Page 58 of Wrath
Wyatt came forward and the two men scowled at each other.
“We give you space only to find you’ve been whiling away your time doing God knows what.” Parker looked down his nose at Misha. “Or should I say,whoknows what. While I’m all for spreading your wings, it’s not really the time nor the place for such deeds, is it brother?”
Wyatt clenched his jaw, fury flamed his eyes, and he pointed in Parker’s face, ready to chew some words out. The two of them faced off—Wyatt’s brutal wrath, to Parker’s nonchalant power. Where Wyatt was tall, lean muscle, Parker’s bulk was brute strength, but he carried it with the languid fluidity of a well-oiled machine. It wasn’t only Misha who noticed the silent power struggle, but the rest of her yoga clients. Some of them nodded awkwardly at Misha and made a quick exit. To the rest, she sent a few placating words of peace and told them she would contact them during the week.
She would deal with Parker’s assumptions he owned her studio once they were alone.
Turning back to the brothers, Misha expected an explosive show, and was preparing herself to have Wyatt’s back. Maybe she could jump on Parker, somehow get her hands around the strong column of his neck. Before her plan of attack finished, before Wyatt uttered a word to Parker, he bit down and unclenched his fists at his side. He nodded, conceding. When he turned to Misha, there was an apology in his expression.
Parker adjusted his cufflinks and then waved to the awaiting black Maserati SUV, double parked on the street. “Your chariot awaits. Try not to drip all over the leather.” Seeing Wyatt search for his motorbike, Parker added, “God knows why you swapped your old ride for that piece of junk, but Evan’s taken it home.”
As Misha followed Wyatt into the back of the vehicle, she couldn’t help feeling that she was a school girl about to be reprimanded for kissing under the bleachers. She opened her mouth a few times to defend herself, but decided this naughty school girl thing could be interesting. There wasn’t much she could do about her yoga classes right now. No use getting worked up over it. The positive in the negative? She glanced at her brooding man while he buckled her seatbelt for her.
“Are we in trouble?” she whispered as Parker got into the front driver seat. Wyatt shook his head, and she deflated. “Oh, well, in that case, will you promise to spank me later, anyway?”
She knew that, like Parker had said earlier, it wasn’t the time nor the place for such frivolities, but a small part of her had to know how Wyatt would react. Any man she considered dating must be able to take all of her, including her facetious humor.
When he returned her words with a smolder—yep, definitely a smolder—she grinned widely and cuddled into him, making sure to rub her soggy pants into the leather. The unmistakable shake of his silent laughter warmed her. If they were getting in trouble, the fun was well worth it.
Twenty-Seven
Wyatt followedhis sauntering brother through the dark basement hallway of Lazarus House. The way his arrogant brother had picked him up from Misha’s studio didn’t make things easy. Parker treated Wyatt like a recalcitrant teenager, not a full-grown adult capable of making his own decisions. Yet, somehow, Wyatt felt no anger toward him. Without Misha by his side, he knew the outcome would be very different.
No tears. No flying fists.Let’s see where this is going.
Lazarus House was a multi-level building owned by Parker, reserved for their family living quarters, their public hospitality establishments, and their secret base of operations.
Misha followed a step behind, her tiny hand enveloped in his, blocking out all sense of wrath with her calming contact. After the mind-blowing morning they’d shared, trusting their innermost secrets to the other, their connection was stronger than ever. But now… as they emerged from the hollow tunnel and into the operations room filled with blinking computer screens, weapons tech, and tall glass cabinets displaying lethal battle uniforms, he wasn’t so sure.
The unmistakable glint of alarm entered Misha’s eyes, and she tugged on his hand to inspect the room. Not one of Wyatt’s family was present which meant they probably waited upstairs. The only sound came from the dull drone of a police scanner in the corner next to Flint’s workbench littered with broken pieces of machinery. The only movement came from the screens on the walls, flashing CCTV footage from around the city and local news networks. The center bench was reserved for planning battle strategy, but today, lay empty and clean. Wyatt let Misha draw him to the glass cabinets surrounding half the room. Each housed a hooded suit on a black mannequin. Seven mannequins. Seven suits.
New designs, he noted. Gone were the black rudimentary leathers. These suits were dark gray, made from something leather-like, and with contoured trimming that flowed with the shape of the body. At the belt, and no doubt on the back, was an emblem Wyatt guessed Parker created to signify their team—a circle with a seven in the middle. Wyatt inwardly groaned. A logo? What next, incorporate the group and list them on the stock exchange? Still, as he cast his eye over the suits, he couldn’t help appreciate the expensive looking material. He had no doubt they’d be a dream to wear in the field.
A dream to wear in the field?
Had he already taken that step? Back in the team, just like that?
Parker put his hands in his pocket and stood behind Wyatt, a mountain of responsibility.
“You’ve been gone a while,” his voice rumbled.
Too long.
“There have been some upgrades,” Parker continued. “The material is made from a graphene spider-silk polymer blend. Flexible, thin, flame retardant and they absorb kinetic energy.” He arched a brow at Wyatt. “Although I hear it would be wasted on you.”
So word had traveled back about Wyatt’s new invulnerability.
“Still,” Parker added. He opened the cabinet and pointed down a line running inside the sleeve seam. “You might enjoy the new capabilities for base jumping. Lock your arms to your body, your legs together, then tell AIMI to activate the wingsuit. A membrane is released from the container in the seam, and you’re good to go.”
“AIMI is loaded into the suit?” he asked, awed. AIMI was the artificial intelligence computer Flint, Sloan and Parker jointly created. But the last Wyatt heard, she was only available in the old school ear comms.
Parker nodded. “Speaker and mic attached to the hood. Shielded computer chips and flexible circuit boards layered throughout. She monitors your vitals and sends real-time data back to Flint. Except Griffin. His suit’s more mechanical, and his power can disrupt everyone if he’s not careful, but we’re working on it.”
“Fuck.”
Parker snorted.
Wyatt felt as though he’d missed too much. Half expecting Misha to freak about the glaring reality of Wyatt’s dangerous second nature, he waited for her to make an excuse and leave. As it turned out, she sidled up to him with mischief in her eyes, and ran a hand seductively up his front to wrap around his nape.
