S.O.S. Perk (S.O.S. #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY

It seemed a lot longer than two days since Sloane had seen Perk, even though they’d been texting regularly after his debrief with Smalley and Tertia regarding his day at the Nelsin’s. She nodded to herself as she pulled up to Wiley’s barn just as dusk was falling. Perk had certainly made some good headway at the Nelsin residence, but not a lot regarding the unnamed “who” pulling Jeremy’s strings.

Jeremy had—once Perk had been cleared by his mother to be a guest—filled Perk in on the particulars of the money-grabbing game he’d developed; the one he’d been giving out to friends and acquaintances at school. Poppin’ Fresh Pets . So Perk was full of information on that front.

He had admitted to Jeremy, though, that he was not a big gamer, but his admission was taken with a shrug. Indeed, it hadn’t stopped Jeremy from bragging about everything he’d managed with his malware.

Perk did have to pretend he knew what Jeremy was talking about regarding some of the software engineering, since he’d earlier told the kid he’d flushed out Jeremy’s activities by doing a deep dive on him. He’d pulled the wool with that one by simply nodding and “hmm-ing” a lot; getting lucky that the kid was so pumped about his own prowess that he hadn’t noticed. Still, the team knew they had to up their strategy for future interactions.

In that regard, Perk had first asked Sloane what device the Bureau had available for covert communication. She’d let him know that her local office didn’t have the latest in gadgets, but that she could put in a requisition order for something state-of-the-art. Perk had laughed and assured her he’d get it covered. He’d subsequently hit Del up for one of SOS’s barely-there comm sets, an ear-bud that sat so low in the ear canal, it couldn’t be seen, and a pin-head sized button-speaker that attached to the inside of his shirt. With those in place, Perk, during his meetings with Jeremy, would be able to interface with and be coached by Sarge in the event that any more in-depth computer conversations came up.

It wouldn’t do for Perk to look too stupid.

Sloane got out of her car and stood for a moment to admire the large, red structure where Perk told her they sparred. It was massive, as she figured it needed to be, as it also—she understood—housed Wiley’s horses. She looked around.

Speaking of which… The paddock off to the left was expansive, dotted with several of the majestic animals, their nostrils sending clouds of condensation into the frigid air.

Beautiful.

Taking her gaze away from them, she turned to the right and noticed a charming cottage where she assumed Wiley lived with his wife, Solina.

What a sweet setup.

Sloane eventually urged her feet to move toward the barn, but half way there, nerves hit. This was the first time she’d seen Perk since they’d been naked in bed together.

Right. So what .

She forced her insecurities away. Perk had sounded perfectly normal over texts, and had said how much he was looking forward to seeing her tonight, so there really was nothing to worry about.

Once that settled in her brain—but before she could inch more than a few more steps forward—the barn door opened and Perk walked out. No. Scratch that. He ran out.

When Perk was practically nose to nose with Sloane, he threw his arms around her, picked her up, and spun her around while kissing the stuffing out of her. It took Sloane a few seconds for her blindsided-body to catch up, but once it did, she wrapped her legs around Perk and was kissing him back with everything she had.

“Uh, hem.” A voice behind Perk eventually coughed, and Sloane wrenched her face away, blinking.

“Perk,” she hissed. “People.”

He laughed and dropped a peck onto her nose. “It’s just one of the guys. And FYI, I’ve told them all we’re dating.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think I needed to wait since they have eyes and they’ve seen what’s going on. Don’t worry. They won’t blow my cover.” He suddenly looked conflicted, perhaps thinking that Sloane might have liked to get a say in how and when things were revealed.

“Uh… That’s okay, isn’t it?” he asked sheepishly.

Sloane snorted. “No worries. I think we’ve already made it clear to those who were at the Bureau the other night that we’re…together. Which means everyone in my office now knows because guys are the worst gossips. I’m assuming it’s likewise spread to all your teammates, so…”

“So, we’re good?” Perk grinned.

Before she could answer, their lookie-loo spoke up again.

“Yeah. You’re good.”

Sloane peeked over Perk’s shoulder.

Del stood there with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Nice to see you, Agent Vessers,” he smirked.

“Sloane. And it’s nice to see you, too, Del, in a civilian setting,” she managed, sliding her legs down over Perk’s hips to eventually stand on her own two feet. “I’m not going to hear the end of this, am I?” she asked tartly.

“Nope. Your aloof agent persona is now a thing of the past. You’re currently one of us. Welcome aboard.”

“You think if you include me in your numbers, I’ll get all softened up and won’t mop the floors with everyone inside?” she blustered, following his lead of comradery.

Del threw back his head and laughed. “You think you’re going to beat us all into the mats,” he taunted. “But think again. We’ve already got pools going, twenty bucks a pop, and I hate to say it, but you’re near the bottom of the pack.”

“Who’s got worse odds than me?” she questioned astutely.

“Perk,” Del grinned. “We figure he’ll be too distracted by you to perform up to his normal standards.”

Sloane threw Del a look that said, “oh, please”, before laying her money where her mouth was. “Put me down for a Jackson on myself to come in first, and another twenty for Perk following at a close second.”

“You sure you’re ready to lose all that money?” Del raised a brow that wiggled amusedly.

Sloane shrugged. “You think you are?”

Del rubbed his hands together. “Oh, this is going to be good.” He turned on his heel and hurried back inside, purportedly to let everyone know about the upped stakes.

“You’re certain about this?” Perk asked, looking at her askance.

She went up on tiptoe and kissed the underside of his chin. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure you hold up your end of the deal.”

“I’ll do my best,” he chuckled, then laying a warm palm on the back of her neck, they strolled into the barn.

Sloane’s first thought was… Wow .

Although the interior smelled a little like fresh hay, that’s where her preconceived notions of barns blew apart. The space was huge, looking more like a professional gymnasium than a place for animals to sleep. The walls, by the looks, were all insulated and soundproofed. The highly polished wooden floors were covered with mats. And at the center of the large space, a sparring ring had been delineated with boundary lines and ropes. The only homage to being an actual barn was the high, lofted ceiling which arched overhead, supported by enormous beams.

“Where are the horses?” she asked no one in particular.

“In the back half,” Wiley supplied, coming up to…

Nope . He didn’t shake her hand; he pulled her into a warm hug.

Geeze. She guessed she’d been accepted alright, and her heart did a happy little flip at the unaccustomed welcome.

“There’s another half to this already massive structure?” she squeaked when he finally let her go.

“Uh, huh. Solina will be bringing our big babies inside soon. I’ll take you back to meet them once we’ve rendered you senseless here,” he bantered.

“You think,” Sloane threw back. She was used to this kind of trash-talk. Her office employed it too. It was just that she’d never really joined in with her fellow agents because everyone there thought she had a stick up her ass. Which she mostly did. But the SOS team was clearly having none of that.

“Put your coat over there,” Wiley pointed to a rack that held everyone’s outerwear, “and start warming up. We’ve already pulled straws. Del and Brent are going to go first.”

Sloane went to hang up her coat, but asked over her shoulder as she was walking. “What are the match-ups after them?”

“Daire versus Perk, Prez versus Sarge, Billboard—just back from his honeymoon—against you, then I’ll take on Mizzay.”

Sloane glanced around, not worried at all that she’d be battling Billboard. He might be big, but she was fast. “I don’t see Mizzay.”

“She said she had something to do, but she should be here any minute.”

Sloane nodded. The mysterious Mizzay. She’d looked into the conundrum of a woman, but found exactly…nothing on record about her. Anywhere. So much for figuring out what made the powerful woman tick.

Sloane pulled her mind back to the matches. “I take it the winners of the first rounds will face off?”

“After a new drawing of straws, yeah. With the odd man out moving automatically to the final match of the night,” Wiley confirmed.

“Cool. I’ll be warming up.” Sloane walked across the expanse and found a spot where she could do her stretches while still keeping an eye on the ring. She dropped to the mat and commenced by taking some deep breaths. She was glad she’d have a chance to watch most of the team spar. It would give her a better idea of how to approach them when she faced off against them, later.

For the current match-up, her figurative money was on Brent. He was former FBI, ran a training camp for all forms of protective services, and kicked ass. Sloane had never seen Del spar, but…she assumed he was also no pushover. This should be fun.

The pair were well matched, and even though Del managed to get Brent down a few times, it became clear after the first seven minutes that Brent would prevail. The entire team began jeering, calling Del an old man, which had the guy rousing for a few additional seconds, but in the end, he succumbed to Brent.

“That’ll teach you to have babies and not get any sleep,” Wiley taunted.

He could laugh now, but…

Sloane had heard from various of the SOS team that Wiley and Solina were on the fence about having children, but she had inside intel. Sloane had talked to Solina at the wedding, and on the sly Solina had let slip that in the spring they’d be putting an addition on their cottage because they were thinking of expanding their family. Then she’d slapped a hand over her mouth and had sworn Sloane to secrecy.

Children .

Sloane glanced Perk’s way and sighed. He’d make a great father. Was it possible…?

Nope. She wasn’t going to go there. Mind in the game, Sloane.

Perk and Daire were up next.

Perk had some inches on Daire, and if her appraisal was correct, a longer reach, as well. That would help Perk in some regards, even though this wasn’t boxing.

Her attention was all on the pair as they circled each other, and even though Sloane was distracted by the glorious play of muscles across Perk’s broad back, she kept a sharp eye on the moves he made.

Daire was the first to go down, but Perk failed to shift away fast enough, and found himself toppling as Daire got a hand on his ankle and yanked. Perk, however, instead of rolling away to regroup, used the opportunity to move closer to Daire as the man began to rise, and using his superior reach to encompass Daire’s midsection, tossed him back to the mat before climbing on top of him.

Daire found himself with his shoulders pinned, but he bucked his hips sharply and dislodged Perk. The move had them both on their feet within seconds where they once again circled each other warily. If points were being scored, they’d be tied right about now.

“Come on, Daire,” his brother Brent encouraged. “Take him down.”

The SOS team whistled and egged Perk on. The noise levels were rising as Mizzay walked in, heading straight for Sloane.

“Whatz happened so fah?” she asked as she went down beside Sloane and began her own stretches.

“Brent beat Del,” Sloane apprised. “Now, both Perk and Daire have executed two moves on each other, which in my book makes them even.”

Mizzay snorted. “Yeah. But Mistah Devons doesn’t have Mistah Perkins stamina, and Mistah Perkins knows it. So, Mistah Perkins will dance around and play for a while to wear Mistah Devons down, then he’ll go in for the kill.”

“Good to know.” Sloane filed that bit of information away to use later, no matter which one would be her opponent. Although she was hoping for Perk.

“Whooz am I going up against?”

“You’re the fifth match, and you’ll be with Wiley.”

Mizzay scoffed. “Nothin’ to worry about theyah.”

Sloane smirked at the tiny woman’s confidence.

They both continued to stretch and watch the match.

As per Mizzay’s prediction, Perk continued to taunt, bait, and retreat from Daire, until Daire’s focus finally faltered, then Perk had him down and pinned within seconds of the lapse.

“Whad I tell ya?” Mizzay gloated.

“Okay,” Wiley called out after the two had shaken hands with each other, both grinning like fools. “Prez and Sarge are up.”

The pair had clearly worked the mats together for a number of years, and knew exactly what they were up against. In the end, it could have been either one of them who won, but Prez used his bulk to overpower the smaller Sarge, eventually prevailing, just not by much.

Sloane had tried to take note of the men’s strengths and weaknesses, but had to admit to herself that neither were showing their hands.

Then it was her turn with an unknown in Billboard. She’d never seen him spar. This was going to be a hands-on, learning experience.

With half the crowd calling her name—Perk being the loudest—and the others rooting for Billboard, the air was full of whistles and catcalls.

As they circled, Sloane figured her best defense would be to get Billboard’s huge size working against him. Momentum wouldn’t be his friend. She skipped close and poked him in the chest, then retreated rapidly. As expected, he chased, and as he lumbered toward her, she ducked to the side, went into a squat, and swept a leg out to knock his pins from underneath him. He went down hard and fast to his face. Sloane wasted no time. She climbed aboard, a knee in his mid-back, an elbow to his neck while she forced her free arm under his torso. It was a cautionary move, because she knew—despite her pressure points—Billboard would be on his feet right about… Now.

She hung on for all she was worth as he rose, wrapping her legs around his lower chest from the rear, and using her toned thigh muscles to squeeze him like an anaconda. Not that she had as much strength as a snake. The anaconda’s pressure, at a PSI that could top ninety, far outshined hers which was just shy of sixty; more than most fit women, but would it be enough to drive Billboard’s breath from his body?

When BB finally grunted, then began twirling in circles, Sloane knew she had him. He was trying to dislodge her in any way he could while she continued cutting off his air.

Sweet. He’d be seeing stars soon, then he’d do a slow, timmmberrr , and she could pin him for the win.

BB stayed on his feet longer than she expected, but eventually he began to stumble, and she rode him down where she instantly loosened her grip around his midsection, reasserted her knee to his spine, then held his shoulders prone.

“Done,” Wiley called out. “Nice moves, Agent Vessers.”

“Sloane,” she said as she arose. The time for last names was long past. Watching as Billboard turned over and shook his head to regain his equilibrium, Sloane sent a hand down to him when he started to get up, helping him find his feet. “No hard feelings, Billboard?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Nope. My fault. I got soft during my honeymoon and underestimated you. I won’t be such an easy mark next time.”

“Good to know,” she laughed. “But understand, I have a lot of moves you don’t know about.”

“Yeah. I get that,” he snorted. “And I can’t wait to see you use them on Perk.”

There was innuendo there, and Sloane rolled with it, grinning like everyone else as she and Billboard cleared the ring to make room for Wiley and Mizzay.

Wiley had a lot of height and weight over Mizzay, but the tiny woman was a scrapper and quick on her feet. Sloane could also see that her mind was constantly churning, assessing the situation like one approaches chess; with a thought toward future moves. The foray was lively, it was poetry, and before too much time elapsed, Mizzay had Wiley at a loss, winning the bout.

They both showed their appreciation for their opponent.

For the next round, straws were drawn, and Sloane found herself up against Prez, while Perk drew Brent. The winners of those matches would face off, then Mizzay would come in to finish things up with a grand finale.

“It’ll be you and me, soon.” Perk elbowed Sloane on his way into the ring. “And I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”

Sloane wasn’t above trash talking, albeit in a feigned whisper. “You had your hands on me all day Saturday, and I seem to remember being on top the majority of the time.”

Prez heard and took the bait. “Oooh! Topsies! She’s got your number, Perk.”

Perkins turned to Prez with a snicker. “And you should watch yourself, because she’ll have yours, shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, Perk’s prediction proved true. Both he and Sloane had bested their opponents—although working through much more challenging sessions than their firsts—then had to face each other.

“Bring it,” Perk postured as they began.

Sloane, at first, wasn’t certain who’d prevail, but once their bodies engaged, she quickly figured out that Perk was easily distracted. A brush of her boobs, a warm breath in his ear, and he turned to putty.

“You’re making this too easy,” she said, holding him down and licking his neck.

“Stop,” Perk snorted, unable to contain his mirth.

In the end, after only a few more minutes, Perk laughingly flopped over and gave in, citing unfair practices, saying Sloane had illegally tickled his balls.

Sloane sat atop her conquest, triumphantly.

Had she gone for his cajones? Hell, yes .

Anything to get the better of him, because bragging rights were big in their industry.

But now…

Mizzay pranced over, and they shook hands for the final match of the evening, and Sloane’s inflated ego didn’t last long.

Two minutes into the bout, Mizzay had kicked her ass.