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Damn Jonas for leaving this mission to him. Sloan leaned against the wall in Kendall’s room and shrugged—although the last thing he felt was calm and uncaring.
“Fired. Out of work.”
Her blue eyes narrowed on him. “You did this.”
He sighed. “I did.”
Kendall threw the nearest thing that could be used as a projectile, which happened to be her hairbrush, since he’d caught her in the middle of trying to fix herself for the day. The brush bounced off the wall, not one inch from his face. “I’ll have you know my services command hundreds of thousands of dollars. If I call up any of the corporations who’ve tried to lure me away from Gil Phillips, Inc., in the past year, I’ll have a position in thirty minutes, and a salary that would make your head swim.”
He nodded. “Your right to do so.”
She shot a heart-decorated flip-flop at him, followed by its mate. They both missed, but she was getting warmed up, and Sloan figured the next time she’d peg him.
“Get out.”
“I’m under orders to get you to Hell’s Colony.”
“Orders? I’ve been fired. I don’t take orders from Jonas Callahan anymore, that supercilious ass.” She hopped out of the bed, her face creasing with pain as she tried to stay off her foot. “And you promised to take me out to the canyons, though I see now you’re not a man of your word.”
She hobbled to the landing. “Jonas!” she yelled down the stairwell.
“He’s gone. They’re all gone.”
She hopped back into the room, staring at him. “What do you mean, they’re all gone?”
“There’s no one on the ranch but my family, and Fiona and Burke.”
“Oh, my God.” She sank onto her bed again, and Sloan felt sympathy for her. He knew how it felt to lose everything. “I didn’t know they’d leave this soon. No wonder it’s so quiet. I thought the children were all watching a movie in the bunkhouse or something.”
He shook his head. “They left before the sun was up this morning.”
“I can’t believe it. And yet I’m relieved.” She gazed at Sloan. “And you’re supposed to fire me so I’ll leave, too.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Jonas was too chicken to do it.”
“I’ll bet.” Kendall sat silently for a moment. “You’re both chickenhearted weasels. But at least you told me to my face.”
“I’m a gentleman.”
“Whatever.” Kendall didn’t look at him. “I’m not leaving.”
Sloan’s heart sank. He should have seen this coming. No wonder Jonas had gone off like a dog not eager to see a bathtub. Swallowing hard, Sloan stared at Kendall, reading her face. She was thinking, thinking hard—and he was in trouble.
“You hire me,” Kendall said.
“What?” He blinked, automatically stiffening.
“You’re in charge here now. You hire me.” Kendall raised a brow, challenging him.
“I can’t do that.” Sloan shook his head. “I have no authority to make hiring decisions.”
“This is a combat zone. You can make decisions without Jonas’s okay.” Her determined expression said she wasn’t about to let this go. “Besides which, you want me here.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.” She crossed her arms. “You’d feel a whole lot better if you could keep your eyes on me.”
His eyes and some other things. Sloan resisted his errant thoughts. “No can do, sweetheart. Be a good girl and mind your ex-boss. He knows what’s best for you. Me, I’m just an interloper.”
“You’re a tough guy,” Kendall said. “And tough guys like to do things themselves. You want to protect me, don’t you?”
He wasn’t falling for the boost to his ego. “You’ll be safe in Texas. Where you belong.” He got up, went to the door. “I’ll have one of my brothers take you to Albuquerque so you can catch a plane.”
“Sloan.”
He wished he didn’t have to stay in here with her any longer. She was winding tendrils of temptation around him, and the worst part was, he knew she was doing it. Didn’t really want to stop it. “Yeah?”
“I’m staying. I’m going to stick it out with Fiona and Burke. This may not be my home, but I’m not giving up the job I’ve already put several months of work into planning. And you wouldn’t, either, if you were me.”
His mouth flattened. “You have to leave. All the rest of it I’m not getting drawn into.”
He walked out, feeling a ball of tension knot his neck. Everything she’d said was true: he did want her here. He did think he could do the best job of protecting her. But she’d be safe in Texas, where Jonas said her family had a compound.
The problem was, Kendall knew he’d thought up the plan to fire her, so she knew Jonas still wanted her to finish his bunkhouse—when the danger passed. She didn’t consider herself to be in danger, so she saw no reason not to go on with her whatever-the-hell-it-was that she did. Decorating or something. She was fiery like his sister, Ashlyn, and Sloan had plenty of experience with that.
So he knew what the next step was.
“Ashlyn, go upstairs and keep an eye on Kendall for a while, please.” He walked past his sister, who’d stationed herself in the kitchen near Fiona and Burke, who seemed pretty content to ignore everything that didn’t have anything to do with baking and cooking. “Don’t let her talk you into anything. She’ll probably try.”
“Sure.” Ashlyn slid off the barstool and left the kitchen.
Fiona glanced his way. “Problems?”
Sloan took the sack she handed him, which he assumed contained a lunch. “No problems. Thank you for this.”
She nodded and he left, not one bit happy with the blonde upstairs. She was right: he didn’t want her to leave.
But she was going to, whether he liked it or not.
She didn’t understand about the wolf.
Chapter Six
At ten o’clock that night, Sloan took over from Ashlyn.
“I’ve got it, Ash. Thanks.” He slumped into the wingback chair, a semiautomatic tucked into a holster under his arm, hidden from Kendall. The gun was to level the playing field in case they were attacked—though it seemed too soon for the enemy to make a move. They’d be trying to figure out where everyone had gone, and who was left here, and why.
“You’re back,” Kendall said, opening her eyes to glare at him. “I prefer your sister babysitting me.”
He nodded. “Everyone prefers Ashlyn. Now be a good girl and let me sleep.”
She sat up. “I don’t like your tone, soldier.”
“That’s a shame.” He lowered his hat over his face. Maybe she’d take the hint that it was time for lights out.
“It’s condescending. Smacks of arrogance. Like you think you’re in charge of everything.”
“I am.” No further comment needed to be made.
“Bully for you. I’m going to take a shower.”
His eyes widened under his dark gray Stetson. He refused to let his mind wander in the direction it wanted very much to go. There was a bath en suite, so she couldn’t escape him—but on the other hand, he couldn’t escape her, either.
He stayed under his hat, although he couldn’t have slept now if he wanted to.
She hummed quietly. He heard her pulling out drawers, choosing clothes.
“Can’t forget the panties,” Kendall said, and Sloan gritted his teeth. “Although since I’m on bed rest one more day, a bra isn’t essential, I suppose.”
She was torturing him on purpose.
“Thankfully, I have this leg wrap the hospital gave me to keep the stitches dry,” Kendall said conversationally, as if she wasn’t trying to drive him mad. She lifted the brim of his hat, peeking at him. “Comfy?”
Not really. “I will be when you quit chattering.”
She smiled, her blue gaze sweet. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”
He swallowed, pinned. She dropped his hat back on his head and went humming into the bathroom. The water turned on, and he imagined her dropping her pajama shorts and camisole to the floor. Warmth broke out under his hat, lining his hatband with a trace of sweat.
He turned his focus inside, concentrating on the beat of his heart, the rhythm of his pulse, commanding himself to calm down.
After a moment, the wild feeling passed. He wasn’t attracted to Kendall—not at all—so there had been no reason for the surge of panic. Feeling better now that he was in control of the situation, Sloan leaned back, propping his head against the chair back, and tried to doze.
Kendall began singing a catchy tune, and the scent of strawberry shampoo drifted out to him. He pushed his hat back from his forehead, needing air. The chair was positioned directly across from the bath, so he was right in the line of fire.
There was a reason she was trying to get under his skin, and it had to do with control. But it wasn’t going to work. His self-control was steel forged by fire.
“Sloan?”
He hesitated. Went to the bathroom door. “Yeah?”
“I forgot a towel.”
That was as old as the trees. He wasn’t falling for it. “Drip dry.”
She laughed. “I can’t. I have to dry the plastic sleeve that covers my stitches. I can’t get them wet. My towel is on my bed.”
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