Outrageous, gorgeous, and completely her.
With a pair of white leather snip toe cowboy boots inlaid with crystals, it would be perfect.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
“I found my dress,” Glo said.
“Perfect.”
It wasn’t Nora, but a man’s voice who answered, and Glo froze. Turned.
Sloan closed the door behind him, locked it, then turned, his dark brown eyes on Glo. “Please don’t scream. I come in peace. And I need your help.”
He wore a suit, his hair neatly clipped, was clean shaven and didn’t look at all like a criminal.
Or the man who’d tried to have Tate beaten to death.
She backed away. “I will scream if you come any closer.”
He held up his hand. “Not a step.”
She cut her voice low, barely able to hear it over the rush of her heartbeat. Oh, Tate was going to kill…well, her. Because she’d told her protection detail—Swamp and Rags—to grab lunch or coffee or whatever they needed after their long flight.
“How did you find me?”
“Cher. Apparently, you didn’t tell her about…well, how things ended between us.”
“How things ended? Sloan, you tried to have my fiancé killed—”
He held up a hand. “No, actually. I didn’t. I’m being set up.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“I never sent the Russian after Tate. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me.”
Glo cocked her head. “I don’t believe you. We figured it out, Sloan. We know you knew about the attack and told my mother about it even before it happened.”
“Shh. When Tate sent his goons after me, and I knew no one wanted to hear my side of the story—”
“Which is?”
“Someone inside your mother’s organization is working with the Russians. And they’re trying to make it look like it’s me.”
“What—are you crazy?”
He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand.
“Fine. Listen. I got a call from this woman from the CIA not long after I left the campaign. She said she was hunting a rogue group inside the CIA who wanted to reignite the Cold War. She was looking into possible connections to Senator Jackson’s staff and wanted to meet with me. I set up a meet in Seattle, but she never showed. Then, about a month later, I get a call and it’s her—she says to meet her at a hotel in Seattle. But when I get there, I find the door open and her—dead.”
Glo drew in a breath. Because she knew the rest of the story—how RJ and York had also found the body. “Tate thinks she was killed by a Russian assassin.”
“See?”
“No, I don’t see. Who would want to set you up? My mother’s people are loyal—”
“I was loyal. And then I got thrown under the bus—”
“Talk to Tate. He’ll straighten it out.”
“Are you kidding me?” He shook his head. “Tate would take me apart the moment he saw me.”
Yes, probably. She sighed. “So, who do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. Maybe her campaign manager, Nicole Stevens.”
“We’ve known Nicole for years. She’s run all my mother’s campaigns, starting when she ran for mayor.”
“I don’t know, then!” He blew out a breath. “I just know that I’m a walking target. I’ve been trying to lay low, but…I’m scared, Glo. These are powerful people.”
In truth, she’d never seen Sloan like this. Despite his grooming, his voice shook, and a sweat had broken out across his forehead. So far from the childhood friend, band groupie, and, later, assistant campaign manager that she’d briefly, regrettably dated.
“What can I do?”
“Set up a meeting with your mother.”
“What—Sloan, there’s no way I can do that.”
“Of course you can. Tell her she’s in danger. Someone is conspiring against her. Tate can be there too—as long as he doesn’t hurt me.”
Her mouth tightened. “I don’t know...”
“Please—”
“Okay.” She held up her hand. “I need to talk to Tate first, and he’s not with me right now. He’s looking into the attempted assassination in Seattle.”
“When will you see him next?”
She gave him a look. “Sloan…”
“Glo. I wasn’t responsible for hurting Tate. I promise. And I need your help.” He drew in a breath. “You used to trust me, once upon a time. I’m still that guy. The one who went to your shows, the one who cared for you. I would never do something to hurt you.”
Oh Sloan. They did have history. And she never wanted to believe that he’d tried to hurt Tate. “I don’t know where he is, but I talked to him last night and he said he was following a lead into the attack. He asked me about my mother’s organization, Imagine, but I don’t know much about it. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I can ask him to talk to you. No promises though, okay?”
“Yes. Thanks, Glo.”
“How do I contact you?”
He shook his head. “I’ll find you.”
She gave him a look. “Please not at my cake tasting.”
A smile slid up the side of his mouth. “Vanilla with strawberry filling was always your favorite.”
A knock sounded on the door. “Gloria, are you okay in there? I have the shapewear.”
Sloan cocked his head, raised an eyebrow. “Your shape looks pretty good to me,” he whispered.
She glared at him, then raised her voice. “I’m fine. I don’t think I need them. And I found my dress…I’ll meet you in the other room.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Sloan’s eyes widened.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Footsteps walked away, and she turned to Sloan, her voice low. “Get out of here.”
He nodded, reached for the door.
“Sloan—are you going to be okay?”
He drew in a breath, something painfully vulnerable on his face, and the months of fury in her heart faded away.
Maybe he was being set up.
“Yes. I think so. Thanks, Glo.” He slipped out.
She blew out a breath, tasting again her heartbeat.
Clearly, she’d been wrong about Sloan.
Either that, or she was about to get the man she loved killed.
York did not want to be a man who harbored murder in his heart. Who let anger and vengeance seep in and lurk in the dark corners of his mind. But his dreams—oh his dreams. They woke him with such ferocity and then settled like residue until the only thing he could think of was the feelings they left behind.
Like grief. And fury. And an insatiable need for justice.
People in his life had been murdered, and it left an urge to…well, pay back in kind.
But, no. He didn’t want to be that man anymore.
He still couldn’t look at RJ. Not after the memories flooded back—at least the ones with RJ, from watching her run after the near assassination of General Stanislov, to rescuing her in an alleyway in Moscow, to falling for her as they tried to escape the FSB, then finally following her to America where, for a fraction of a moment, he’d actually thought they could have a happy ending.