Chapter 13
Sloan cursed the second Steve’s foot crossed the office threshold. Of all the damn days, Steve was the last person he wanted to deal with.
“What?” Sloan’s voice came out deadly, quiet, and sharp enough to cut.
Steve froze mid-step, eyes widening like he was considering backing his ass right out the door. After a second, he apparently decided he wanted to live dangerously and kept going.
“Uh… Charger wanted me to take Kane’s identifications to him, but I wanted to check with you first.” Steve inched closer to the desk, watching Sloan like he expected him to leap over it and rip his head clean off. Honestly, the temptation was there.
“And why in the fuck,” Sloan growled, “do you think you need to check with me?”
He knew Steve didn’t deserve his rage, but he didn’t give a damn. Anyone walking into his office today would be getting the same treatment. He glanced at Becky’s empty desk, then snapped his attention back to Steve.
“Because I don’t want my ass chewed. Or to die,” Steve said, eyebrows raised like he was making a reasonable argument.
Sloan dragged a hand down his face. “Do whatever you want, Steve. Just make sure you’re covered if you’re on duty.”
“Yeah.” Steve nodded, then glanced at Becky’s empty chair before looking back at Sloan. “Human mates, huh?”
Sloan glared so hard he wished the phone would ring to give him an excuse to pick it up and escape the conversation that was about to happen.
“Before I turned Mira,” Steve went on, completely ignoring Sloan’s silent warning for him to shut the hell up, “all I did was worry about her. Almost lost my shit when she got the flu.”
Sloan growled low. “Steve—”
“I was so worried, I went to her doctor’s appointment and demanded they fix her.” Steve snorted, shaking his head at himself. “Started a huge fight, but after leaving the doctor’s office, I felt better.”
“I’m really not in the—”
“Is Becky anemic?” Steve cut in, oblivious to how close Sloan was to losing his shit.
Sloan’s jaw snapped shut as he glared. He was ready to blast Steve for interrupting him again, but that question caught him off guard.
“Not that I know of,” Sloan said slowly. He immediately regretted the next words even as he asked them. “Why?”
“I’ve been watching her lately,” Steve said—then, as if his brain caught up with his mouth, his hands shot up. “Not in a creepy stalker way.”
Sloan sighed. Yep. He regretted asking.
His phone, usually a nonstop buzz of calls and texts, sat silent on his desk as if mocking him.
“Just wanted to clear that up,” Steve added, snorting nervously while eyeing Sloan like he was trying to guess how many seconds he had left to live. “Sounded weird, even to me. I didn’t want you to think I was a creeper trying to pick up on your—"
“Steve,” Sloan warned.
“Right, well, ah—my last foster mom was anemic.” Steve’s tone shifted, growing serious.
“She was always tired. Got every illness going around because her immune system was shot. Dizzy spells, pale skin with a yellow tint sometimes, headaches, and weakness. I’m asking because… I’ve seen some of that in Becky.”
Sloan didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at Steve, every muscle locked down tight.
Steve shrugged, nervous. “I’m not trying to pry, boss. People think I’m some funny dumbass who doesn’t pay attention or know my ass from a hole in the ground. But I do pay attention, and I know my ass. I also know what worry over a mate feels like.”
“How much do you know about anemia, Steve?” Sloan asked, realizing—yet again—that Steve was the one Warrior who constantly surprised the hell out of him.
“A lot. I was the one who took her to the doctor because my foster dad worked, and she didn’t drive much. The doctor usually filled me in because she had a hard time remembering stuff.” Steve said seriously. “If untreated, it can be fatal. But it’s treatable.”
The word fatal punched Sloan in the gut, the urge to smash something nearly blinding. The fear that he had been feeling over Becky tripled.
Steve must’ve seen the shift because he hurried on.
“I’m not saying that’s what this is. Could be something else.
I’m not Dr. Hottie McVampire.” Steve said with a shrug.
“But I know what my foster mom went through. And I’m seeing some of those signs in Becky.
Speaking of Dr. Hottie… I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed anything. ”
“She has her own doctor. She hasn’t seen Slade.” Sloan would rather chew glass than use that ridiculous nickname someone made up for Slade.
“Hmmm.” Steve tapped his lip with his finger thoughtfully, a finger Sloan wanted to rip off and shove up his ass. Why in the fuck didn’t people just speak what they were thinking instead of making people wait? Okay, making him wait. He was impatient as fuck.
“What?” Sloan barked, eyes turning black.
Steve snapped out of his thoughts. “Do you watch the news?”
“Yeah, right after I watch reruns of Friends,” Sloan snapped, spitting out the name of a show he’d heard Becky and her son talk about.
“Holy shit, that’s one of my favorit—”
Sloan slammed his hand on the desk. “No. I don’t watch the fucking news, Steve.”
Steve yelped. “Okay! Got it! You don’t watch the news.”
“Steve, if you don’t get to the point in the next second, you are going to see me lose my shit for real.
” Sloan’s voice took an evil edge. “And let me tell you that I really need to lose my shit, but haven’t because a lot of people will be injured and dead when that happens. I only see you in this room...got it?”
“Got it!” Steve coughed into his fist when Sloan’s glare intensified. “Okay, yeah, anyway… California has arrested some doctors for harvesting human blood from people with vampire partners.”
“Why in the hell would they be doing that?” Sloan paused, thinking. Pulling his head out of his ass, he realized why. Fuck! “Because if a human drinks their mate’s vampire blood, it mixes with their own. But what kind of benefits would someone get?”
“Exactly, but for the benefits, I have no clue. Maybe they can charge more for human blood mixed with vampire blood. But again—I’m no Dr. Hotti—uh, Slade.
” Steve cringed when Sloan gave him a warning glare, then cleared his throat.
“Point is, if California’s doing it, others will follow. Greed breeds sick bastards.”
Sloan doubted that was what was going on here—the odds were too damn slim. Something else was wrong, but he didn’t know what. What he did know was that whatever it was, it scared the fuck out of him. He couldn’t lose Becky. Refused to lose her.
“You’re Sloan Murphy,” Steve said quietly, meeting his eyes. “Leader of the VC Warriors. Which puts a massive target on Becky Murphy, wife of Sloan Murphy, leader of the VC Warriors.”
He kept his eyes on Steve, storing every word, replaying it over and over in his mind. Pulling out his phone, he shot a quick text to Slade, then glanced back at Steve, who was just standing there.
“Thanks, Steve,” Sloan said, nodding with respect. The kid could drive him insane, but he wasn’t wrong and what he’d noticed about Becky’s symptoms hit the mark.
“No problem, boss,” Steve said, then started toward the door. “I’m off to find Charger, then I’m heading to Kentucky.”
“Kane’s undercover,” Sloan warned, his voice low and sharp. “Be careful. Don’t blow his cover.”
Steve paused at the door, a grin spreading across his face. “Seriously… how cool would that be? You think I could be the VC’s undercover Warrior?”
“Fuck no,” Sloan shot back, his tone snapping back to its usual hardness.
“Shit,” Steve muttered, disappointment dripping off him as he walked out. “Had a name picked out and everything. Shadow Jones. Undercover agent. Damn… that would’ve been badass.”
Sloan rolled his eyes as Steve’s voice faded down the hall, but his mind was already elsewhere, circling back to what he’d just realized. If Becky wasn’t actually sick, if someone was doing this to her on purpose… then he was the one who put a target on her.
His eyes darkened, turning a solid, dangerous black.
His fist slammed down, smashing the desk, splitting it clean in half.
Paper and files scattered around his feet, but he didn’t care.
If that was true and someone was deliberately hurting Becky, he would burn the world to its foundations to make them pay.