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Dex frowned when it dawned on him. “Ohhh. I misread that.”
“I don’t….” Sloane shook his head. He didn’t even have words. “Get in the damn truck before I shoot you.” He pushed Dex from behind, guiding him into the lobby, grunting every time Dex paused to talk at him over his shoulder.
“You know, you should try yoga. Find a way to channel all that aggression.”
Sloane gave him another push. “I have found a way. It’s called shoving my foot up your ass.”
“That doesn’t sound very relaxing.”
Push. “I’m sure I’ll feel plenty relaxed afterward.”
“You got a problem.” Dex grimaced at him, and Sloane gave another push to get him moving again.
“Yeah and I’m looking right at it.” This situation was a heart attack waiting to happen. He just knew it. The stress of the job, now this. Yep, he was going to keel over. He could see the writing on his tombstone now: Sloane Brodie departed this world at age 37 due to massive coronary trauma as a result of idiot partner Dexter J. Daley.
“Ouch, man. That’s harsh.”
Sloane had just about reached the front door when Calvin’s voice came over his earpiece.
“Sloane, we got a problem.”
“What is it?”
“Press is outside.”
“Shit.” Sloane crept up to the large glass front, grateful for the wall-to-ceiling venetian blinds. Careful not to jostle the thin wooden slats, he peeked outside. Damn it, there were at least three news vans that he could see. He pulled back and tapped his earpiece. “What about Cael and Rosa?”
Rosa’s concerned voice came over his earpiece. “We’re in the truck. We didn’t see you guys so figured you’d already headed out.”
Sloane cast Dex an accusing glare. “We got momentarily held up. Dex had to take a shit.”
Dex’s jaw dropped. He made to touch his earpiece when Sloane caught his wrist and twisted his arm behind him, making him double over.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Dex moaned, glaring up at him.
“Thank you for the disturbing visual,” Rosa grunted. “What now?”
“We’re going out the back. Have the BearCat ready to go as soon as we get there.” He released Dex’s arm, pulled him up and grinned at the sour expression on Dex’s face.
“That was not cool, man.”
“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about wandering off. Now let’s go.”
They rushed through the lobby and reception area to the double doors on the right. Behind him, Dex mimicked him, lowering his voice as he repeated Sloane’s words, adding an unintelligible rambling of grunts and growls at the end.
“There’s something seriously wrong with you.” Sloane followed the hallway he’d come in through earlier to the pantry and out into the hall leading to the loading dock.
“Must be the company I’ve been keeping,” Dex quipped. Sloane turned and grabbed Dex by the shoulders.
“Okay, shut up for a minute. Let’s pretend you’re a normal agent for a sec, and that you weren’t sent to drive me out of my freaking mind. Can you do that?”
Dex pursed his lips. “I’ll have to reach really deep for that one, but I think I can manage.”
“Good. Soon as we get out there, make a beeline for the truck, and try not to shoot anyone.”
“No promises,” Dex muttered.
Sloane unclipped his helmet from where it hung at the back of his vest, and put it on before lowering his visor. He motioned for Dex to do the same. It wouldn’t deter the press, but at least their helmets would keep the cameras out of their faces and offer a little more anonymity. He grabbed the heavy metal door and pulled. With a quick glimpse to make sure the coast was clear, they hurried through and jumped down the concrete platform, making a dash for the sidewalk.
