Sloth

by Lana Pecherczyk

  It was a mad house when Tony arrived in the basement. He passed Griffin and Liza sitting morosely in the strategy room. Most of the action concentrated around the medical room and standing in the hallway, watching through the glass viewing window were his parents, Evan, Wyatt and Misha. Tony followed their worried gazes inside the medical lab and had a profound sense of déjà vu. Inside, laid out on a stretcher, was Max. Parker, Sloan and Evan’s lifemate Grace were in there, as was the scientist they’d rescued, Barry Pinkerton.

  It reminded Tony of when Wyatt had been sliced across the throat by his ex and was in there being patched up. Goosebumps erupted over his flesh, and he turned to check on Wyatt. He stood with his arms around Misha, holding her tight, eyes locked on Max.

  When Tony brought his gaze back to Max, he knew why Wyatt looked disturbed. Something was wrong with Max. The whites of his eyes showed. His back bowed on the stretcher. Veins in his neck protruded. Foam spat from his snarling mouth. It was like the special effects team from a zombie movie had worked on the man. Parker used all his strength to hold down Max by the ankles. Sloan was holding his wrists, but not successfully.

  “She needs our help,” Tony murmured, catching the dismay in Sloan’s eyes.

  Wyatt cast a downward glance at Tony’s attire—the loosened tie, the untucked shirt—and his lip curled with scorn. Then Wyatt gestured at Evan. “Let’s go in.”

  Misha placed her palm on Wyatt’s chest, lifted on her tip toes and whispered something into his ear. Wyatt’s expression softened. He looked down at his woman and nodded. Then he shouldered into the med-room.

  That love right there was something Tony would never have. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he saw the same love everywhere. Between his parents. Evan as he came up behind his woman in the med room. Sloan as she looked down at Max as if he was her life. What did people see when they saw Tony? Not even Tony knew.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, then stepped forward until his nose almost touched the viewing window.

  Wyatt and Evan each took a wrist and held Max down. This only infuriated Max, and he strained more. It was as though his muscles expanded in diameter, as though his body was growing, getting bigger, stronger… like a monster. Like those beastly animals at the black site.

  “Hold him steady,” Grace insisted as she aimed a syringe toward Max’s inner elbow. She had her surgical scrubs on, which meant she must have come straight from the hospital at Evan’s behest. “If I can’t draw blood, we can’t test it.”

  Max was barely containable as he bucked.

  Sloan shouted. “We just need his blood. The note said the answer is in his blood!”

  Unable to get to his vein, Grace shook her head and quickly replaced her syringe with another. “We have to sedate him.”

  Then she plunged her needle into his right biceps and depressed. Max roared, bucked and threw at least two of them off him.

  He should get in there. Max would want Tony in there.

  “What happened?” Tony asked Griffin, who had come to stand next to him.

  Griffin only gave him a sideways glance, then said: “You’d know if you came to the briefing when Parker called.”

  “He just said to get down to the basement,” Tony muttered. “I didn’t realize it was important.”

  Griffin’s only answer was a grunt, because his wife also joined him at that moment. Flush-faced and fresh from the camera, her makeup was done. Her hair and smart dress was smooth.

  She rushed up to Griffin. “Griff, honey. Is he okay?”

  Griffin curled his fingers around his wife’s waist and simply nodded toward the window. “We don’t know what’s wrong with him. They’re trying to sedate him so they can test his blood.”

  Lilo frowned. “He looks like Donnie did when he took too much of the Greed Serum.”

  She was right.

  Tony moved. He slammed his palm on the door to the med room, swinging it open. He strode inside and right to where Barry stood at the side, wringing his hands, eyes wide on Max. Tony clicked his fingers in front of the scientist’s face to get his attention. “Lilo said he looks like Donnie did when he took too much Greed Serum. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “I-uh…” Barry’s fearful gaze darted between Max and Tony. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Greed serum?”

  “Out,” Parker ordered from the table, face straining with his grip on Max’s arm. “Get out, Tony.”

  Fuck that. Tony had to help. Max would want him to. He crossed the room to stand next to Sloan. “You want me to take over?”

  Her eyes glistened when she brought them to his. “Parker’s right, Tony. There’s nothing you can do. We need to test his blood. The answer is in his blood.”

  “You keep saying that. Why?”

  Sloan shook her head absently. “It was on the note pinned to his chest.”

  “You got that note?”

  “Tony,” Parker growled. “You stink like alcohol. Get out before I take you out.”

  Tony ignored his brother. Yes, he was still a little tipsy. Yes, he stank. But, no. He would not leave Max. He should have been there.

  “Where is the note?” he asked Sloan.

  “Tucked in my waistband.”

  Without waiting for permission, Tony lifted the hem of her jacket to reveal her waistband beneath. He saw the white crumpled paper wedged near her hip. He plucked it out. He opened the note.

  “He’s calming,” Grace muttered. “It’s working.”

  Tony read the note, eyes scanning across the words. The answer is in your blood. He repeated the words in his mind. The answer is in your blood. It was a note pinned to Max’s chest. Whoever pinned the note knew what was going to happen to Max. They’d have known he wouldn’t be in any condition to read.

  The note wasn’t for Max.

  It was for Sloan.

  “The answer is in Sloan’s blood, not Max’s,” he said and then handed the note to Barry. “Does that make any sense to you?”

  Barry’s eyes suddenly focused, and he straightened. “In her blood. Yes. Yes, that makes perfect sense.”

  Max had gone lax, and Grace was drawing blood while Parker attached monitoring electrodes. Sloan chewed on her nails.

  “We need to start a transfusion,” Barry decided. “Sloan’s blood”—he scanned all the Deadly Seven present in the room—“all of your blood. It’s regenerating and you’re all universal donors. Give the man a transfusion using your blood. Theoretically, it will purify the toxins from Max’s system.”

  Sloan was already hitting the form-fitting button on her jacket chest, releasing the fabric’s hold on her body. She tugged it over her head until she was only in her bra. Then she held her exposed inner elbow out. “Whatever you need, Doc.”

  Grace was ordering someone—anyone—to find her an intravenous transfusion kit. Parker dashed off to another door, yanked it open and disappeared into the darkness. He returned moments later with a long transparent tube with bags.

  Don’t ask Tony how the man could see in that pitch black room, but he had.

  Parker handed the kit to Grace. “Field transfusion kit.”

  She nodded. “Good. This is good. Someone get Sloan a seat.”

  That’s all Tony saw because Parker promptly shoved Tony out of the room, ordering the rest of the team. “Everyone out. Give the doc some space.”

  Seconds ticked by.

  Minutes.

  They all settled in the hallway, watching Sloan sitting with her sleeping man. One hand grasped his, the other was resting on a cushion on the bed as the blood drained from her body and into his.

  Through it all, Tony watched quietly, trying not to pay attention to the cells in his body, already screaming out for another drink. At some point, Parker came to stand next to him. Both men stood stoically, staring. Hoping and praying that Sloan wouldn’t lose her mate tonight.

  And it wasn’t because they were afraid of her snapping. It was because of the way she looked down at him with
affectionately sad eyes. It was the way she gently wiped his sweaty hair from his brow, and it was the way her fingers trailed down to stroke his jaw before settling once again on his hand.

  “You know, it’s amazing what you can do when your mind isn’t clouded by booze,” Parker mumbled under his breath.

  Tony’s jaw clenched. He said nothing.

  Grace shouldered her way out of the medical room. Evan went to her and clasped her on the shoulder. She smiled up at him fondly and then brought her gaze to the rest of them.

  “The transfusion is done. Barry was right. As you’re all universal donors, the blood seems to be taking. There’s nothing left to do now but wait until he wakes up. Barry’s taken the samples we took to his new lab. We should know more in the morning.”

  Everyone left, except Tony. He watched Sloan and her man through the glass, and he felt… he rubbed his chest. What did he feel? Something uncomfortable. Something that reminded him of the way Bailey had said, I don’t expect you to know anything.

  He didn’t like that feeling. He was done with it. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. Within two rings, a woman answered.

  “Hello. Darling Greens Rehabilitation. How can I help you?”

  Thirty-Three

  Weeks later, Sloan was hiking through the bush with Max, trying to find the place he insisted Gale had told him to visit. Now that Max was recovered, and she had her heart firmly back in her chest, this was the first place Max had thought to go. They both needed a break, but after hours of seemingly aimless trekking, it felt like they were chasing a ghost.

  Gale had never been to America, so it didn’t make sense he’d told Max about a certain camping spot… but she didn’t have the heart to remind him.

  The sound of rushing water took her by surprise, and she turned to him in surprise.

  He grinned, dimples flashing. “I told you it existed.”

  “How did you—?”

  He shrugged. “I called Gale’s parents. They said they came here once when he was a child.”

  She smiled knowing he’d called them. It meant he was slowly coming to terms with what happened to Gale, and maybe, dare she think, forgiving himself.

  Pushing through the overgrown bush and shrubs, they crested a clearing that ended in a small waterfall and a cascading narrow river. It wasn’t big. It only had a few small ribbons of water that ran over rocks and boulders, molding them from sharp to soft lines before dripping into a stunning deep blue pool below. Big Aspen loomed on all sides, giving them shade and shelter.

  While Sloan gawped at the stunning site, Max cleared the area of debris and twigs so he could lay the two-man tent. She turned to watch him, and couldn’t help noticing the way he’d come alive on the hike. This was his element and, she had to admit, she enjoyed it too. Being miles from anyone but Max gave her empathic ability a reset, and she felt rejuvenated just by being there.

  Lowering her heavy backpack, she sat on a fallen log near the river. Cool mist kissed her parched skin. Leaning down with her elbows on her knees, and chin in her hands, she watched her handsome man work. The weather was warm, and he wore a thin T-shirt that showed off his musculature—from robust biceps to neck tendons to manly forearms. Broad shoulders tapered down to a flat stomach and narrow waist where loose shorts hung low on his hips. God, she loved it when a man knew how to do manly things. The Max show was great.

  So great.

  And considering just over two weeks ago, he’d almost died… even better now to be able to perv on him like this.

  “Excuse me,” she called out.

  He had a cord in his mouth, and a frown between his brows as he concentrated on tying a knot around the base of the tent peg. Lifting his gaze, he mumbled through the rope. “Yeah?”

  “I don’t think you’re doing that right,” she said innocently.

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah, I think the shirt is hindering your movements. It would work much better if you just took it off.”

  A lazy smile curved up one side of his face. Holding her gaze, he dropped the rope and tugged his shirt off. He lifted his eyebrows. “Better?”

  She nodded, grinning.

  He went back to his task, bending low as he adjusted the poles, heaved, and erected the tent in one smooth move. Then, just for good measure, he flexed. When he checked over his shoulder to see if she watched, his eyes twinkled. “I knew your prank with the thermostat was all about getting me naked.”

  Still grinning like a dumbass, she nodded. Wait. What?

  She straightened, cheeks flaming. “No, it wasn’t. I was just trying to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Sure,” he laughed. “Whatever you say.”

  “No, really.” She hopped up and strode over. “I was just trying to make you sweat.”

  “So you could get me naked.”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. He knew he had her. Then his gaze softened, and he nodded at his pack. “You want to put the bedrolls in the tent?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re all work, aren’t you?”

  “Got to be prepared. Make sure you keep the food double bagged. We don’t want to attract bears.”

  “Yes, Captain Bossy-Pants.”

  She turned to do as she was told, but Max took her wrist and tugged her to him. Their bodies clashed. He wrapped her arms around his torso and then ran his callused hands up her arms to cup her face.

  He studied her. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

  “It was perfect the day you stepped back into my life.”

  Sloan’s skin felt tight. Her heart pitter-pattered. Her eyes dropped to the curve of his lips and she licked her own. She wanted him… so bad… but had given him space. He was still recovering from his ordeal. At first, they weren’t sure how he would feel after the serum he’d been injected with, then they weren’t sure if her blood would have any side effects on him, then… it just became awkward. His physical bruises healed, but there were unseen scars.

  Her sister had beat him and she wasn’t sure she could do anything to help him get over it.

  This was the first chance they’d both truly been alone, and it was only for two days. That’s all they could afford for a vacation before getting back to the city and getting back to work.

  The Syndicate had remained silent, but they knew it wouldn’t be for long. Both parties knew damning information about the other. It was mutually assured destruction, a Cold War. They didn’t know what to do.

  She flexed her fingers over his back. What if she just, let her desire slip, just a little… showed him how she was feeling? How she’d been so hot for him, watching him walk and take control of the hike, that her nipples had rubbed sensitively against her bra for hours and heat hung heavy between her thighs. But he kissed her gently on the nose and pulled away to resume setting up their campsite. “Sun’s going down soon. We don’t want to be setting up in the dark.”

  For the next hour, as the light turned the cloudy sky from blue to orange, pink and purple, Max continued to fuss around the camp. Compartmentalizing her emotions—she was getting good at that—she set about to make a small campfire and heat some tinned food for them. By the time the night came, they were ready to sit on the log facing the river, and eat. When they were done, he even got up immediately to clean the dishes, mumbling an excuse about attracting bears. She was beginning to think he was avoiding her, but eventually he came back to the log.

  The small fire crackled quietly behind them, not that they needed it for warmth. It was purely for light. The weather was a tepid seventy degrees and beautiful. Crickets chirped and an owl hooted in the distance.

  He took a deep breath and sighed, stretching his long legs in front of him, and put his hands on the log for support. The silence expanded until Sloan couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Weird.”

  “Like, weird-weird, or funny-weird, or like, you’re seven kinds of weird?”

  “I
don’t even know what that means. It’s been too long since I’ve needed to speak Sloan.”

  “Well, lucky you’ve got plenty of time to figure it out.”

  With a small frown, he picked up her left hand and fingered the ring he’d given her. “Yeah. I do.”

  “You okay?”

  “Just can’t believe we’re here. You still have the ring. We made it back to each other. It’s real.”

  She shifted toward him on the log and he lifted his arm around her shoulders, tucking her in to his regrettably T-shirt covered torso. He smelled divine. Sweaty, salty, and manly.

  “She said some strange things,” Max said, eyes looking off in the distance.

  Sloan tensed. She knew he meant Daisy. She squeezed his hand and waited for him to say more.

  “She said I’m stained. A murderer. A sinner. She said that I’m unwanted.”

  “Max.”

  “I almost believed her, and then… she started asking about our relationship, and they way she’d asked, it made me think she’d never been in one. This whole time, she’s not known the meaning of love.” His grip tightened around her shoulder.

  With a sigh of her own, she melted on the exhale and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry she hurt you.”

  “I’m not.”

  What? She pulled away so she could look him in the eye. “Why?”

  “Because now I know something that can help you.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “It wasn’t until I mentioned you’d set a place for her at the table until she really went to town on me. It bothered her so much. It made her feel something. And when your father ca—”

  “Say what?” Sloan’s voice peeped. “Father?”

  “The man who was there with her, he’s your biological father. I thought you knew that.”

  Sloan shook her head, throat turning to dirt. “I didn’t. But it makes sense. Gloria was manipulated for years into creating us. Love will do that to you. Except, the love was only one sided I guess. That man is a monster.”

  “No arguments from me there.”

  “Do you think Daisy is having second thoughts?”