Saint Sloan (Saint Sloan #1)(14)

“Why?”

“Peace offering. Sort of a redo from tonight. I’ll cook. If I remember, I’ve never cooked you spaghetti.”

Sloan grinned. Aaron had told her once that Ray made a mean spaghetti, and she’d yet to taste it. “You are correct.”

“So, come over tomorrow night. Eat. We’ll do homework. Maybe even watch some TV. Forget about all of this mess with the prom and the roses and… whatever. Just have a night to relax. Sound okay?”

“Sounds more than okay. People might talk though. Saint Sloan and Redeemed Ray together without an adult.”

“Aaron.”

“I said an adult,” she kidded.

Ray got very serious. “Would it bother you if people did talk? You know nothing will happen. You know and I know, and most importantly, God knows.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Trust me, Ray. I’ve spent a good part of this year worried about what others thought of me.”

“Darcy.”

“Among others.” Couldn’t really talk bad about the girl now. “But I’ve grown from it. And I know we aren’t doing anything bad. If they want to talk, let them. People do little else.”

Ray grinned. She liked it when he grinned. It made him look carefree. “That they do. Wanna get finished with Biology?”

“Finished? We haven’t even started.”





SLOAN GOT HOME WHEN her mom did. They chatted awhile and she went upstairs to bed. The flowers were still there, still on her nightstand. She knew she hadn’t put them there… right? So how did they get there? Who was sending them to her? And what fall?

It could always be a prank, she told herself. People liked to prank each other during the last few days of school. It was like a tradition. She was ninety percent sure that’s what Detective Morgan would say if she told her.

Then again… she had just been attacked and nearly killed by a psycho who she thought she’d seen standing outside her window earlier…

Sloan took the flowers and dumped them back in the trashcan next to her door, vase and all. They needed to go away, and she needed to sleep.

If she got any more flowers, she’d tell Detective Morgan and her mom. If not, she’d move on with her life. Apparently, moving on meant spaghetti and a movie with the Hunter brothers tomorrow night. Sounded good to her.

Sloan curled under her covers and took a deep, satisfied breath. The pill had definitely kicked in, and she didn’t have a pain or a care in the world. Too bad she’d never take one again.





CHAPTER FOUR


Three Days Before the Fall…



SLOAN HALF EXPECTED THE VASE TO be sitting on her nightstand the next morning.

It wasn’t.

The vase and the roses weren’t in her trashcan either.

It was after six, and her mom had already gone to work. Surely she’d taken the trash out before she left, though it wasn’t really like her. First time for everything, and the only logical explanation.

Sloan got up, made sure the window blinds were down in the bathroom, and got ready. She took extra time today to cover her scar. No need in it blaring two days in a row. Next she went into her room and picked out a pretty, dark purple shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves and black pants. She threw her hair in a low-side ponytail and went downstairs.

It was nice to have some extra time this morning. Much better than yesterday morning. She grabbed a toaster pastry from the kitchen cabinet and read her mom’s note. It said Mom would be home at around eight and she loved me. Both good things to know.

Sloan had the pastry hanging out of her mouth, and she was ready to reach for her keys when the doorbell rang. She looked out the little peephole to make sure it wasn’t a serial killer. One couldn’t be too careful. She was proof of that.

It wasn’t a killer that she could see anyway. It was a man from what she could tell. With a baseball cap that said Rhonda’s Gifts.

Apprehensively, Sloan opened the door. The man smiled broadly. “Sloan Bridges?”

“Yes.” Her eyes darted around to see if she could see anything out of the ordinary.

“I have a delivery for you. Rhonda told me to bring them at this time so I wouldn’t miss you before you left for school. I’m glad I made it.” He moved his right arm from around his back and pulled out a vase with three long-stemmed roses. Like the others, they were wrapped with a long black ribbon and tied with a black bow. Unlike the others, these had a bit of glitter in them. The florist’s touch, she assumed.

“I didn’t order those.” She didn’t want them in her house. Not again.

“Come on, hurry up. I have other deliveries to make.”

With shaking hands, she reluctantly reached out and took them.

“Honey, they aren’t going to bite. They are flowers, not knives.”

He had no idea. They were knives to her. “Who sent them?”

The delivery man pulled his clipboard from under his arm. A small white envelope was attached under the clip. “Oh sorry. This goes with it. The letter, that is.” He handed it to her and doubled-checked the clipboard. He looked at her with a confused look then back down to the clipboard. “You… uh… I mean, you don’t know who ordered the flowers?” He raised a brow with a weird expression on his face.