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 problem 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.
He strode to the cupboard and pulled down a plate. As he spooned the chicken and thick cream sauce with pasta onto it, his phone buzzed.
Sister Madeline. Fucking woman never shut down, did she?
Her text flashed onto the screen, and he stared at it for five