Page 42 of Steel Vengeance
“As soon as he can.”
Sloane ran a hand through her damp hair and stared down at her gown in dismay. It clung to her curves, the sheer fabric sticking to her damp skin. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now,” she admitted, throwing her hands in the air. “Should I confront Jeremy? Tell him I know he’s meeting with Omari?”
“No.” The word shot out like a bullet. “Do not say anything to anyone about the meetings. Not yet.”
What about Matthew? He’d said not to call, but neither of them had expected something like this. Maybe she ought to tell him? He’d know what to do.
Unless…
“What if Jeremy’s in on it?” She bit her lip. “Omari might be paying him off.”
“It’s possible,” Stitch agreed. “But I heard Jeremy say the money would be in Omari’s account by tonight, so it’s more likely Jeremy’s paying him for intel, not the other way around.”
Okay, that made sense.
“Did you find out when the shipment’s coming?” Sloane asked. “Did Omari say anything about that?”
“No, nothing.” He refilled his glass. “We may still have to visit the docks and grease some palms.”
Damn. “I guess that would’ve been too easy.”
“Yep, guess so.” There was an awkward pause, where his gaze lingered on her, curiosity mixed with something primitive, something that made her insides twist. She blew a strand of hair off her cheek. Phew, it wasn’t just the temperature that was scorching.
“How about we sit on the balcony?” he suggested. “It’s probably cooler out there.”
She must really look bad for him to suggest that.
“It looks a little rickety,” she said, doubtfully.
“It’s sturdier than it looks. I’ve climbed up it, remember?”
She relented. If she carried on like this she was going to end up in a puddle on the floor. “Okay.”
He carried two chairs outside, while she brought their glasses and the jug of lemonade. He was right—it was a lot cooler out here. The red neon sign across the street cast a surreal glow on the road below. The day’s traffic had thinned out, with only a few scooters, and a couple of cars passing by. Most of the shops and workshops were shut. A few people hurried home, their heads down, bags slung over their shoulders, but no one was hanging around.
“Tell me about Matthew,” Stitch said, once they’d sat down.
She arched her eyebrows, surprised. “Why do you want to know about him?”
“Call it a professional curiosity.”
Sloane hesitated. Ever since he’d saved Fatima’s life, she felt connected to him, like they shared some kind of bond. In a way, she’d saved his life too, preventing him from shooting Omari, after which he’d almost certainly have been killed. In a weird way, she felt like she could trust him.
Was that nuts? Trusting a guy with a vendetta?
Probably.
But right now, he was all she had.
“I fell hard for Matthew.” She gulped, then fixed her gaze on the building across the street. “He was so suave, so confident and he moved in powerful circles. I’d never met anyone like him before.”
Stitch gave a brief nod, but didn’t interrupt.
“We had coffee a few times, then he invited me over for dinner. He cooked.” She gave a half-smile. “He’s not bad, actually. Anyway, one thing led to another and… Well, you know.” She stared at her hands.
“He seduced you?” Stitch asked, his voice edged.
“It was mutual,” she said quickly, looking up. “Michael’s divorced, lives alone. I think he sees his son every other weekend. I was single.” She shrugged. “Why shouldn’t we get together?”