. Kind, attentive, supportive.
“Do you remember that time we camped out in our rooms for a twelve hour video-chat?” he asked.
“Which time?”
“The first one. There was that special event on with that game we were playing”—a crease deepened between his brow—“I can’t even remember which one, but it all started because you got it in your head that between the two of us, we’d win. You’d just received that light-up cat’s ears headset and wanted to test it out.”
“You bought me that headset.” She realized with a start, remembering how random she’d felt to receive a gift in the mail from this guy she’d been hanging out with online. “I remember thinking the first time I used it should be with you.”
He smiled affectionately. “The call started out with us playing the game, but eventually, even when it was over, we kept talking, telling each other our secrets. You liked playing games because you felt like a different person in there, that your gender wasn’t a factor in your success.”
She frowned. “Why are you saying this?”
“I want to know if you miss us. I want to know if I meant anything to you at all.”
“This is not the time, Max.”
A cruel laugh huffed out of him, and he glanced around the elevator. “I’m pretty sure now is the perfect time.”
What was his problem? Why was he pushing this? He was the one who broke up with her. Yes, of course she missed him. She ached from being in the same room as him. Her lungs burned from breathing the same air. Her heart felt bruised and squeezed. Her body wanted him back. It remembered that night everything changed between them. That twelve-hour long video-chat.
Yes, you stupid man. She’d yearned for him for years. She’d cried herself to sleep because she’d wanted him so much.
Max pushed off his side and came to stand next to her, shoulder to shoulder. He took a deep shuddering breath. “After how things ended, I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve missed you, Sloan.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t cry. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
She ground out, “Are you trying to rub salt in my wounds?”
“You’re the one who started dating someone else.”
“Dating someone else?” Was this guy for real?
“That loser geek guy I saw you with at the gaming convention. He had a ridiculous goatee and”—he waved around his head—“the stupidest green hair.”
“That loser guy didn’t last long, and… wait, are you jealous?” Max had no right to be. Why was he jealous?
“Damn straight I was , Sloan.” He slammed his palm behind him, vibrating the mirrored wall, warping their reflections. The air between them thickened, and she had to suck in a breath from the force of his glare. “Seeing my woman, the one I wanted to marry, with some other fuckwit…”
The blood drained from her face.
Sure, they talked about starting a life together, even the whole kid business. Both of them had been a resounding, not yet, but maybe one day. He made it sound like it was a given.
“How come you went straight to dating some blond bimbo?” she pointed out.
“You know about Sammie?”
“Sammie.” Yeah she knew about Sammie. She knew where Sammie worked. She knew where she went to the gym. She knew Sammie liked to drink Caramel Moccacinos after her workouts and then go back for seconds. Oh, the many times Sloan tried to figure out how to poison those drinks from oceans away.
“You were jealous, too,” he murmured, confused.
She folded her arms and looked away.
“Bloody hell, Sloan. Sammie was a one hit wonder. If you know about her, you would have known that. If you needed more proof of your stubbornness”—he waved at her face—“Exhibit A.”
“I’m protecting my heart.”
“You’re the only one hurting it right now, not me. I’m trying to sort things out.”
She threw up her hands. “I want to get out of here.”
He laughed callously, and it made her blood boil.
“You don’t mean that.” He crowded her against the wall, using his sheer size to intimidate her.
She wasn’t afraid. Come at her. See what you get when you mess with the best. “Yes, I goddamn do.”
“No. You. Don’t.” Eyes blazing like the morning sun, he stared at her, jaw working, breathing hard. Then his eyes darkened and dropped to her lips. A finger lifted to touch the vein at her neck. “Your pulse is racing.”
His touch, so simple as it was, ignited something inside her. Heat spread from his fingertip like wildfire and warmed her entire body. She should say something. Say it was her anger that had her heart rabbiting, but it would be a lie. She was more attracted to him than she’d ever anticipated, and her pheromones knew it.
“I hate you, Maxi-Pad.” Brave words for a cowardly heart.
“No, you don’t.” His touch trailed down her sensitized neck, dipped over her collarbone and kept going downward. “If you did, you wouldn’t have made my office so hot that I had to st
rip half-naked.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He only smiled. “Did you like what you saw?”
Yes. “You’ve changed,” she admitted.
His eyes flashed with pure masculine ego. “How?”
Bastard. He knew exactly how, yet, she couldn’t keep her gaze from trailing down his stubbled jaw to his open shirt and the flash of golden skin at his neck. Hairless. Smooth. Sexy. Her gaze dropped to the flat stomach hiding beneath his shirt, remembering the cut abs she’d seen on the video, wondering how he looked in real life, how he felt to touch. God, she wanted to touch. To feel that satin skin, that fuzz of hair leading down. Lower. Her thighs clenched as her eyes tracked to his belt. Lower. The bulge in his pants. She gasped, eyes darting back to his.
“Yeah, I’ve missed you, Sloan,” he rasped, finger still sliding up and down her strap. “It’s time you admit you feel the same way about me too.”
Frowning, he leaned in until their noses touched, until their hot breaths mingled. She arched forward, hating the whimpering sound that escaped her. Braless, she ached painfully against the friction of her dress, wanting his trail of sensation to land there… but he stopped. His hand hovered gently where the curve of her bare breast met her dress. Already panting with need, she lifted her gaze and found him looking down at her with so much pain in his eyes that she felt it in her heart.
It stabbed and twisted and beneath it all, she felt desire. Raw, hot, powerful. For her. Was this her power? Was she sensing his emotion? Was that why she felt the erotic echo in her core, tightening everything with anticipation? The fact he remained so stoic, so calm, while that turmoil of want tumbled inside him…
“Do you know how many nights I dreamed of you?” he rasped. “All those cold nights, sleeping in the dirt, hiding from the enemy, wondering if I was going to make it back alive… The memory of you kept me warm.” He raised liquid eyes to hers. “The video didn’t do you justice. You’re beautiful, Sloan.”
“It’s just makeup,” she murmured, throat tight.
“No.” He grasped the back of her neck, angry. Lightning flashed in his eyes. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Belittle yourself. It’s not the makeup. It’s always you, Sloan.”
Sloth Page 9