Page 17 of Redemption

“How do you want to play this?” I asked, knowing we needed some sort of strategy. “Good cop, bad cop?”

He clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Only cop.” He grinned. “She’s all yours.”

Ha. Right. Sloan hadn’t been mine in a long time. Not that Nate meant it like that. Not that he’d approve of my dating his sister.

I needed to get my head on straight, but that was what happened when I was with Sloan. She became my first priority, and nothing else mattered. It was both dangerous and addictive.

He released me and backed away. “Good luck, Jackson. You’re going to need it.”

Fuck.

I clenched and unclenched my fists once his back was turned. Closed my eyes and tried to recenter myself. But all that came to mind was the smell of wild roses and sunshine. My legendary control was slipping, and I hadn’t even crossed the threshold.

Sloan Mackenzie.

A memory drifted to me, unbidden. Sloan smiling at me over her shoulder. Dark-brown hair flowing down her back in waves. Now, her hair barely grazed her collarbone, and it was sleek and straight.

I considered my options regarding the woman in the next room. I could think of a thousand things I’d rather do, but there was only one choice—walk through that door and face the only woman I’d ever loved.

I told myself I was doing it because I wanted the promotion, but this was Sloan we were talking about. If she needed me, I’d always be there for her.

I wiped my palms on my thighs and straightened. I was a soldier going into battle, and I would show no fear.

I opened the door and entered the suite. “Ms. Mackenzie,” I said, addressing her formally, as I would any client. It was agency policy. And even if it weren’t, using her last name was a sign of respect. A reminder of my position as her bodyguard.

“Ms. Mackenzie?” she scoffed. “I think we’re long past such formalities, don’t you?”

I kept my gaze trained on the painting across the room, even as she stepped closer.

“Jackson,” she snapped, but I held steady. “The least you can do is look at me.”

Slowly, I inclined my head, regretting it the moment my eyes met hers. They were an unusual shade of green. Pale, mysterious, captivating. Looking into her eyes was like glimpsing into her heart. She’d never been good at hiding her emotions—or at least, she hadn’t been in the past.

Looking at her now, I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. The thin press of her lips indicated anger. But otherwise, I found her difficult to read. Gone was the carefree girl with smiles like sunshine. She’d gotten better at masking her emotions in the past decade. It was…disappointing, to say the least.

She almost seemed like a different woman in her perfectly tailored suit and fuck-me heels. She was as beautiful as ever, but she had a coldness to her. An edge that hadn’t been there before.

I could easily imagine Sloan commanding a boardroom. But I wondered if she ever smiled. If she was happy.

“You’re not coming on this trip,” she hissed. “I don’t need a bodyguard.” But what I heard was, “I don’t need you.” It hurt more than it should’ve, especially after all this time.

“The threats you’ve received would indicate otherwise.” She wasn’t the first principal who’d rejected my intrusion into her life; she wouldn’t be the last.

I fully intended to ask her about the threats when she was less hostile. Though, judging from her expression, I doubted that would ever happen.

“I’m going to be in the middle of the ocean.”

“And what about when you dock?” I asked. “What about when you spend a few days on an island? I received your proposed itinerary, and I’d like to suggest several modifications.”

She scoffed. “First, you want to invade my solo sailing trip. And now, you insist on making modifications?” She turned away as if offended by my gall, when I was only trying to keep her safe.

“Your plans do not account for certain…contingencies,” I said, though, really, I wanted to know why she hadn’t invited her boyfriend along. A sailing trip like this was the kind we’d always discussed taking—together. And yet, she was planning to go alone.

“Contingencies?” she asked, her eyes sparking with anger. “Enlighten me, then. Because my route accounted for the need to refuel, restock, and rest. And it took into account weather and wind, though obviously, those will be reevaluated throughout.”

“Yes.” My tone was gentle. I was already on thin ice. “And you were thorough.” She had been. Extremely so. It was a solid plan, well researched and considered, at least from a sailing standpoint.

“Then what’s the problem?”