Page 82 of Gluttony
Flint watched over the actions of his children with wary tolerance. He cleared his throat. “Right, well, I’m about to head off for something to eat. Your mother has cooked Jamaican jerk chicken and I can already taste the flavor. Do you need me anymore, Parker?”
Parker shook his head.
Sloan’s gaze locked onto Flint, slowly widening as though his words had just passed her brain barrier. “Did you say jerk chicken?” She licked her lips, eyes turning desperate. “How much did she cook?”
“Why don’t you and Max come over and find out?”
She hopped off her stool and jogged to the doorway. Leaning on the jamb, she shouted down the hall, “You hear that, Max?”
“What?” came a distant voice.
“I said,jerk chicken!”
Moments later, Max appeared in the doorway, red-faced and breathing hard in sweaty gym clothes. Wiping his face with a towel, he glanced over at Parker and gave a curt nod. He did the same to Flint and Tony. Then his eyes turned soft as they took in his woman, now rubbing her hands up and down his slick arms with amorous intent.
“What did you say?” he asked.
“Huh?” Her eyes glazed as she took in his curved biceps. “Did I say something?”
Max laughed and shook his head, an action which prompted a scowl on Sloan’s face.
“Don’t make fun of me for liking this,” she said. “I can’t think straight. First, it was the jerk chicken, and then you come in looking all...that.”
Max whispered something in Sloan’s ear that had her cheeks turning beet red. Tony wanted to laugh.
“We’ll be there, Flint,” Max said with amused eyes.
“Someone needs to be on comms,” Parker pointed out gruffly. “And I thought you could let your crew know about what we spoke about earlier, Max.”
Max’s face hardened, and he nodded. “Yes, I’ll let them know tonight.”
“Know what?” Tony asked.
Although Max met Tony’s gaze, it was Parker who responded. “Since we all agreed we need more resources, I’ve asked Max to bring the rest of his team into the fold. Half of them already know our secret.”
“Oh.” Would have been nice if he’d been consulted.
Sloan pushed Max out the door, shouting parting words to Flint over her shoulder, “See you in thirty, dad. And you two, stop being such tight asses. Go out and have some fun.”
Tony slid a tentative look to Parker.
Maybe that was where his problem lied. They used to hang. Chat over a drink. Base jump off a cliff. And then Parker grew the carrot in his ass.
Parker pointed at the suit. “I made some modifications since your powers came in.”
“Oh?” Tony’s brows lifted, and he shifted for a closer look. The suit seemed the same to him, but he’d never really taken a close look.
With a mini screwdriver in hand, Parker indicated a line from the shoulder to the cuff. “Since power directs from your torso and arms to your hands using a focused photon blast, I’ve replaced the inner lining with kinetic absorbing fabric engineered to redistribute the flow so the buildup of power is enhanced at the end of the sleeve.”
Tony blinked, comprehension dawning. “You made it so any power that leaks through my body and arms is captured and sent to my hands.”
“And of course, I’ve tested the flame resistance to your standard. You won’t be catching fire, and neither will the tech built into the suit.”
Tony peered at his brother. He didn’t have to do all this extra stuff, but he did. For all his pride and ego, Parker was the steady rock who pushed their little group forward. Or his pride was making him do it. Either way, Tony’s ire at the man had been misplaced. He owed Parker an apology.
He coughed. “Thanks, bro.”
Parker lifted a shoulder in acknowledgement.
