Page 65 of Sloth
“You know you’re dating the Bear Grylls of Australia, right?” He smirked and to his surprise a ruddy blush crept up her cheeks.
“Dating?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah. That’s what we’re doing, right? Unless. Um. I mean… there’s the mating thing, and—” he dropped his gaze. Wasn’t that what she wanted?
“I’m teasing you.” She touched his cheek softly. Fondness flashed in her eyes as she studied him. It went on for such a long time that he imagined her committing his face to memory.
A sheepish smile and then he disengaged and stepped out onto the ledge. He checked the position of the sun. “We need to head east, right?”
“In that general direction, but I don’t know exactly. I usually use my tech.”
“That’s a good start. I have my cell in my pack. Once we get within range, we can check our coordinates from there.”
“You have your cell in your pack. Why didn’t you lead with that?”
He grinned. “I enjoy watching you squirm.”
Eighteen
If Sloan could ratehow much she’d been sweating on a scale of one to stuffed, one being dry as a desert, and stuffed being wet as the ocean, she’d be… she couldn’t even finish the comparison. The heat had fried her brain. She could see mirages in the dirt and ghosts in the trees. They’d spent the first half of the day clearing the mountain, and now Sloan and Max were drained and tired. Both were approaching heat exhaustion. Water supplies were half gone, and with Max impressing more compartmentalization sessions on her, she became irritated.
But the good news was, they’d hit a spot within range of a cell tower. Max had triangulated their GPS coordinates on a map, and they headed in the right direction. If they continued through the bushland, they’d hit civilization in an hour or so. The trek down the mountain had been decidedly quicker than the trek up.
After attempting to phone Parker, they’d come up with nothing. He was still out of range. But Flint wasn’t. Sloan called home base and had a quick conversation outlining the new mission, only to discover Parker had called home at some point. He was still trekking, but like them, must have received some spotty cell reception. Sloan’s iPad was the only team device connected to a satellite. She made a mental note to upgrade all their cells when she got back.
Communicator watches. Satellite cells. Polymorphic visual algorithms. Phew, her workload was expanding exponentially. So this was what it was like to be productive. She liked it. She’d like it even more after getting to a nice cool shower and washing the thin layer of silt off.
“Okay,” Max said to Sloan as they trudged through a clearing. “Tell me everything you know about this Barry bloke and his daughter. What are we up against?”
She swatted a fly out of her face and grimaced. “I don’t know much. She’s sixteen. Goes to boarding school.”
“What’s her name?”
“Beatrix.”
“Beatrix Pinkerton.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What does she look like? Tell me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yep.”
“Strap yourself in. You ready?”
“Hit me.”
She took a deep breath and then let it all out. “Beatrix is the captain of the debate team. She’s in the swim squad. Practices on Tuesdays and Fridays at five in the school pool. She’s got brown skin and black hair like her father, but silver eyes like her Caucasian mother. Parents are divorced and the mother now lives in France with her new husband—Pierre. Beatrix has a lot of friends, but none of them truly like her—probably because she’s super bossy.”
“How do you know that?”
“Facebook.”
He arched a brow. “Care to elaborate?”
“I hacked her account. And I hacked her friends’ accounts. Her friends are a total bunch of mean girls. She can do better. Anyway, I’m not done.”
