Holding his Hostage - Amy Gamet Page 0,46

start, and I’m sorry.” She squeezed him tightly, then let him go, standing and returning to her seat.

Sloan stood and crossed to the sideboard, the sound of liquid pouring the only noise in the room. He brought them each a scotch, then took his seat. “You said Bannon was only the beginning, that it was McKenzie we had to worry about.”

David nodded. “After she tried to kill me, I wanted to make sure she couldn’t keep a dime of that money. I’d paid a king’s ransom for new identities for the two of us. Passports. Her ticket out of the country, the bank account in the Caymans—everything’s in her new name. I broke into her house and I stole back the passport.”

Joanne’s mouth dropped open. “The day of the funeral, someone broke into our house. It was a mess, drawers emptied everywhere, paintings taken down. It looked like they were looking for something. But McKenzie was at the service with Bannon. She couldn’t have done it..”

“She could have had someone else do it, just like she had Finbar try to kill me.”

“Where are the passports now?” asked Sloan.

“In the glove box of the Porsche in your driveway. As far as I know, McKenzie still thinks I’m dead. If she already had the house checked, I’ve got ten bucks she’s looking for that car—and for you.”

27

Within an hour, Sloan had Razorback, Chop, Gavin, and Asher doing guard duty outside of his house and the Porsche hidden safely in the garage. David was sure he’d mentioned Sloan to McKenzie over the years, though he wasn’t sure the other woman had remembered the story of Joanne’s first love, much less put the pieces together and figured out they were staying here.

Sloan set David up on the couch to sleep. “It’s not so bad if you put your head at the high end.”

Joanne stood at the foot of the stairs. “You can sleep with me.”

He nodded, unsure of whether she was offering him a comfortable spot to rest his head or the comfort of her body. Unable to reject either offer, he climbed the stairs behind her to his room.

David’s revelations about his marriage with Jo had given Sloan some insight into what had gone wrong between them, and he could see a reconciliation was possible. No matter their hardships, they shared three children together as well as mutual respect and love, even if it wasn’t the glossy kind of perfection people so often expected love to be.

Was that what she wanted, to be reunited with her husband? Could she see the possibility looming? More important, was he a son of a bitch for getting in the way? He frowned as she slipped off her shoes and turned down the bed, and it struck him he hadn’t been in this space with her since he was eighteen years old.

He unbuttoned his shirt, crossing to his side of the bed. In so many ways, they’d been playing house back then, pretending to be grown up when so much of who they would become was still very much in flux. But there had been a reality to it, too, a poignancy he hadn’t since reclaimed. And whether it was wrong or not, he needed to do that tonight.

He unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the floor before lifting his undershirt over his head. He hesitated. Despite what he’d told her earlier, he had not taken off his prosthesis with a woman before. It was a lie he’d told on the spur of the moment, determined to get her off the scent. But now as he stood there preparing to make love to her for the very last time, he wanted only the two of them tucked in that bed. He undid the leather strap and set the device on the floor.

She undressed facing him, first her jeans as he had done, then her sweater and bra. She sat on the edge of the bed and took off her socks before slipping between the sheets and turning toward him. He reached for her, noting the moment she realized his prosthesis was gone and bracing for her reaction.

Scooting closer to him on the bed, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “Thank you for everything you did today, for taking care of me and April, for welcoming David into your home.” She snuggled into his side, and he stroked her back with his short fingernails.

“You know I’d do anything for you.”

“You shouldn’t have to. You were always