Page 29 of Urban Justice

This was utter lunacy. “Maybe it would’ve been preferable for you to have found an old, white-haired scholar as your informant. Although you may have needed to find another way to seal the deal aside from fucking him on the kitchen floor! Is that one of the services offered by the Vigilante or was I just lucky?”

He knew he’d struck a chord when she rose to her knees, ready to retaliate. “You think so little of me?”

His voice escalated to a roar. “I. Don’t. Know. You!”

Silence descended between them, and just when Luke thought Sloane would jump at his throat, she reined herself in instead. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Her words remained suspended in the tunnel for a moment, enough for him to regain his calm, or at least, some of it. “I come from the corps. It’s ingrained in me to trust my teammates. When you came to me as Sloane, I wasn’t sure. I know from experience how empty words can be. The Vigilante, when he, you, saved me outside my apartment, I could relate. There was no way to hide, not your intentions, not your true purpose, and that encouraged me to agree to work with you. I told you I didn’t want to be played and that if that was the case, you’d need to find someone else to help you. I told you, and that was the moment you should have revealed you were the Vigilante. Not fuck me on the floor.”

At that moment, Luke expected the entire truth, or another lie. He could deal with keeping secrets. There were so many of them he kept from his time in the Marines, so many missions and Intel he would carry to his grave. One more wouldn’t make a difference. Bottom line, he wanted to help, but not without getting the facts straight and deciding for himself if he could live with the consequences.

Sloane hesitated, which didn’t bode well, and until she opened her mouth and spoke, he had no idea what she would say.

“I... went to you in the kitchen, not to sway your decision or to get your agreement, but because the thought of tasting your mouth and your skin had been gnawing at me since I’d first met you. You could’ve said no to this mission and I would’ve walked away. I don’t use sex as a tool or a weapon. It is too... intimate. Human interactions are already complex enough without adding emotions into the mix. Especially since I’m not good with them to begin with.”

Her voice was soft, tentative. “I’m the middle child of seven siblings. Toronto doesn’t have the reputation of Chicago, but there are parts of the city that could give this one a run for its money. My father was a bus driver, my mother was just trying to get by. Some people would say they skimped on our education, so it somehow reflects on how I act or react. I worked hard at tempering my impulses. Work, experience, brought me that, alongside bruises, scars, and burns. I transformed those impulses into calculated risks that brought me here. It wasn’t a straight line, but one I chose. I may avoid and divert, but I don’t play games. I don’t know you well, and I don’t know why, but I don’t want to lie to you. Not everybody would be so selfless to defend a perfect stranger for a mission that may very well kill him.”

There was the faintest hint of a smile coloring her voice. She hadn’t answered his questions, not really, but her confession sounded sincere, which appeased him to a certain degree, a sort of first step.

“You said our and we. How many are there at Noctem? How many work for you?”

A smile, full of amusement, lit her face. “We’re a team. Otherwise, we’d kill each other. Although we do have a ringleader who keeps us freaks in line.” As she spoke, her laughter turned into a cough, and her mirth vanished as she held her middle. Discussion time was over.

Luke pushed himself up, his muscles screaming. Once in front of her, he offered his hand. “We’ll finish this chat, but do you mind if we wait until after a shower and coffee?”

Her smile returned as she clasped his hand. “Gimme chocolate and a bunch of painkillers and you have a deal, pal.”

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