Chapter 22
Sloan stared at the ceiling, Joanne sleeping soundly on his shoulder as he absently stroked her skin. He’d slept for a few hours but had woken shortly before four, unable to get back to sleep.
He was blown away.
He’d slept with plenty of women since this one, but none of them compared. It wasn’t a physical comparison but a spiritual one. He hadn’t been as connected to any of them as he’d always been to Joanne, and that was a problem.
Making love to her was like picking up where they’d left off years before, and he was suddenly concerned with all the reasons he’d dropped out of that race in the first place.
Jo had changed the rules on him halfway around the track, asking him to marry her and take her away from her abusive father forever.
She’d been asking him to save her.
He’d been a stupid kid back then, just barely eighteen and on his way into the military. He had nothing to offer her but himself. That wasn’t how love was supposed to manifest, like some kind of dare that seemed like a super-bad idea.
Now he’d gone and made love to her without a condom.
Speaking of super-bad ideas.
It wasn’t like it had slipped his mind. He always practiced safe sex and had a condom in his wallet right now. But he hadn’t used it, needing to feel every part of the experience just as he had felt it back then. Condoms were for other relationships, not for this one.
Fuck.
Worse yet, in that moment, he’d considered the possibility of her getting pregnant, and the idea only increased his desire to make love without one.
What was he looking for here? Joanne was back in his life and looking for him to save her again. It’s not like she’d come looking for him to give their relationship another try. She’d shown up on his doorstep desperate for help, and he knew in his heart she wouldn’t otherwise have been there.
To make matters worse, he was getting attached. Not just to Jo but also to the kids. She’d asked him not to be nice to them for their own sake, but he should have been more concerned with saving himself. Instead, he hadn’t given it a care.
Lucas was a trip, reminding Sloan of himself at that age. And Fiona, well, the devil himself would fall in love with that girl. April was at a tough age, but she had a good head on her shoulders and her mother’s big heart.
He kissed the top of Jo’s head. There was no way this was going to end well for him.
He’d help her find the money and get to a safe place with her kids.
Then he would have to get over her all over again.
Wouldn’t be the first time he’d learned to live without her, but this time he swore would be the last.
He opened his eyes. He needed sleep, but it wasn’t likely to come as he battled regrets and poor decisions.
After slipping his arm out from beneath her neck and quietly getting out of bed, he grabbed the files they’d taken from the plumbing supply company and headed into the adjoining room.
If he was going to be awake, he might as well do something useful.
He clicked on the light and got to work, inspecting each account and making notes on when deposits were made.
Most of the money was moved in the past three months—more than ninety percent of it—and all of it in amounts less than three thousand dollars.
Perhaps a larger transfer would have attracted attention.
All totaled, there was just over two-point-two million.
But was it their missing money? If David had taken it and given it to his mistress, she could well be hiding it here.
Moto would have to go through the transactions and follow the trail to confirm, but it sure looked like they’d found what they’d been looking for.
Only question now was, would Bannon accept that his wife, McKenzie, was involved?
They would need proof—that much was sure.
He dialed Moto, who answered on the first ring despite the hour. “What’s up?”
Sloan told him about the account activity he needed traced. “I’ll email you scans of the account information.”
“So nobody’s dead or dying right now?”
“Nope.”
“Then why the fuck are you calling me at four a.m.?”
Sloan grinned. “Figured you’d be easy to get ahold of.”
“I spent my day riding a horse.”
“You don’t strike me as the ranch-hand type.”
“I’m not, and you damn well know it. I can’t fucking move, and my ass feels like its been pounded with two-by-fours for hours.”
“Look at you with the Home Depot reference. You keep this up, Moto, you just might earn that man card back.”
“Fuck you, Dvorak. I’m going to sleep.”
“All right. Just get me bank info as soon as you can.”
“Got it.”
Sloan grinned. Mac O’Brady had one hell of a sense of humor, sending Moto to a horse farm in Wyoming like that, even with Trace there to help him blend in.
He stood and began to pace, running a hand through his hair.
He was stressed. Uncomfortable. Something was bothering him, and he tried to place his discomfort.
He was knee deep in the throes of relationship hell with Joanne, that was certain.
But something about this money scheme and the visit to the warehouse tonight was all wrong.
It was too easy.
From the moment they’d set their sights on coming here, his gut had been telling him this would be a dangerous mission. And while the dog had been alarming, it was not the battle his subconscious had been anticipating.
Maybe he’d been wrong, and there was nothing here to fear. Or maybe they’d only scratched the tip of the iceberg, and the Titanic was about to go down.
He plopped down on the bed and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. His last coherent thought was that he should have been with Joanne in the next room, as fatigue abruptly overtook the last vestiges of consciousness.