Free Best Man For The Job (The Men of Fear Incorporated Book 1) by Melinda Valentine Page B

suitcase, then checked the hall before exiting the room. No Max. She hustled over to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. After stripping quickly, she stepped under the hot spray coming from the showerhead. She took her time washing her hair and her body.
    When she was sufficiently clean, she toweled off, wrapped her robe around herself like a suit of armor, and exited the bathroom prepared to sprint to her room. No luck, however. When she opened the door, Max was leaning up against the wall adjacent to the bathroom with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, waiting for his turn. Yummy . Damn, she was such a loser. Ugh .
    “It’s all yours,” she called on her way down the hall. No way was she going to turn around to face him.
    With the dresser now covered in cosmetics and hair products, she set about the task of transforming herself. She was a single gal now, after all. She could do whatever, or whomever, she wanted to. It was a liberating feeling. She wondered what it would be like to do Max Fear. Sloane quickly pushed that idea aside, giggling to herself. She was halfway through applying her makeup when Max called to her from the other side of the door.
    “Um…hey, I’ve got something to do, so Foster and Bella will be here to get you in less than a half hour.”
    “Oh…okay.” She tried not to sound disappointed. Why the hell should she care? She shouldn’t. She did.
    “I won’t be long. I gotta pick up a friend and I’ll be there right after you guys.”
    He had to pick up a date . Wonder if he remembered his handcuffs. What would it be like to be handcuffed and left to his mercy? Not that she cared. Stupid man. With renewed resolve, she finished applying her eye shadow. The dark smoky eyes looked hot even to her.
    After her makeup was done, she slipped on her black tube dress. She’d purchased it a few months ago. Sadly, she hadn’t yet had a chance to wear it. Her breasts were a little too large to go completely braless, but a strapless did the trick without ruining the look. The red three-inch heels helped along her five-foot, five-inch frame. It didn’t hurt that they made her legs look fantastic. Which was a definite plus considering how much of them were exposed.
    Stepping onto the back porch, she did a slow turn for Mirabella and Foster as they waited in his Tahoe. It was a lot tighter and shorter than anything that she had ever worn before. She was actually nervous about wearing it. Bella squealed in delight while Foster gave appreciative catcalls. She was smiling in a way she hadn’t in days—hell, in months. She needed this more than she’d realized. Carefully, she made her way down the steps and folded herself inside Foster’s SUV and off they went.
    The club wasn’t packed yet, but there was a decent enough crowd. Sloane glanced around, taking everything in. The bar itself took up a large portion of the room. Placed in the middle of the large space, it was definitely the focal point of the room. Tables spread out all around the room with multiple booths hugging the dark walls. A loud whistle caught her attention. She didn’t recognize the trio of men there, but apparently Foster did. He waved to them as he headed in their direction. Bella and Sloane let him lead the way.
    “Guys, this is my fiancée, Mirabella, and this is her cousin, Sloane.”
    The girls shook hands with the guys as Foster finished introducing them, giving their real names before informing they preferred nicknames. Paxton, or “Tank,” was just that—a huge man whose hand swallowed Sloane’s with room to spare. The shaved head only added to the magnitude of him. He wore a loud orange button-down shirt that couldn’t hide all of his tattoos, with black jeans and motorcycle boots. His large brown eyes swept the room, constantly alert. As if constantly looking for some presumed threat. She knew she wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that stare.
    Morty “Mother” must have been half of Tank’s