“We could try for the road,” Sloan reasoned, following Tara’s lead in fighting down her panic. “Trey’s on his way and—”
“Exactly,” Tara stated. “All we need to do is stall Max until he arrives. After all, he isn’t about to drag you out of here by force. Between my flight crew and his, there are too many witnesses.”
“You’re right.” With that realization, Sloan felt an iron calm settle through her. The only fear that remained was the kind that heightened the senses.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Sloan caught the telltale whisper of slender wheels rolling across the gritty concrete outside, she turned to face the door. There was Donovan, walking behind Max’s chair. When they reached the door’s raised threshold, it was his hands that rocked the chair over it and into the building.
“Max, how on earth did you know we were here?” Tara declared in feigned amazement.
But Max never looked her way, his dark gaze fastening itself on Sloan. “Thank God, I finally caught up with you, Sloan,” he declared, his wide shoulders sagging in a show of relief. “What are you doing here? Don’t you realize that if the Calders find out you’re here, they’ll take your son from you?”
“What else could I do?” Sloan lifted her chin in defiance. “You were just using me—and Jake—to get even with the Calders.”
“What nonsense is this?” Max frowned, looking properly stunned. “I’ve done everything I know to help you keep your son. I thought that’s why you came to me.”
“Is that what you were doing when I overheard you talking on the phone the other night—I assume, to Mr. Donovan here?” she challenged.
“You were listening.” He sighed, in regret. “That’s unfortunate. It’s better if you know nothing about such things.”
“What things?” Sloan demanded, cold with anger. “The lies you had Donovan spread about Trey having an affair? Or the phone calls he obviously made to convince me it was true?”
His frown deepened in confusion. “You’re the one who told me that your husband was seeing another woman. I had nothing to do with that.”
“Just like you’ll have nothing to do with Trey being caught with drugs, I suppose,” Sloan taunted.
“Like I said earlier, it’s unfortunate you overheard that,” Max admitted with a contrite look. “But I don’t think you realize what an ugly thing a cust
ody battle can become. The Calders already have people digging to uncover anything they can about you that might be twisted into something damaging. What they can’t find, they’ll manufacture and find somebody who’ll swear to it. What you overheard about the drugs was just my way of striking first. I admit that. But this suggestion that I had anything to do with your husband’s affair is false. You must have misunderstood something I said.”
“So you’re saying that I made it all up?” Sloan knew better, but she stopped short of calling him a liar. Time was what she needed, and little of that could be gained through open hostility.
“It’s the only logical explanation,” Max replied. “Considering the strain you’ve been under, it’s understandable. What with the anxiety of being a new mother, the loss of sleep from all the nighttime feedings, and your fears about losing custody of your son, you’ve been a bundle of nerves lately. Is it any wonder your mind has started playing tricks on you? There’s only so much anyone can take before something snaps.”
Fear shivered through her at the convincing picture he had painted of an unstable woman in need of professional care, too distraught to know what she was doing. Worse, she had established the pattern herself, fleeing first to Texas, then running again.
“I’m not your enemy, Sloan,” Max continued in his calm and reasonable tone. “Haven’t I looked after you all your life? And I always will. Deep down, you know that. The danger isn’t from me. It comes from the Calders. But don’t take my word for it. Ask Tara. She can tell you the deplorable way she was treated by them—despised by the family, cheated on by her husband. You must have heard the way they talk about her. Believe me, she has no love for them, either.”
There was no mistaking the certainty in Max’s voice that he had an ally in Tara. Stunned, Sloan looked at her in disbelief. “Are you in this with him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” When Tara made a reassuring move toward her, Sloan instinctively recoiled from her reaching hand. “What is the matter with you, Sloan?”
“Careful.” Max raised a cautioning hand to check Tara. “No one is trying is trying to hurt you, Sloan. We’re here to help.”
“There is nothing wrong with me,” she insisted, more forcefully than she intended. “You make it sound like I’m crazy. I’m not.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Max soothed. “You’ll be fine. We just need to get you and the baby home. My plane’s right outside. Come on. Let me take you home.”
As the Suburban barreled north along the highway, Trey kept his gaze fixed on the empty road ahead and a heavy foot on the accelerator. Laredo lounged in the passenger seat, a relaxed looseness about him that was at odds with the vigilance of his gaze.
A thick silence lay between the two men, as it had since Trey had filled Laredo in on the few details of Sloan’s phone call. Laredo had asked only a few questions and offered no speculation on what awaited them when they reached their destination. Neither had Trey. Privately, though, Trey thought there was a fifty-fifty chance Sloan had told him the truth.
The roofs of Blue Moon jutted into the skyline. Trey reduced the Suburban’s speed at the sight of them and started watching for the entrance road to the abandoned pit mine. He spotted it about the same time he noticed a vehicle parked beyond it on the shoulder, its hood raised. The longer he studied it, the heavier the certainty settled in his gut.
Braking, he made the turn onto the mine road and drove all the way to the padlocked gate. With an economy of movement, Trey climbed out of the vehicle, walked to the back, opened its rear door, and removed a rifle and box of shells from its trunk.
“It looks like it might be a trap after all,” he told Laredo and nodded in the direction of the vehicle parked up the road. “That looks like the car Donovan usually drives.”