From her confident tone, Chase saw the woman behind the senator for the first time. He understood now she was a crucial partner in the man’s climb to power. Yet, like his brother, he both liked and respected her. She obviously loved her children and would do anything for them—something Chase could relate to.
Family loyalty ran strong in the Chandler clan. Relating to her made it harder for Chase to say no.
Besides, the exclusive interview beckoned. “When her time in Yorkshire Falls is over, you’ll talk to me?”
Madeline nodded. “And if anything happens in the meantime … If any information needs to come from my husband’s camp, you’ll be given it first.” She held out her hand to seal the bargain.
Chase had hoped to talk with Madeline this week, but obviously that wasn’t her plan. He’d also hoped that by coming to D.C., he’d dig up something more on Senator Carlisle. If Sloane’s disappearance was any indication, Chase was close to something huge. Something that he might just find at home, in Yorkshire Falls, with the senator’s oldest daughter.
“Do we have a deal?” Madeline asked.
Chase placed his hand in hers, certain he could use this situation to his advantage somehow. “We have a deal.”
She exhaled in pure unadulterated relief. “In case you haven’t seen a close-up picture”—Madeline opened the photo app, scrolled and held out the photo she’d been zealously guarding—“this is Sloane.”
Shock and disbelief rocked through his system as he glanced at the picture, and into the eyes of the woman he’d taken to bed the night before.
Chapter Four
Yorkshire Falls was the opposite of the nation’s capital. Small-town USA was an apt description, Sloane thought. Her own hometown was a wealthy community with stately mansions and equally formidable trees. But as she walked down First Street, she took in the small shops and the people who’d congregated to talk, and she liked the homey, close-knit feel. And with each older man she passed, she wondered if she’d just seen Samson. Her father.
She’d left D.C. twenty-four hours ago, but it felt like a lifetime, thanks to the drastic change in scenery. With butterflies in her stomach, she entered a coffee shop named Norman’s, located next to Charlotte’s Attic, a store owned by the same woman her stepmother had befriended and wanted to introduce her to. A woman who crocheted handmade sexy bra-and-panty sets. If Sloane weren’t in such a rush, she’d check the store out here. But she’d come on a mission to warn Samson he was in danger and she intended to accomplish her goal.
Inside Norman’s, she was surrounded by a bird motif. Bird-houses, photos and paintings of bird species, all with a light, airy feel.
A large gray-haired woman walked up to her, menu in hand. “Can I get you a table?”
“Actually, I’m looking for someone.” Sloane smiled. “This seemed like a logical place to start.”
“Honey, everyone who’s anyone in this town comes into Norman’s sooner or later. Who are you looking for?”
“A gentleman by the name of Samson Humphrey,” Sloane said, the name still sounding foreign on her tongue.
To her surprise, the woman burst out laughing, covering her face with a menu and attempting to feign coughing.
“Is something amusing?” Sloane asked, affronted and uncomfortable.
“Oh no.” The woman placed a hand on her shoulder as if they were old friends. “No, honey. Forgive me, please.” She coughed for real this time, then wiped her eyes. “It’s just that Samson’s been called many things, but no one’s ever referred to him as a gentleman before.”
Unsure what to make of the comment, Sloane felt her insides clench hard. “Can you tell me where to find him?”
“First, come sit and have a soda. Then I’ll fill you in on Samson. No one comes into Norman’s and leaves with an empty stomach,” she explained as she ushered Sloane to the swivel stools by the counter. “Drink’s on me.”
“Who’s me?” Sloane asked.
The woman wiped down the place in front of Sloane. “Oh, forgive my manners. I’m just not used to many strangers coming through. I’m Izzy. My husband, Norman, owns this place. He makes the best burgers. Just ask those Chandler boys. They live on them.”
Sloane laughed at the woman’s rambling. She had a hunch this was just the beginning of the gossip and friendliness she’d find were she to stay in this small town. Recognizing that she might have to cozy up to Izzy before getting information, Sloane decided to accept her offer. “I’ll have a diet Coke. Please.”
Izzy placed her hands on her generous hips and tsked with her tongue. “A little thing like you could use some calories. Hey, Norman,” she yelled to a graying man who stood in the kitchen, visible from a pass-through. “Get this lady a Coke.”
So much for the customer always being right, Sloane thought wryly.
Only after she was seated with a Coke in front of her and Izzy beside her, did the woman get back to the reason for Sloane’s visit. “So what do you want with Samson?”
It didn’t escape Sloane’s notice that she still hadn’t told her where the older man lived. “We have personal business.” She twirled the straw in her soda without meeting Izzy’s gaze directly, glancing out of the corner of her eye.
The other woman propped her chin on her hand. “No one’s ever had personal business with Samson that I can remember. How about you, Norman?”
“I think you should let the girl get to wherever she wants to go.” He strode from the kitchen and came up to the counter. “Too bad you weren’t here earlier. He was here mooching a chicken sandwich.”
So far, Sloane didn’t have a positive impression of Samson and no one had given her an actual description yet. “Does he live close by?”
“Everything’s close by,” Izzy explained. “Samson lives on the edge of town. When you get to the end of First, take Old Route Ten and keep going until you see the run-down place set back from the street.”
“You can’t miss it,” Norman added. “And if you can’t find him there, check out a place called Crazy Eights in Harrington.”
“Crazy Eights?” she asked, making certain she heard correctly.
“It’s a pool hall where Samson hangs out on nights he’s got cash on hand,” Norman said.
Izzy frowned. “Why’d you go and do that?” she chided her husband before turning to Sloane. “Don’t you dare go to that sleazy pool hall alone. It’s no place for a lady.”
Sloane nodded, fear resurfacing at the thought of meeting this man who was related to her in the most fundamental way. For all the thinking she’d done over the last day, she hadn’t dealt with the fact that this man was really her father. She wasn’t ready to do it now.
And she didn’t need any more caffeine hopping through her veins and making her more jittery. She took another sip to satisfy Izzy and reached into her purse, pulling out her wallet.
Izzy smacked her hand. “Didn’t I say this was on me?”
Sloane laughed at her outrageous, frank demeanor. “Thank you.”