Page 10 of Hero's Heart

It wasn’t that she wanted him—she just wantedthat.

Passion. Desire. The urge to press herself against someone else and see how far it could go. To have someone crave her in the same way.

But she didn’t want it with a guy like Pierre, who was obviously just looking for a step up with someone like Marissa.

Sloane dreamed of being needed so much that her partner would hate every moment he was separated from her. Someone who would do anything to make her happy, who would never look at another woman again like he looked at her.

If Marissa wanted Pierre, she could have him. He definitely wasn’t for Sloane.

She let the music steal her thoughts over the next couple hours as she waited for Marissa and her friends to wear themselves out. She had no clue how long had passed since Pierre had traded her for Marissa, but when she ran to the bathroom for a break, Marissa followed right behind.

Sloane managed to be civil. “Having a good night?”

Even sweaty and high as a kite, Marissa was still gorgeous.“Incredible. Pierre’s stunning, isn’t he?”

Sloane didn’t respond, and Marissa’s smile grew. Her sister took her time readjusting her boobs, making sure they sat perfectly before fluffing her hair. “Pierre just invited me out back for a…smoke. Be back soon.”

Sloane knew what that meant. Marissa would find an alley or a closet or a car to play in. She and Pierre would hook up, and she’d come back smelling like sex. If it went well, she and Sloane would go home. If it didn’t, Marissa would search for someone else to sate herself with.

“Be safe.”

The bathroom door swinging shut was her only answer.

After checking her own appearance—jet lag chic, as expected—Sloane headed back to the VIP area. She sat, only to find Marissa’s clutch under her legs.

That was weird. It was not like Marissa to forget it.

The small purse didn’t have any valuables but contained things like condoms, personal wipes for cleanup, and Marissa’sfavorite pills. The things Marissa never went into a hookup without.

Sloane grabbed the clutch, gnawing on her teeth as she debated her options. She wasn’t interested in watching whatever debauchery Marissa was getting into, but knew she couldn’t do nothing. If Marissa ended up pregnant or with some STI, undoubtedly, it would be blamed on Sloane.

She weaved through the throng of people, spotting Danielle and Courtney on the dance floor with their own hookups, but couldn’t see Marissa anywhere. She picked up her pace and pushed open the club’s heavy door, stepping into the cool Parisian night.

The street was quieter than the chaos inside, but her pulse pounded in her ears. She scanned the sidewalk, her gaze darting between parked cars and dimly lit alleyways. When she didn’t see anything, she walked a little farther, turning into a dark backstreet around the corner, trying to figure out what she was going to say to Marissa when she interrupted them. Marissa would be livid, regardless if Sloane was only trying to save her from herself.

When Sloane saw them, she froze. This was not at all the situation she’d been expecting.

Half a block away, Pierre and another man were struggling to shove a wobbling figure into the back of a black van. Marissa’s sequined dress caught the light, her arms flailing as she screamed against a hand over her mouth.

“Marissa!” Sloane shouted, her voice piercing the quiet.

The men’s heads snapped toward her. Without thinking, Sloane sprinted toward them. Pierre cursed in French and barked an order to his accomplice. The other man moved toward Sloane, his broad frame blocking her path.

“Let her go!” Sloane yelled, adrenaline making her brave. She swung Marissa’s purse at the man, the heavy metal clasp strikinghis arm. He grunted in pain but grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she cried out.

Pierre joined him, yanking Sloane by the shoulders. His earlier charm had evaporated, replaced by cold efficiency.

“Thanks for saving us the trouble of having to come back and get you.”

What?

Marissa, still struggling, managed to kick one of the men in the knee. The accomplice stumbled, and Sloane took that chance to elbow the man holding her in the gut. He doubled over, but Pierre regained control of the situation quickly. He backhanded Sloane across the face, sending her reeling. Pain exploded behind her eyes as the world tilted sideways.

“Put them both in the van,” Pierre growled. “We’re already behind schedule, and the Kozak brothers will be mad.”

Sloane felt strong hands lift her as darkness threatened to close in. She thrashed weakly, her vision swimming. She could hear Marissa’s muffled sobs and the van’s engine roaring to life.

“Help!” Sloane screamed, but her voice was weak, drowned out by the revving motor.

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