Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1) (16 page)

“Do you mind if my driver takes us to the bar?” she asks.

The four of them stand outside the conference center, stopped just under the elegant awning that encompasses the entrance.

Nix’s head cocks to the side questioningly.

She lifts one of her strappy, heeled feet just slightly off the ground, indicating her reason for not wanting to walk. This isn’t the real reason. She could walk miles in heels. Hell, she could run in heels. Her CIA training has turned her into the type of woman who can do anything, anywhere, anytime, no matter what she’s wearing. Heels, boots, flip-flops, bare feet—nothing creates a challenge for Sloan.

Her real reason for wanting Agent Matthews to drive them is so he knows her exact location—
just in case
. It’s not that she’s worried that these men will put her in danger. She’s concerned about being out in public without having anything but a small knife strapped to her thigh and zero access to someone like Matthews to watch out for her.

“I’d prefer not to walk in these stilettos,” she expresses as Nix looks down at the little bit of leg that’s revealed through the side slit of her black dress.

His eyes greedily appraise the small sliver of thigh that’s on display before finally making eye contact with her. He chuckles as she displays a fake pout.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but my feet are already aching. And I have a feeling you wouldn’t enjoy carrying me to the bar,” she attempts to bring her ridiculous point home.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Carrying you to the bar wouldn’t be a misfortune for me…
at all,
” he tells her with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

The heated expression he exudes has her involuntarily biting her bottom lip. She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until a sharp, piercing sensation radiates from her mouth and the faint metallic taste of blood touches the taste buds of her tongue.

“Is this your driver?” He motions with his forehead towards the black town car that just pulled up to the turnabout.

Agent Matthews promptly gets out of the driver’s seat and heads over to the back passenger’s side door, holding it open for Sloan. That man really does have impeccable timing.

“Yeah,” she replies quietly once she manages to dislodge her teeth from her lip.

“Julian! Slade! Get over here!” Nix shouts in the directions of his buddies, who are currently standing off to the side, waiting impatiently to get the show on the road.

Both men look at him, confused.

“We’re using her driver. Slo—
Felicia’s
feet hurt.”

“Hell yeah!” Julian shouts before quickly walking in their direction with an amused Slade following in his wake.

“Hi, Frank,” Sloan greets a very curious Agent Matthews. “These are a few friends I met tonight at the dinner. Nix, Slade, Julian, this is Frank.”

The men exchange pleasantries before the three SEALs pile into the car.

Slade takes the front seat, leaving Nix to sit in the middle of Julian and Sloan.

Once Agent Matthews gets back in the driver’s seat, Sloan instructs him to head towards Gallagher’s Pub. He nods his head in understanding through the rearview mirror, and she doesn’t miss the nonverbal questions he asks with his eyes.

The ride to Gallagher’s may have been short, but Sloan practically jumps out of the backseat once the town car stops in front of the pub. The feel of Nix’s thigh pressed against hers was almost too much to handle.

“Go ahead, guys.” She gestures for them to head into the bar. “I just need to have a quick chat with Frank about my schedule this week.”

Nix peers at her inquisitorially but heads inside with Julian and Slade.

“You sure about this?” Matthews asks quietly.

“I know this isn’t exactly the best idea, but I need a night out,” she declares with a hushed tone.

“I get that. I really do. Fuck, you deserve more than just a night out. You deserve a whole fucking year away from all of the bullshit. But I’m worried about the backlash you’ll get if Chief finds out.”

Sloan’s hands fly up in the air from frustration. “I’m well aware. Seriously, I’m thankful you’re looking out for me, but can you just do me this one favor? If any questions are asked, just act like you took me home tonight promptly after the dinner,” she begs.

A get-out-of-jail-free card for one night seems like a much-needed reprieve from her normally calculated life. Yeah, Chief Dubois could track her—he could easily find out about this—but she’s never given him any reason to doubt her. Besides, the man is far too busy with other things than to worry about the location of one of his agents who isn’t currently on a mission.

It’s definitely not protocol and Sloan could face some repercussions, but in the long scheme of things, if Chief Dubois finds out about tonight, it wouldn’t really hurt her career. He’d just be
really
pissed off for a few days. Chief is adamantly against anything or anyone that could distract his agents.

A heavy sigh is the only reaction Matthews gives. “All right. Go in and have a good time, but make sure you call me if you can’t get yourself home safely. And I expect a text from you no later than two. If I don’t hear from you by then, I’m getting back in this car to come find you. Affirmative?”

She nods in understanding.

She walks towards the bar as Matthews climbs into the driver’s seat. Before pulling open the door, she turns around and makes eye contact with him through the passenger’s side window.

“Thank you,” she mouths with a smile.

He shakes his head in mild exasperation as a small grin threatens the corners of his lips.

As she strides into the bar, her eyes search out the crowded pub and it only takes a few seconds before she finds that all-too-familiar blue gaze staring back at her.

She can’t stop the smile that spreads across her full lips.

Nix grins in response, watching her intently as she moves towards him.

Each step in his direction pushes away the nagging thoughts of this being a really, really bad idea. And those thoughts are practically drowned out by the excitement that races through her blood stream from having his eyes on her. Her irrational, wild, reckless side is making a reappearance into her life, and Sloan can’t seem to find the motivation to stop it.

SHE MANAGED TO TAKE TWO shots and consume two beers in the first thirty minutes of arriving at Gallagher’s Pub. She can’t remember the last time she drank—the last time she actually enjoyed a night out. This isn’t exactly the best idea, but Sloan has found that SEALs are all about the peer pressure. She is enjoying the company of three gorgeous men in their dress blues. They’re quite the sight, and she hasn’t missed the interested, appreciative looks they have been receiving from the surrounding female bar patrons. This is probably the norm for them, and it has her a little curious about the women Nix has been with over the years.

Was it easy for him to move on? Did he find her replacement?

God, that hurts.
The thought of him with another woman is painful enough, but the idea that he could have found someone else—someone he loves more than he loved her—is downright excruciating. It’s a shock that she still harbors all of these feelings. Everything she felt for him so many years ago is still here.
It’s still fucking here.

She hates him.

She wants him.

She despises him.

She’s desperate for him.

Get it together, Sloan. Dear god, get it together…

She can’t deny the happiness she feels from seeing him again, but it’s greatly overshadowed by the fact that she can’t be herself. She can’t just be Sloan. Yeah, they’re Navy SEALs and no doubt they would understand the need for her to keep anonymity as a CIA agent, but that doesn’t give her a free pass. She can’t be anything but Felicia Santora right now, and she’s finding herself mournful over this fact.

Sloan peels the label from her bottle of beer as the three guys chat around her. Her mind is distracted and confused, her heart hurting over the entire scenario. Nix is back in her life and she can’t even enjoy it. She can’t talk to him about what he’s been up to over the years or ask him about his parents or anything of real relevance. She has to continue to act aloof and like this is the first time they’ve ever met.

But he knows.

She knows that he knows.

How couldn’t he? They spent nearly two years of their lives in love. Yeah, they were torn apart after a year of being together, but they still wrote letters and fought to say in touch. A feeling of resentment blossoms inside her stomach as she thinks about the last letter he sent. One day, he just stopped writing, stopped responding, stopped
everything
.
Why? WHY?

Would everything be different right now had he stayed in touch? Had he not given up on them? Because, in her eyes, that’s what happened—he gave up. She has the irrational urge to yell at him. Her palm itches to smack him clear across the face. She wants to tell him just how much he broke her heart and demand answers—reasons for what he did—but she can’t. She doesn’t have that luxury.

What a complete and total mindfuck.

Sloan starts to think of a way to extricate herself from the evening. Being in his presence is way more agonizing than she could have ever predicted. She feels a need for self-preservation.

“I’m surprised a beautiful woman like you came to that dinner alone.” Julian directs his attention towards her, a flirtatious tone lacing his voice.

A scowl overcomes Nix’s handsome face, his features hardening immediately.

Sloan laughs as she looks at Julian—the gorgeous, green-eyed SEAL—from across the table. “I’m too busy for dates. I’m rarely home, and when I am home, I’m either in the OR, speaking at events, or working on my column.”

Slade’s eyebrow rises in curiosity. “Your column?”

“I run a small column for The Washington Times. Health and wellness kind of thing. I really enjoy it, but honestly, it’s starting to become a pain in my ass. I’m finding it harder to keep up with everything these days.” Her fingers fidget with the leftover limes from their previous round of shots.

Slade takes a sip from his bottleneck before commenting, “Damn, woman. You’ve got too much shit on your plate.”

She smiles at his colorful choice of words, but she wholeheartedly agrees. He’s more right than he probably even realizes. She does have too much on her plate. If they even understood the kind of life she leads, they would be downright shocked. No doubt they’d have a hard time believing her. Most people would have a hard time comprehending that a woman would go through medical school, give up her true identity, and live a façade of a life as a surgeon in order to obtain a goddamn cover for her
real
career as a CIA agent.

“So, Felicia, you’re only going to be in San Diego for another week?” Nix inquires with a slight edge to his eyes, something that leaves her feeling unsure of his motives.

“Yeah. Just another week and then I’m heading back to Guadalajara.”

“
Guadalajara?”
His jaw drops. “Wow. That’s not exactly the safest place to travel.”

Safe? Really?
Sloan doesn’t need safe. If he knew the kind of hazardous missions she’s been a part of over the past ten years, then maybe he’d understand that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.

“No, not really, but the places I’m needed are generally the ones most would deem dangerous.” Her voice is full of irritation.

Nix’s eyes bore into hers. “I hope they ensure you’re properly protected when you’re traveling overseas. A lot of bad shit can happen when you’re an American and you’re not on American soil.”

Annoyed, Sloan squints her eyes at his emphasis on the need for protection. The insinuation that she would need other people to protect her is beyond absurd. She observes his smug smile as it slowly reaches both sides of his mouth, practically turning into a full megawatt grin.

Is he trying to get me worked up?

This reminds her of the Nix she used to know. He would tease her relentlessly just to get a glimpse of her red-hot, lively temper. Whenever her feistiness shines through, her fluent Spanish usually follows suit, and Sloan remembers the effect that had on him—a very delicious effect if her memory serves her right. Her Spanish accent used to hold quite the power over him. In a matter of seconds, she could make him ache for her with an unstoppable, nearly primal intensity.