There was a large pool on the other side of Slayn’s hotel.
“Sounds good,” said Reece.
“And what about you?” Dutton asked.
Reece thought about it for a moment. The building where Slayn was staying had a triangular footprint. With Nash positioned on the east and Dutton to the west, that only left the north side uncovered. There was a large plaza with an outdoor market on that side.
“I guess I’ll just go for a stroll,” he said. “Check out some of the honeys.” He flashed a lascivious grin. “If our woman gets to foolaround tonight, then it’s only fair that I get to do some fooling around of my own.”
It pained Reece to even say such a thing. There was only one woman on his mind, and right now she was heading straight into the lions’ den.
It was his job to make sure she got out in one piece.
CHAPTER 24
Even with a state-of-the-art antigrav elevator, the ride up to Victor Slayn’s penthouse seemed to take an eternity.
It was the first time Fairchild had truly been alone since the start of the mission. Over the past few weeks, she had grown so accustomed to the protective presence of Reece, Dutton, and Nash, that she now felt naked without them—and not in a good way. The last time she had felt that close to anyone had been with her previous team: Bryce, Rook, and Dane.
Right now, Reece and the others would be taking up their positions outside the hotel. She didn’t know exactly where they were going to be, but that wasn’t her concern. Her job was to kill Slayn, then hightail it out. Her guys would be able to track her position with the beacon in the pendant she was wearing. She just had to trust that they would come to her when the time came.
She did. She trusted them completely.
She trusted them with her body, her life,everything.
The elevator eased to a stop, and the doors gasped open. A pair of Slayn’s guards were waiting for her on the other side. Thugs in tailored suits. Both were wearing shades, but Fairchild could still feel their eyes roving over her body, which her skimpy red dress did little to conceal. Her augmetically enhanced senses picked up both men’s arousal, the sudden rush of male pheromones and the not-so-subtle stirring in the crotches of both men’s pants—none of which had the slightest effect on her own system.
There were only three men who could turn her on, and these two guys didn’t hold a candle to them.
“Mr. Slayn is waiting,” one of the guards said. “Follow me.”
Fairchild followed the men down the long hallway, their footsteps cushioned by the deep carpets covering the floor. She kept a lookout for any possible means of egress, but she found none. Just a bunch of closed doors hiding rooms where other guards were probably lying in wait. Her best bet was going to be to make her escape directly from Slayn’s room, through a window or off a balcony. If she was lucky, he would be on the western side of the building. There was a pool on that side, deep enough to cushion her fall.
And if he was located on one of the other two sides?
Then she would just have to think of something else.
For a moment, Fairchild feared the guards were leading her to a central room, one without windows or other external exits. If that was the case, then she would have to fight her way out.
That wasn’t the part that scared her. Fairchild was used to fighting. She was good at it, and she was perfectly willing to die if that’s what it took to complete the mission.
She was worried about her teammates, worried they might do something stupid like breaking into the building to rescue her if things went south.
Yeah, that’s exactly what they would do.
Overprotective lunks.
The thought might have warmed Fairchild’s heart, if she hadn’t been so worried about endangering her teammates’ safety. She could be overprotective too when she wanted to be.
The guards reached a place where the hallway forked. They turned left. Based on her mental map of the hotel, Fairchild knew they were heading toward the western side of the building. Good. Perfect. She resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief.
They came to a large, wooden door flanked by two more guards in sunglasses and suits. Nods were exchanged. Fairchild’s body was ogled. A doorbell was rung. After a moment, the door swung open.
“About time.”
The woman standing in the doorway was the same one Fairchild had seen with Slayn at the restaurant and in the theater, but tonight she was dressed for business. A tight-fitting tank top left her broad shoulders and muscular arms exposed, along with the lower portion of her taut, flat belly. A pair of black cargo pants covered her powerful legs, and the ends were tucked into a pair of black combat boots. Her bleach-blonde crew cut stood out starkly against the shadowy backdrop of the room behind her.
“You’re late,” the woman said in a voice as hard and cold as her eyes. “What took you so long?”
