Chapter 16
Sixteen
WALKER
Iwas agitated.
Taking a day off from guarding Sloane, it agitated me.
There had been times in the past with Brodan that I’d double- and triple-checked that the bodyguards replacing me temporarily on my days and holidays off were the absolute best. But it had never disgruntled me to let someone take over protecting him.
I drove back toward my bungalow after visiting Bro, Monroe, and Lennox. I had seen little of them these past few weeks as I guarded Sloane and upped their protection.
As for Sloane, she seemed fairly relaxed after telling me her story.
I’d kept my finger on the pulse of her mood, and she was dealing with the stress well.
Apparently, she was used to it at this point.
She’d dealt with a lot in the past, but she was a fighter.
I admired her even more now after hearing it.
And I’d love some time alone in a room with her ex, Nathan Andros, to teach him a fucking lesson.
Hoffman too. Lachlan was making headway with Hoffman.
It looked like there were several victims willing to band together to take him down, with Lachlan’s help.
Lachlan had done something similar in the past to another actor, and he was still rotting in prison for his crimes.
It assured me knowing my boss would take care of Hoffman.
That left me to deal with Andros. I’d had my contacts run a check on Andros’s passport, and the prick didn’t have one.
We’d also hired a PI in LA to follow him, but in the two weeks since, the PI hadn’t been able to obtain security images of Nathan.
That made me uneasy because it probably meant he wasn’t in LA, but there was no history of him leaving the state, let alone the country.
Exceptional falsified passports cost upward of $15,000, and Andros didn’t have that kind of money in his accounts.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a stash of cash somewhere.
The question was whether he’d be willing to drop that kind of money to get revenge against Sloane.
Usually I’d order a lock on his mobile phone so we could locate him through that, but Andros must use burners because of the nature of his job.
We were blind, and I didn’t like it. It meant keeping men on Sloane and Callie indefinitely until we could locate the fucker.
And I was agitated when that man wasn’t me.
That was a warning. Proof that I should definitely take a day off from guarding Sloane.
Jamie, a guard at the estate, was on Sloane and Callie duty today. Sloane and I needed some distance.
She’d started touching me casually again in that way a woman did when they’re interested. I couldn’t react to it without leading her on. And ignoring it was a test of my bloody willpower.
Here I was, my day off, and I was still thinking about the woman.
I needed to go home, crack open a beer, and stick on an NFL game. I was behind on the season. Watch that. Relax. Not think about the sexy, too-young-for-me, single mum who was off-limits.
There you go, thinking about her again, you fuck, I growled under my breath as I swung my SUV onto my street. The black Range Rover sitting outside my bungalow alerted me.
That was one of the estate fleet.
I drove past it and up onto my drive and as I jumped out of my own Rover, Sloane got out of the passenger side of the other. Jamie was in the driver’s seat.
Tensing, I watched as she strolled toward me in a summer dress, cardigan, and ankle boots. She wore that glamorous smile that did things to me. There was a Tupperware box in her hands. And the dress was low cut, I noted as she neared me.
What the hell was she doing here?
“Everything okay?” I bit out more abruptly than I meant.
Sloane blinked, startled at my bark. “Uh, yeah. You okay?”
I gave her a lift of my chin.
She grinned at that for some reason and moved toward me until only the Tupperware was between us. Her perfume carried toward me on the cool breeze. My fist tightened around my car keys, the metal biting into my palm.
“Callie is with Lewis today—don’t worry, so are three of the Adair men, so she is perfectly safe. And I thought I could pay you back since you won’t let me pay any other way.” She started walking backward toward my house, the curve of her breasts trembling slightly with the movement.
Images of her tied to my bed while I fucked her filled my mind, but I quickly shut them down. “How so?” I choked out, marching toward where she now waited by my door.
“Well, you’re a bachelor, so I’m assuming your place needs cleaning. I’m a professional. Plus, I brought a collection of baked treats for your eating pleasure.”
Eating pleasure.
What a choice of words.
Steeling myself, I unlocked the door and gestured for her to go inside. “I think you’ll find I don’t need your cleaning services.” But I’ll eat you for pleasure.
Groaning inwardly at the escaped thought, I ran a hand over my hair and watched her as she strolled through the large, tidy front hall into the even tidier living room. Following her, I tried not to like the adorable look of consternation on her face as her gaze swept over the place.
“It’s clean and tidy. Like … really.”
When I realized I was going to be staying in Ardnoch indefinitely, I decided against pissing my money away on rent.
The property market here made buying the wiser decision.
I’d bought the bungalow from a couple who’d renovated it.
There was no trace of its 1960s origins.
The walls were a light gray, the flooring hardwood, my sofa a comfortable leather corner unit, my furniture choices in a darker gray wood.
Sloane made a small huffing noise and wandered through the living room and into the adjoining kitchen.
The rooms had once been separated by large doors, but the couple had removed them and widened the wall opening so the living spaces felt like one.
The kitchen was modern with flush cupboards in a gray so dark, they almost looked black.
There was a contrasting island in white quartz with waterfall edges, and the flooring tile was white and gray.
Modern steel lighting hung above the island.
I liked to cook, so I bought the house because of the kitchen.
“Wow.” Sloane spun around to face me. “This is gorgeous.”
Aye, she could bake many a cake in here.
“And clean.” She wrinkled her nose. “Your house is so clean.”
My lips twitched at her disgruntlement. “I have a housekeeper. And I like things tidy. Ex-bootneck,” I reminded her.
“Bootneck?”
“Marine.”
“Ah.” She nodded in understanding. And then smiled that gorgeous smile again as she lifted the Tupperware.
I was relieved to see her smiling more and more these days.
As if telling me about her past had lifted some of the burden.
“We can still indulge together. I’ve got some of your favorites in here. ”
Shit.
She laid the box down on the island and reached out to touch my arm. “Where are your plates?” Her fingers lingered for a few seconds too long, brushing my bare forearm.
I knew what she wanted. Where this would go. The problem was, she was far too tempting for my peace of mind. So I did the only thing I could think of to get her out of my house. “I actually have company coming over.”
Despite my emphasis on the word company, she took the top off the Tupperware to reveal a collection of cakes and pastries. The woman was going to be the death of me in more ways than one. “There’s plenty here. Who’s coming over?”
Really? “A woman, Sloane. I have a woman coming over.”
She tensed, then looked up at me with those velvety eyes a man could drown in. She searched mine, and I tensed as she didn’t react at all like I’d expected.
In fact, she shocked the hell out of me.
“What if I suggested you cancel on her?”
My blood heated at the huskiness in her voice, at the invitation in her eyes. “Sloane …”
She turned fully toward me, her gaze moving down my body and back up again in a way no man could misinterpret. “Callie won’t be home until this evening. I’m yours all afternoon. If you want.”
I wanted.
I really, really fucking wanted.
“It’s not a good idea,” I practically snarled, turning on my heel and striding back into the living room.
She followed. “Why?”
Jesus, woman!
I admired her gumption, but she was killing me. Turning to face her, I replied, as gently as I was able, “Because I’m not interested in a relationship, and anything less with you would be too complicated.”
“But—”
“Sloane. Don’t.”
She was silent a moment, searching my face as if for answers. Then she shrugged, her cardigan falling off her shoulder with the movement, baring perfect olive skin. “Do you not find me attractive?”
No, I’m just a thirty-eight-year-old man fighting a hard-on like a fucking teenager because your cardigan fell off your shoulder. I scrubbed a hand down my face, gritting my teeth. “It’s not that.”
The cruel woman took a step closer. “I’m not looking for serious, Walker.”
Aye, all women said that. Look at Chloe. “It’s too complicated. We’re friends. And you’re too young for me.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m twenty-seven this year. I have a child. I’m not exactly a baby.”
“We’re friends,” I repeated sternly. “So drop it.”
Hurt flashed across her face, and it punched me in the gut.
“I’m sorry if this was … Sorry for bothering you.” Sloane suddenly bolted past me.
Fuck. I should let her go.
My front door opened.
“Sloane.” I hurried after her, only to find her halted on my front walk, staring at the space where the Range Rover had been. Jamie had left. Obviously, he thought I had her.
“Just so typical,” Sloane muttered under her breath and started marching down my path toward the street.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I went after her, my long strides eating up the distance between us.
“I can walk,” she threw over her shoulder. Her hair blew back from her face in the chilly breeze. Dark clouds above signaled rain.
“You are not walking.” I caught up to her and gently took hold of her biceps. Sloane tugged a little as she turned to face me. She wouldn’t look me in the eye.
Goddamn it.
“Get in the car. I’ll take you back to the cottage, and we’ll phone Jamie.”
She shrugged out of my hold. “What about your booty call?”
I’d already forgotten my lie. So I didn’t answer. I just gestured to the car and waited for her to get in it.