repeatedly.
He hated himself for what he was doing. But it was the ultimate goal that made it all worthwhile. Angel would come for his son. It was the basic concept of possession. The kid belonged to him. Angel would want him back, so he had to come. When he did, Sloan would be ready.
And Angel would die.
Then Rachel and Josh would be safe.
That wasn’t supposed to be what counted to Sloan…but somehow it was. Somehow their welfare already meant entirely too much to him. And that didn’t sit well with him. But he would not let either of them any closer. He would stay in control—no matter what it took. All these jumbled feelings were nothing more than his deeply entrenched need to protect those weaker than him.
The way he couldn’t protect his own wife and son.
“Excuse me.”
Sloan’s head shot up at the softly uttered greeting. Rachel Larson hovered near the door. Hesitantly she stepped out onto the patio and approached him, her bare feet soundless on the cool tile. His gaze followed her movements, his body automatically responding and he silently cursed himself again. He was a fool. Sloan leaned back in his chair and leveled an impatient gaze in her direction.
“I prefer drinking alone, Miss Larson,” Sloan said tersely. “So if you’re looking for company, you’ll find Pablo’s more to your liking.”
Rachel hesitated a few feet away from the table. “I…I just wanted to thank you for helping us. I realized after I put Josh to bed that I hadn’t properly thanked you for allowing us refuge in your home.”
Sloan tossed back the tequila in his shot glass and set the empty glass down next to the bottle. The last thing he needed was her gratitude distorting the already fuzzy scenario taking shape in his head. “Don’t thank me, Miss Larson, I’m not doing it for you.” He poured himself another shot. “I’m doing it for me.”
Rachel nodded mutely. “Of course,” she murmured. “Well, good night then.”
Before she could turn away, and to Sloan’s royal irritation, he stopped her. “There is one thing you can do for me,” he said, his words dripping contempt, his senses already piqued in anticipation of her response. “You can tell me how you managed to get yourself intimately involved with a lowlife scum bag like Angel.”
Rachel visibly faltered. She seemed to struggle with her answer for so long that Sloan felt certain she didn’t plan to tell him. She shoved a handful of that thick dark hair behind her ear and drew in a deep breath. When her gaze finally connected with his again, her eyes were suspiciously bright. His gut clenched. Sloan swore another silent oath.
“I was very young, just nineteen,” she began slowly. “He tricked me into believing he was someone he wasn’t.” She swallowed, the effort required displayed along the delicate column of her pale throat. “My father died because of what I allowed to happen. If I hadn’t…” She fell silent, her eyes downcast.
Sloan’s chair scraped across the tile as he pushed back from the table and stood. Her head snapped up and she shivered as he walked deliberately toward her. When he stopped, he stood only inches from her. She tensed, and her breath caught with a little hitch. Damn him, he wanted to touch her. Anger swirled around him, inside him. He didn’t need this.
“You allowed yourself to be seduced by the bastard while he was plotting to kill your own father?” Sloan hurled the words at her like missiles intended to wound, intended to push her away. Hadn’t he done the same damned thing? Seduced by the challenge of the hunt, he had dogged Angel’s every step until the animal retaliated. Years of pent-up rage unleashed inside Sloan at the thought.
He leaned closer to Rachel, directing that unforgiving energy at her, widening the emotional gap between them. “I guess that makes us both pretty stupid, huh? Neither one of us were smart enough to know what we were up against until it was too late.”
She trembled, but held her ground. “He tricked me. I didn’t know—”
“Yeah, well that was a tough break for your old man, wasn’t it?”
Her anger flared finally, however faintly. “I don’t want to discuss this any more.” She pivoted and started toward the door.
Sloan snagged her by the arm and swung her around to face him. He ignored the electricity that crackled where his hand closed around her bare skin. “You screwed up, just like I did.” He pulled her closer, his body’s response to hers only fueling his building anger. She glared up at him, her own anger taking belated shape. “You’ve come all this way looking for a miracle. And what do you know? I’m fresh out. Maybe you’d better rethink your strategy.”
“You’re our only hope.” Her sweet, desperate breath fanned his lips.
Sloan clenched his teeth and shook his head, every muscle in his body growing harder by the moment. “Maybe you think coming here is the answer to your prayers, but you’re wrong. I’m just a man, Rachel Larson. I’ll take Angel down, but that won’t change what he took from you or me. I’m no superhero, and I’m sure as hell no saint. But if you hang around long enough the one thing I can guarantee you is that you’ll end up in my bed.”
Sloan saw it coming, but he didn’t try to stop her. Her right palm connected with his jaw. He took the blow, because he deserved it. The pain was somehow cleansing. Pain he could handle, these other feelings he couldn’t.
Rachel jerked weakly at his fierce hold on her left arm. “Let me go.”
“You went to a lot of trouble to track me down,” he rasped as he snaked his arm around her waist and hauled her up against him. “Don’t you want to find out if I’m half the man you seem to think I am?”
The dam broke loose then, tears trickled down her face. She pushed uselessly against his chest. “I already know all I need to know.” She was shaking uncontrollably now. “I saw how you reacted when you thought Josh was lost. You’re a good man. I know you are.”
Sloan had no come back for that allegation. He could only stare into those deep brown eyes, watery with the kind of pain he understood all too well. Just when he felt certain that he would have to kiss her…kiss her or die, she wilted in his fierce hold. Startled, Sloan scooped her slight body into his arms.
Damn.
She had been through too much. He had pushed her too hard. All because he couldn’t control his own sadistic impulses.
Sloan considered the sweet, innocent-looking woman lying unconscious in his arms for a long moment. He shook his head in self-disgust.
“I told you I was no knight in shining armor.” He let go a mighty breath. “What am I supposed to do with you now?”
Chapter Three
Rachel moaned contentedly and snuggled into her pillow. Her lids slowly opened to the realization that it was now daylight. The last vestiges of sleep retreated bringing awareness one degree at a time. The fluffy pillow beneath her cheek, the cool sheet over her body, and the slight breeze whispering across her face. She inhaled deeply of a scent that was at once alien and soothing. A pleasant masculine scent, musk and leather.
Sloan.
Rachel’s
