An image of Evelyn’s house stood out in her mind like a lighthouse in a stormy sea. The epitome of safety. Someone who could help. Did Sloan still live in town? She didn’t know how she would handle it if he did, but her discomfiture over seeing her old boyfriend was truly trivial right now.
April and Lucas appeared in the door. “Get your things,” said Jo, her voice a choked rasp. “Pack a bag. Underwear. Socks. Shirts. Pants.” No one moved. Fiona kept crying, and Jo picked her up, despite how heavy the girl had gotten.
“Where are we going?” asked Lucas.
It was the only possible place, just that single destination, no matter how long it had been since she’d been there or all the reasons she left. “My hometown.”
“You have a hometown?”
“He’ll follow us,” said April.
Lucas looked from one to the other, clearly not following but not asking, either.
“Not if they don’t know we’ve left.” Joanne’s plan clicked firmly into place. “We’ll take the Porsche. We’ll drive out by the stables and avoid the main road.”
Fiona jerked her head back to look at her mother. “Daddy wouldn’t like that.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Jo wiped a tear from Fiona’s cheek. David moved out a year ago, but his apartment didn’t have a garage in which to store his most prized possession.
Lucas rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, he would!”
She took a trembling breath in, terrified of what lay ahead. “We’ll go as soon as it’s dark.” She put Fiona down and kissed her head. “Come on. We all need to pack our things. It’s a long drive from Chicago to New York.”
3
Sloan Dvorak had two pair, aces over fives. From the grumpy-ass look on Mac’s lined brown face, Sloan would bet his boss had a whole lot of nothing. Picking up the largest Funyun from the bowl, Sloan put it in his mouth and crushed it loudly with his teeth.
“Close your damn mouth,” barked Mac, clucking his tongue. “Got no fucking manners at all, like you were raised by goddamn wolves.”
Actually, he’d been raised right in this very house, though his father had long since passed away and his mother was retired and off seeing the world. That made the old family home more or less Sloan’s, and poker games with the guys were one of his favorite ways to fill it.
Sloan smiled through a mouthful of Funyuns. Mac definitely didn’t have anything. “I love your soft, sensitive side. You in?”
“I’ll raise you ten.”
Sloan turned to Moto, HERO Force’s resident computer genius. “What about you? You want to give me more of your money, or are you saving up for more hair gel?” Moto’s sleek black hair streaked backward from a widow’s peak, an endless source of entertainment for the team.
“You wish you had hair like this.” Moto laid down his cards. “But I fold.”
Sloan picked up another Funyun and gestured to his own head. “The women dig the sloppy curly look. They think it’s sexy.”
Mac grunted. “You look like a cocker spaniel.”
Sloan nodded. “But a very sexy cocker spaniel who can cook.” He tossed a Funyun to his old dog, Gus. As if to prove his last point, he stood and went to the oven, pulling out a tray of filet mignon and Brie hors d’oeuvres that smelled like heaven, dusting them with finishing salt.
“I wouldn’t date either one of you motherfuckers.” Trace Langston’s voice was deep and raspy, his heavy drawl testament to his southern roots. “Grab me a beer while you’re up.”
Sloan grabbed a bottle and the snacks, setting both on the barnwood table. “You in?”
Trace threw a handful of poker chips into the pot and reached for the beer. “I hate this game. Where are Gavin and Asher tonight? At least I can take their money.”
“Honduras,” said Mac. “Give me three.” He discarded and Sloan dealt him more cards. “They ran into some trouble with the government. Lying low for a couple days until the embassy can get them out.”
Sloan looked to Trace with raised eyebrows.
“None for me,” said Trace.
“None? Shit. Dealer takes one.” Sloan put down the six of hearts and picked up another ace. “What about Champion?”
