by Em Petrova
He looked away. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head.
“How about a hot bath?”
Her lips twisted again. “I don’t think so. I’m too nervous.”
There it was again—that small knife slip in his gut—in and out, so sharp and lethal he hardly knew how to react.
He stood and closed the gap between their seats to crouch in front of her. Some sunlight streaming through the windows cast her hair into several shades of red, from strawberry to deep auburn. Warm shades. The locks soft and touchable, even if the hue probably derived from a high-end salon in Hollywood or New York City.
She met his stare directly, revealing warm brown depths with amber flecks matching her hair.
Seeking to put her at ease, he held her gaze. “You’re going to be okay, Sloane. I promise you. Threats like the one against you won’t last for long. It’s too high profile and in the open. My people are on the case, but so is the FBI.”
When she swallowed, he saw her throat work. Then he made the mistake of sliding his attention to her full, plush—and he knew velvety soft—lips. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking how hot his ward was.
Damn, he could still feel the soft crush of her mouth under his. The little ploy saw them past the paparazzi—nothing else mattered. Certainly not the dark flutter of awareness he experienced by simply cupping her cheek earlier.
He closed his fingers around the feel of her still lingering on his skin.
“Let me show you the house.”
Often the most normal things helped acclimate a ward to their situation, and he hoped the short tour did the same for Sloane. He led her to the kitchen and then down a short hallway to the bedrooms and twin bathrooms.
“You pick which room you want.”
She didn’t say a word, just went into the bathroom and shut the door.
Tightening his lips on a sigh, he left her alone for the time being and returned to the living room. He popped open a cupboard under the TV and located the computer tablet he knew would be there.
He settled with his back to a wall and waved his wrist over the screen. The microchip beneath his skin brought the tablet to life without even logging in, and seconds later, he had data in front of him.
The media knew Sloane was being targeted—and that her whereabouts were uncertain at this time. Good—they were still one step ahead. So far, the media didn’t know who pursued her, but they were correct in guessing her latest movie role proved to be the reason behind it all.
He looped into the mainframe computer, which he knew Madeline sat behind at this very minute. After searching a map of the area surrounding this safehouse, he saw nothing around them for miles but trees and mountains.
He sank deep into his research. Opening a data file containing all the information about the drilling company owner, he followed path after path, until he heard a footstep.
Looking up, he sucked in a breath at the sight of the beautiful woman.
She spotted the tablet in his hands and stopped. “Is everything…?”
“It’s okay.” He used his most calming tone and offered a quirk of a smile, and then he closed out of the tablet by inconspicuously passing his wrist over the screen again. He set the device aside and pushed to his feet. “You hungry yet?”
She shook her head. “I wondered if I could go out onto the deck.”
“Sure.” He moved by her, holding back the urge to clasp her hand on the way. She looked so beaten down by life.
When he opened the door to the deck, he checked the area before allowing her to come outside too. The moment she drifted out, his breath caught again. Silhouetted against the backdrop of trees, she appeared to be a wood nymph, with her coloring contrasting so sharply against the greens, and yet she totally fit in too. No wonder she was the hottest actor of the times—Sloane was a chameleon, blending perfectly into any setting as though born to it.
Arms folded over her chest, she glanced around. “It’s pretty,” she whispered.
He didn’t look away from her. “It is.”
“Can I sit out here a while? I need to think.”
He waved at a lounge chair. “It’s all yours. You’re safe. I’ll be inside if you need me.”
She nodded and padded across the deck boards to the lounge chair. Certain his ward was safe for the time being, North went inside again, grabbed the tablet and then sat in the small dining area where he had a clear view of the deck.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he drew it to his ear. “Madeline.”
“The media’s having a heyday with your ward, North.”
“I see that. Is there anything I need to know that I don’t already?” He gazed at Sloane, so stunning, almost resembling a photograph. No wonder the world loved the woman. Nothing about her seemed false.
“Everything is in line with what we know,” Madeline said, jolting him from his thoughts. “If you’d hand her off to another’s care, you could do more from this side of things.”
He paused. Was she saying this because of her conviction that he was better suited to the data and not the physical part of being a guard?
Looking at Sloane, he wondered if Madeline might be right. His ward could be hidden safely away until the threat ended, and he could finish it—probably faster than anyone else.
Sloane leaned back in the lounge chair but then sat up again abruptly, jackknifing forward, head cradled in her palms. She couldn’t even relax. She didn’t trust him, and that he expected. But watching the despair wash over her, he wondered if there was something more.
She jumped up and crossed the deck. Impossible for him not to note her curves twitching with each determined stride she took.
Dammit, he had to stop thinking of her in terms of her movies. She wasn’t saving a friend from a gunman in an apocalyptic world. She wouldn’t be outrunning a band of drug runners in the jungles of South America after witnessing a heinous crime.
Thank God she wasn’t involved in either of those things. This mission was one of the simpler cases he’d ever dealt with.
She pivoted on her heel, and his body responded with a leap of awareness…and attraction. Even more reason to keep his distance. Now he regretted turning down the last few women who asked more of him, though. He hadn’t felt a soft woman beneath him since before his injury months ago. The pretty nurse in charge of his care had offered herself in not so uncertain terms, but he couldn’t dally with someone who changed his bandages and helped him to bed.
But the last time he had a human connection? Hell, he couldn’t even remember one. He avoided relationships. Leaving behind a woman or a family didn’t set well with him. In the Church, almost all of them remained single by choice. Dragging a significant other into this life was out of the question.
Fuck, North wouldn’t even keep a dog. Though he loved animals, the idea that he could be killed…never return to a dog who didn’t understand why… He shook himself. Best to have no attachments. Volunteering at the shelter whenever he could was the all he could manage.
Sloane paced to the chair and dropped to it. She sat there only a split second before jumping up again.
“Madeline, I’ve got to go.”
“Think about it, North.”
He ended the call and drifted to the door, watching Sloane in what could only be some internal struggle. His gut told him this went below the depths of her situation. Something was clawing at her from the inside, and he would learn what tried to get out.
When he walked onto the deck, she tossed him a look he’d seen from her several times in the movies.
“Sloane.”
She didn’t stop pacing, striding by him again and again like a caged animal.
He reached out and caught her arm, stopping her. She jerked her gaze up to his. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
Carefully, she shrugged from his grasp and distanced herself from him by a few paces. Watching her make five more rotations, and then six, he considered the possib
ilities.
She had to be hiding something.
“Do you know any of the people after you?”
She stopped dead in her tracks, face blank.
“In the drilling industry?” he prompted.
All at once, her eyes cleared as if she understood what he asked but didn’t a minute ago.
“No, I don’t know anybody at all. I told you before—I only acted the part. While I do care about the environment, I don’t have any ties to this type of thing. The most I do is support the ASPCA.”
Something about that twist of her lips had him narrowing his gaze. Maybe she didn’t only perform that gesture while trying to hide her drawl. Years in this business had long ago woken him up to underlying danger, and the alarms blaring in the recesses of his mind weren’t for nothing.
Sloane was hiding something.
Madeline’s offer to settle behind his computer monitors suddenly seemed alluring as hell. Analyzing maps he could do—women not so much. Maybe he should leave behind wards and flying bullets.
He could place Sloane in a safehouse with heavy security, and return to life as he knew it.
The haunted expression in her eyes burned through him like a flame to dry leaves.
He rocked on his heels, staring at the beautiful woman. No denying he reacted far too strongly to her. Why? What was different about this ward? They all gave him looks to tug at his heart, but he couldn’t even fathom leaving this one with another guard.
His analytical mind helped him in many ways, but right now, he wished he could switch it off. It kept asking him the same difficult question on repeat.
How can I leave her when she’s looking at me that way?
* * * * *
“I can’t stay here.” Sloane’s statement fell on dead air and had as much effect as her making demands to an unmoving boulder.
North didn’t shift his gaze from her, and once again, she felt that dark awareness that this man could—under different circumstances—rock her world. The tiny bubbles in her lower belly reminded her what a simple stare from the right guy could do for a woman.
“We’ll only be here a short time,” he assured her.
He didn’t understand—she had somewhere else to be, and soon. If she missed her window to save that girl, she’d never forgive herself. Besides, what if the girl knew of Scarlett’s whereabouts? She couldn’t exactly blurt all this out, though.
Cutting a hand through her hair, she turned to look out at the mountains. She hadn’t spent much time in this part of Georgia, but now she couldn’t figure out why. The gorgeous view and peace were definitely things she wanted to revisit. Later, after everyone is safe and my life returns to normal.
When would that be?
She slipped her phone from her pocket, but it didn’t grace her hand for more than two seconds before North grabbed it. She whirled with a glare. “What are you doing?”
“You can’t have this. It’s a security risk. I should have confiscated it sooner.” The hard set of his jaw told her any arguing would be a waste of breath.
She still had to try. “But there are people I need to keep in touch with.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I can get word of your safety to whoever you need.”
Very soon her contact would be in touch with word about saving the next young girl. She paid the guy very well to provide all pertinent information, including names, addresses, unlocked doors and locations of keys, as well as the time of day to swoop in and save her. Sloane expected a call with all the info within the next day—tomorrow, tops.
Exhaling through her nose, she tried to think up a way to sway North and get her phone back.
“I promise I won’t post to social media, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
He eyed her with enough distrust to piss her off. “People can track you through your phone, even if you think they can’t.”
Inspiration struck. She tipped her head up to meet his stare and delivered the best performance of her life. “I have a script for an upcoming movie in my notes app. I keep forgetting lines, and I need to practice.”
Now he looked skeptical as hell and about a hundred miles away from buying it.
“Please. It will give me something to pass the time.”
When he tensed his jaw that way, he looked even hotter. The light mountain breeze captured some of the hair that’d fallen from his man-bun and swirled the tendrils around his face, leaving her fingers tingling to touch them.
To her shock, he thrust out his hand, and she looked down to see her phone dwarfed by his big palm. “Fine. But I better not see a selfie of you with the mountains as backdrop. Got it?”
“Dang.” She took the phone from him. “And I had the perfect hashtag for the situation too.”
He snorted. “I’m sure you did. No phone calls. No texts. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t make me regret giving your phone back, Sloane.”
She turned to go inside the house but tossed a look over her shoulder.
“Wait.” His rough tone drew her to a stop. “What was the hashtag?”
She found a smile lingering at her lips for the first time in hours. “#Trouble-finds-me.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment, she thought she might actually see the man smile. She imagined it would rival the beauty of the landscape, but sadly, he set his lips into a tight line and she never got to see it.
Stepping foot into the house, she breathed a sigh of relief that she got away with her ploy.
The home had a cozy feel that ordinarily might have soothed her, but she couldn’t feel edgier. When she entered one of the two bedrooms and closed the door, she pressed her spine to the pale wood, heart pounding.
Being able to act had changed her life for the better. Not only had it pulled her out of a dire situation and far from her father, but it got her out of hot water, like now with her new bodyguard…except she fully expected the skeptical man to storm in here and rip the phone from her hand again.
Before he did, she brought up her text messages. When her eyes landed on the familiar codename of her contact, butterflies took flight in her stomach.
Have info.
A second later, the phone vibrated with an incoming call, and she brought the device to her ear. When the line connected, Tobias spoke.
“Name: Lauren Hoffman. Both parents in prison for drugs. Currently in the custody of an uncle, but he’s just made contact with Flint. The arrangements are made. Lauren is still en route to the buyer’s home. You’re too late to stop them at the JP office before the wedding takes place, but you can still reach her at the house.”
Tobias continued to feed her the information, and Sloane remained silent. When she had all she required, she ended the call and tucked her phone into her jeans pocket.
Staring into space, she processed everything. She needed a car and luck on her side.
She also needed to ditch her bodyguard.
What about the dangers facing her? Escaping North might be easy, but how could she fly under the radar of the media, remain undetected by the people who blamed her for the big drilling problems in the Gulf, and reach this young woman in need of her help?
Sloane chewed her lip. She considered herself brave—ballsy even—but she didn’t have the ability to handle all this on her own.
She had a man at her disposal who could help. Should she push aside her trust issues and confide in North?
He’d turn her down. His first aim was to keep her safe, and he wouldn’t give a damn about her own little side cause. Besides, she couldn’t drag someone else into the mess that had become her life over the past few months.
What began as her using her power, money and influence to locate Scarlett had morphed into something so much bigger. The entire mess was teetering on the scale of being too big to handle, but she couldn’t stop now—she believed in what she was doing with every fiber of her being.
Sure, she’d considered handing the entire pr
oblem over to authorities, but people like John Flint didn’t care about police. She only had to remind herself what he did for a living.
Maybe a company such as the one North worked for could handle the problem. Even at a steep price, she could—and would—manage.
The bedroom window overlooked the rear of the house. If she stuck her head out and craned her neck, she would see the deck where North might still be standing. Knowing he hovered so close gave her stomach an odd tight feeling she didn’t want to think about right now.
She lay down on the big bed to mull over the situation. She didn’t even consider how much time passed until a knock on the door raised her head off the pillow. Darkness seeped through the window, casting the space in shadows. God, she must have been lying there for hours, just playing over what she needed to do.
North’s low voice projected through the closed door. “Sloane, I fixed dinner. Come out and eat something.”
The man cooked too? She was a bit sorry to have missed the sight of a big, hot bodyguard in the kitchen.
After swinging her legs off the mattress, she walked to the door and opened it a crack. North stared in at her.
“I’m too tired to eat. I’m going to bed early.” The lie slid off her lips like grease on a hot griddle, but she couldn’t hate herself for it, not when she did everything for the greater good.
She closed the door in his face and turned to lean against the wood, eyes closed. She had to reach that girl.
As soon as North fell asleep, Sloane would sneak out, take the car and make her getaway.
Chapter Four
Rule number one: Follow the rules. Rule number two: Never get involved with a ward. So far, he adhered to both. But number three—don’t get emotionally involved in the situation—that rule was long gone. Trampled. Dead.
North leaned heavily against the counter, staring at his boots. Concern washed over him, along with the scents of the chicken alfredo he prepared for dinner. The pot stood on the stove, untouched.
Maybe if he took a plate to Sloane, she wouldn’t refuse. He understood sharing a meal with a bodyguard might call for a case of indigestion, but she did need to keep up her strength. By his guess, the woman could only survive a day without food before she weakened or crashed with the need for sugar in her system, and she sure as fuck wouldn’t do that on his watch.