by Reina Torres
That caught his ear and when she took another sip of her coffee, he leveled a look at her. “If you’d like I can have someone deliver some groceries and I can make you breakfast. We can also have someone bring us pretty much anything you’d like to keep busy. Just let me know what you’d like.”
She turned her head slightly to the side and gave him a curious stare. “Keep me busy?” Sloane’s laugh was soft, but dry. “I have plenty of things to keep me busy.” Looking at the clock above the front door, her lips pursed together slightly. “We’ve got to get going soon.”
Her words registered just as she was walking past him.
“Going? Where?” Snaking his hand around her arm, he pulled her to a stop. “Where do you think we’re going?”
Sloane’s wide-eyed stare would have been endearing if he wasn’t getting ready to strangle her if he didn’t get a straight answer.
“Well, I don’t know where you are going, Agent.” She gave him a small smirk. “I am going to work. For some reason I thought you were going with me.”
She waited. Watching him carefully.
Her uncle Glen had always told her that of the two girls, Kimberly had been the one most likely to touch anything they said was hot. Run out into the street without looking. Snatch up a piece of candy from a store when she just couldn’t help herself. But Sloane, he’d tell people, Sloane was the one who held it all in. She took the waves as they kept on coming, bobbing along with it as things happened. But, he’d continue, with a soft rueful laugh, Sloane was the one who was a magnet for misfortune.
When her parents died in the car crash, it was because they were rushing home because she was in the hospital with a high fever. When Kimberly died, it was because Sloane wanted to put Kimberly in an addiction treatment program. He told her that Kimberly ran off to make her sister pay, and died of an overdose.
Oh, her uncle had always stopped short of saying it was her fault, but she just read between the lines, she saw the truth in his eyes. Kimberly had always been his favorite.
Kimberly was the one he took to get ice cream or the circus.
Kimberly was the one who got to play with his silk ties or use his gold pen to doodle on his spare paper.
When Kimberly died, her uncle could barely look at her.
She could feel the warm bite of the agent’s fingers on her upper arm, even through the scrubs. He wasn’t trying to hurt her, but he wasn’t going to let her walk away until he got whatever answer he wanted from her.
She might not know him specifically, but she knew what kind of man he was.
Law enforcement professionals had a certain, straightforward Alpha like quality. Their way or- there was no other way.
Sloane was waiting for Vicente to put his foot down and tell her she was staying in, no matter what.
And then, she was going to put her foot down and tell him where he could put his foot.
She felt his hand ease up around her arm and the sudden shift, even though it was hardly more than a loosening of his grip, made her feel off balance. Wavering, she ended up leaning right back into his hold.
The determined set of his mouth twisted up at the corners and she saw the barest ghost of a smile.
A smile that she was going to hold onto for a while, because, while the serious set of his mouth was imposing, but a real smile, even the littlest smile on his face transformed his stoic expression.
It didn’t help that the hand he had on her was connected to a muscled arm the likes of which she’d never seen before. His dark tanned skin in complete contrast to the pristine white tank top that looked like a second skin over his torso.
She’d made some flippant comment before about his sleeping attire, but it had been just that. A throw away comment to deflect from what was really in her head.
It was how she survived.
How she managed to keep a smile on her face during the moments when any real emotion swam up to the surface. It wasn’t just pain that scared her, other ‘better’ emotions scared her just as much… if not more.
It was why her relationship with Hildie was so easy for her. Hildie was everything she wanted to be and not brave enough to do it.
She felt something brush along her arm.
Sloane didn’t have to look down to know what it was. His thumb smoothing an arc against her skin.
And heaven help her, if felt so good.
There was a sound, a soft, almost imperceptive sound that must have come from him, she wasn’t capable of moving, let alone making any kind of noise.
He caught her gaze with his and she could see the flex and roll of his muscles under his bronzed skin.
All she could do was breathe.
“I can see the wheels in your head turning.”
She just hoped he couldn’t see exactly what she was thinking. Even she didn’t want to examine it too closely.
“I’m guessing that if I told you there’s no way in hell I’m letting you out of your apartment, you would have a few choice things to say to me.”
She couldn’t hold back her own smile.
“Right.” He blew out a huff of breath. “I bet you make a lot of people crazy.”
“In my time,” she managed to make enough sound to be heard, “I’ve made a few people lose their patience.”
His smile widened by degrees. “I bet.”
“So,” she swept her tongue out over her lips to wet them and saw his eyes dart down to watch, “are you going to tell me that we’re stuck here all day?”
His eyes narrowed the littlest bit and she felt as if she were under a microscope.
“I’m almost tempted to say yes, just to see how hot you’d burn.”
She heard the words but knew that he didn’t mean them the way her mind bent them. Like a pencil in a water glass she knew she was hearing it the way she wanted to hear it.
“Then what?” she asked him. “We patch you up and you take me to work anyway?”
His laughter was warm and came from low in his chest, rumbling up through his body. “You are something, Sloane King. You are most definitely something.”
She held her breath, watching him.
Waiting for his decision.
He let go of her arm, stepping back with his hands in the air as if he had to show that he wasn’t armed or a danger to her. With a look of mock seriousness on his face, he shook his head.
“I just need you to promise me a few things.”
Her laughter brought a smile to her lips. “What exactly am I promising?”
“You stay inside. You stay where I can see you. And if I order you to do something, trust me enough that I’m not doing it for fun or to push your buttons. If I order you to do something, it’s because I’m trying to protect your life and by extension, all of the people around you.”
She put her hand over her heart. “I promise.”
Vicente gestured for her to leave the kitchen. “Go get ready and we’ll go as soon as we can.”
Sloane added a little more coffee to her cup and started toward the hallway. Just before she disappeared around the corner she heard him call her and she looked back at him.
“Yes?”
“All bets are off if we find out that the shooting was more than just a mistake or random spree and you’re actually a target.”
The thought sobered her, and she bit into the tender flesh of her bottom lip, nodding. She wanted to do her job. She wanted to help others.
But if they were right and she was a target, then she’d hide.
It wasn’t about being afraid for herself.
She’d been so close to death over the years that she almost felt at home this close to the edge, but she would never knowingly put another person in danger because of her.
That she just wouldn’t do.
Chapter 5
As they drove toward the main Helping Hearts building, Vicente spared a glance at Sloane. Her eyes moved over the passing scenery as if she was familiar with every building and home in the area.
/> And maybe she was.
“I remember the first time I heard about Helping Hearts Center. I didn’t think it would last.”
He leaned forward and looked at the crossroad, waiting for a gap in the traffic.
“I hope you didn’t lose any money on that bet,” she spared him a look before turning back to the street, “If there’s one thing I’d like you to learn about me, Agent, is that the best and worst thing you can tell me is that I can’t do something.” She trailed her fingers along the edge of the doorframe where it touched the window. “I’m stubborn enough to prove you wrong, especially if it’s for someone else’s benefit.”
“Yeah,” he barely masked his smile, “they definitely haven’t seen you in action.”
He thought back to a few editorials that he’d read saying that Sloane was a publicity whore, that she never met a self-promotion she didn’t like.
Even though he’d known her for what amounted to a drop of time in the bucket of her life, he’d seen enough to know that those people probably shouldn’t drive, give that they couldn’t see what was right in front of their noses.
They’d likely missed the photos snapped of Sloane with her bare hands pressing into the bloody wound on the young officer’s chest as he lay bleeding on the asphalt.
He’d driven into this part of town many times over, but most times, it was to investigate a crime, to find those responsible for spilling blood and taking the joy from good people and leaving pain and suffering in their wake.
“You know,” Sloane spoke carefully as she looked out the window, leaning her forehead against the glass, “when we opened the center, you would have thought we all had infectious diseases. We couldn’t bribe people to come in through the door .”
Vicente pulled his car into the closest parking spot next to the door and set the car in park before he turned to look at her. “Remember what we said?”
Sitting up in the passenger seat, Sloane cleared her throat and held up her hand in the Girl Scout sign. “I, Sloane King, promise to do my best to be a good girl. I won’t leave the building without you. I won’t leave a room without you,” she leaned closer and lowered her voice into a pointed whisper, “although you better not come into the bathroom with me, I draw the line there.” Sitting upright again, she continued in her normal voice. “And if you say to hit the floor,” she lowered the hand sign to her lap, “I’m on the floor.”
He barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “I’m going to go around-”
“And open the door. Got it.”
Vicente managed to get outside the car before he swore under his breath. “Smart ass.”
But he couldn’t shake the smile from his face, because he had a feeling that the next few hours were going to be… eye opening.
Opening her door, he put his body between the opening and the world around them.
Sloane set one leg on the ground and he clamped his lips together before he turned slightly away, waiting for her to get the rest of her body out of the car. The skirt she’d put on had looked good before they left, he just hadn’t realized that when she stepped out of the car she would look more like Dita Von Teese stepping out of a champagne pool. Her leg was long, shapely, and if he was honest it made him sweat.
She cleared her throat and he turned around, only to come nose to nose with her.
Sloane’s green eyes were as lush as that leg he’d just committed to memory and the scent he smelled might have been from her shampoo, but he had a feeling it might be the gloss on her lips.
Damn she was close.
And his body knew it.
“Uh,” she smiled up at him, “are we waiting for something?”
Shaking his head, he turned around and scanned the area. Nothing seemed out of place. “Okay, let’s go.” Gesturing ahead, he touched his left hand to her lower back.
The day went by without an issue. Hildie was glad to see her and thankfully her friend remembered about her arm before she wrapped her up in a bit hug.
After the first few times that Hildie fanned herself and mouthed a few comments when he turned his head, Sloane was done with the running gag. Thank goodness Hildie realized it and stopped. It was hard enough trying to get on with business as usual after the wreck the day before.
The odd twinge in her arm when she forgot to take most of the weight with her ‘good’ side, that was manageable, but it was the emptiness that was bothering her.
Their morning workshop for new mothers was only half its normal attendance numbers and at least two of the women scheduled to come in later in the afternoon had called to cancel their appointments.
By lunchtime, the ache in her arm was also in her stomach. The notoriety of her name was good some of the time.
Sloane feathered her fingertips over her sleeve, feeling the bandage under the fabric only brought flashes of memory rushing back into her head.
“Hey.”
She slipped her tongue over her bottom lip, trying to pull herself together.
It wasn’t until she felt someone grasp her fingers and pull them away from her arm that she turned.
Agent Bravo gave her a curious look. “Is your arm bothering you?”
She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, looking down at the way his fingers were holding onto hers, his thumb gently sliding along the side of her index finger.
It was a soothing gesture that she didn’t want him to stop. Most people didn’t touch her beyond a handshake or a thank you hug from a client.
“Maybe I should take you back to the hospital and have them take a look at you.”
He leaned closer and she felt her cheeks warm. Did he have to smell like spices? It was bad enough that he looked the way he looked in that suit, but to look as good as he did and smell like a dream?
“Especially around lunch,” she grumbled under her breath.
His eyes narrowed at her. “What was that?”
“I’m sorry, what?” She tried to think of something, anything to get her out of the situation.
“You said something about lunch?”
She grasped at it like a random weed along the top of a cliff, trying to keep herself from going over. “Yeah, lunch… I’m just a little hungry. It’s hard to think… when I’m hungry.” She sounded like a kid to her own ears, not the calm, capable woman she was normally . “Maybe we should take a break,” she suggested, “I’m sure you’re hungry too.”
He shrugged. “I could eat.”
Oh yes, he could.
She hung her head and told her hungry inside voice to take a step off that cliff she was thinking about a moment ago, before it got her in trouble.
“Great,” she looked over at her desk and saw her purse beside the phone, “I’ll grab my purse and-”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but you just can’t walk in there-”
Sloane heard the concerned tone in Hildie’s voice.
Vicente must have heard it too because he stepped between her and the doorway, his focus squarely on the empty space.
Hildie was a step behind the man in a suit and a step in front of his cameraman. “Sloane, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop him.”
Sloane hated to admit it, but she knew who the reporter was. He loved a good juicy story and didn’t mind making up stuff if it suited him. The easiest way to make sure that you were the center of his life for a few days was to try to avoid him.
And avoiding him was going to be the last thing she could do at the moment.
Pasting a smile on her face, she stepped around Vicente after giving him a reassuring pat on his arm. Walking toward the reporter, she held out her hand and greeted him with more enthusiasm than she felt.
“Jordan Carson! How are you doing?”
He looked a little uncomfortable in his tweed jacket and the overly done make up on his face. Even though the room was airconditioned, he was sweating profusely as he reached her. “I am well, Miss King. So delightful to see that you are back on your feet after your horrible injury.”
The camera man pointed the lens straight at her face and so she schooled her expression into one of calm and the hint of a sunny smile. “What I suffered was just a scratch, Jordan. I-”
“I’m surprised to see you here at your little venture when, from what I heard, you should still be in a hospital bed, recovering from your injury.”
“As you can see,” she lifted up both arms and gestured at the room in general, “I’m fine. And Helping Hearts is open. All our groups are meeting, and classes are happening. And if there are any women or children in your audience in need of help, we are here and ready to help them.”
Jordan’s smile faltered a bit, but since he wasn’t in full view of the camera. “Oh, well, that sounds like you’re getting over your injury quite well.”
“My injury really wasn’t much of anything, Jordan. A little bit of blood and a few stitches and-”
“Goodness,” he gasped in a breath, “that sounds horrid!”
Sloane tilted her head to the side and gave him a concerned look. “Maybe you should sit down, Jordan.” Gesturing to a chair, she gave him a sympathetic smile. “Then I can tell you about the young Police Officer who was gravely injured yesterday. His mother, a sweeter woman you’ll never meet, is camped out at his bedside waiting for her son to heal up. They’re all the family they have in the world and she’s so proud of his job with the San Antonio Police Department.” She spoke about the two and tried to get across the true heart of the situation that mother and son now faced. “When Officer Kelly is released and sent home, he’s going to need a lot of care and his mother will need help.”
Turning to look for Hildie, Sloane saw her friend step up beside the cameraman. “I’ll have my assistant give you a contact phone number and email addresses. The Kelly’s will have local help from their community, but donations are also welcome. In fact, I’ll be happy to add you to the donors list. After we’re done filming, I’ll have you fill out a form. I’m sure your viewers will admire your community spirit.”
