“And how best to use it to our advantage? Gotcha.”
Is there a way to do that without throwing Sloan to the wolves?
I don’t even question why I’m desperate to make such a thing possible. It’s not because I’m worried about karma or ethics. Right or wrong, everything screams at me to protect her. Sloan can’t go down with the ship she’s trying so hard to right. It isn’t fair. Yeah, I know life isn’t…but if I can give her some equity and justice this one time while giving Evan the European expansion I owe him? What’s the harm in that?
“More or less,” I manage.
“When you figure it out, let me know. Until then…those projections?”
“Yeah.”
I pull my head out of my ass long enough to give Evan the information he needs and finish the rest of our meeting. When he tells me I look like shit and I’m acting even worse so I should go home, I don’t argue.
Except when I get there, I have nothing to do but stare mindlessly at the TV, wonder how Sloan’s day went, and hate that she didn’t call. I can’t appear too pushy. I can’t insist that she give me more insider information. She’ll be suspicious. But I can just picture her singlehandedly trying to slay metaphorical dragons and save the dying company from perdition.
I just hope she doesn’t die on her sword.
And instead of figuring out what the fuck to tell Evan, I spend the evening thinking of ways to save her.
But I don’t come up with any grand solutions by Tuesday. Or Wednesday.
Nor have I heard from Sloan. It worries me.
Finally, on Thursday morning, my phone rings and her number pops up on my display. I hold up a finger to signal Evan to pause the strategy meeting we’re in to finalize our follow-up to Wynam and answer. “Sloan?”
“Yeah.” Her voice sounds shaky. She swallows.
As I let myself out the door, I’m aware of Evan’s gaze following me. Nia looks on with concern, too. I can’t meet their stares now. I’ll deal with them—and the guilt killing me—but that’s a problem for later.
“Talk to me.”
“Am I interrupting you?”
Yes, but I don’t care. “It’s fine. What’s going on?”
“A lot. It’s gotten ugly fast. I-I tried doing what you suggested and blackmailing Smith. I just don’t…” She lowers her voice. “I don’t dare say any more here. There are ears everywhere.”
She sounds scared. I need to do something—fast. “How can I help?”
“I’m afraid.”
The uncharacteristic trembling of her voice worries me. “For your job?”
“Yes. But that’s not all. I’m actually afraid for my safety.”
“Someone threatened you?”
“Shane. Not in so many words. It was veiled, but it was there. I hate to ask this of you, and if you can’t, I understand but… I really want you here.”
Oh, fuck. I can’t go there without her knowing I’m not Jeremy McBride.
Or can I?
She doesn’t actually know Jeremy. They’ve never met. Hell, she’s never heard his voice. Even if she’s seen a picture, well…Jeremy and I are the same age. He’s got darker hair and he’s a little heavier, but maybe I suddenly decided to drop a few and visit a salon. I can make anything work. That BS isn’t nearly as important as saving her.
“I can be there tomorrow.” I don’t know what I’m going to say to Evan; I’ll think of something.
She sounds both relieved and on the verge of tears. “Thank you.”