Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
A driver waited for them outside of the hospital.
No reporters, so that was good. But a big, black Range Rover idled near the hospital’s rear exit.
A Range Rover this time, not the sleek limo.
The new vehicle made far more sense in the mountain town, so she was glad to see that particular ride.
The driver stood at attention. A different driver this time.
Big, wide, with buzzed hair and dark glasses. The man screamed bodyguard.
The bodyguard-slash-driver opened the back door for Sloane.
She jumped in. Preston slid in beside her.
While the driver headed for the front of the vehicle, Sloane turned her head toward Preston.
“I need fresh clothes. I need makeup. I need a shower that is hot and long.” She probably should have reversed the order of that list. Started with the shower.
“I can make all of that happen.”
Excellent. Were they finally on the same page?
“Then I want to go to the crime scene—the grave.” Because, technically, there were two crime scenes.
The initial abduction site at his place and then the burial site in the woods.
The site in the woods had been selected deliberately, and she wanted to have the chance to examine it fully, in the light.
“You’ve got pull with the sheriff. You two go way back, so don’t BS with me about it.
Tell her we want to look at the area. Closely. ”
“Done.”
He was being way too agreeable. Should she be suspicious of the sudden turnaround? Yes, she should be. She was.
The driver was already back in the front seat.
“Get us to my home, Frankie,” Preston ordered.
“On it.” Frankie adjusted the rearview mirror. Seemed to study them for an instant. Then took off.
Preston opened the small box he held. A black box. “This is for you.”
Her head turned. He leaned close, and his fingers slid around her neck.
Sloane started to jerk back, but then she realized he was just fastening a necklace at the nape of her neck. His breath blew lightly against her cheek. His warm scent teased her nose. She almost turned toward him. Almost nuzzled the guy.
Then he pulled back. “Courtesy of your friend, Atlas.”
Her fingers traced the design of the lily. “This wasn’t meant for me.”
“No, but it will temporarily do the job until I can get you a new tracker.”
Interesting. “So you’re in the tracking business now, too?”
“Yeah. I sure as hell am.” He reached for her wrist. He still had bandages on the back of his right hand. One on his left. She could see some scrapes on his fingers. Bruising. But he didn’t seem to care about his injuries. His gaze was on the darkening line that the handcuff had left on her wrist.
Sloane wet her lips. “You should get a tracker for yourself. Atlas always has one so that he can be located if, um, circumstances deteriorate.”
His fingers slid along the growing bruise on her wrist. “I’m sorry.” He brought her hand up. To his mouth. Kissed the dark band. “I…don’t trust easily.”
“No, really?” Fake shock.
Another kiss. “I don’t let people close.” His voice was low.
Frankie would be able to hear them up front. This wasn’t the type of conversation that should be overheard. So she leaned toward Preston. Her fingers curled around his neck as she pulled him closer to her. Sloane’s mouth pressed near his ear. “I’m close. Right now, I am very, very close to you.”
He nodded.
Her lips slid against his earlobe. “What changed your mind about me?” Low. Husky.
His head turned. He dipped in again so that now, he was at her ear. His breath blew lightly against her, and Sloane couldn’t control the little shiver that slid over her skin.
“I think you and I…” Preston rasped, “might be very similar.”
She felt the lick of his tongue against her lobe. And maybe, the faintest tug of his teeth on her.
Desire surged through Sloane’s body.
He eased back. Stared into her eyes. “You aren’t scared of me.”
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting evil over the years.”
He laughed. Rough. Deep. Bitter. “Then maybe you need to take another hard glance at me.”
No, she didn’t. She knew what she was getting with him. Exactly what she needed. But they had to come to an agreement. “You don’t hurt me. I don’t hurt you.”
A furrow appeared between his brows.
“You don’t hurt me,” she repeated. “I don’t hurt you.” That was the only way their partnership would work.
His jaw locked. Frankie kept driving. Sloane didn’t think that Preston was going to respond at all until—
“Angel, there’s something you need to realize.”
She waited, all her attention on him.
“From here on out, consider me your attack dog. Anyone tries to hurt you in any way, and I’ll rip out the bastard’s throat.”
Well, that was promising.
I will not walk into her shower again. I will not walk into the shower.
Preston stood in the bedroom. His bedroom. He’d had new clothing picked up and brought over for Sloane because her belongings were still at the sheriff’s station. Her clothes and her bags. Though Debra was supposed to be delivering the items to his home. Including Sloane’s laptop.
In the meantime, though, he’d had his assistant pick up new clothing for Sloane. An assortment of makeup, too. And new shoes. Sloane had given him all her sizes.
Now he was just waiting around like a dumbass for her to come out of the shower.
Bullshit. You’re trying to come up with a reason to go in that shower. You want to see her naked again. You want her coming against your mouth. You want to fucking fix what you might have already broken when you let doubt drive you from her.
Preston scraped a hand over his face.
He didn’t know how to get close with someone. Didn’t know how to let down his guard and be real with another person. Mostly because he was always afraid his real self would terrify anyone who saw him for what he truly was.
But with Sloane…
She knew about his father. She knew about his past and maybe, just maybe, she could accept all of him. After all, she’d kissed him in the darkness. She’d tried to save him.
Too bad he was far past the point of actually being saved.
The bathroom door opened. Steam drifted in the air, and there stood Sloane. With a white towel wrapped around her body. One towel around her body. One towel curled around her hair. She stared at him and quirked one eyebrow. “You need something?”
You. On the bed. Minus the towels. Legs spread. Screaming my name as you come against my mouth again.
But they were a long way from that moment. “I was…” Preston cleared his throat. “Checking on you.”
“Um.”
“And dropping off clothes.” He had been doing that. With a vague wave of his hand, he indicated the shopping bags. “Joshua delivered everything you needed.”
“Any update on my actual belongings?” She remained in the doorway.
She had killer legs. Long and sexy and…
Was that a scar sliding along her left ankle and dipping up her calf? His stare sharpened. He hadn’t noticed it before. Then again, he hadn’t been focused on her ankle.
“It’s from a knife,” Sloane told him, obviously catching the direction of his gaze.
Preston surged toward her. “Who the hell—” He stopped. Because he knew. The killer ex-boyfriend.
“I ran from Cody the morning I found my parents. He was still in the house. Still in their bedroom. Waiting for me to find them. He thought I’d be…
happy. That we’d celebrate together. I made a mistake with him, you see.
” Her lips pressed together. “Actually, I can’t have this conversation while I’m wearing a towel and you’re fully dressed.
It makes me feel far too vulnerable. I don’t like being vulnerable. One of my least favorite things.”
He nodded. “I’ll strip.”
“What? No, I—” Her cheeks were pink. From the shower? “I’ll put on clothes. Then come meet you downstairs.”
“That’s probably a better idea. If I get naked and you’re naked, who knows what might happen?” He was trying to tease, something he did not do well. The words were rusty, he was rusty, and he was still staring at her scar.
That bastard took a knife to her skin.
“I think we’d fuck,” she returned bluntly. “That’s probably what would happen. I don’t know if either of us is really ready for that. Or prepared for what will happen after.”
He dragged his gaze up. Met her stare. “After?” I think we’d fuck. He was all in for that. “What would happen after?” His voice had gone guttural.
“After? Well, then you’d realize that you can’t live without me. You’d get addicted to me and want me in your life forever.” Light words. Teasing. She was trying to ease the heavy mood between them, too.
But, clearly, she was far better at teasing than he was. Because his voice seemed to rumble like a bear’s growl when he replied, “Or you get addicted to me.”
Her eyes widened. “That could be a possibility. You did already give me the best orgasm of my life.”
He turned on his heel and immediately strode for the door.
“Preston?”
“Meet you downstairs.” He had to get out of that room. Because when she made confessions like that one…when she was just wearing a towel and standing steps away from his bed…
Definitely makes me want to fuck you, Sloane.
Though just being near her made him want to fuck her.
He rushed down the stairs, his feet pounding against the steps. And, surprise, surprise, his assistant was waiting in the foyer. Joshua’s features were pinched. Far too tight.
His assistant was also sweating. “This is a terrible idea,” Joshua proclaimed. “The sheriff took the woman away. Why did you bring her back? You should have gotten a restraining order against her. Not invited her into your home. Why, boss? Why?”
“Because I like her.” Wait. Hell. He did. He did like her.
“You…like her?” Joshua seemed to strangle. “A woman who has been tearing into your life? Boss, that’s not supposed to be your reaction.”