Velvet Surrender

SLOANE

AS I STEPPED from the car, my nerves got the better of me. Rocco had asked that I come to the club. He’d sounded so strained on the phone, struggling with something I had no idea about.

“Would you like me to walk you in, Sloane?” Mick asked through the rearview mirror.

“Thank you, but no.” I put my hand on the door handle, hesitating. “I never got to say thank you,

Mick.”

His brows shot up.