The entire time she had nursed Amelia, Sloan was by her side. Abbey had glanced at her sinfully sexy husband several times. He had watched her and Ame with a protective pride. Every few moments, Sloan would cup her face in his palm and press a kiss to her lips, his warm, strong fingers caressing her cheek. Finally, after everything that had happened, the three of them could be a family.
Abbey was distracted by the ding of the elevator she had just walked past. She smiled brightly as Maggie stepped off, dressed in the pink scrubs of the neonatal department she worked in. The Irish girl waved to her.
“Good morning, sis,” Abbey greeted her.
“Good morning. Are you here alone?” Maggie asked.
“Nope. Sloan’s in the visitor’s lounge making a phone call. Did your shift just end?”
“Yep. I’m meeting Bartholomew here. He’s riding with Gordon and Mary. Then we’re going back to my apartment so I can sleep. I have tonight off.”
Abbey winked at Maggie. “So, are you guys getting serious?”
“Yes. We haven’t slept together or anything. Bartholomew seems dead set against it.”
“He knows your brother would kill him if you do sleep together. I mean, actually kill him.”
“This is stupid. I’m a grown woman. I should get to choose who I have sex with, not my brother.”
“I agree. But Sloan doesn’t want to see you hurt. And Bartholomew respects Sloan too much. He wouldn’t do anything that might tarnish that respect.”
Maggie sighed. “It may not matter, anyway.”
“Why is that?”
“Bartholomew can’t find another job. If he doesn’t find work soon, he’s going back to Montana, and we’re over.”
Abbey frowned. “He’s still on Sloan’s payroll as his bodyguard.”
Maggie shook her head. Abbey could hear the hopelessness in her soft brogue. “He returned it. Wrote a check to Sloan’s bank. He says he doesn’t deserve it. He didn’t protect Sloan.”
“Oh.” Abbey took a sip of her coffee as concern flooded her. Then she turned as she heard her husband’s voice echo from the visitor’s lounge. His tone was sharp, violent, and peppered with a litany of curse words. The conversation must have taken a turn for the worse. Suddenly her face brightened. “I have an idea. I know where there is a job for Bartholomew.”
“Abbey, no,” Maggie warned. “I promised Bartholomew I wouldn’t ask my brother for money for him.”
Abbey smiled. “You won’t say a word to your brother, Maggie. I will. Sloan needs someone to sell this painting and cover the gallery. I need him here with Amelia and me. Bartholomew needs a job. Sounds like the perfect match to me. Did you have plans this afternoon?”
“No. Actually, I have no idea what Bartholomew planned to do while I slept.”
“Well, I know what he’s going to do. Work. Back in Mount Vernon.” Abbey handed her coffee cup to Maggie and then dashed off down the hall to the visitor’s lounge.
She peeked inside the room, finding Sloan alone inside. He clenched his cell phone in his hand, his fingers fisting in rage around it. He stared out the window as he forced his breath in and out of his lungs in a desperate attempt to calm himself.
Abbey stepped inside the lounge. “Sloan, sweetheart?”
He spun on his toe and faced her. “Luv, what are you doing here?”
Abbey pointed at his hand. “I’m hoping to solve your problem.”
He laughed. “Abigail, luv. Nothing is going to solve my problem.”
“Bartholomew desperately needs a job. You need someone to keep that appointment for you and to help you run the gallery.”
“He has a job. He still works for me.”
“You haven’t checked your account lately, have you? He returned the money. He doesn’t feel he deserves to work for you. He didn’t protect you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Abbey shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. I do know he needs this and so does Maggie. So what do you think?”
“I’ll talk to him as soon as he gets here. Then I’ll call my associate.”
“Great.” Abbey wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss. “Just promise me you’ll tell him it was my idea, not Maggie’s. She promised him that she wouldn’t say a word to you.”
“I haven’t even seen her yet, so how could she talk to me? I promise to tell him it was your idea.”
Abbey barely got the word “Awesome” out before she was smothered in another devouring kiss.
»»•««
Bartholomew sat on a stool near the door of the gallery. He had swept and dusted the neglected store. He sorted the mail, throwing out the junk and keeping the few pieces remaining. He would take them back to Iowa City and give them to Abbey to go through.
Bartholomew had been a little surprised when Sloan offered to pay him to sit at the gallery and wait for his client. Then he was a little angry. I asked Maggie specifically not to involve her brother in my employment problems.
But then, Sloan informed him that he never spoke to Maggie. The whole plan was Abbey’s idea. Bartholomew smiled to himself. I’m sure Maggie still had something to do with it, but I can’t be certain. When Abbey gets an idea, she runs with it.
Bartholomew slowly stood as the door of the gallery opened. He watched as a short and stout bald man waddled across the threshold. The client was followed by three tall, lean, and tough men. But not nearly as tall, lean, or tough as him. He chuckled to himself. I should have known the client would be Leo.
Leo had money, but it was money tainted by drug running and brothel owning. He was infatuated with Sloan’s art. Gordon, Robert, and Bartholomew all begged Sloan to work with Leo through a broker and not involve himself with such a low-life bastard. Sloan flat out refused. Besides, how far up the ladder of low-life bastards could an accused Irish Republican Army bomber be from a drug running pimp? Not far according to Sloan.
The corners of Leo’s mouth curled into a smug smile at the sight of Bartholomew. “Sloan sent the errand boy, I see.”
“I’m not the errand boy,” he growled.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Here’s O’Riley’s money.” Leo flipped a check from between is fingers. “Now where’s my painting?”
Bartholomew strode to Leo and ripped the check from his hand. He slowly opened the folded piece of paper. “This is two million.”
Leo snapped his fingers and pointed to the back room. Like trained dogs, his men surged forward. “So? I trust you’ve crated it already.”
Bartholomew took a sidestep, blocking the men from the room. “The agreed on price was three million.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
Bartholomew laughed. “Oh, yes it was.”
“You don’t believe me? Call your master. Clear it up.”
Bartholomew paced to the back room. He returned to the gallery showroom, a two-by-four piece of wood firmly gripped in his hand. “No. I’m not calling Sloan. He’s with his baby daughter. You and me, we can handle this like men.”
Leo’s dark eyes flew open wide and then narrowed. With sausage-like fingers, he tugged the checkbook free from inside his coat. Bartholomew chuckled softly as Leo grumbled to himself while he fiercely scribbled a second check. He tore it free and handed it to Bartholomew.
“There. Can I have my painting now?” Leo demanded.
Bartholomew dropped the wood plank to the floor with a loud clatter and then took the check. He inspected it very slowly. “Sure. It’s leaning on the desk tagged with your name. And yes, I crated it.”
Leo once again snapped his fingers, springing his thugs to life. The three men disappeared into the back shop. Bartholomew slid the two checks into his jeans pocket.
“Sloan says thank you for your business,” he smirked. Leo glared at him, still grumbling under his breath as he followed his goons out of the gallery, all three of them huffing and groaning under the weight of the painting.
Watching Leo and his men disappear do
wn the road, Bartholomew locked up the gallery and walked to Maggie’s car. His report to Sloan in Iowa City was going to be interesting.
After a calming drive, he silently wandered the vacant hospital corridor, smiling at the sound of laughter coming from the maternity rooms as families became acquainted with their new little ones. He stepped inside the visitor’s lounge.
Sloan was staring out into the night through the full, wall-length glass window, his arms folded across his chest like an emperor surveying all that belonged to him. Which, Bartholomew mused, is frightfully accurate. He crossed the room to Sloan’s side and then reached into his pocket to retrieve the checks, handing them to Sloan.
Sloan glanced at Bartholomew from the corner of his eye as he took the two pieces of paper. “Two checks?” he inquired.
“Leo thought he could sucker me into two million.”
“I see he was mistaken.”
“That’s right.”
Sloan smiled slyly as he refolded the checks and slipped them into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he dug into his front pocket, pulled something free, and handed it to Bartholomew.
“A key?” Bartholomew questioned.
“To the gallery. You are hired, permanently. I will make sure your salary is generous and the hours fit to your schedule. Once Amelia is released, I will join you there.”
Bartholomew stared at Sloan. “Thank you.”
“Certainly. My sister is waiting for you in the nursery.”
“All right.” Bartholomew stepped away, speechless. He left, casting one last glance at Sloan still standing and staring out the window, before he made his way to the NICU.
»»•««
Mary smiled as she gazed at the farms and fields racing past in the winter twilight. The warm light from the farmhouse windows twinkled like stars across the newly harvested fields. The dark silhouettes of barns and silos hovered like ghosts across the landscape. She turned to watch Gordon, his eyes fixed on the rural road in the fading sunlight.
Her heart leaped in her throat as she studied him. His warm, chocolate brown eyes glimmered content as he concentrated on his driving. His thick, black hair, streaked with gray, was neatly combed to the side. The strong angle of his chin and cheekbone was brushed with fine salt and pepper stubble.
His sweater hugged tightly to the perfect curves of his well-defined biceps and chest. Her eyes wandered down his torso to the waistband of his jeans before she reluctantly forced them back up. Her pulse raced out of control as her mind spun. Wow, he is so gorgeous.
“Thank you so much for driving me back and forth to the hospital to see my granddaughter, Gordon,” Mary began. “And thanks for taking me back to Sloan and Abbey’s house to get it ready for Amelia’s arrival home.”
Gordon glanced at Mary out of the corner of his eye. “Our granddaughter.”
She shot him a quizzical look. “Our granddaughter?”
“I practically raised her father. I would think that would allow me claim as her grandpa. I’m sorry, my dearest Mary, but you’re going to have to share the little lass.”
“Was it difficult to raise a boy who wasn’t your own?”
“Sloan was a challenge, yes. As a youngster, from when he joined us to the time we left Northern Ireland, I shared the responsibility with Liam. And he was hell-bent on revenge. I had never seen a grown man with the thirst for revenge like that boy had.
“He wasn’t very difficult until he was sixteen and we were forced to leave Belfast. It was hard to convince a sixteen-year-old young man, who had spent most of his life discovering which wiring combination makes the best detonator, that when a forty-year-old Prague noblewoman offers you money to keep her company, she doesn’t want to play chess.”
Mary gasped. “Tell me he didn’t.”
Gordon shook his head. “He wanted to take care of his mother and Maggie. By the time I discovered what was happening, it was far too late. All I could do was get him out of Prague and attempt to mend what was left of the pieces of his heart. The only benefit was that one of the noblewomen he had had an ‘intimate professional relationship’ with coerced her husband to give Sloan his first art showing. He made a significant amount of money from the event.”
“But look at Sloan now. He’s smart, successful, and wealthy. And he loves Abbey and Ame so much. You should be proud.”
Gordon smiled. “I am. And so should you, for raising such a beautiful, strong daughter all on your own.”
Mary felt her face flush hot. “Thank you. But Abbey was easy. We shared a love of books, loved to watch movies. The most difficult she’s ever been was when she disappeared in New York City.”
He reached over, grasping her hand in his. Every nerve in her body tingled at his touch. No man, not even Walter, had ever made her tingle like that. She expected it to be only a momentary caress. Her heart raced as he continued to cradle her hand in his.
He turned his truck into the driveway and turned off the engine. Then he stepped out and crossed to the other side, opening the door for her. He offered her a hand to help her out of the truck and then wrapped his arm around hers to assist her up the porch stairs.
She pulled the key Abbey had given her from her purse and slipped it into the lock. She twisted the doorknob and then turned toward Gordon.
Mary’s breath escaped her as he caught her lips with his. She clung to his shirt as he held her in his arms. His kiss was soft, warm, and gentle. Just like him. Mary felt like an inexperienced schoolgirl in this man’s arms. She shivered as their lips parted.
Gordon pushed an auburn curl from her face. “You are chilled, sweet. Let’s go inside where it’s warm,” he purred.
Mary nodded dreamily. She sighed as Gordon took her hand and led her inside the house, closing the door behind them.
»»•««
Sloan stared at the screen of his laptop as he sat back in his office chair. With all the time he had spent at the hospital as a patient and a new father, he had fallen severely behind on his work. Thankfully, Robert had taken a controlling hand in the project in Miami and kept it on track. With a sigh, Sloan closed the laptop and stood. One more night wouldn’t hurt.
Sloan wandered down the dark hallway until he reached the soft lights of the living room. He leaned against the wood banister, a smile spreading across his sensual lips.
Abbey rocked Amelia gently, pacing the wooden living room floor as she did so. She cradled the infant against the soft cashmere bathrobe that covered her pink flannel pajamas. After a beat, she glanced up to see him watching.
“Hi,” she breathed.
“Hi.” Sloan crossed the living room to them. Enveloping both girls in his arms, he gazed lovingly at them.
“Did you move the bassinet to our room?” she asked nervously.
“Yes, luv. I did.”
Abbey stared anxiously at him as she bit her lower lip. “We’re on our own tonight. No nurses. Just us.”
“We’ll be fine,” Sloan assured.
She beamed as she snuggled closer to him. Sloan’s contented smile grew wider. Here, in his living room, he held his girls safely to him. Life couldn’t be more perfect.
Sloan flicked the light switch off and then wrapped a protective arm around Abbey as she carried the baby up the stairs. Abbey carefully laid Amelia in the bassinet, tucking the pink receiving blanket draped over the side around the child. He pulled the sheets free from the made bed and crawled in. He watched as she untied her robe, pulled it free, and laid it over the chair.
He lay on his back, his arm stretched across the bed, waiting for her. His gaze flicked around the room, analyzing the door, the window, the air vents. His stare finally rested on the drawer of his bedside table. He pulled it open a crack and glanced inside as a smile crept across his face. It was there.
He demanded Abbey stay out of the drawer, feigning his privacy. She agreed happily. She would go crazy if she knew I kept my gun in there. At least it’s in a gun safe now. I need to always be ready.
He had begun sleeping on his back when he started with the IRA. The position kept him alert and allowed him quick defense in case of attack. Abbey had adapted quickly to his bizarre sleep pattern, claiming his shoulder as her pillow. He felt better with her so close to him. In the worst case scenario, I can keep both her and me safe. She is my world. I won’t let anything happen to her again.
Abbey snuggled into bed next to him, pulling the covers over herself. As usual, she laid her head on his shoulder. Sloan frowned as a few moments later she rolled to her other side, laying her head on his outstretched arm but turning her back to him. He glanced over in the direction she was now facing and smiled. She’s watching the bassinet like a good mother should.
Sloan closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to claim him. Then he opened them. His brow knitted in frustration. He closed them again. This time, he ran his latest duties for the complex in Miami though his mind. That normally puts me right to sleep. Nothing. He ran the facts and figures for his favorite rugby team through his head. Still nothing.
Lifting his eyelids once more, he fought to remember everything he ate and drank in the past few hours, searching for a stimulant. He had steak and potatoes. He drank beer and a tumbler of whiskey. If anything, those foods should have the opposite effect of what he was experiencing. None of it made sense to him.
He stopped for a moment, quieting his mind as his heart thudded in sudden fear. He held his breath as he listened to the silence. He let it go as he heard the soft sigh from the baby’s bed.
“Sloan, are you awake?” Abbey whispered.
“Aye, luv.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Me neither. Did you drink any coffee or tea this evening?”
“I haven’t had caffeine since I started nursing. Amelia is going to be awake soon to eat. I really need to fall asleep.”
Sloan nudged her to him, turning her back to face him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I think Amelia’s our problem. I think we’re afraid if we fall asleep, something will happen to her.”
He met Abbey’s eyes in the dark. “So what do you propose, then?”
Heartland Page 14
