Colton Under Fire

“She’s a baby. She’s very sick.”

“Tough shit.”

“Ivan. She’s your flesh and blood. Show a little compassion—”

Ivan cut her off with another blistering round of swearing that made a muscle tick in Liam’s jaw.

Then Durant snarled, “I’ll drag you back into court so fast it’ll make your head spin. And I’ll get that eff-ing custody order amended. I’m going to end up with Chloe if it’s the last thing I do—”

Sloane cut him off, her voice hard enough to cut through glass. “I’ve got a police officer listening to this phone call, Ivan, so before you devolve into more threats against me, consider yourself notified that you are being monitored.”

“That’s a load of crap. You had no idea I was going to call you. No way did you have time to arrange for a cop to listen in. You can take your high-and-mighty attitude and choke on it, wifey dearest.” His tone turned even more menacing “You’re going to regret ever dragging our personal life into court. I’ll make you beg for mercy before I’m done with you. You’ll never see your daughter again. I ruin your life. I’ll ruin you—”

Sloane had gone pale, and the hand holding her cell phone was trembling violently.

Liam lifted the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call. He was sorely tempted to give Ivan Durant a piece of his mind, but pulling a stunt like that would force him off the investigation of what was going on with Sloane’s house.

Besides, she was shaken enough without him heaping any more drama on top of what Ivan had just piled onto her.

The phone rang again. Liam glanced at the caller ID and blocked the number.

“You can’t block him!” Sloane exclaimed. “What if there’s an emergency and—”

Liam cut her off with quietly intensity. “And what? You can always unblock him and call him, But are you really going to turn to that jerk for help with anything in your life? He didn’t show even a hint of concern when you told him his own child was in the hospital. Do you really want a man like that anywhere near your daughter?”

“No. Of course not. But what if he actually does need to talk to me about something?”

“You have a lawyer. He can call him or her.”

Sloane looked up at him, lost. She appeared so young and vulnerable and scared out of her mind in that moment. Liam swore silently at himself. As attracted as he was to this woman, he had no business even considering a romantic entanglement with her. She was off balance, frightened and still trying to get on her feet after what had obviously been a hideous divorce. She was in no condition to get into a relationship with any man.

God knew he didn’t want to be the rebound guy. It would only end up hurting them both in the end.

“You should seriously consider installing an app on your phone that will record phone calls. If he threatens you again, it would help us to have a recording of it for evidence purposes.”

“Good idea,” Sloane replied woodenly.

He pressed her phone back into her hand. “You have tons of family. Friends all around you. Turn to us. You don’t need Ivan Durant for anything. We’ve all got your back.”

Sloane drew one wobbly breath. Let it out slowly. Then her spine stiffened, her chin came up and she dashed at the tears glistening on her cheeks.

Admiration unfurled in Liam’s gut. What kind of strength did it take for Sloane to gather her tattered courage around herself like that, to set aside the attack Ivan had just hurled at her, and to march back to her daughter’s sickbed with a brave smile on her lips? She was a hell of a woman. A warrior mom.

And the last thing she needed in her life right now was a man like him to complicate matters.

Chapter 4 (#u594723fe-b6f5-5ca4-b88e-ceeb87581e5a)

Liam got rid of her family in the nick of time because over the next hour, Chloe went from bad to worse. Coughs wracked her tiny body, and each wheezing breath the little girl drew terrified Sloane a little bit more.

A new doctor came in at lunchtime and introduced herself as a pulmonologist, a lung and breathing specialist. The woman commenced listening to Chloe’s chest through a stethoscope. The doctor frowned and jerked her head toward the hallway door.

Sloane’s brain froze. It was bad news. A little voice somewhere in the back of her skull screamed, nononono.

“Ms. Colton, you daughter is very sick. We’re going to do everything we can for her. We’ll x-ray her chest periodically to check for fluid in her lungs, and I’m going to start support for her breathing. She’ll still be breathing on her own. I just want to get a little more oxygen into her.”

Sloane managed to pull her wits together enough to ask, “How long will this phase of the virus last?”

“The next twenty-four hours should tell the tale. If we can dodge pneumonia, we should be home free after that.”

“What can I do for her?”

“Keep her calm. Keep the oxygen tube under her nose. If she won’t tolerate it on her face, we’ll have to sedate her. In fact, I may do that anyway—”

“Please hold off. I’d rather avoid sedation if we can. I’ll keep her breathing the oxygen. I won’t take my eyes off of her.”

The doctor nodded and moved over to the nurses’ station to write up the order for oxygen supplementation. Then she looked up at Sloane. “I’ll check on Chloe again in a few hours. The nurses will call me if there are any significant changes between now and then.”

Sloane nodded. But then she caught the grim looks that passed between the doctor and the head nurse. Crap, crap, crap.

If there was one feeling in the world she couldn’t stand above all others, it was feeling helpless. And right now, there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do to help her baby. This was entirely out of her hands. Which completely panicked her.

* * *

Liam had agreed to meet the FBI’s tech guy at the police department and was glad he did. He would have arrested Rahm Zogby on sight if he’d seen the guy lurking around Sloane’s place. The FBI technician had a chest-length beard and a ragged bandana tied around his forehead, holding back long, lanky hair. If the man bathed, it wasn’t evident, and the van, marked “Manny’s HVAC Service,” looked nearly as disreputable as its driver.

“Liam Kastor?” Rahm asked as Liam climbed out of his truck.

“That’s me. Agent Zogby?”

“Just Zog. Or Rahm. I’m not a badge flasher.”

Liam wasn’t sure if that meant the guy had an FBI badge and chose not to show it, or that the guy was a civilian. Zog drove the van while Liam rode in the torn vinyl passenger seat. Liam directed him across town to Sloane’s house, and the FBI man parked out front.

“What’s the plan...Zog?”

“You’ve got the keys and permission to go in, right? That’s what Stefan Roberts told me.”

“Correct.”

“I’m gonna go in and pretend to fix the air conditioner and heater while you put on this monkey suit and help me.” The guy held out a cheap brown jumpsuit that would fit over his street clothes. “Ideally, you’d have some work boots to wear, but we’ll chance it. Just pull the jumpsuit down so it covers up your shoes as much as possible.”

“Got it.” Liam crawled in the back of the van, sat on the hard ribbed floor, and wrestled on the uniform.

Zog eyed him critically. “Pull the baseball cap down lower. Good. Keep your face turned away from the cameras as much as you can without being obvious about it. And watch what you say. The cameras may have an audio pickup.”

Liam nodded his understanding and yanked the cap down practically to the bridge of his nose.

“Here. Carry this.” Zog thrust a grimy bucket full of tools at him. They climbed out and headed for the kitchen door at the back of the house.