Slade (The Protectors #6)
Teresa Gabelman
Chapter 1
Slade Buchanan shuffled through his small office doing his best not to trip over boxes scattered across the floor. Finally making it to his desk, he stood glaring at more boxes piled on top of it. It took every ounce of will power he had not to swipe his large hand across, knocking the clutter from his desk. Inside any one of these boxes could lay the key to halt the turning of humans into half-breeds; that in itself stopped him from knocking stuff out of his way in an attempt to find his damn desk.
Things were getting more complicated by the day and the heavy burden weighed on his shoulders. He knew everyone was looking to him for answers, answers he didn’t have and that pissed him off. He never failed; he refused to fail at anything.
Grabbing his keys that lay among the mess, he made one giant leap to the door instead of carefully maneuvering his way around the boxes. Once out of the room, he slammed the door, locking it behind him. He had to get the hell out of here. The death of the male half-breed who had attacked Jill had him stumped, as did everything else since he had come to Cincinnati.
Once outside, he headed toward his bike, but the sound of a female cursing caught his attention. Making his way past Adam’s car, he was not surprised to see Jill’s jean-clad legs sticking out of the driver’s side door as she lay half in and half out under Adam’s dashboard.
Slade stared for a few seconds then looked toward his bike. Rubbing his large hand down his face, he sighed, wondering if he really wanted to know what she was doing. Since meeting this fascinating woman, he knew the answer to that. He did want to know, and wasn’t that just a bitch. With one last longing glance at his bike, he shook his head.
“Dammit!” Jill’s voice, low and muffled, made it to his ears clear as if she was standing right in front of him.
He watched as she scooted further under the dashboard of Adam’s car, her shoes digging into the gravel to give her leverage as her shirt rose, showing more of her stomach than he wanted to see. Okay, that was a fucking lie. He’d give his left nut to see her before him completely naked. He’d seen that body once and once was definitely not enough.
“Come on, you piece of crap…start!” she cursed again, bringing him out of his hot fantasy of unsnapping those tight jeans and taking her right there, which sent urgent warnings to his brain to walk the fuck away.
“What the hell are you doing?” There it was. He couldn’t pull the words back into his mouth. His mouth and brain were on totally different levels.
Her whole body went still as a few seconds of silence passed. “Nothing,” she finally replied, her tone clearly indicating she knew she was busted.
Slade walked closer, putting his forearm on the roof of the car and leaning down slightly so their eyes could meet. “Looks to me like you’re trying to hot-wire Adam’s car, again.” When she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, he knew she knew he had her. He watched as she wiggled her way from under the dashboard. He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but his eyes said ‘fuck you’ as they traveled the length of her slender, toned body, which was wrapped in a pair of old faded blue jeans and a black sleeveless tee that fit snugly against her.
“Okay, you caught me.” She stood, brushing her jeans off before slamming the car door. “Stupid piece of junk.”
A small grin tipped his lips. “He probably disabled the ignition coil boot to keep you from stealing his car.”
Jill glanced toward the hood of the car with a frown. “That asshole,” she mumbled before looking back at Slade. “And I wasn’t stealing it. I was borrowing it.”
“It’s easier to ask for the keys when borrowing someone’s car.” Slade didn’t know what it was, but goading her seemed to be something he couldn’t stop himself from doing and goading women wasn’t something he normally did.
Jill glared up at him with a frown. “Yeah, well, he wouldn’t give me his keys if I begged him.” Sticking her hands in her back pockets, she glanced down at the ground. “He doesn’t think I’m a good driver, which he’s totally wrong about. I’m a good driver, but he’s so anal about his precious piece of junk.”
“Most guys are,” Slade replied, then grinned when she made a snorting noise. He turned to walk toward his bike. “Stop hot-wiring cars, Jill. Sid never should have shown you how to do that.”
“Yeah, whatever.”