Page 73 of Redemption

But we’d made it. And I couldn’t wait to fall into bed with her. A real bed, with a real bathroom—both built for someone my size. Where I wouldn’t have to crouch to wash myself with a wand better sized for a kitchen sink.

I hugged Sloan to my side, full of love and pride for this amazing woman. I kissed the top of her head, unable to resist touching her. Despite what she’d said, one night wasn’t enough. One lifetime wouldn’t be enough. But if that was all we had, then I was going to make the most of it.

She stepped out of my hold as a boat neared. “Hopefully that’s the pilot.” She waved, and he came alongside us.

“And Jackson?” she said before he was in earshot.

“Yeah?”

“You know that when hotel staff is present, we have to maintain a professional distance, right? Until things are settled with Hudson, giving people the wrong impression wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“Of course,” I said, trying not to take it personally.

She was right. I knew she was right. But it stung.

The pilot informed us he’d been delayed because of engine trouble. He instructed us to follow him without deviating.

Sloan steered the Athena with calm precision, focused intensely on the task at hand. He certainly knew the channel better than we did. Even if he was weaving in and out of the channel markers, departing from the designated path.

Sloan and I shared a concerned look, but she pressed on. Committed to getting us safely to our destination. I was in awe of her—the way she handled every situation with confidence and ease. She wasn’t afraid to take charge, even when others might hesitate.

I trusted her to keep us safe. I trusted her with my life, and that wasn’t something I gave freely.

Sure, I’d trusted my fellow SEALs. I’d found that kind of family and trust with some of my coworkers at Hudson. It was part of the reason why I’d be sad to leave the company. But to have found that kind of respect and trust in a partner, in the woman I loved…well, I knew it was even more rare.

I hauled our luggage on deck, where a driver from the Huxley Grand was already waiting. Sloan locked up, and we were soon on our way. I itched to cover Sloan’s hand with mine, but I restrained myself. As far as everyone else was concerned, she was still my principal, and I was supposed to be protecting her. And I would—with my life.

But I needed to sort out the situation with Hudson. I needed to find a way to convince Sloan to give me another chance.

Her gaze was on the scenery as we trundled down the bumpy roads. My hand was on the bench seat between us, reaching out like a vine seeking the sun. I grazed her pinkie, but she soon pulled away, typing something on her phone.

I clenched my teeth and glanced out the window. I hated this already.

Our driver was quiet, speaking only when Sloan asked him questions about the island. About the local cuisine. He grew more and more animated when she asked him about his granddaughter.

As we pulled up to the Huxley Grand, I sensed a shift in her. A straightening of her shoulders as she withdrew even more and became the billionaire SVP she was.

On the Athena, out in the middle of the ocean, it was easy to forget. To me, she’d always been just Sloan. Smart. Beautiful. Kind.

But I had to remember she was even more than that. She held herself personally responsible for the success of her family’s hotel company. For the lives of all her employees. And damn if that didn’t make me admire her even more.

It was how I’d felt when I was a SEAL and now at Hudson. Sure, maybe the stakes weren’t life or death at Huxley, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still important.

The Huxley Grand Turks and Caicos was different from some of the other properties I’d visited. Smaller but just as opulent as you’d expect from the luxury hotel brand. The manager greeted us, and we were whisked away by a golf cart to our private villa. It was getting dark, but what I could see of the view was gorgeous.

We pulled up to our villa, and I went in to inspect it while Sloan spoke with the manager. I slowed when I reached the living room. It was occupied.

“Is that the champagne?” the man asked in a posh English accent, and I frowned.

I recognized Edward from Sloan’s file. What the fuck was he doing here?

“You need to leave.” I crossed my arms over my chest, planting my heels.

He remained seated, a bored expression on his face. “So…not the champagne, then.”

“You are not authorized to be here.” I was furious that security hadn’t thought to inform me of our unexpected—and unwanted—visitor.

He finally stood, smoothing his hands down his expensive designer slacks. “How dare you speak to me with such impertinence. I could have you sacked.”

---