Chapter 5
Sloane
I stood in the suite my parents occupied during their infrequent visits to the islands, watching my mother adjust her pearl necklace in the mirror for the third time.
Everything about Angelica Mercer was precise, from her perfectly styled blonde hair to the designer cocktail dress that cost more than an average mortgage payment.
“Sloane, darling, you’re not wearing that, are you?”
I looked down at my simple navy sheath dress. It was elegant, custom-designed, and highly appropriate. But of course, it wasn’t right.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it, per se.” My mother’s tone suggested otherwise. “It’s just so... plain. This is an important evening. The Harrisons will be here, and the Vanderbilts. Senator Caldwell is flying in from Raleigh. You should make an effort.”
“I am making an effort.”
My mother sighed, the sound conveying decades of disappointment. “Where are the Tiffany earrings your father bought you for your birthday?”
“In Charleston.”
“Sloane.”
“Mother, I’m wearing jewelry. See?” I touched my diamond teardrop earrings and lifted the matching tennis bracelet on my wrist in evidence. I knew from experience she didn’t actually disapprove of my choices as much as she loved complaining.
Angelica turned from the mirror, her critical gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. “Maybe you should wear your hair up. That loose wave look is very... casual.”
“It’s a beach party, Mother. Casual is appropriate.”
“It’s an anniversary celebration at a five-million-dollar estate. Casual is never appropriate.”
I bit back the response that the cost of the house had nothing to do with this discussion, but years of training in the art of keeping the peace with Mom kept me quiet.
The five million dollars should’ve been spent on assisting in the conservation efforts, not on literally bulldozing through them.
Was it possible to love someone while hating what they’d become?
My parents opened the first Mercer Outdoors location because they loved the wilderness. Because they wanted to share that passion with others and get people outside. They’d wanted to teach folks to appreciate, enjoy and protect wild places.
Now they barely left their climate-controlled offices. Rarely went outdoors at all except to attend parties like this one.
Talk around our dinner table, and on every vacation, was only about potential for expansion. Franchise agreements. Profit margins. I’d had an enchanted childhood, hiking and kayaking and exploring with the same two people I barely recognized these days.
The whole thing just made me sad.
I offered Mom a thin smile. “I’ll put up my hair and check on the caterers.” I turned to make my escape before she could critique anything else.
But she followed me to the door anyway. “Sloane, wait.”
I turned.
“Your father and I want to talk to you about yesterday. About what happened on the trail.”
My stomach dropped. “I’m okay.”
“You felt like someone was following you.” Mom’s expression shifted into something that might have been genuine concern. “You were terrified enough to run back to your car. That’s not nothing.”
I raised my chin by a fraction, hating the memory. “It was scary, but I’m fine now.” I forced a small smile, as if in proof.
“We’re glad you’re safe. Truly.” She paused.
“Which is exactly why you should reconsider joining us back on the mainland. Come to Charleston with us tomorrow. We have vendor meetings lined up all week. The expansion into the Lowcountry market is critical for the franchise. You could sit in, pitch your company while we’re there. ”
Pitch my company.
That was the truth behind what she wanted. She knew I was fine, could see it for herself. But yesterday’s — well, whatever that was— delivered a great opportunity to urge me back across the bridge.
“I don’t think so. I have some things left to do here.”
I’d founded Stride, a woman-centered outdoor initiative, in college, when I grew uncomfortable with the disparity in numbers between male and female consumers at my parents’ businesses.
It didn’t take long to learn the reason.
Women in general were less experienced and more uncertain in nature.
So, I’d taught classes and led retreats every summer before opening my first Stride location.
I was supposed to open a location in Carolina Bay last summer, but the second missing hiker had put me on edge. Now, there was a third.
I’d thought I was going to join them yesterday.
A shiver rocked down my spine.
“Maybe you shouldn’t expand here,” Mom said. “Come back to Charleston. We’ll regroup and evaluate safer locations.”
I stepped away from her. “I’m not ready to go back to Charleston or give up on Carolina Bay. And while I love how happy you and Dad are with your company, I don’t want to be folded into your empire. I appreciate the offer, tremendously, but I’m building something I love on my own.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s just how I feel.”
I thought of Claire and the wonderful company she’d built as a young widow. She was gone too soon, but she’d left a beautiful legacy.
And Knox. She’d left a son who wanted to finish what his mother had started. I did too.
“I need to check on the caterers,” I said, turning away before Mom could see the tears threatening.
“We’re not done discussing this.”
“Yes, we are.”
I found my father in his study several minutes later, my hair in a simple low twist.
He typed busily on his laptop despite the party starting in less than an hour. Richard Mercer, a man who never stopped working, strategizing, or building his empire.
“Hi, Dad.”
He looked up, distracted. “Sloane. You look nice.”
“Thanks. Are you planning to attend your anniversary party?”
“Of course.” He smiled. “Just finishing some emails.” He closed the laptop but didn’t move from his chair. “How’s your business expansion coming? Your mother mentioned you planned to collaborate with a local company.”
The grief crashed into me like a tidal wave.
“The owner recently passed away.”
“Oh.” He looked at me over the top of his reading glasses and frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks.”
Claire and I had spent hours over coffee at her place and lunches at Island Adventures, mapping out how our businesses could support each other. Ways to get more women onto the trails and into kayaks. Nothing had been finalized. It was all just a dream taking shape.
Now, it was just a dream.
“Maybe you can buy out the company.”
Of course that was the reason he was sorry. Not because she was gone, but because the deal had fallen through. I fought the urge to raise my palms in the air and scream.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
I met his eye, glad he could see my disappointment, even if he didn’t understand the reaction.
He sighed. “And you’re certain you want to stay here this week? Your mother thinks you should join us back in Charleston tomorrow.”
I took a steadying breath. “Everything I need to do on the mainland can be handled remotely.”
“Don’t look so frustrated. We worry about you, Sloane. Promise me you won’t hike alone again until the police find whoever is doing this.”
“I promise.” That was easy. The farthest I planned to go on foot without an escort was the backyard from now on.
I moved to the window, looking out at the manicured lawn and the view that had cost us acres of maritime forest and marshland.
“I want to help find out what happened to those missing hikers and make the trails safe again.” I turned back to face him. “How can I build a business getting women outdoors when they’re disappearing from the places I want to take them?”
Dad leaned back in his chair, removing his glasses and folding his hands on his desk. His expression shifted into something I couldn’t quite read. “You remind me of my father. Stubborn. Independent. He started with nothing and built everything through sheer determination.”
I took a step in his direction, surprised. Dad rarely spoke about his own father, who’d died when I was young. “You never talk about him.”
“Your mother thinks it’s gauche to discuss humble beginnings.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “But he would have been proud of you. You’ve got a strong will and a big heart. It won’t build you an empire, but it’s a good start.”
I rolled my eyes.
He stood and straightened his tie. “You’re going to have to be very careful if you stay here. Consider hiring a protective detail, at least at night. We’re a long way from town. A lot can happen quickly out here, if we aren’t prepared.”
The rush of yesterday’s terror returned. The feeling of running through the trees.
Certainty that someone was watching me.
The relief when Knox Hawthorne returned me to my car like some kind of guardian angel.
“I promise.”
“Good.” Dad moved toward the door, threading long arms into his suit jacket and fastening the button. He paused. “Try to have a little fun tonight. It’s a party.”
I went to greet the caterers when the Sullivan’s Seafood van arrived. Maggie Sullivan’s friendly smile was a welcome contrast to my mother’s perpetual disapproval.
I connected her with Marissa, my parents’ estate manager, and made unnecessary introductions.
Marissa was in her late twenties, close to my age, I guessed, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and flawless olive skin that I deeply envied. She’d worked for my family for three years, managing the property during their absences and coordinating events like tonight.
The women smiled. “We grew up here together,” Maggie said.
“Right.” Why did I keep forgetting I was the newcomer and everyone around me seemed to be old friends?
As the women discussed logistics, I found myself distracted by unexpected thoughts of Knox Hawthorne. He was intense but kind, and really nice to look at. His eyes were the same shade as Claire’s had been. Their noses had the same long lines. Their hearts had the same protective instincts.
“Sloane?” Maggie’s voice pulled me back to the moment, an expression of amusement on her pretty face. “You okay? You kind of zoned out there, but you’re smiling a little. I’m going to take that as a good sign.”
I straightened my features, certain my cheeks had gone bright pink. “Oh. Uhm. Sorry, I was just thinking about... stuff.”
“Of course.” Maggie’s knowing smile suggested she suspected exactly what kind of stuff I’d been thinking about, if not precisely who.
By seven, guests began arriving. I stood beside my parents at the door, welcoming and making small talk.
The house filled quickly with the sounds of crystal glasses clinking, warm laughter and conversation. I worked the rooms, doing my best to remain mentally present.
“Tyler.” Dad’s voice boomed somewhere nearby, and I froze. “Looking good, son. You know the Harrisons.”
I ducked, then hurried around the nearest corner, hoping not to be seen.
It didn’t take long to spot my dad and ex-fiancé speaking with a group of other men in jackets and ties.
Tyler was heir to a pharmaceutical fortune.
Charming, educated, impossibly entitled.
I wished I’d recognized that last detail sooner.
Mom swept in to greet him, and he planted kisses on her cheeks.
This was absolutely my mother’s doing. Angelica had never accepted our breakup and never stopped hoping we’d reconcile. Never mind that Tyler had cheated, then simply expected me to accept it as normal.
He lifted his head, as if searching the crowd for someone, and I refused to let that person be me.
I slipped through the crowd of people and out the French doors that led to the back lawn.
The evening air was cool against my flushed skin. I walked toward the dunes, away from the house, away from the noise, the lights, and the suffocating weight of expectations.
The manicured lawn stretched toward the sound, giving way to natural dunes and native grasses.
This view was the only thing I loved about this house. The water, the sky, the wild beauty of the islands that no amount of landscaping could entirely tame. I couldn’t hike alone anymore, but at least I had this. A tiny oasis of nature on an island I adored.
Knox returned to mind, a bad habit I was developing. And I wished I could somehow reduce the sadness behind those remarkable blue eyes.
I’d seen him in lots of photos, but the images hadn’t prepared me for the reality.
For the height of him, the breadth of his shoulders, or the way his presence seemed to fill the space.
I’d been especially surprised by the unexpected flutter in my stomach when our eyes met.
Even in my strange state of distress, Knox had been undeniably striking.
I released an amused sigh.
Am I in high school?
The man had returned me to my car. A kind gesture. And that was all. He probably hadn’t given me a second thought since texting to check in.
So, why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?
I pulled in a deep breath, letting the salt air fill my lungs.
I wondered, absently, if Maggie and Marissa knew him, like they knew everyone else from Carolina Bay. Not that I could ask without giving away my silly fantasy of wanting to know him too. Or admitting that I wanted him to want to know me.
A light evening wind blew, and something changed in the air. I stiffened and scanned the world around me. Seeking whatever my intuition was sensing. Then I turned back to the house, not caring what it was. Only needing to be far away from the feeling as quickly as possible.
Fear roared in my ears as I hurried back across the lawn, my heels sinking with each fretful step.
A heavy hand clamped over my mouth from behind before I reached the patio.
I didn’t even have time to scream.
In the next moment, I was yanked backward. A thick arm wrapped around my chest, constricting my lungs. The broad hand across my lips smashed my nose as well. Panic exploded through my system as I struggled, clawing at the arm and hand, desperate for air.
“Don’t fight,” a voice hissed in my ear. Hot breath against my neck. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Terror overwhelmed every rational thought as I thrashed in his hold.
He dragged me helplessly backward, away from the house, the party, and any chance I had at getting help.
His grip tightened, and my vision blurred at the edges. Dark spots danced across my world. I kicked and clawed until my foot connected with something, and he grunted in pain.
Distantly, I heard shouting. Running footsteps. But they seemed so far away.
My mind spun in circles, mired in panic before landing on something concrete.
I could not die at my parents’ anniversary party.
The thought jarred me into resolve.
I wouldn’t allow myself to be hauled away like those hikers.
If this guy planned to murder me, I wasn’t about to make that easy for him.