Best Man For The Job (The Men of Fear Incorporated Book 1) (10 page)

The urgency in her murmurs increased. He was close. Reaching behind him, he pulled his t-shirt off with his other hand and positioned it to catch the mess he was about to create. She cried out loudly, pushing him over the edge. Thick tendrils of cum spurted from him onto his shirt. As soon as he was done, he moved—as quickly as he could—to his room. He left the door open a crack to watch her move from one room to the next. Her face was flushed, nothing except a big fluffy gray towel covering her. She swayed with physical exhaustion. He made up his mind right then and there. Her next orgasm would belong to him.

Chapter Ten

Sloane

Morning was not a friend to Sloane. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth while a freight train barreled through her head.
Ugh.
Why oh why did she drink that last margarita? She rolled out of bed slowly. She was still naked from when she crawled—or fell—into bed last night. Quickly, or as quickly as she could in her condition, she haphazardly pulled on a blue tank top and a pair of plaid flannel sleep shorts. She found Max in the kitchen, head hanging over a coffee mug that smelled absolutely fantastic.

Her cheeks heated with the memory of her self-induced release, with the sexy Max Fear as her inspiration. He never even bothered to raise his head to acknowledge her existence. So at least he wouldn’t wonder what was going on with her rosy cheeks.
Whatever.
All she wanted was a cup of that steaming life elixir to help put her head on straight. A half dozen aspirin wouldn’t hurt either.

Not wanting to break the silence, Sloane moved around the kitchen stealthily collecting what she needed for a perfect cup of Joe. Like she wasn’t even there, Max got off the stool, washed out his mug, and placed it in the dishwasher. Sloane was just about to ask him what his problem was when he walked out of the room. No way was she gonna hang around here today. She felt unwanted, like an intruder. She wasn’t going to stay where she wasn’t wanted. Maybe she’d call Bella later and take her up on her offer.

Twenty minutes later, she was dressed with a minimal amount of makeup on. Max was nowhere in sight. She stopped to listen at the basement steps. She could hear music accompanied by the clink of weights. She almost felt bad about going through his kitchen drawers, but she was quickly rewarded with her prize in the second one opened. She removed the pen and notepad and jotted down a quick note, pinning it to the fridge under a magnet for a local pizza delivery joint. When he came up for water, he was certain to see it.

The cab pulled up out front about ten minutes later. Sloane didn’t waste any time running out to it. Jumping inside, she gave the driver her destination. She would have taken her own car, but her keys were missing and she couldn’t find them. She felt like a teenager sneaking out after she had been grounded. She sat in the back seat of the cab grinning. The cab driver probably thought she was a moron.
Oh well.

First stop, the mall. Retail therapy was in order. She wandered through the stores looking for nothing in particular. She didn’t need lingerie, since she no longer had a man to wear it for. She didn’t need anything for the apartment, because she wasn’t sure when she could go back. Work clothes seemed ridiculous, since she had no idea what would happen to her job.

She needed to decide what to do. Since Detlef was no longer around, she figured her job no longer existed. She could get by for a little while, though—she was always smart with money. She had a healthy balance in her savings, and a nice investment portfolio started, in case of an emergency. That would be tomorrow’s problem. She continued window-shopping until her growling stomach reminded her it was almost lunch. She’d skipped breakfast in her hurry to get out of Max’s house. At least her headache was somewhat manageable now, but she knew it wouldn’t stay that way if she didn’t eat something soon.

With her one new outfit swinging in a bag—jeans that hugged her ass and a cute new top—she made her way over to the food court. Enjoying her turkey club sandwich, she sat and people watched. She was just finishing her food when her purse started to ring by her feet. She bent over to retrieve her phone from the bag. She was unlocking the screen when pain exploded in her shoulder.

Crying out, she dropped the phone. It hit the table before falling on the floor. She pressed a hand to her left shoulder as liquid fire burned through her muscles. People screamed and pointed at her, their eyes wide in horror. Sloane glanced down, and there was blood oozing down her arm.
What the hell?

A large crack! echoed in the air and chunks of plastic burst from the table only an inch from her body. Someone was shooting. At
her.

Sloane dropped under the table, picking up the phone from where it’d landed. She had to call Max. She looked down at the screen. The front was completely shattered and had gone dark; she couldn’t get it to dial out.
Shit.
This was bad. This was really bad.

***

Max

Max was beyond pissed. He glowered before the fridge, reading Sloane’s short handwritten note for the third time. Each time he read it only added to his anger.

Max,

Going out for a while. Don’t worry; I’ll watch my back. Need to take care of a few things. I may drop by the apartment too. It’s doubtful I’ll be back before dinner, so don’t feel you need to stick around.

Sloane

How could she just leave? Max had warned her it wasn’t safe to be out by herself. What the hell was she thinking going back to her apartment? The woman was exhausting. Not even bothering with a shower, Max pulled on a pair of cargo shorts followed by a black polo shirt and his shoes. He raced out to his truck. He had hoped to avoid this scenario by putting her car keys on top of his fridge out of her reach.

Three times he called her phone, and each time it went to voicemail.
Son of a bitch
. After coming to a screeching halt in front of her apartment building, Max forwent the elevator, running up the five flights of stairs. He pounded on her door, repeatedly calling her name.

“Sloane?”

A young woman next door poked her head out. When she saw Max, she straightened her shirt, rolling her shoulders back to lift her breasts up. She played with the ends of her hair while exiting her apartment. He wasn’t impressed.

“She isn’t there. Hasn’t been all day,” she cooed. “If you want, you can wait in my apartment.”

“No thanks, Ma’am.”

Max bolted back down the stairs. In his truck again, he called Foster. The moment Foster said hello, Max went off on a tirade laced with worry. “Have you or Bella heard from her?”

“No, man. What’s going on?”

Max told Foster about the note he’d found after his workout. “I’m surprised she didn’t call,” Foster said. “I’m sure she just needed some space. Last night was pretty intense.”

Max shook his head. “I got a bad feeling.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. You try Gutter Mouth? Maybe he heard from her. They were pretty cozy most of the night. I thought she might even…you know…until you stepped in…” He trailed off.

Max gritted his teeth. “No, I haven’t tried him yet. I had hoped she’d come to you guys.” He didn’t want to picture her holed up with Gutter Mouth somewhere. His stomach soured.

“What the hell happened last night? I’m surprised the sparks flying between you two didn’t set the place ablaze.”

“Dude, I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Charlie was pissed. It would take some major groveling to even hope she might forgive you after that scene.” Max could hear the humor laced in Foster’s voice.

“I’m not worried about Charlie; it wasn’t ever more than a friendly fuck with her. Neither of us wanted anything serious.”

“I didn’t get that vibe from Charlie, but whatever, man. I’ll make some calls. If I hear from Sloane, I’ll let you know. I’ll tell Bella too.”

“Thanks.”

Max hung up. He’d already checked her apartment. No way would she go to her office. She wasn’t with her cousin. Cringing, Max dialed the phone. Gripping the steering wheel harder, he waited for the ringing to stop.

“Yeah, man?” Gutter Mouth’s lazy drawl had him gripping the wheel even tighter still.

“Have you seen Sloane?”

“No. Wait, I thought she was with you.”

“She did a skip while I was working out.”

“I texted her a few times, but she never replied. I thought maybe she was brushing me off. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I did a little digging into the name you gave me. According to the description she gave and the name she heard, I think I found one of our guys. Milo Booker is a mid-level thug that works for the Petrov family.”

“Fuck. Russian Mob. This just keeps getting better and better.”

The Petrov family was notorious for every type of felony under the sun. From jury tampering, to drug and human trafficking, to good old-fashioned murder. Wonderful, just fucking wonderful. Max punched his steering wheel. He didn’t know where he was going. Now he was driving around town in circles.

“If my sources are correct, the other guy may be Viktor Runikov. Petrov’s number two.”

“Any more shitty news for me?” Max barked through the phone.

“Her boss was into some shady shit with these guys, Max. You know as well as I do, it doesn’t take much for them to see you as a liability and exterminate you.”

Max sighed. “I know.”

“Sorry, dude.”

“This is a complete clusterfuck. I didn’t think I’d have to actually babysit her so she wouldn’t run off. She has no idea what she’s up against.”

“Sloane can always stay here if she’s too much of a hassle for you.” The barely contained excitement in Kasper’s voice pissed him off even more.

“She’s fine right where she is. Can you trace her phone?”

“I’m not a tech guru like Mother, but I can run a simple trace.”

“Good. I can’t believe she isn’t answering. Why the fuck isn’t she answering her goddamn phone?”

“Um…We might not need the trace. Where you at, dude?”

“Circling town. Why?”

“If you’re near the mall, they just reported shots fired on the police scanner. Something tells me that might be our girl.”

Max hung up without saying goodbye. “Our girl,” his ass. He busted an illegal U-turn going as fast as he dared to get to the mall. He parked in the first open spot, not caring that it was marked as handicapped. Running toward the cop cars and ambulances, Max spied a gurney being wheeled out. Sloane. Pushing his way through the crowd, he slipped past the beat cop keeping the looky loos back.

Her eyes were closed. He didn’t think it was possible, but her skin was even paler than usual. The paramedics kept up their hurried pace to the ambulance, lifting the gurney quickly. Max tried to climb in after them.

“Sorry sir, only family allowed in the ambulance. You can meet us at Mercy General.”

No way was Max letting her out of his sight again. Not when the Petrov family had their sights on
her
. “I’m her fiancé. Please.”

“Okay then, but stay out of our way.” The man glared.

The vehicle started moving. The paramedic checked the monitors, repeatedly taking notes.

“How bad is it? Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine. The bullet grazed her upper arm pretty good. Basically ripped a chunk out of her arm. It’ll hurt for a while, but the scar left will be the only real damage. She was in shock first and then hysterics so we felt it best to sedate her.”

Max breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” He couldn’t take something happening to her.

***

Sloane

Opening her eyes, Sloane first noticed the bed had handrails. Her bed didn’t have rails. It took her foggy brain a few long moments to register it wasn’t her bed or Max’s guest bed that she had been occupying as of late, but a hospital bed. She shot up straight, looking around.

Max was dozing in an extremely uncomfortable looking chair. His face was relaxed. He looked peaceful, his hair slightly mussed up. She couldn’t fathom ever tiring of his face. The man was so damn good looking. She inhaled sharply from the pain in her shoulder. Max opened his eyes.

“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was shot.” She smiled.

“It was a deep graze. It should heal well. They had to sedate you at the scene. Seems you were rambling and hysterical. Imagine that.”

“Yeah, well I was
shot
.” Barking at him wouldn’t help, but she couldn’t help herself. “How long have I been here?”

“A few hours. They wanna keep you for observations tonight, but first thing in the morning I should be able to take you home. What the hell were you thinking, Sloane?”

She bit her lip and glanced down at her hands. “I just needed to get out of the house.”

“This isn’t a game. You could have been killed, Sloane.”

The nurse came in to check her vitals, scratching things into a chart at the end of the bed.

“Good evening, Ms. Robertson. How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing okay.”

“You are a very lucky woman. Your fiancé hasn’t left your side a single minute.” She beamed at Max. The way she was looking at him began to grate on Sloane’s nerves. She was apparently his fiancée—when the hell did that happen? Even though the nurse said the right words to Sloane, her eyes were begging Max to make a move.