Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Preston didn’t expect to sleep. How could he sleep after having hell thrown back in his face? But…
An angel curled in his lap. Her breath was warm and soft. Her body gentle. Delicate. And with her against him, he eventually drifted off to sleep.
Long ago, he’d become used to only catching bits and pieces of sleep. Normally when he closed his eyes, he found himself fighting the same old nightmares. Of course, now he had new nightmares but…
He didn’t dream this time. Didn’t have any nightmares. Didn’t even know really when he’d slipped into sleep. One minute, he was cradling Sloane, hating that she’d been terrorized because she’d tried to help him.
In the next instant, he was asleep.
When he woke, his eyes opened, instant alertness flooded him, and he stared through the giant windows and at the sprawling mountains that waited in front of him.
Wide open spaces. Stretching as far as I can see.
She was still in his lap. Tucked against him with her legs sliding over the side of the armchair. One of her hands pressed to his bare chest.
He didn’t move. Just kept sitting there, with Sloane Armstrong held in his lap.
Time passed slowly, and he kept staring at the mountains and holding her. He held her, and he made his plans. It would not be the first time that he’d killed.
Probably not the last time, either.
Some things had to be done.
There were people in the world who could go their entire lives, never knowing violence. He was not one of those people.
I will start at the initial crime scene.
I’ll look at every piece of evidence. The sheriff would give him access, no problem.
He had plenty of pull with her and her department.
He’d search that scene. Review all the evidence that the prick had left behind.
What did the bastard leave? What will take me to him?
And the crime scene—the first crime scene—had been right on his own property. Good thing he had hidden security cameras near the long driveway. The authorities would want that footage. He’d give it to them, eventually. After he’d reviewed it himself.
Sloane jerked in his arms. “Oh, no!”
Awake. Clearly.
She pushed against his chest and turned horrified chocolate eyes on him. “I’m asleep in your lap.”
He inclined his head toward her. “Technically, you’re now awake in my lap.”
“I’m like…using you as a pillow.” She winced. “Or a whole bed. I am so sorry.” Sloane scrambled off him. “And you’re totally awake and aware. I can’t…” Her hand shoved back her hair. “Why…how…?”
He waited for her to get her question out completely.
“Why didn’t you wake me up? Or just dump my sleeping ass on a couch so you could move out of the chair?”
“Because I liked holding you.” An interesting development. Just like the fact that, apparently, he could sleep when she was in his arms.
Even though he’d been buried the fuck alive, he’d just gotten the best sleep he’d had in twenty years so…
How about that?
She stared down at him.
She was really quite beautiful in the morning. In the morning. In the night. In the shower. Always but… “You are going to answer my questions today.” It was time to get answers from her.
Sloane rocked back on her heels. “You are chatty first thing in the morning.”
No, he wasn’t. At least, he did not think that he was. Usually, no one was with him first thing in the morning so Preston didn’t exactly have a point of comparison.
“May I have coffee first?” Sloane inquired sweetly. “May I get breakfast? Maybe clothing? Before we start the question-and-answer session?”
His gaze swept over her. She was currently wearing one of his shirts.
An old, navy blue shirt that dipped off one delicate shoulder even as the hem danced across her thighs and edged toward her knees.
He thought she looked pretty spectacular in the shirt, especially with the way her tight nipples pressed to the cotton but…
Yeah. Clothing. He got that she wanted her own clothing.
“On the way,” Preston replied as he slowly rose from the armchair. He stretched, working out the kinks and aches in his body.
“On the way? What’s on the way?”
There was a soft knock at the front door. Excellent timing.
Her head whipped toward the door. “What is happening?”
“Our morning delivery. I told you last night, I was taking care of getting your items from the inn.” He turned away and padded toward the door. A quick glance through the peephole showed him that Joshua Wilson stood on the doorstep. Two bags were near his assistant’s feet.
Joshua had worked for him going on a year now. Smart, dedicated, and used to being woken in the middle of the night, Preston had known that he could trust his assistant to take care of the retrieval for him.
Preston opened the door.
“What in the hell happened?” Joshua demanded as he surged forward. He left the bags behind him. “Kidnapped? You were kidnapped?”
“Sounds like you know what happened.” He looked around his assistant. “Are those the bags from the inn?”
“Preston, you texted me at an insanely late hour, and you said nothing about a kidnapping. I learned that shit myself. Like, ten minutes ago, I learned it. Because it’s on the news.”
Sloane scrambled toward them. “Did you break into my room at the inn? That is a serious intrusion!”
Joshua frowned at Sloane. Then he lifted one hand and pointed his index finger at her. “Why do you have files on my boss?”
What? He must have misunderstood Joshua.
Sloane braked to a stop right beside Preston.
“I saw your calendar, lady. I saw all of your notations on it when I packed up all your shit. You were watching Preston. Stalking him.” Real fury darkened Joshua’s normally friendly face. “The manager at the inn told me that you’d been in town for a week. One whole week.”
Preston felt his entire body tense.
“You were tracking Preston that whole time, weren’t you?
Tracking him and then he gets taken.” Red filled Joshua’s cheeks.
“I already called the sheriff. Told her all about what I found in your room, and she’s coming over.
Should be here any minute.” He took a hard step toward Sloane.
“You set Preston up, didn’t you? Staged the kidnapping?
Pulled off some insane bullshit manipulation so you could get close to him? Just how twisted are you?”
Fury coiled inside of Preston. She…set me up? She’d been on his property, before the abduction, she’d told him that. But…
But this…
She was tracking me. Deliberately trying to get close to me?
And he’d only been too eager to get close to her. Normally, he let no one close. But she’d slipped beneath his guard. What in the hell had he been thinking?
“No!” Sloane’s furious denial. “That is not what’s happening here!”
The doorway was still open. Her bags still outside.
And a sheriff’s patrol car had just pulled up in front of the house.
Sloane’s hand curled around Preston’s shoulder. She pulled him, turning him toward her.
His hands had clenched into fists. “There something you meant to tell me?”
“Preston…”
“I tried asking you questions last night.” He had. On the way from the hospital to his house. “In the limo, you just went silent.”
She bit her lower lip. Her desperate gaze bounced toward the sheriff’s car. Debra Tooni was exiting the vehicle. “We should talk, but we need to have that conversation alone.”
They’d been alone in the limo. Alone in the house until Joshua arrived.
The sheriff’s car door slammed closed.
“Please, just trust me, would you?” Sloane’s stare was on him. All beseeching. Dark. Deep. “I’m not here to hurt you, I swear it. Look, I was in the grave with you, remember?”
As if he could forget.
Keys jingled as the sheriff ambled toward them.
“Joshua, Preston…” Debra’s voice carried easily. “I hear that we have another situation on our hands.”
Sloane’s grip tightened on him. He should turn his head toward the sheriff. But he was too busy staring at the desperation in Sloane’s eyes. He really didn’t want her to be a liar.
“Trust me,” Sloane pleaded.
Unfortunately… “I don’t trust anyone.”
Her eyes widened, and pain flashed across her pretty face. “That’s a crappy way to live.”
It was the only way he was able to keep living.
“What’s happening?” Debra demanded.
Preston turned toward her. Debra was tall and slender, with the faintest hint of silver peeking through her coal-black hair.
Her cheekbones were high, sharp, silent testimony to her Cherokee heritage.
Her dark gaze held both curiosity and suspicion.
There were shadows under her eyes, and wrinkles scrunched her normally pristine uniform.
He suspected she’d been out at the grave site all night long.
“Figured we’d be having a big interview early today,” Debra continued musingly, “but I was trying to let you both rest up a bit first. Then I got the call from Joshua saying I needed to haul ass over here.”
Joshua lunged for the bags he’d brought over. He unzipped one, spilling half the contents in the entranceway. A sexy pair of red panties. A matching bra. Jeans.
“Uh, Josh, got to ask, have you lost your mind?” Debra asked, cocking her head. Joshua was her nephew. Her favorite nephew, but she looked distinctly alarmed as he tossed panties on the porch.
Joshua grabbed what looked like a small calendar. A manila file. And…
“Here!” Joshua shoved the calendar at Debra. “She was stalking him! Tracing his movements. Following him! She isn’t some victim. Don’t buy that BS. Do not. This woman set up Preston! She arranged his kidnapping. She is freaking in on it!”
Sloane’s hand slid away from Preston’s arm.
A cold wind seemed to blow over his skin. His jaw locked. I nearly fucked her last night.
She’d come against his mouth.
She’d slept in his arms.
She’d…
Attempted to kill him?
No, no, she was buried in the grave with me. She—
“Miss?” Curt. From Debra. “Miss, is this your property?” She clutched the calendar in her hands.