Sloan (The Protectors Series) Book #9 (5 page)

Chapter 8

One minute Becky was reflecting on life as she stared at the river and the next she was watching Sloan grab a knife-wielding man by the throat. Where in the hell had he come from? She had checked out the area before climbing off her scooter and heading down to the bench she always sat at, and saw no one.

Without Sloan saying a word, she knew he was pissed and not just at the knocked-out man.

“What in the hell are you doing out here this time of night, alone?” Sloan’s voice was stern, as if he were talking to a child.

“I, ah….” Becky was a little taken back by his anger toward her and actually, she didn’t appreciate being talked to that way.

He didn’t let her continue. “Why are you riding that damn deathmobile? Where is the fucking car?”

“It’s, ah….” Becky tried again, her anger boiling close to the surface.

“And why are you not wearing a helmet?” He continued down a list of things he was obviously pissed about.

She started to open her mouth, then shut it to make sure he was finished. He wasn’t.

“Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if I hadn’t been here?” Sloan got louder with each question he asked, but he wouldn’t shut up long enough for her to answer. When she just stood there staring at him, he threw up his hands. “Well?”

“Are you finished?” Becky put her hands on her hips.

Sloan glared at her for a second. “Yes, I am.”

“What are you doing here?” Becky asked, glaring back at him.

“I’m the one asking the questions!” he bellowed. When the man made a noise, Sloan put his large foot on the guy’s chest without even looking; he was too busy scowling at her.

“I answer to you between the hours of seven and four, Mr. Murphy.” She huffed, then turned to leave, but stopped and turned around to look at him. “I don’t know what I did to make you so angry at me, but thank you for well, you know.” She waved her hand toward the guy on the ground.

Becky walked away, realizing her shitty night just got shittier and had taken a nosedive straight to hell. So much for getting back on her feet. She probably didn’t have a job anymore, but seriously, did he have to get all crazy and start questioning her decisions like that? Hurrying to her scooter, she hopped on and took off, barely missing a car that was passing.

By the time she arrived home, she felt awful because honestly, everything Sloan had yelled about was for her safety. And how did she repay him? By acting like an ungrateful shrew. She knew why. Her ex-husband had always made her feel stupid, and she had felt Sloan’s questions were an attack against her judgment, which in turn made her feel as if she wasn’t smart enough to make good decisions. Having time to cool off and think about it, she begrudgingly admitted to herself he was right.

Before she could climb off her scooter, a motorcycle sped down the road and pulled in behind her. Sloan sat staring at her for a few seconds before turning off his engine.

“Do you even know how close you were to hitting Duncan?” Sloan asked, his voice a little calmer.

“How do you know where I live?” She stared at him wide eyes.

Sloan closed his eyes for a second and cursed under his breath. “Background check.” He opened his eyes, pinning her to the spot. “Now answer my question.”

“Which one?” she replied, then sighed. “I was hungry and didn’t have anything here to eat. I drove my scooter because it’s cheaper on gas. I forgot my helmet again, but I was only planning on going up the street, and I wasn’t that close to Duncan’s car.” There, she’d answered every question he had asked. Maybe he wouldn’t fire her.

“You forgot to answer one.” He crossed his arms over his chest, no longer glaring.

Becky thought for a minute. “No, I don’t think I did.” She tilted her head. The music from the bar across from her house drifted toward them. She couldn’t believe he’d followed her from the river. He was most likely there to fire her officially and save himself the trouble when she showed up to work the next day.

“It’s actually the most important question I asked,” Sloan replied, then glanced across the street to the bar when a few people exited the establishment loudly. His attention swung back to her and he waited for a few more intense seconds for her to answer. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you if I hadn’t been there?”

She started to ask him why exactly had he been there, but remembered he didn’t seem to like when she answered his questions with a question of her own. Then again, she really wanted to know, so decided to live on the edge.

“And why exactly were you there?” She waited for him to blow up again.

“Are you trying to make me angry?” His voice wasn’t angry really, just more curious than anything else.

“Am I fired?” shot out of her mouth. She couldn’t help it; she needed to know.

Sloan opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and just stared at her. Finally, he shook his head and chuckled. “No, Becky. You’re not fired.”

“Ah, thank God.” Becky released a big sigh of relief.

“Unless…,” Sloan added.

Her eyes popped open wide. “Unless what?”
Oh, crap.
She wondered what the terms would be and if she could follow them.

“You stop answering my questions with questions.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, but no chuckle followed his statement.

“I’ll do my best,” Becky hedged, not wanting to promise something she may totally fail at. “Listen, sometimes I get a little heated. I blame the red hair for that, and well, I’m sorry. And thank you for what you did. I do know what could have happened if you hadn’t been there. I go to that same spot all the time and never has anything happened to me.”

“You shouldn’t be out alone in a secluded area this late at night,” Sloan warned her, his voice stern.

“You’re right and usually it’s not this late. I just wasn’t ready to come back home.” She shrugged, looking away from him. “Haven’t you ever just done something on a whim?”

“No.” Sloan’s one-word reply said it all.

“Oh.” She glanced up at him, then back to her dark house that she didn’t want to walk into alone. Her independent self cursed her for being an idiot, but her lonely self patted her on the shoulder. “Would you like to come in for a minute? I have two beers as an offering of thanks.”

She waited for his answer. Half of her wanted him to say no, the other half begged for him to say yes. What in the hell was wrong with her? Didn’t she just have a conversation this morning with her whole self… no men? When he didn’t reply and looked from her house to her, she wished she had never asked. She felt like an idiot.

“It’s not a big deal.” Becky gave him a small smile. “I’m sure you have things to do. Thanks again for what you did.” She started to turn toward her house, but his words stopped her.

“I could use a beer.”

******

As Sloan stood in the small living room watching Becky getting him a beer, he cursed himself. What in the fuck was he doing? It was as if his mouth had a fucking mind of its own. “I could use a beer?” What in the hell was that and where in the fuck did it come from?

“Here you go.” Becky handed him a Busch beer, which he must have glared at. “Sorry, I know it’s not a Budw—”

“It’s fine.” He took a drink, doing his best not to make the famous bitter beer face. It tasted like cold piss. “Thank you.”

“So what are you doing on this side of the river?” Becky asked, sitting down on her couch with a bottle of water.

Sloan leaned against the wall, holding his piss beer. “This is one of the areas we patrol” was his only explanation. He didn’t know the meaning of the words small talk.

“Oh, what do you patrol for?” Becky asked, then took a drink of water.

“Bad guys.” He grinned at her disappointed frown. She’d wanted juicy details, but he wasn’t going to give them to her.

“You don’t like to talk much, do you?” Becky finally said after a moment of awkward silence.

“No, I don’t.” Sloan decided to finish off his beer before it got warm. In all honesty, if it tasted like cold piss already, he was afraid of what it might taste like warm. In one long swallow, he finished it off. Becky stood to take the empty bottle.

“You want another one?” Becky tossed the empty bottle in the trash.

“I’m good, thanks.” Sloan cringed at the thought of drinking another one. He had noticed how empty her refrigerator was when she had retrieved his beer, and her place was a shithole, but he also knew this area and her rent probably wasn’t cheap. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed some bills, and placed them on her table.

Becky had turned to see him do it. “What is that?” She frowned when Sloan remained silent. “Listen, I don’t take handouts. I may live in a shithole…”

Sloan grinned at her words that described exactly what he thought of her rental house.

“…and be low on food, but I make do.”

“It’s not a handout.” Sloan refused to take the money back that she kept pushing at him. He watched as she looked down at his jeans pocket, then looked into his eyes. He knew his expression was daring her to try to shove the money in his pocket. “It’s a pay advance, and believe me, you will earn every penny.”

“A pay advance?” Becky’s voice changed as she looked at the money. “Are you sure?”

“I do nothing I’m not sure about,” Sloan replied, knowing that was a fucking lie. He sure didn’t know why he was standing inside his secretary’s house. It was time to get the hell out of there. He nodded and headed toward the door. “Thanks for the beer.”

“You’re welcome.” Becky followed him. “Thank you for everything. I really mean it. I know I went a little nutso—again, blame it on the hair—but I do appreciate what you’ve done and for the job. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

Sloan walked out the door and to his bike. He threw his hand up, not looking back at her. His eyes once again went to the bar. The locks on her doors needed to be replaced. A strong wind could break them. Climbing onto his bike, he fought not to look back at her, but his eyes won the battle. His eyes met hers as she stood in the doorway and gave him a wave. Rolling his bike backwards, he finally looked away as he took off down her street, her words of “I promise you won’t be sorry” following him. He had a feeling he was going to be very fucking sorry.

Chapter 9

Katrina hurried to the warehouse, knowing she was going to be late. Caroline had come to her room and told her that she was taking her shopping for some clothes. At first Katrina had balked because she knew she didn’t have any money, but shopping sounded too good. Caroline had told her that the Council was taking care of the costs. Katrina didn’t question it. She needed not only clothes, but toothpaste and deodorant. She didn’t know if, being a vampire, she needed those things, but it made her feel human again. No one ever said she stunk, but she really didn’t want to be the stinky girl.

After they’d shopped all morning, they had lunch and then Caroline surprised her with a salon visit. Katrina almost told them to cut it all off, but Caroline put up a fight. So instead, they added some highlights to tone down her fire-red hair, and gave it a trim. Caroline had orchestrated it all.

The parking lot was full and with a worried frown, she hurried inside, dropped her bag, and headed out on the floor.

“Five more laps because Katrina finally decided to join us!” Jax yelled out, his eyes narrowed on Katrina.

“Sorry,” Katrina huffed as she ran through the obstacles. They didn’t just do laps. They had to drop, crawl, jump, roll, and anything else the Warriors felt they needed to add to the course.

“Way to go, Katrina,” Ben sneered at her. He was regularly on her case.

Katrina ignored him as she ran through the obstacle course, trying her best to focus, but she spotted Blaze staring at her just as she was going under the metal pipe. She hit her forehead hard, knocking her on her ass. Three guys then plowed into her.

“Come on, dammit!” another trainee hissed. “First you're late and we suffer for it and now you can’t even go under a fucking pipe. Give it up,
girl
.” The way he said girl was not a compliment.

Each one of them pushed off her as they stood to pass. Pushing herself up, she glared at them as she continued the course. She would not let them ruin her day.

“Get a partner,” Jax ordered, and everyone hurried. The only person left was poor John.

“It’s okay,” John said, then grinned. “Just watch the nose.”

Katrina laughed with a nod. She turned her attention to Jax, keeping her eyes focused on him and not Blaze. That was, until Jax called Blaze over.

“There are many pressure points in the body,” Jax said as he started to demonstrate on Blaze.

“But we’re vampires. That shit doesn’t work on us,” Ben said, his arms crossed arrogantly.

Before anyone could react, Blaze pinched Ben between the shoulder and neck with two fingers. “Wrong,” Blaze said as Ben dropped to his knees in pain. “I’m not even applying a lot of pressure, but I can have this asshole doing anything I want by just applying a little pressure.”

Katrina did her best not to smile at Ben’s unpleasant situation. Actually, she was plain enjoying watching him on his knees with his eyes squeezed tightly in pain.

“Stand up,” Blaze ordered. Ben followed every order until he was released. “Anyone, any size, can use pressure points to get the results you want.” Blaze looked at her for a split second.

Watching as Blaze and Jax demonstrated some of the pressure points, Katrina tried not to smile or show her excitement. Finally, it was something she might be able to do well. After the demonstration, everyone paired off with their partners.

After about a half an hour of working, Katrina felt confident she had it. She even had John on the ground with his arms spread apart with just two of her fingers. It was awesome and she couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re pretty damn good at this.” John laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “That shit hurts.”

“You want to go again or do you think you have it?” Katrina even sounded more confident. Yeah, it was a good day.

“Guess she would be good at it. I’m sure she’s been getting private lessons.” Ben snickered, but his glare was evil and directed at her.

“Ignore him,” John said, wiping sweat from his face. “I’m good with the pressure points if you are.”

“What did he mean, private lessons?” Katrina frowned, looking up at John. “I’m not getting private lessons.”

John sighed. “It’s just a bunch of the guys are talking about how you are staying at the VC compound while the rest of us have to find our own lodgings.” John shrugged. “It’s just talk, Katrina. I know you’re not doing anything with the Warriors to get special treatment.”

Katrina gasped in shock, her head snapping back. “That’s what they’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Ben butted in. A grin curved his lips. “And while we’re at it, how many of the Warriors did you have to do for your new clothes? And I bet you had to use that mouth some for the new hair.”

To say she was shocked was an understatement. Her eyes roamed every trainee in the room. They all stared at her. She had been judged and found guilty of everything Ben had been saying about her, apparently. Anger, so deep, filled her to the point she was a little scared because she started to shake. She always kept her cool and was rarely angry. Even when she should get angry, she’d always take a deep breath and walk on.

In three strides she was in front of Ben, her breathing harsh. Staring into his condescending eyes, she let go and kicked him right between the legs with her shin. Once he hit the ground, she leaned down into his face while he held his balls.

“When pressure points just won’t do,” Katrina spat with a hiss. “Asshole.”

When she stood straight up, everyone was looking at her, even Jax and Blaze. Not wanting to answer questions, she turned, walked off the floor, grabbed her bag, and headed out of the warehouse.

Katrina ran all the way back to the compound and headed straight to the kitchen, hoping to find Caroline. She needed answers. The kitchen was empty so she grabbed her phone supplied to her by the Warriors. Finding Caroline’s number, she hit Call and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello,” Caroline answered on the third ring.

“Hi, it’s Katrina.” Katrina had been wondering if any of the other trainees received a phone also. “Did all the trainees get money for clothes?”

The line was silent, effectively answering her question.

“Katrina, Blaze was only trying to help—” Caroline started, but Katrina cut her short and hung up. She was totally mortified. All the trainees thought she was whoring her way through the program. How could she face any of them again?

Running to her room, she slammed the door shut. Quickly taking off her new workout clothes, she tossed the phone on the bed. In record time she was dressed in her old jeans and a T-shirt. Folding the new clothes, she placed them on the bed. Grabbing a plastic bag, she tossed the rest of her stuff in, leaving everything else behind. With one look around, she closed the door behind her and headed for the back entrance of the compound.

The closer she got to her destination, the more she felt she was going to lose it. Her chin trembled, but she controlled it. Suddenly the skies opened up and rain poured, drenching her, yet she kept going. She didn’t even try to find shelter. What did it matter, anyway? She was back to where she had been before meeting Jill. She should have known it was too good to be true, that it wouldn’t last. It never did, not for her.

Seeing her destination, she looked both ways then crossed the street. It was getting late so she knew the store was closed. Crossing the parking lot, she felt the hot boil of nausea hit her. Turning the corner to the back of the Dollar Store, she was relieved that she was alone and let a tear escape.

Instead of finding somewhere to get out of the rain, Katrina tossed her bag down, leaned against the wall, and slid down. She stared out into nothing, numb to everything. Her blood tears were washed away by the cold rain. Hearing a noise to her right made her smile sadly.

“I’m back, Buck.” Rolling her head, she stared at the huge ten-point buck that had come out of the woods behind the store. He gave a low snort, coming closer. “I missed you also, my friend.”

As the tears continued to fall, the buck lowered himself in front of her, his legs folding underneath him. Soon other creatures came out of the woods to give comfort to Katrina, and she accepted them with open arms.

******

Blaze watched Katrina walk out of the warehouse. He gave a nod to John, who was grinning at a moaning Ben who still held his balls.

“What was that about?” Blaze nodded toward Ben. Jax had walked up also.

John looked a little uncomfortable as he glanced at the other trainees, who were watching.

“If you don’t tell me, then I will beat the hell out of every motherfucker in this room until I get the answer,” Blaze warned, eyeing each trainee before looking back at John. “So either tell me now and save your fellow trainees from an ass kicking, or be the most hated asshole in here by keeping quiet. Which is it going to be?”

John gulped. “Not much of a choice.”

Blaze growled, grabbing the closest trainee to him, pulling his fist back.

“Okay. Okay!” John put his hands up. “There’s been talk. They think Katrina has been getting special attention because she’s been—”

“Been what?” Blaze growled, his anger barely in check.

“You know.” John looked away from Blaze, clearly uncomfortable to even speaking the words. “Putting out for the Warriors.”

Blaze looked down at Ben, who stared up at him. Walking over, he picked him up by the hair. “Is he the one spreading this shit?”

No one said a word, but Blaze knew. “I’m going to say this one time: if I hear another word against Katrina, who is one of you, I will make damn sure you never get Warrior status through here or anywhere else.”

“Yes, sir,” they all replied, except for Ben who looked too scared to say anything as he stared into Blaze’s odd eyes.

“As for you.” Blaze let go of his hair and punched him in the face. “That’s what assholes get for talking about a woman like that. Warriors respect women, especially a teammate.”

Ben wiped his mouth, but nodded. “I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered.

“Not good enough.” Blaze hissed as he passed him. “Not even close.”

“Go ahead.” Jax nodded at Blaze. “I got it from here.”

Blaze had to make himself walk out of the warehouse before he set the whole fucking place on fire. His anger was intense, swirling around him, threatening to spiral and release. It had only been this bad once before, and that had been tragic. Focusing on the present, he climbed on his bike and headed to the compound. During the short ride, he knew he wasn’t going to find Katrina.

Once there, he went inside and headed straight for her room. Knocking twice, he tried the knob. The door opened. He walked in and in one sweep, he knew he had been right. She was gone and the cell phone she had been given lay on the bed.

Heading to the Intel room, he went to the monitors. Sitting down, he played the cameras back. He stopped the rewind when he saw Katrina rushing into the compound. Blaze glanced at the time on the tape and then his watch, marking the time. Again he played them back and found the one of her leaving. Once again he marked the time. Pausing, he noted that she was carrying a yellow bag and he knew it held her belongings. She had packed up and left. Glancing at the time, he figured she’d been gone a little over a half an hour.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the table, then stood and headed out the door. He should have paid more attention to what was going on with the trainees. They were all his responsibility. He would be doing the same thing for any of the other trainees. That was what he told himself, anyway, but he knew it was a lie.  Climbing on his motorcycle, Blaze took off, rain pounding him as he went in search.