“Hello, young one. Haven’t talked to you in a long time,” Gordon remarked over the line.
Sloan’s voice stuck in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say a word.
Gordon’s spoke again, concern in his tone. “Sloan?”
“Dad…”
“Sloan, what happened?”
Sloan swallowed back a sob. “Dad, Abbey’s dead.”
“How? What happened?” Gordon’s voice trembled.
“She was on a transport going to Okinawa. She was going home. It was shot down. There were no survivors.”
There was silence. Then, Sloan could hear a soft whimper through the phone. He couldn’t remember if he had ever seen or heard Gordon cry. It didn’t help Sloan keep his composure.
“Bartholomew and I are coming home tomorrow. The mission is over.”
“Good. No more of these bloody missions,” Gordon sputtered.
“Agreed.”
“I’ll meet the two of you at the airport. All right?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I have to get back to Mary. I’ll…tell her what happened before one of those bloody Army men arrives to say that her daughter is dead. Love you, Sloan. See you soon.”
Sloan paused. It was the first time Gordon had given voice to his feelings. “Love you too. Bye.” He hung up and fell back on the bed, but rest was probably the last thing he would get tonight.
Sloan stared at the ceiling. No matter where he turned, he couldn’t settle his mind or heart. He tried reasoning with himself. He had watched his father and brother die. They had been his flesh and blood. This was just a lass. Not even his kin. Why was her death tearing at him like this? Because she was every forbidden dream come true. She gave me a life I believed I could never have. She bore me babes, children I would die for. She was the definition of love in its purest form. She was my heart, my breath, my soul. That’s why this hurts so much. Those things are being torn out of me. I’ll never get them back.
And in her final moments, I was pure evil in her eyes. I told her she was a mistake. I told her I wish I had never fallen in love with her. It’s true. I wish I hadn’t, because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t feel this pain. Oh, Abigail, my angel. Please forgive me. Please. Why did you get on that plane? Was I really that bad?
Sloan crawled out of bed and paced the floor. His mind reeled. I was that bad. I was cruel. But those photos. Was she sleeping with Torelli? I should have trusted her. It wasn’t asking much. Did he set it up? Abigail, why?
His gaze searched his quarters until they rested on his revolver in its holster. He stared long and hard at it. One bullet. One bullet and all the pain will go away.
Shuffling back to the bunk, Sloan slumped onto it and covered his face in his hands. Shame burned along with the agony and guilt. That was a cowardly thought, Sloan O’Riley, to end your life and abandon your family. You would orphan your children in one day? A man doesn’t do that. A gutless bastard does. Are you a gutless bastard?
He sighed as he brushed a stray tear from his cheek. Lying back, he begged the sun to rise. In the morning, he would be gone, heading to the only place that could give him a bit of solace. Sloan Enterprises.
Agent Dunham was true to his word. At sun up, there was an escort to take Sloan and Bartholomew to the airplane that would carry them home. Not that Sloan had slept a wink. As he had predicted, he’d lain in his bed, consciously feeling the rough cotton sheet on his skin. It had been a harsh reminder that the soft silk of his wife’s flesh would never drape across him again.
The frequent fights he’d had with Abbey over the past few weeks had also echoed in his thoughts. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a tender moment. Even the sex they’d had in Bangkok wasn’t sweet and loving. It had been just that—sex. Why was I angry with her? That’s right. The dancing. Seems so petty now. Her last act was to run home, away from me. Her last thought was of how much of a bastard I am.
The flight was silent. Neither Sloan nor Bartholomew had a word to say, their shattered hearts robbing them of their voices. The moment Sloan stepped off the plane in Minneapolis, he was wrapped in the tightest bear hug he had ever experienced. He hugged Gordon back just as hard.
When they finally pulled apart, Gordon smiled at him through tear-filled eyes. “Let’s go home so you can be with your children.”
“No,” Sloan replied. “Take me to Sloan Enterprises.”
“Sloan, the children. Your family. They want to be with you through this.”
“Do my kids know?”
Gordon shook his head. “No.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way for a while. Let them believe their mother is still coming home to them.” Sloan spun on his heel and stormed in the direction of the waiting Hummer without another word. Gordon and Bartholomew followed, climbing into the vehicle after him. The ride through Minneapolis was just as quiet. By the hard look on Gordon’s face, Sloan could tell the older man wasn’t pleased with his decision. It isn’t the first time he hasn’t been happy with me. It won’t be the last. I’m not ready to make any decisions yet. I don’t want this to be real. I want to be like my children. I want to believe my luv is still going to walk through the door.
He felt a tinge of relief as he strode through the lobby of Sloan Enterprises. No pitying looks, no sad faces. His employees offered a professional, courteous nod of “hello,” and that was it. He sighed as he entered the glass elevator and rode it to the executive floor.
Things changed when he stepped into his office suite. Ashleigh and Vicki sat at their desks, their eyes red and puffy from tears. As soon as Vicki saw him, she hopped from her chair and scuttled around to him, wrapping him in a big hug. Ashleigh gazed at him with tear-glazed eyes. Sloan motioned her over as well. “Come here, Ashleigh.”
Ashleigh sprung from her seat and raced to him, embracing both him and Vicki. Both women started to cry again. Sloan comforted them, nudging the door closed with his foot to give them privacy. He took a deep breath to hold back his burning tears. He had felt numb. Now he felt on the verge of a breakdown.
Once the sobs settled, Sloan softly gave orders. “Vicki, close her door and take off the name plate. Ashleigh, please get me a status update on the complexes and have Real Estate look into property in Paris.”
Ashleigh gave him a strange look. “Sloan, shouldn’t you be home…”
“This is my company. I’ve neglected it too long.”
“But…”
Sloan gave her a gentle yet stern look.
Ashleigh nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Sloan slowly let them go. With an empty, weak smile, he retreated into his office, shutting the door behind him.
»»•««
For the first time since he was ten, life moved too slowly. Days trudged on. Sloan had spent nearly every moment of the past three days at Sloan Enterprises, burying himself in work. He returned home after his children went to bed. Abbey had been right. He was a coward. He didn’t have the courage to tell them their mother wasn’t coming back.
He looked down on the streets of Minneapolis from the floor-to-ceiling window of his office. He hated himself. He had hardly shed a tear for Abbey. She was his life, his breath, his soul. Why didn’t he cry? It made no sense.
Sloan turned at the knock on his door. “Come in,” he invited.
The door creaked open. The smile on Mary’s face as she stepped inside seemed forced. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her hazel eyes appeared worn from what Sloan could only assume was tears. In fact, he had never seen her so ragged. “How are you?”
“Busy. What can I do for you?”
“Abbey’s body arrived in San Diego.”
“I know. I authorized her autopsy.” He glanced at the expensive Rolex on his wrist. “I believe they’re starting any time now.”
Mary approached his desk. “Sloan, I’ve made as many of the arrangements for the funeral as I can. I need your help.”
“With what?”
“First off, I need you to finalize what will be on the gravestone.”
“Mary, you have excellent taste. I’m sure what you came up with is fine.”
“Don’t shove this off on me. Your name is on there too. You need to make sure it’s spelled right. And since you’ll be buried under it eventually, it would be nice if you liked it.”
“It really makes no difference to me.”
Mary glared at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. He could hear the motherly tone of disapproval in her voice. “Sloan.”
Sloan stared at her for a long, hard moment. Then, he huffed as he pushed his chair from his desk and stood. “Fine. I’ll go with you to inspect this thing. Then, I need to get back here to work.”
“You need to spend time with your children.”
“Mary.” Sloan’s voice was deep as he warned.
She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Sloan escorted Mary from the office to the parking garage attached to the building. He held the door open for her then crossed around the back of his sports car to the driver’s side. Slipping behind the wheel, he backed from his spot and maneuvered out of the structure.
The trip to the funeral home was full of Mary’s aimless chatter, peppered with directions. Every third word broke and each breath shook uncontrollably. Sloan struggled to keep his infamous Irish temper in check. He had agreed to leave his sanctuary to help her with this. He shouldn’t be forced to listen to her prattle.
Mary led him into the funeral home, not stopping until she reached the door of the director’s office.
The man stood the moment he saw her. “Mrs. Fionainn, how can I help you?”
Mary motioned to Sloan behind her. “I’ve brought my son-in-law to take a look at the gravestone.”
“Excellent. If you’ll follow me.” The director picked up a file on his desk then beckoned them forward. They walked down a long corridor to a large room full of displays. The whole place unnerved Sloan. He wanted out. Fast.
Mary stopped suddenly for a moment, staring at the room as her eyes filled with tears. Her whole body trembled. Suddenly she pushed her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and strode to a silver gray stone on the floor with two hearts etched on either side of a large space. “This is it.”
Sloan crossed the room to her and glanced at the plaque. “It’s nice. We’ll take it. Let’s go.”
The man opened his folder and handed Sloan a piece of paper. “Mr. O’Riley, here’s a mock-up of how the stone will look when it’s finished.”
Sloan snarled as he ripped the page from the director’s hand. He stared at the crude cut and paste. It was enough to make his heart seize. He brushed his finger over Abbey’s name. Beneath was her date of birth.
And her date of death.
Sloan couldn’t stop the sob erupting from his throat. His knees turned to jelly as he collapsed to the plush, carpeted floor. Hot tears spilled from his eyes, smearing the ink on the paper, creating damp, colored starbursts. Being outside the safety of his corporate building, reality finally struck him like lightning. She’s gone. She’s never coming back to me.
A pair of arms wrapped tight around him. He could hear another whimper join his.
Sloan hugged Mary to him. “I’m so sorry, Mary.”
“For what?”
“Taking your daughter from you.”
Mary’s hand cupped his chin, and she forced his eyes to meet hers. “You did nothing, Sloan. You are not to blame. The bastards who put a hole in the side of that aircraft took my daughter from me.”
Sloan held her close as he cried. He didn’t know how long they kneeled on that carpet. It was long enough for the funeral director to return to his tasks, leaving a box of tissues in his place. Finally, Sloan wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand as he stood, tugging Mary to her feet with him. “My children?” he croaked.
“At our house.”
“It’s time I told them.”
“I’ll have Gordon take them to your house. It would be better to tell them at their home, where they’re the most comfortable.”
“Sounds like a great idea.”
Mary took his hand comfortingly in hers as they left the room. They stopped briefly to thank the funeral director before returning to the car.
Sloan couldn’t keep his thoughts straight as he drove. What am I going to say to them? Will they even understand? Ame. Her mother has been her whole life. How is she going to take never seeing Abbey again? Can I really do this?
The blaring of a horn shocked Sloan’s attention back to the road. He glanced at Mary, seeing the horrified look on her face. “I should pay more attention to my driving?” he offered, sheepishly.
“That’d be nice.”
“Sorry about that.”
He saw her gentle smile out of the corner of his eye. “I understand.”
The rest of the ride was silent. The sound of children’s laughter greeted Sloan as he stepped into his house. He sighed heavily.
Mary patted him on the arm. “You can do this. Gordon and I will be right beside you.”
Sloan nodded then stepped out of the foyer into the living room. Ame squealed when she saw him. “Daddy!” Racing to him, she didn’t stop until he held her in his arms. She cupped his face in her tiny hands and frowned. “Daddy, have you been crying?”
Sloan gazed at her as he took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, we need to talk.” He carried her to the couch and sat down with her on his lap.
Ethan crawled up beside them and snuggled next to him, hugging his father the best he could. Sloan gazed at one then the other, his eyes finally resting on Colin cooing happily in his swing. They look so much like her. Ame stared up at him. “Daddy, where’s Mommy?”
Sloan felt the tears burn his eyes again. “Angel, your mommy—”
His words were cut off by the slamming of the front door. Bartholomew stood breathlessly in the mouth of the foyer. “Don’t you ever answer your phone?”
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Sloan barked. “I was about to tell my children about their mother. Why are you tearing into my house like this?”
“Do not tell them anything.”
“And why not?”
“Can I please speak to you in your office?”
Sloan growled as he nudged Ame to her feet. Gordon joined him, and they followed Bartholomew into Sloan’s office.
“What the hell is this about?” Sloan demanded.
“The autopsy is back. The body isn’t Abbey.”
Sloan stared at him, bewildered. “How can you know that?”
“How tall is Abbey?”
“Five foot seven.”
“The body that was recovered was five foot two. Plus, the dental work was horrible. It was someone who lived in very poor conditions without access to a dentist.”
“What does this mean?” Gordon questioned.
Bartholomew grinned. “My best guess? The manifest was doctored. As far as we know, Abbey is very much alive and still in Afghanistan. I think we’d better go back and find her.”
»»•««
The heat was thick, stagnant, and unbearable. Even blindfolded, Abbey guessed she wasn’t outdoors. She struggled to breathe through the gag in her mouth. There was no possible way to tell how long she had been tied to the chair she was in. The last thing she remembered was being struck on the head. All she knew was that her captor wanted her alive. Whoever it was kept coming to her to give her sips of water and to let her relieve herself. Having someone help her use the bathroom was humiliating, to say the least. And it sure wasn’t enough water to keep her lips moist. She was quickly dehydrating.
Abbey startled as she heard a heavy door screech open. The sound of boot steps approaching echoed off the walls. She could only guess they were in a metal room of some kind. She tipped her chin up in defiance, as she did every time her kidnapper arrived.
This time the blindfold and gag were ripped from her fac
e. She blinked at the dim light. Then, she narrowed her eyes as she growled. “Torelli.”
“Little O’Riley.”
“You set me up. I fell for your lies that you’d get me home.”
“That you did. I had to get you out of the camp.”
“Why?”
“Your bastard husband was getting too close to figuring me out and shutting me down. I had to get him out of my way.”
“You moron. Kidnapping me isn’t going to get him out of your way. He’s going to come down on you like a ton of bricks.”
“Doubtful. He thinks you’re dead. That transport I talked Lathrop into sending you home on? I blew a hole in it and sent it crashing in a ball of flames. Lathrop may have put your name on the manifest but I put your dog tags on the woman I killed to take your place. Sloan’s back in the States mourning your death.”
“Lathrop is in on this with you.”
“Hardly. He’s my unwitting puppet. I bitch about the treatment of my guys around here and he scrambles to do whatever I want. He can’t afford to have my company report to the Army that he’s not being a good host.”
“You’re a bastard,” she hissed.
Torelli laughed. “Just doing business.”
“Why do you need me alive then?”
“If your nosy husband comes back and figures out it was me, I’ll resurrect you then torture you in front of him. In the meantime, I’ll be filling this container with weapons in the next couple days. I’ll send you to my business partners and let them play with you for a while.” He ran a finger down her cheek and across her mouth. “Of course, that’s after I’m done with you. I’m looking forward to seeing what you do that keeps O’Riley wrapped around your finger.”
Abbey snarled as he chuckled at her, tugging the gag back into place. Then, Torelli strode from the container, swinging the metal doors closed behind him.
Abbey cocked an evil, satisfied grin at the closed door. Seems Torelli forgot something. Like my blindfold. She searched the container for a way out, finding only a weak spot of rust the size of a watermelon. She looked down at the combat boots on her feet. She was weak. She had to admit that. But Gordon and Liam had taught her to survive, and cracking open that hole was her only chance.
The Assassin Page 11
