Page 27 of Sloth
“No. I’m going.” She took a deep breath and pushed open her door. Just before she left, she cast a glance behind her. Luna stood watching her, yellow cat’s eyes blinking.
I’ve got this.
She closed the door.
* * *
Sloan foundParker and Tony in the Lazarus House private garage, playing a game of luggage Tetris in the back of Parker’s custom built Bugatti SUV.
So they were traveling in style. All the better to maintain their cover, she supposed. She would have much rather gone on their recon mission completely incognito, but Parker was right. They needed his and Tony’s affluent identities to get them into the gala.
All this cloak and dagger business was silly. The Syndicate knew who they were. They knew their true identities and where they lived and worked. The fact the Syndicate failed to move on the Deadly Seven meant they were waiting for something.
Walking up to them, she watched, amused, as they bickered over who had the best idea for storing their rock-climbing equipment. It seemed obscene to taint such a luxury car with dirty supplies, and chances were they’d never use it considering their mission wasn’t actually rock climbing. She wondered if she should point that out.
Dressed in khaki shorts and a stiff-collared polo shirt, Tony looked every bit the entitled movie star he was. Aviator sunglasses rested on his forehead, not fully up, as though he were too cool to push them on top of his head like the common people. They all had good bone structure, but Tony’s was perfect. He only had to smile at a lady—even a man—to get what he wanted. But, it was a mistake to think the man didn’t work. Just like Parker, the cocky rich boy was the public persona the world knew. The more they believed Tony was a dumb, pretty-boy actor, the less they suspected his lethal night calling. Although, lately, the two personalities seemed to bleed into one.
Parker wore cream chinos and a linen collared shirt that barely contained his brute musculature. Some sort of leather moccasins graced his feet, and his long, auburn hair was scraped back into a masculine bun tied at an angle that accentuated his barber-shaved stubble. Honestly, how could women find that walking shampoo commercial attractive? Probably had something to do with his He-Man size and savage strength.
I have the power,Sloan recited in her head, imagining her brother with the power of Grayskull in his hand. She should make AIMI scrap the King Pee and call him He-Man from now on.
“You just going to stand there staring?” Parker glowered her way.
“Yup. This is entertaining.”
Tony, whose head had been deep in the back of the car, pulled out. His gaze landed on her vintage T-shirt.
“Something’s different,” he noted, scanning her body. Making a show of it, he put his fingers under his jaw in the classic Thinker’s pose. “No, don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out.”
“Nothing’s different. You’re still a dickhead.”
“So… not a new attitude, then. Hmm. Something else… the shirt?”
She glanced down at her chest. “What?”
“Fight like a girl?” He snorted at the inscription. “In case you missed it, youarea girl.”
“Aw, Tony.” She went up to him and knocked him on his head, checking for hollow feedback. “You’re notreallydumb. You just act it, remember?”
He flashed his megawatt Hollywood smile. “How else would you feel so smart?”
“Jerk.” She punched him in the arm, but he didn’t budge.
He just laughed. “I get it. New hair. Jeez, Louise.”
“If you two are finished acting like children, we’re done. Weapons and suits are buried under the rock climbing gear.” Parker slammed the back hatch closed. “Get in.”
Tony took the front, Parker drove—of course—and Sloan sat in the rear. She buckled herself into the plush leather seat and asked, “Where’s Wyatt?”
“He’s not coming.” Parker adjusted the rearview, meeting her eyes. “He’s not happy leaving Misha after the stunt you two pulled.”
She bit her lip. “That guy seriously needs a chill pill.”
“His child could be worth its weight in gold to the Syndicate. I don’t blame him. We protect our own.”
“Of course you don’t get it,” she mumbled. Bunch of macho chauvinistic poop heads. Misha was perfectly fine. In no danger whatsoever. As they pulled out of the lot and into the side alley, she raised her voice. “Just us then?”
Silence greeted her. Fine. Stupid question. Got it. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her iPad and headphones. Expecting a long drive, she was surprised when the car slowed down almost immediately on the main street.
