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Always testing.
Always preparing.
Now, we’re on the obstacle course. This one has twenty-one obstacles—about twice the size of the Ohio course. I’m currently on the second set of tires, alternating feet, heading toward the final three stations—the incline wall, spider wall, and vaults.
Heart pounding in my chest. Blood flow swishing in my ears. Muscles burning.
The best part about this a.m. slaughtering is that I can’t focus on Celeste and the way she pulverized me in that goddamn elevator. My cock was so hard that it ached. Worst case of blue balls in my life. I’ve never craved anyone that way. I wanted to throw her down and fuck her until she writhed beneath me, my name an erotic prayer on those luscious lips, loud enough for all of La Lune Noire to hear.
Christ, the feel of her heavy tits pressed against me—other-fucking-worldly. I was drunk on her cashmere smell, her silky skin, her sultry voice. And it seemed like she was right there with me. Not just with the sexual tension either.
There’s more to her—more than her beauty, her etiquette, her self-indulgent plight to land a position as First Lady, and her holier-than-thou bullshit. I saw it. That girl has skills, hidden talents, and is fucking smart—a trait I find sexy as hell. Not to mention how light and fun she was, volleying every damn line Cash threw at her with ease.
She’s so much edgier with me. The air she had about her the entire night was refreshing. Entrancing. I even noticed the brief pain she hid for Ivy’s sake when the wedding was brought up. She smiled through it, like she’s probably done for her best friend this whole past year, even though her whiskey eyes went hollow.
There’s no denying that I’m curious.
But it was a fucking grand gesture to admit that to her, so I’m pissed off that she shut me down like that. Right when I thought we were getting somewhere. Proving every impression I’d previously had. I’m caught between respecting her brazen stratagem and the desire to make her pay for playing me. If anyone’s going to pull that shit, it’s me.
Once we’re all through the course, Wells orders us to stand in the yard for our morning meeting, which is currently hours later than we normally conduct it. The sun is blazing, but the breeze is enough to bend the withering trees, so I’m not complaining. Better January than July.
He hammers us each with questions about our individual projects before moving on to security concerns. Only so much depth can be accomplished out here without our data in front of us, but he likes to evaluate our knowledge, see if we’re as invested as he expects. It’s a lot easier to answer questions when all the information is staring back at us. Thankfully, my mind is a vault of data. He’ll be hard-pressed to stump me, but he knows that.
Finally, his surly green eyes narrow on us, and I catch his telltale worry divot. “Thoughts on that motherfucker, Pruitt Lancaster?”
So, it wasn’t just me. “He was hiding something.”
“Agreed,” Gage says as sweat pours off his head like a dripping faucet. “At first, his lack of fear came off as a moron, unaware of who he was facing. But I don’t think that was it.”
“Like he expected us,” I finish. “Knew who he was facing.”
“Yep,” Gage agrees. “It’s a rare fucking day when a normal civilian isn’t pissing their pants as I’m staring them down. We all had our guns visible too.”
Wells paces in front of us, cussing under his breath. “Same thoughts I had.”
“You think he knows what Ivy’s position is?” Ty asks, chewing a hole in his cheek. “Or Wells’s? Knew we were going to be there? The only way that leaked would be through the Noires.”
I shake my head, humming in disagreement as I chug from my water bottle. “They only have a faint idea of what Ivy and Wells do, other than the erasing side of things, not enough to leak. Certainly not about KORT.”
“Maybe it’s simpler than that.” Wells halts his pace to take us in. “We’re so close to the issues of protecting Ivy regarding KORT business. That’s always our go-to concern. Maybe it wasn’t that.”
“Could’ve been about the Noires, knowing the girls had a connection to them.” Ty flips his water bottle end over end, catching it and casting his gaze to Wells. “Pruitt only mentioned Rena and Jax to Ryker. There’s something there.”
“I caught that too,” I say, recalling how it made my arm hairs stand up. It was right before he turned back to Celeste and called her Cee, his predatory leer devouring her figure, making my skin itch. “We need Axel and Ryker to fill in the gaps. Then, maybe we’ll understand if or what the connection is to the girls. Could be this mess with Frank. Maybe that Lancaster prick is tied up with the Skulls. He went right for Celeste.”
“With a genuine relationship,” Gage argues. “He doesn’t fit the profile of a Skull. Too preppy. But he could owe them. And he’s related to the Noires, holding sensitive information.” He wipes his forehead with his shirt. “Convenient.”
“Too convenient,” Wells grants. “Something doesn’t add up.”
My gut churns with a restless disquiet, which only complicates the puzzlement I’m battling over the sexy victor from last night. Ace. “I’ll dig into him today, although I also need to get a handle on Jensen for Ivy. Not as time sensitive, but I was hoping to ease her mind before the baby arrives.”
“Do both,” Wells orders. “And we’ll call Axel, see what we can get from him.”
Gage cracks his knuckles, features twisting in that bloodthirsty craze he wears sometimes. “If necessary, I can pay Pruitt a visit.”
Ty chuckles. He lives vicariously through Gage, admiring the way he can feed his demons without disappearing into them. A feat Ty can’t master.
Wells holds up a stand-down hand. “Let’s wait on that until we know more. Now, on to another pressing issue.”
