Page 13 of Sloth
“With a Lazarus child. Who’s saying what kind of DNA secrets the baby will give the Syndicate if they take it. Considering when we were children they wanted to cut off our limbs to test our regeneration, I’m not taking the chance.”
Sloans anger swiftly morphed to defense. “You don’t think I have what it takes to protect her?”
A slow arch of Wyatt’s brow.
Evan tried not to laugh. “I’m not touching this one with a ten foot lightning rod. See you two later.” And then the coward left.
“Wyatt?” she prompted. “I can look after Misha. I helped at The Kremlin when you needed me. I did good.” Okay. Maybe she didn’t do good. The Kremlin was the nightclub Misha used to work in. Her boss was an A grade Bratva psycho who worked with the Syndicate, and Wyatt had needed Sloan’s help to save his woman from henchmen. The Faithful were as fanatical as their leaders. Worse. They believed they had nothing to lose.
Thinking back on the battle, Sloan knew her words were a lie. She didn’t do good. Maybe Mary did all the work while Sloan hid under a dead body, but she had fired a few good arrows from her bow. It was months ago, but damn her if she let Max or Wyatt watch while she went in for a makeover. No fucking way.
Wyatt sighed and looked to the workshop for help, but both Mary and Flint kept their heads down, pretending not to hear. “Look,” he said. “I’ll tell you what, how about if you can get one over me on the mat, I’ll let you go on your own with Misha.”
“Elaborate.”
“We spar. You get me down, submitting, you get to go with Misha on your own. You can’t, I win. You take a security detail.”
“You’re powered. That’s not fair.” Clearly he was at an advantage. The dude could punch through a wall. She was strong, but not that strong.
He took a deep breath, raked his hand through his black hair and stared intently in the direction of the gym. “Okay. How about this, you get Max down.”
“No.” Her hand cut through the air. “I’m not fighting him. I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
“All the more reason he’s a good pick to test your skill. Unless you want to go against Mary, that’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”
Seriously considering their mother at that point, Sloan looked over to her. The petite, black-haired woman was insanely lethal. Trained as an assassin for the Hildegard Sisterhood, Mary could kill you before you knew she was there. And, while she passed on many secrets to them, she was the master. Mary didn’t care that Sloan was a woman. She gave no quarter. Sloan was certain there had been a broken bone or two over the years. Definitely a nose. She rubbed it when the phantom pain of the past echoed.
Max wouldn’t be used to fighting a woman. He might hesitate before hitting her. She could use their history to her advantage. He also didn’t know that her advanced physiology made her stronger than a normal man. That was one secret she’d never confided. It had always made her feel less of a woman. She shouldn’t feel bad for being stronger than her lovers, but she did. It always made things awkward in the bedroom. In a fight it could be advantageous.
She could take Max, no problems. She would also get to kick his ass.
A slow, devilish smile lifted her lips. “Okay. Deal. I’ll fight Max.”
Mirth sparkled in Wyatt’s blue eyes. “Good. Let’s go find him.”
Together, they left the operations room and entered the gym. Sloan’s attention went straight to Max on the treadmill. Dressed in baggy black basketball shorts and a gray muscle shirt, it was hard not to be impressed with his physique. Long legs moved with graceful, fluid strides. Blood pumped in his veins, shaping his body into sharp relief. Sun-bleached hair darkened with sweat. He ran that treadmill with a single-minded focus. If he screwed like he ran… Feminine places in her body clenched with desire.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
Too late. Wyatt already stood before the man, asking him to slow down. Shit. Sloan huddled by the door, watching their interaction. Stopping his machine, Max’s brown eyes darted her way then went back to Wyatt with a nod. He slipped his towel from the treadmill and wiped his face. Yep. This was happening.
It’s fine, Sloan.Kick his pasty Aussie ass. Now she had images of his ass in her mind. Crap. Definitely not pasty. Tanned and tawny as fuck. He also had two dimples on the cheeks. She knew because he’d teased her once over a private video chat—shaking that derriere like he just didn’t care.
Heat inundated her body and sweat prickled her skin.
Nerves. Just nerves.
Sloan toed her shoes off, rolled her shoulders and then walked to the plastic covered foam mat at the center of the gym. She flexed her arms, pulling back, popping her chest out—hoping to distract him with her feminine wiles.I got wiles that last for days, jackass.
Max and Wyatt met her there. Max’s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, but he looked inspired. Not distracted. Her confidence faltered.
I got this.
Her atoms came alight as he drew closer. Heart rate pounded. Hairs on her arms lifted. His coconut scent mingled with his sweat and she caught a full breath of heady masculinity. This was the first time in months, hell, the first time ever she’d been so close to him. All those years they’d spent conversing over online video, all those years she’d spent yearning for his touch to be real, and now it was too late.
Because he’d fucked up.
Don’t forget that, Sloan.He was the one who came to meet up with her, to take their relationship to the next level, and then bailed without a word. He was the one who believed the hype in the news about the Deadly Seven being terrorists. She had no time for a man who had little faith in her. He didn’t deserve a second chance.
