Her clients turned to her, grinning in various states as they noticed her disheveled appearance, and who she was with. She’d made it well known that she wasn’t a walking hand in hand kind of gal, and some of her older clients had always teased her about finding someone to settle down with.
Wyatt stood back and gave her the space she needed to make things right.
“How about,” Misha said, “I give you all a free make-up session tomorrow? I’ll make it twice as long and—”
“That won’t be necessary,” a deep voice spoke from behind the crowd. “I’ll refund their fees for today and carry you through until the end of the week. Your studio will be closed for the duration.”
What the hell?
No one told her to close. This studio was her life.
“I don’t know who you think you are—oh. Hi.”
A tall man with long auburn hair in a designer suit appeared. It was Parker, Wyatt’s brother, and he didn’t look pleased.
The last time Misha had seen him, he’d been partying it up with her and the rest of his family at his nightclub’s opening night. That was about the time Dimitri had ordered her to work as an exotic dancer in return for her family’s protection. Looking back at it now, Misha wouldn’t be surprised to learn Dimitri orchestrated the attacks on her family, all so he could swoop in and appear the savior.
Parker today was a far cry from the man who let loose on the dance floor. That playboy was the same public version gossip rags talked about on the news networks and in the papers. Now knowing about their sins, this arrogant version was probably the first time she’d ever met the real Parker Lazarus. What was the bet he fought the sin of pride?
Wyatt came forward and the two men scowled at each other.
“We give you space only to find you’ve been whiling away your time doing God knows what.” Parker looked down his nose at Misha. “Or should I say, who knows what. While I’m all for spreading your wings, it’s not really the time nor the place for such deeds, is it brother?”
Wyatt clenched his jaw, fury flamed his eyes, and he pointed in Parker’s face, ready to chew some words out. The two of them faced off—Wyatt’s brutal wrath, to Parker’s nonchalant power. Where Wyatt was tall, lean muscle, Parker’s bulk was brute strength, but he carried it with the languid fluidity of a well-oiled machine. It wasn’t only Misha who noticed the silent power struggle, but the rest of her yoga clients. Some of them nodded awkwardly at Misha and made a quick exit. To the rest, she sent a few placating words of peace and told them she would contact them during the week.
She would deal with Parker’s assumptions he owned her studio once they were alone.
Turning back to the brothers, Misha expected an explosive show, and was preparing herself to have Wyatt’s back. Maybe she could jump on Parker, somehow get her hands around the strong column of his neck. Before her plan of attack finished, before Wyatt uttered a word to Parker, he bit down and unclenched his fists at his side. He nodded, conceding. When he turned to Misha, there was an apology in his expression.
Parker adjusted his cufflinks and then waved to the awaiting black Maserati SUV, double parked on the street. “Your chariot awaits. Try not to drip all over the leather.” Seeing Wyatt search for his motorbike, Parker added, “God knows why you swapped your old ride for that piece of junk, but Evan’s taken it home.”
As Misha followed Wyatt into the back of the vehicle, she couldn’t help feeling that she was a school girl about to be reprimanded for kissing under the bleachers. She opened her mouth a few times to defend herself, but decided this naughty school girl thing could be interesting. There wasn’t much she could do about her yoga classes right now. No use getting worked up over it. The positive in the negative? She glanced at her brooding man while he buckled her seatbelt for her.
“Are we in trouble?” she whispered as Parker got into the front driver seat. Wyatt shook his head, and she deflated. “Oh, well, in that case, will you promise to spank me later, anyway?”
She knew that, like Parker had said earlier, it wasn’t the time nor the place for such frivolities, but a small part of her had to know how Wyatt would react. Any man she considered dating must be able to take all of her, including her facetious humor.
When he returned her words with a smolder—yep, definitely a smolder—she grinned widely and cuddled into him, making sure to rub her soggy pants into the leather. The unmistakable shake of his silent laughter warmed her. If they were getting in trouble, the fun was well worth it.
Twenty-Seven
Wyatt followed his sauntering brother through the dark basement hallway of Lazarus House. The way his arrogant brother had picked him up from Misha’s studio didn’t make things easy. Parker treated Wyatt like a recalcitrant teenager, not a full-grown adult capable of making his own decisions. Yet, somehow, Wyatt felt no anger toward him. Without Misha by his side, he knew the outcome would be very different.
No tears. No flying fists. Let’s see where this is going.
Lazarus House was a multi-level building owned by Parker, reserved for their family living quarters, their public hospitality establishments, and their secret base of operations.
Misha followed a step behind, her tiny hand enveloped in his, blocking out all sense of wrath with her calming contact. After the mind-blowing morning they’d shared, trusting their innermost secrets to the other, their connection was stronger than ever. But now… as they emerged from the hollow tunnel and into the operations room filled with blinking computer screens, weapons tech, and tall glass cabinets displaying lethal battle uniforms, he wasn’t so sure.
The unmistakable glint of alarm entered Misha’s eyes, and she tugged on his hand to inspect the room. Not one of Wyatt’s family was present which meant they probably waited upstairs. The only sound came from the dull drone of a police scanner in the corner next to Flint’s workbench littered with broken pieces of machinery. The only movement came from the screens on the walls, flashing CCTV footage from around the city and local news networks. The center bench was reserved for planning battle strategy, but today, lay empty and clean. Wyatt let Misha draw him to the glass cabinets surrounding half the room. Each housed a hooded suit on a black mannequin. Seven mannequins. Seven suits.
New designs, he noted. Gone were the black rudimentary leathers. These suits were dark gray, made from something leather-like, and with contoured trimming that flowed with the shape of the body. At the belt, and no doubt on the back, was an emblem Wyatt guessed Parker created to signify their team—a circle with a seven in the middle. Wyatt inwardly groaned. A logo? What next, incorporate the group and list them on the stock exchange? Still, as he cast his eye over the suits, he couldn’t help appreciate the expensive looking material. He had no doubt they’d be a dream to wear in the field.
A dream to wear in the field?
Had he already taken that step? Back in the team, just like that?
Parker put his hands in his pocket and stood behind Wyatt, a mountain of responsibility.
“You’ve been gone a while,” his voice rumbled.
Too long.
“There have been some upgrades,” Parker continued. “The material is made from a graphene spider-silk polymer blend. Flexible, thin, flame retardant and they absorb kinetic energy.” He arched a brow at Wyatt. “Although I hear it would be wasted on you.”
So word had traveled back about Wyatt’s new invulnerability.
“Still,” Parker added. He opened the cabinet and pointed down a line running inside the sleeve seam. “You might enjoy the new capabilities for base jumping. Lock your arms to your body, your legs together, then tell AIMI to activate the wingsuit. A membrane is released from the container in the seam, and you’re good to go.”
“AIMI is loaded into the suit?” he asked, awed. AIMI was the artificial intelligence computer Flint, Sloan and Parker jointly created. But the last Wyatt heard, she was only available in the old school ear comms.
Parker nodded. “Speaker and mic attach
ed to the hood. Shielded computer chips and flexible circuit boards layered throughout. She monitors your vitals and sends real-time data back to Flint. Except Griffin. His suit’s more mechanical, and his power can disrupt everyone if he’s not careful, but we’re working on it.”
“Fuck.”
Parker snorted.
Wyatt felt as though he’d missed too much. Half expecting Misha to freak about the glaring reality of Wyatt’s dangerous second nature, he waited for her to make an excuse and leave. As it turned out, she sidled up to him with mischief in her eyes, and ran a hand seductively up his front to wrap around his nape.
She whispered in his ear, “Please tell me you get to take your suit home. You might need to rescue me in the bedroom.”
A warmth spread through him. Trust his girl to turn everything into a positive.
Parker gaped at the smile on Wyatt’s face and then lifted Wyatt’s wrist to inspect his balanced Yin-Yang tattoo. He shook his head. “I had to see it to believe it.” To Misha, he said, “Welcome to the family. Wyatt, spare clothes are on the table. Misha, Lilo has you sorted upstairs. Here’s a robe for now.”
“Oh, thank God for Lilo!” Misha gratefully accepted the robe from Parker before he left the room. Turning to Wyatt as she put it on, she pursed her lips. “What did he mean?”
“That we can finally get changed out of our wet clothes.”
She slapped him on the chest. “You know what I’m talking about. Why does he think I’m part of the family? It’s a little, I don’t know, soon for that, right?”
He gathered Misha into his arms. “There’s only one way this is going to end between us. Together.”
A distance formed behind her eyes.
Obviously, she still needed convincing he wasn’t going to leave her, despite the dangers of his job. She needed to believe that love was worth it all. And to do that, he had to be everything she’d never had in her life. A supportive influence, a lover who would never leave, and a loyal protector. He leaned down and kissed her gently, tasting her lips. It was only meant to be a sweet touch, but the instant her salty tongue pushed through to his, arousal speared through him and he deepened the kiss until she gasped for breath.
“You really need to quit doing that,” Misha murmured into his mouth, clutching onto him.
“Doing what?”
“Kissing me to distract me.”
Wyatt nibbled her jaw. Licked her perfect skin. Sucked her ear lobe. Couldn’t help himself. She drove his instincts with her scent and her very proximity. There was nothing for him to feel in that moment, no wrath, nothing, but her consuming presence. His hands slid down to cup her ass. Her clothes were wet. Soaking. Abruptly, he broke the kiss. “You’re right. I’m distracting you from changing into dry clothes.”
Misha’s eyes had glazed. “No, from the pressure of meeting your family.”
His palm ran down his face. This was serious. For Christ’s sake, he was on his way to reunite with his family. But she made him mindless.
Trying to keep his back to her, he stripped and quickly changed into the clean clothes that had been sitting on the workshop bench. A pair of sweat pants and a black T-shirt. They knew him so well. When the soft cotton slid over his skin, he registered how irritating the damp fabric of his jeans had become. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, took a deep breath and turned back to Misha.
She stood near the exit, hugging her robe, eyeing him appreciatively. “We’ll be revisiting that later. But first, I’m starving and kinda cold.”
Lips curving, he guided her toward the hallway, past the workout room, medical room, and then to the elevator at the end. When they got inside the car, he stood back while she inspected her appearance in the mirrored wall surrounding them.
She was in his house. His home. He couldn’t wait to cook her a good meal. None of that homey shit, but a taste bud exploding gourmet meal. To show her everything he’d learned about being a five-star chef. People fucking went on a wait list to eat his food.
Her hands trembled as she tucked hair behind her ears.
He opened and closed his mouth multiple times before saying quietly, “I know this is a lot to take in.”
After checking her teeth, she turned to him with a blank face.
“The inside look at our headquarters,” he elaborated. “And staying here… but it’s safest for you here. At least until we work out how to deal with Dimitri. We have a spare apartment, so you don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want. I mean, I’d like you to, but you don’t have to.”
A blush tinged her cheeks. “Thanks, Wyatt.”
That wasn’t a definitive answer, but he didn’t push her. It might take her over the edge and the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her away.
He took her hand and drew her to his body. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“Like a date?”
“Yeah. I’ll cook. We can watch a movie. You can call your family.”
Finally, peace seemed to settled over her. “I’d like that.”
A ping announced the elevator’s arrival at the third level. Wyatt stepped out with Misha shortly behind. He took a deep breath of courage, took Misha’s hand, and walked into the common apartment to explain to his family of deadly heroes why he hadn’t contacted them in five months. He’d left a broken, betrayed man, and returned with his mate. But they’d continued to fight the Syndicate without him, continued to do the right thing while he’d run from it. He owed them.
They followed the noise of chattering from the foyer into the large open space living room where the family sat around an enormous gray sectional sofa. The big television screen they faced displayed the local news station on mute. Further into the apartment was a billiards table, and a shared kitchen they used when entertaining in the common apartment. He remembered many nights when all seven of them, plus Flint and Mary had gathered to share a good meal and shoot the shit.
A quick count of heads showed Tony and Grace as absent.
Behind the couch, at a small round table, Griffin sat with their parents Flint and Mary. Sloan hunkered down on the couch, half underneath a blanket, plugged into a handheld device, glowing cat-ear headphones, and playing a game. Evan sprawled next to her, one eye on her progress, the other vaguely interested in the conversation Parker was having with Liza and Lilo next to him.
Upon their arrival, all noise vacated the room. Everyone stared at Wyatt and Misha. A few gazes darted to their conjoined hands and then a chorus of smiles flowed around the room. Flint and Mary stood stoically at the back. Griffin came around to give Wyatt a handshake and clap on the arm. Lilo jumped up and raced to her friend for a hug, despite Misha’s wet clothes. They spoke too fast to ascertain, more at home with each other than Wyatt felt in that room.
“I knew it.” Evan stood up, fist pumping the air. “You tried to deny it, but I knew it.” Then he turned to Liza. “Pay up, sis.”
Smug little bastard.
The tall brunette rolled her eyes and fished into her pockets, pulled out a fifty and slammed it into Evan’s waiting palm. His cocky elation wasn’t shared with their sister. “I’m not betting against you again. You cheat,” she simpered.
“Don’t hate me because I’m smarter than you.” Upon seeing Wyatt’s glaring attention, Evan elaborated. “She bet that you’d hold out for longer, but she doesn’t understand what it feels like to find your mate. There is no resisting.”
Misha tensed beside Lilo, both had fallen silent.
“Whatever, Sparky.” Liza turned to Misha. “Nice to meet you again. Tony will be sad he missed you.”
“Nice to see you all again.” Misha stepped closer to Lilo.
“Oh, you poor thing. You look drenched,” Lilo said. “Come on, I’ll take you up to our apartment. You can have a hot shower while I find you something to eat and wear. Obviously I know why you’ve been ignoring me now, but we can talk about that in a minute. Oh, how silly of me.” Lilo turned to everyone in the room. “You all remember Misha fr
om the opening night of Hell, right? Do I need to do introductions?”
“No, that’s not necessary. I think she’s met everyone.” Parker came over to stand next to them. “I’ll have some food sent up for lunch. We might be here a while.”
“Great.” Lilo stole Misha away, and a jolt of panic went through Wyatt.
Their idyllic morning was officially over. He intercepted them just before they entered the elevator. He wanted to tell them to go up to his apartment, because that’s where she belonged, but he reined in his urge.
“Don’t be long,” he whispered to Misha.
Seeing the alarm in his eyes, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ll be fine. Don’t overthink it.”
He watched the doors close, wondering how the hell he matched with such an easy going woman, and how the hell he seemed to like it.
Wyatt went back to his family.
Mary immediately left her husband’s side to round the big couch. As she passed Sloan, she slapped her on the head, dislodging her headphones and mumbling for her to get off the game.
Grimacing, Sloan rubbed her dark shock of messy hair. It was long, split-ended and possibly matted. Her disheveled hair wasn’t the only worrying sign. The weight she’d stacked on when Wyatt had last seen her was now gone, but not in a good way. Knowing her sin was sloth, she most likely had lost the will to keep herself fit, fed and washed. She slowly wasted away. Her trickster attitude was nowhere in sight.
Feeling his eyes on her, Sloan looked up and scowled. “What? You’re the only one allowed to have a mental breakdown?”
Wyatt’s jaw dropped, but he failed to speak.
Sloan slid belligerent eyes toward Parker. “Can I go now?”
“What do you think?” he shot back.
Liza had returned to her phone, swiping and making sexual cooing sounds. When Wyatt turned to Griffin for answers, he replied awkwardly. “Tinder.”
Right. His two sisters were falling under their sins hard, and his absent brother… “Tony?” he rasped.
Shocked eyes snapped Wyatt’s way.
Wrath (The Deadly Seven Book 3) Page 17
