Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1) (37 page)

Sloan is internally tense under his scrutinizing gaze, but her outward appearance remains completely at ease. She cocks her head to the side, watching his appraisal, and continues to stare at Hector as he picks another syringe up.

He assesses it closely, his obscure eyes squinting slightly and his stark brow furrowing.

Sloan clears her throat in an attention-seeking gesture. “That is an immunization for measles, mumps, and rubella—otherwise known as MMR.” Sloan goes into physician mode—playing the perfect part of Dr. Felicia Santora. She walks towards the end of the table, grabbing a box of labeled syringes. “And these over here are for varicella, hepatitis A, malaria, and tetanus.” She slides the box in Hector’s direction, showing him that she has nothing to hide.

Which she doesn’t
. All of the syringes filled with the top-secret implants have already been administered.

He merely smirks and nods his head. His hand goes to his jaw, his fingers rubbing across his sharp chin and bringing Sloan’s focus towards his infamous snake eyes tattoo that peeks out from underneath the collar of his shirt.

“Are you up to date on your immunizations, Mr. Arturo?” Sloan asks with a joking tone. “It would be my pleasure to ensure that you are properly vaccinated,” she encourages with a wink and a smile. It takes every ounce of her strength to force both of those friendly expressions onto her face. Internally, she feels as rigid as a board. Her spine is stiff, and every nerve ending inside her body has the urge to jump ship.

A harsh chuckle escapes his mouth. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“What about you? “ Sloan questions in Dr. Mendez’s direction, her voice laced with amusement.

Dr. Mendez smirks and shakes his head in response. “I’m with Hector on this one.”

“Oh, please don’t tell me that strong, handsome men like yourselves are afraid of a little needle. I promise it won’t hurt. I’ll even let your pick out your favorite Band-Aid and lollipop once it’s done,” she says flirtatiously, her eyelashes batting ever so slightly in their direction.

Both men laugh in response.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I think I’ll pass,” Hector responds.

Her charming ways seem to have caught him slightly off guard, his stern appraisal and unrelenting gaze not having their normal affect.

At least that’s what he thinks. On the outside, she is composed, but on the inside, her nerves are shot—practically frayed at the ends from the tension that fills the room. Inhaling and exhaling at a steady, relaxed rhythm has never been so hard. Hector Arturo’s intimidating presence threatens to suck all of the oxygen out of the air—leaving her gasping for breath.

But Sloan continues to stay strong, appearing completely unaffected by these dangerous men. She proves why she is the best at what she does, why she is one of the CIA’s best secret agents.

Sloan glances around the room, noting that only her volunteers remain. She smiles in Hector’s direction. “Well, unless either of you changes your mind in the next few minutes, it looks like our job here is done.”

“Heading out so soon? Dr. Santora, you should stay.” Her name rolls off his tongue in a way that makes her want to cringe. “I’d love to further discuss your charitable ways over dinner,” Hector announces.

“That is a very generous offer, but I have a late surgery to attend at San Salvador,” she politely declines. She doesn’t normally schedule surgeries after four in the afternoon, but today was an exception. Her gut instinct told her to formulate a plan to extract herself from the compound without raising suspicion—hence the reason for a six-o’clock surgery.

“I don’t take no for an answer, Dr. Santora.” Hector’s eyes dance with determination laced with an underlying tone of deceit. “If not tonight, then another day. Have dinner here. Or we can meet in town for coffee. I know how much you physicians love your caffeine fixes.” He flashes a full-toothed grin in her direction before his eyes turn down at the corners in a knowing way. “There’s a wonderful café downtown—
El Gato
.”

The familiar name of that café urges an uncomfortable shiver to shoot up her spine.
Of all cafés in Guadalajara…why would he mention that one?

Sloan forces a small laugh from her throat. “You’re one hundred percent right, Mr. Arturo. We physicians do love our coffee. I can’t start my day without it.”

“Please—call me Hector,” he insists.

The audacity of this demanding man combined with the significance of the café he mentioned hurls a wealth of emotions to scatter across her nerves. Each tiny nerve ending threatens to stand at attention and plaster her internal feelings across her otherwise composed face.

“Well,
Hector
, I’ve actually had the pleasure of visiting El Gato a few times for Project Smiles meetings,” she lies, trying to explain why she would have been at that café a few weeks ago. “I’ll have to check my surgery schedule before I can commit to anything. I’m sure you understand. Not only do we physicians love our coffee, but we also love being prompt in our prior obligations,” she claims with another lie. She has zero intention of spending any more time with this man. All of the information that is needed for this mission has been obtained, and she’s hoping that she’ll be leaving Guadalajara very, very soon.

Dr. Mendez inserts himself into the conversation. “Please include me in your little
rendezvous
, Hector.”

Hector laughs, making eye contact with the cunning male physician. Their eyes dance with dishonesty, conveying something else to one other.

Self-preservation and safety are strongly urging Sloan to delicately extricate herself from this situation—from this tension-filled room inside the Arturo compound.

She makes a show of glancing at her watch. “Oh my. If you’ll excuse me, I must head out,” she announces. “Dr. Mendez, thank you for helping me set this up. And, Hector, it’s truly been a pleasure. Thank you again for your hospitality.” The lies continue to flow from her mouth. There is absolutely nothing about being in Hector Arturo’s presence that is deemed pleasurable.
Nothing.

“The pleasure is all mine, Felicia.” He kisses the top of her hand, his eyes boring into hers. “Until next time,” he voices with grit. His shadowy gaze is unrelenting on her body, running across every inch of skin—taking in every curve.

As Sloan assists the volunteers in packing up their supplies, her entire body is rigid with stress. That strain and tension stay with her the rest of the day. She can feel it hovering within her shoulder blades during her evening surgery. She can feel it as she makes the short drive home from San Salvador to the house she’s staying at in Guadalajara. And she can still feel it as she steps inside the safe confines of her residence.

That unrelenting anxiety just won’t leave.

She should be celebrating the fact that she just accomplished something
huge
—basically finishing the job in Guadalajara—but she can’t stop thinking, processing the events.

Something isn’t right.

A gut instinct of everything not being as it seems sticks at the forefront of her mind…

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: SOON

I miss you.

I love you.

I’ll be home soon.

Your, Meli

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Relieved

This is the best news I’ve heard all day.

I miss you more. I love you always.

Be safe, pretty girl. And get your sexy ass on a plane as soon as you possibly can.

X

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Bossy…

Are you bossin’ me?

God, you’re so demanding. Reel in your caveman ways or else I might have to plot my revenge. I can also dish out the punishments.

Love,

Your Annoyed & Eye-Rolling Meli

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Sassy

Are you sassin’ me, sweetheart? You know what that does to me…

My caveman ways are only reserved for you and that mouth full of sass.

Love,

Your Growling Caveman

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Mmmmm

I love when the Caveman gets his growl on. It makes me wet and tingly in all the right places.

X

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: HARD AS A MOTHERFUCKER

Just the idea of you wet has my cock at full attention.

Stop teasing me, baby. My right hand is a poor substitute for that perfect pussy of yours and I’m not sure how much more I can take.

I demand less sass and… more get-on-a-fucking-plane-and-come-home-to-me!

X

Sloan giggles at the last email from Nix in the back seat of the nondescript town car heading towards San Salvador. The driver curiously glances in the rearview mirror.

“Just ignore me,” she announces with amusement. “I’m practically delirious from this grueling surgery schedule for Project Smiles,” she adds for good measure.

The driver chuckles in her direction, keeping his eyes locked on the road.

SLOAN CHATS WITH A YOUNG mother in the small waiting room located near the lobby doors of San Salvador Hospital. She is in full physician mode as Dr. Felicia Santora provides discharge information regarding the mother’s three-year-old son who just underwent surgery to fix a facial deformity. The mother is visibly relieved that her child is in recovery and had no issues during the procedure. Everything went as planned.

As Sloan heads back towards the restricted operating room area, she is shocked to find Alejandra hesitantly waiting for her. Their eyes lock immediately as the young woman heads in her direction.

“Dr. Santora, are you busy right now?” she asks. Her eyes glance back and forth, scanning the lobby area in an anxious way.

“I’m heading back to the OR to scrub into another surgery. Are you okay?” Sloan questions with concern.

“Uh…I was…” she stammers, visibly uncomfortable. Her brown eyes stare down at her feet as she searches for the strength to talk to the American physician. “When are you leaving Guadalajara?” she blurts out.