His to Protect - Em Petrova Page 0,31
stay outdoors until their hair bleached white from the sun.
Reaching out, he rested a hand on Sloane’s arm. “No one will find us here. We’ll stay until this mess blows over for you.” Or until he risked even more danger of losing his heart to the strong woman.
He resisted rubbing a hand over his face and instead climbed from the car. He led her inside and closed and locked the door out of habit, even though nobody would ever locate them here. Not only were they off the beaten track, they were far from the public eye.
Sloane moved around the small living space, examining the framed photos of the family on the wall and underneath that, a collection of shells on a long shelf.
“This is you?” She turned from the photo of him at about fifteen, his hair wild and tangled from the sand and surf, and he was smiling and tanned and happy.
He nodded.
“You look the same.”
He offered her a smile. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Knowing there wouldn’t be provisions here like at the houses provided by The Guard, he’d stopped at a drive-thru and purchased some fried chicken and fixin’s to get them through the night.
“I want a shower first,” Sloane said.
He showed her around the house, and the minute he heard the shower switch on, he dropped to the slightly saggy denim sofa and leaned forward with elbows on knees.
Fuck, what had he been thinking to bring her here? He couldn’t blame his instincts—he could have driven her inland to any number of safehouses. Instead, he chose to bring her even deeper into his personal life, when the woman already dug in too deep.
“Shit.” He pushed back and slumped against the sofa. Looking around, he saw little things his mom had done to update the cabin since the good ole days. One of her new oil paintings hung on a wall, this one of the cove with a boat in the distance. The sofa, though old, sported new striped pillows.
He picked one up and threw it at a wall.
Dammit, he had to get a grip on his life. He brought Sloane here to hide her, not introduce her to the family. Then why did it feel that way?
On the ride through the Georgia country, Sloane had talked. Told him things he wouldn’t soon forget and now burned like an ember in his gut. She related the story of her sister’s disappearance and how she knew she was next on her daddy’s list. How she got into modeling and then acting…then returned to search for her sister. Which led to tale after tale of close calls and near-misses of being caught by Flint and the husbands Sloane stole their underage wives from.
Jesus Christ. Something must be done.
He stood and walked to the back of the cabin to stare out at the lush greenery concealing the cabin on all sides from the beach and anyone who might stumble this direction.
If anyone did, they’d meet with Mr. SIG Sauer.
He combed his fingers through his hair and turned from the window. He might be on his old stomping ground, but this was no play time. He had a job to do, a ward to protect and information to gather.
Tipping his head, he listened for the running water. Hearing it, he took out his phone and called Madeline. She answered immediately.
“You made it to your destination. Nice beach.” Her voice held a note of amusement.
“Forgot my swim trunks.”
She chuckled. “I’m putting you on speaker. Oz is here.”
“Okay. Hello, Father.” The nickname for the leader of The Guard had come about early on, and North was one of many who teased Oz by using it. “Tell me what you know.”
“The lines of people on the coast are now stretching another ten miles. The press is eating it up, with helicopters circling the beaches,” Madeline informed him.
“What do you know about them linking their cause to Sloane?”
“They’re holding life-size posters of her in her movie role as picket signs.”
“Hell,” he ground out, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“You made an odd choice in stops, North,” Oz said. “With all the protests taking place on the coast.”
“They’ll never reach this place. Too remote.” He was a hundred-ten percent convinced he made the right decision.
“Are you sure about that, North? There’s a safehouse twenty miles away from—”
He cut across Madeline. “Trust my judgment, Madeline, please.”
“She only questions us because she cares and has our best interests at heart, North,” Oz broke in.
“I know.” He’d witnessed Madeline’s