“You being funny. You seem more like a jackass with a chip on his shoulder.” A sly smile tugs at the corner of her lips. She knows she's testing me, and for some reason, I’m enjoying it.
“And you seem more like a power-hungry political lackey who's willing to do anything, or anyone, to get what you want.”
“I'm no one's lackey,” she grits out, all humor fading into resentment.
Huh, that's the part she points out. Interesting. “Sure you aren't, puppet.”
“We're done here. My head hurts,” she deadpans, never dropping my gaze. Shit, if her gorgeous eyes could throw daggers, I'd be dead. “Leave. Now.”
The soft fabric of the chair presses into my palms as I push against the armrests to stand. After fixing my suit jacket, I tuck both hands into my pants pockets and return her hate-filled stare.
“Don't think you can fool me, sweetheart. I see right through you.”
“Might want to get your eyes checked, asshat.” The edge of her left lip curls up in a snarl, but even still, she’s a knockout. “But it's a good thing I don't give two shits what you or any of your little buddies out there think because—”
“Everything okay in here?” Tank’s deep voice booms through the room, cutting the tight tension in the air.
Eyes still locked on mine, both of us vying for dominance, she hitches her chin. “Besides my pounding head, nausea worse than morning sickness, and this jackass pissing me off, yeah, it’s just sunshine and unicorns in here.”
I stifle a smirk as Tank covers his laugh with a fake cough.
“Right. Um, the nausea the doc said to expect that from the concussion, but you mentioned morning sickness. Any chance you're also….”
“Also what?”
I breathe a sigh of relief when her annoyed gaze slides to Tank. Shit, that woman can hold her own.
“Pregnant, ma'am.”
An undignified snort echoes through the room. I chuckle with a shake of my head in disbelief. Who in the hell is this woman?
“No, absolutely not. You have to have sex for that to happen, if you believe my seventh-grade sex ed teacher.”
My eyes meet Tank’s, both of us clearly confused.
“Not that it did Mary any good, am I right?” she says with another snort. “Damn, I miss sex. Even boring, handsy sex would do at this point.”
“Um… uh…,” Tank stammers.
I bark out a quick loud laugh as his dark skin glows with a red tint.
“Not with you, Terminator. I see that ring on your finger. It's the first thing I noticed, that and your pretty shiny head and muscles.” Her mouth stretches with a wide yawn. “And not Trouble either, unless he agrees to wear a ball gag.”
“The fuck?” I say on a pushed breath.
“Night night, ladies,” she mutters into her pillow as her eyes close. “I'm not good at this sleepover stuff, but next time I need wine andGolden Girls. ’Kay? ’Kay.”
The second the last word is out, her body relaxes as she passes out cold.
I shake my head, completely dumbfounded, as Tank and I exit the room. We leave the door open a sliver to make sure we can hear her if she wakes up again.
“What in the ever-loving hell was that?” Tank asks, eyes wide in shock. “I couldn't keep up with the conversation, could you?”
“Barely. Did she call us ladies and say we were having a sleepover?” The wall shudders when my back slams against it. I pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to ease the pressure building behind my eyes. “How in the hell is she potentially our next VP?”
“She called me Terminator.” A hint of awe clouds his tone, making me look across the room to where he's perched on a barstool.
The rest of the team ignores us as they type away on laptops and phones. I survey the room. Gremlin is nowhere to be found. Must be stationed in the hall.