“Strawberry Fields. A strange place for him to go.”
Abbey fought the smile tugging at her lips. “Not as strange as you think.”
Chapter Sixteen
The sound of her shoes on the sidewalk set loose the butterflies in Abbey’s belly. She glanced around at the beauty of the park surrounding her. Gordon had given her a nod of encouragement before he sped off. She had been given her mission. Find Sloan and coax him back to the Hummer. Where more than likely Gordon will give him a loud earful.
Abbey picked up her pace as she passed a map of Central Park. She was getting closer. She softly panted as she near sprinted up the paths. Even though she was nervous to find Sloan, he was the only one she wanted. So much for the rich, smooth, playboy millionaire persona I’ve held tight to for so long. All I can think of now is that little boy who watched his family get gunned down in front of him. How does someone recover from that?
Abbey stopped short as her breath caught in her throat. Sloan stood in the center of the walk staring down at the “Imagine” symbol in the cement. He clenched a long stemmed rose against his wool trench coat. Worn jeans and tennis shoes peeked out beneath it. Abbey slowly approached him. “Hey.”
His head snapped up at her voice. “Hello. How are you feeling?”
“Scrambled. But all right.”
He reached out with his free hand and brushed his fingers against her bruise. His quiet huff broke her heart. “You’re going home I heard.”
“I am home.”
He looked at her puzzled. She smiled as she continued. “Yes, I asked Xavier Meachum to send me back to Iowa. But that isn’t home. This is. Sloan, I’m sorry. I should have believed you.”
“I haven’t given you reason to. I knew my lies would bite me in the ass eventually. I had to find a way to make you stay, to buy me some time.”
She caressed his arm, her heart racing at the touch. “I promise you in the future to try to not jump to conclusions.”
“You promise me the future? You are the woman who said our marriage wasn’t real.”
“You haven’t even told me you loved me.”
He tugged her against him then cupped her face in his hands. “Love? You want me to profess love to you? Love is a weak, putrid little word. What I feel for you consumes me, destroys me. Being with you is the balm for my soul. You are every breath I take, every beat of my heart. I would take on the world for you if it made you happy.”
Abbey lifted herself on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. “I don’t want the world, Sloan. I just want you.”
“You have me. You and no one else.” He cocked his sensual grin at her. “Not to mention your smart mouth makes me hard.”
Abbey gaped at him then shook her head. “And the first time in my life I don’t have a comeback.”
They laughed together. Abbey caressed his cheek. “I love you too, Sloan.”
He kissed her long and deep in response. As they parted he spoke. “What are the doctor’s orders?”
“He wants me to rest. And to have someone nearby to keep an eye on me.”
“It looks like the best place for you is beside me in my bed, huh?”
“Guess so.” Abbey giggled. “We should probably get back to Gordon before he comes after us.”
“Suppose you’re right.” He took her hand in his. “Lead the way, luv.”
Abbey looked at him. “That word. Luv. You don’t use that with anyone else, do you?”
Sloan grinned. “No.”
“Just me.”
“Yes.”
“So you’ve been telling me you love me this whole time?”
“Yes, I have.”
Abbey hugged him close to kiss him hard. “You’re an amazing man, Sloan O’Riley.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Who’s the smart ass now?”
He chuckled as he took her hand again. She wrapped her other arm around his and hugged it close to her as she led him from the park.
»»•««
Sunlight washed across the floor of the loft. Abbey stretched across the large bed sleepily. She had rested like the doctor ordered. She also spent the night cradled in her husband’s arms. They stared at each other without saying a word, interrupting their gaze to share the occasional kiss. Abbey wanted more. All right. Maybe she climbed on top of him and straddled his hips. By the bulge in his silk pajama pants and feel of his heart pounding against her palms as she placed them on his chest she could tell he wanted more too. His common sense prevailed over their hormones. He coaxed her back to his side and reminded her of her injury. He cuddled her close to him until she fell asleep.
She glanced over at his cell phone as it vibrated. Reaching across the mattress, she scooped it up and looked at the display. A text appeared on the screen.
Call me now. Maggie
Abbey took a deep breath. Don’t overreact. You promised him you wouldn’t. You promised you would talk to him. Just get up and take the phone to him. Why aren’t you getting up and taking it to him?
She shook the thoughts from her mind then rose off the bed. Slowly she walked to the bathroom. Sloan stood at the sink staring at his reflection with a toothbrush dangling from his mouth. His pajama pants hung from his hips. His sculpted, muscular body still glistened from the shower he just took. Abbey moaned. Cripes. He’s even sexier when he acts like a normal guy. If I promise to keep my head still can we please have sex?
He looked at her standing in the doorway. He mumbled around the brush in his mouth. “Good morning, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”
“All right. You have a text.”
Sloan took the toothbrush out of his mouth and spit into the sink. “Probably my lawyer on the sale.”
“Sale of what?”
Sloan filled up a glass of water and took a swig. He slushed it around his mouth and spit again. “I’m not selling. I’m buying Barker’s diner and every shuttered building on his block. I’m giving very generous severance packages to everyone who worked there. Except you.”
“Wait.” His words distracted Abbey from the text message. “Barker is closing? I have no job?”
“You have a job.”
“Where?”
He dropped his toothbrush in the holder then strode to her. “You are now an employee of Sloan Enterprises.”
“Wait. What?”
“You work for me.”
“I’m not secretary material, Sloan.”
“No. You’ll do what you do best. Write.”
“It’s very generous but I need independence.”
“You’ll be getting a weekly paycheck from the corporation. You can write wherever you want. It doesn’t matter. And I will know you’re safe.” He reached out his hand. “Is it my lawyer?”
Abbey set the phone in his hand. “I don’t know the name of your lawyer. It’s someone named Maggie.”
Sloan’s eyes widened as his fingers snaked around the cell. Without a word he rushed past her and down the stairs. She heard the glass door below open. His voice drifted up to her but she couldn’t understand what was being said.
She followed behind him to find him on the patio. His face was buried in his free hand as he leaned against the stone wall overlooking downtown Manhattan. Whoever this Maggie was, she was breaking his heart. Abbey sat on the arm of the sofa as she watched him.
Sloan ended the call as he straightened himself. He stopped at the threshold of the glass door.
“Is everything all right?” Abbey asked.
Sloan looked down at the phone in his hand. “That was my sister. Maggie is my sister. My…mother is dying. She only had a few more days.”
Abbey slipped off the sofa and hurried to him. She held him close to her. He hugged her tight to him. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
Sloan didn’t answer her. His embrace just grew tighter.
“When are you leaving for Belfast?”
“I’m not. I can’t go home.”
Abbey looked at him, confused. “Why not? Is
it the complex? Sweetheart, it can wait. I can help.”
“It’s not the complex.”
“Then what is it? It’s not like you’re banned from the country.”
Sloan stared at her stunned for a moment. Then he smiled. Did I hit a nerve? “Of course not. I need to call Gordon and tell him the news.” He let her go with a kiss on the cheek then disappeared into his office. She watched him go for a moment, even more confused. Without a word she shuffled into the kitchen. Coffee. Coffee fixes everything.
As she filled the carafe she heard the doors to penthouse open and close. Before the coffee had brewed it did it two more times. She poured two mugs with the dark liquid then added a splash of half and half to each mug. She paused for a moment then grabbed the bottle of whiskey. She added a liberal amount to one mug. With a smile she scooped each mug up and strode to the office.
She stopped short as the voices inside grew louder.
“No one will recognize us, Gordon. We went to great lengths to insure that,” Sloan insisted.
“I can assure you, Sloan. There are people who will know us. There is no sense in walking into the lion’s den and asking for trouble.”
“There’s perfect sense. I want to see my mother one last time.”
“Then fly her here.”
“She has no passport. By the time the paperwork would be filed, she would be gone.”
“Liam can expedite it.”
“Not soon enough.”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Gordon, we’ll keep a tight watch,” Bartholomew interrupted. “We get in, we get out. No one should spot us.”
Abbey took a deep breath then bumped the door open with her hip. With a gentle smile, she set the mug in front of Sloan. “Something to start the morning.”
He picked up the mug and took a sip. He moaned. “Luv, it’s just the way I like it.” He cocked a grin at Gordon. “Isn’t she a keeper?”
Gordon nodded proudly. “That she is, lad.”
“Where’s mine?” Robert questioned.
Abbey cocked her head toward the kitchen. “Still in the carafe. Help yourself.” She turned as the big man stormed to the kitchen. “Sorry to interrupt. I didn’t want it to get cold.”
“No worries.” Sloan glared at Gordon. “We’re just ironing out the details for our trip to Belfast.”
“So you’re going?”
“We’re going.”
“That’s what I mean. You four are going.”
“No. We’re all going. All five of us.”
“Sloan,” Gordon warned.
“Sweetheart, if it would be easier I can just stay behind.”
“No. After what happened at the diner, I’m not about to leave you alone in this city. You stay by my side. Do you have a passport?”
Abbey glanced warily between Gordon and Sloan. Do I want to be in the middle of this? “Yes. I was supposed to go to England with my mom for a conference a couple of summers ago. I started my new job just after I got it so I couldn’t go. I brought it with me to New York for extra identification.”
“Fantastic. Go pack. I’m calling the airport and speaking to my pilot. We leave in the morning.”
Abbey’s eyes wandered from Gordon to Bartholomew to Robert now sipping on a cup of coffee. They finally rested on Sloan. “All right.” She forced a smile on her face as she backed from the room. She scrambled up the steps to do as her husband instructed.
»»•««
Abbey stumbled across the concourse of the Belfast International Airport. Despite leaning against her husband’s strong arms, she could barely stay on her feet. All she wanted to do was puke.
He owns a jet. Abbey was still astounded. She had never been in a private jet before. Every luxury imaginable and the ride was smooth as silk. And feeling sick didn’t allow me to enjoy any of it. Go figure.
Gordon, Bartholomew, and Robert followed behind the couple. They were fuming and on edge. Something troubles them about being in Belfast. What can possibly bother them so much?
“Where do we go now?” Robert growled.
“Liam will be here shortly,” Gordon answered as he warily scanned the crowd.
“How about we go to the restroom so I can throw up?” Abbey suggested halfheartedly.
Sloan wrapped his arm around her. “You’re feeling ill?”
“Nauseated, yes,” she answered. “I don’t think the plane ride agreed with me. Maybe it’s the effects of my concussion.”
“I’ll walk with you to the ladies’ room,” Sloan volunteered.
“I think I’ll be all right.” Abbey laughed weakly. “Just keep those expensive boots away from me if you value them.”
They all turned at the sound of many approaching footsteps. A group of at least a dozen men marched in their direction, their focus locked on the five travelers. The men were all dressed in black. There was another common denominator among them—they were all very large. Like the four men that had become her family over the past year, every one of them oozed danger.
One was slightly in the lead. He was roughly the same age as Gordon, slightly shorter than Sloan, with a stocky build. He sported close-cropped red hair and electric green eyes. Sloan let go of Abbey and nudged her behind him. The man stopped toe to toe with Sloan.
“Sloan O’Riley,” he greeted flatly.
“Liam,” Sloan responded.
Abbey glanced uneasily from one man to the other as they locked stares for several moments.
Then, Liam cracked a smile as he wrapped Sloan in a big bear hug. “Never thought I’d lay eyes on you again, boy. It’s great to see you.”
Sloan returned the embrace, thumping Liam on the back with the palm of his hand. “It’s great to see you too.”
Liam let go of Sloan and moved to Gordon. “Gordon, my brother. Welcome home.”
“It’s good to be home, brother,” he replied.
Liam shook hands with Robert and Bartholomew. Then, he turned and discovered Abbey. “Who’s this?”
Sloan gazed into her eyes. “This is Abigail,” he introduced. “Abigail, this is Liam. He’s an old friend of mine.”
“I didn’t realize you added a lass to your ranks, Sloan.” Liam laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Abigail.”
She opened her mouth to return the greeting but stopped as Sloan cut her off. “Abigail’s my wife.”
Liam’s laugh disappeared. “I see. A wife, Sloan? Is that the best decision for you to make in your situation? Especially to bring here?”
Abbey glanced from Liam to Sloan. It’s Gordon times two. When will someone finally explain this all to me?
“I hate to break up another discussion of Sloan’s actions, even though Sloan’s actions seem to be a constant topic amongst the three of us,” Gordon interjected. “But I would feel better if we found some place much more private.”
“Of course,” Liam nodded. “We have vehicles outside. Come with us. We’ll take you to the house.”
It was a simple house on a simple street. It had two stories with gray wood siding and white shutters. Though smaller than the one Abbey had shared with her mother in Iowa, it was the perfect size to raise a young family.
Abbey knew so little of Sloan’s life. He never really spoke of his childhood. In a few moments, however, she was sure to get a full immersion.
Sloan stepped out of the Range Rover and then offered his hand to Abbey. As they filed into the tiny house, the black clad entourage that greeted the group at the airport once again surrounded them. Abbey clung to Sloan as she followed.
Abbey glanced around the modestly decorated home as they stepped inside. Sloan released her hand then stopped. In the living room stood a young woman who looked to be about thirty years old. She was as tall as Abbey, with long, thick black hair that cascaded in curls down her back. She had the same ice blue eyes as Sloan but her facial structure was far different.
At the sight of him, the young woman sobbed. Throwing her arms around him, she buried her face in his broad
chest. Sloan wrapped his arms tight around her. She looked up to Sloan with tear-stained cheeks. “Hello, big brother,” she gasped out.
Sloan fought his own tears as he smiled down at her. “Hello, baby sister.”
The tears were contagious. As she watched the reunion, Abbey bit her lower lip to fight the sob struggling to get out.
“Maggie, where’s Mother?” Sloan pressed.
“Upstairs in her bedroom,” Maggie answered. “She doesn’t have long. The hospice nurse is downstairs making a cup of tea. She gave Ma medication to make her more comfortable.”
Maggie took Sloan by the hand and led him up the stairs. Abbey looked around the room, feeling very uncomfortable. She hardly knew anyone there. Then, she felt a hand on her lower back.
Gordon smiled at her as he guided her in front of him toward the stairs. “Come. Let’s go.”
Abbey climbed the narrow staircase, falling in line with the others. She briefly stopped to examine a photo of three children, two boys and an infant girl, each with jet-black hair and ice blue eyes. The baby had to be Maggie. Who are the two boys? Neither look like Sloan. Another nudge from Gordon encouraged her to keep going.
A crowd had gathered at the door of a room at the end of the hall. Gordon pushed Abbey through the throng until they reached the doorway.
Sloan’s mother had to be the same age as her own. She lay in a king-size bed, buried beneath a pile of multi-colored quilts, her frail bones ridged beneath sunken gray skin. A knit cap covered her bald head.
It felt like a knife pierced Abbey’s heart. Without having to ask, she knew what was killing her. Cancer.
Sloan’s mother opened her eyes weakly. She blinked several times as she strained to focus on the man standing next to her. Her whole body shuddered weakly as she pulled away. The IV lines in her arms shook with her. “Who are you?”
He sank onto the bed, gently wrapping his powerful hand around hers. “You don’t recognize your little monster, Mama?”
Her eyes studied him. “Thomas? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Oh, my boy,” she whimpered as she reached her thin arms out to him. “Oh my sweet son.”
He carefully embraced her then buried his face in the curve of his neck. His large body heaved as she held him. Abbey fought the urge to rush in and wrap her arms around her husband to comfort him. It killed her to see him hurt this much. But what his mother said confused her. Thomas? Doesn’t she remember his name is Sloan?
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