Turn On A Dime - Blane's Turn (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 10

  Kathleen was breathing faster, he noticed, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. It took a moment before she responded. “Fine, it was fine,” she said.

  “Sounds thrilling,” Blane replied, immediately dismissing James as a rival. Her hair was slowly unbraiding under his hand. The light from the street lamp made the long tresses shine as they slid like silk between Blane’s fingers. He imagined how that hair would look spread upon a pillow with him above her. . .

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered.

  “Touching you,” he said, pitching his voice even lower. If she only knew the thoughts going through his mind right now on exactly where he’d like to touch her, she would blush an even deeper rose.

  “Stop,” Kathleen said, but the tone of her voice said something else entirely.

  “Do you want me to stop?” Blane asked. His fingers combed up from her neck to the base of her scalp before sliding again through her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch, as though his petting would make her purr. Blane’s hand moved to her hip, its curve fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand.

  The electricity between them had Blane’s every sense on high alert. He could smell the scent of her perfume, the fragrance of her hair as he combed through it. He heard the small sounds of her breath, quick little pants that went straight to his cock.

  Her eyes opened and focused on his. “Did you find out anything with those numbers on Sheila’s phone?”

  Blane froze.

  “I know you’re the one who took it,” she continued. “Which was really low of you, you know?”

  Fuck. Well, it looked like he’d been right about her tenacity, damn it. “How do you now I took it?”

  “I don’t. I mean, you could’ve . . . but maybe not,” she stammered. “I guess anyone could’ve broken in and taken it. Hey, what do I know?” Kathleen seemed to realize she was just babbling now so she stopped, her lips pressing tightly closed.

  Blane thought fast. Should he tell her? He couldn’t tell her all of it, that would only put her in danger. But she was clever, she’d figured out he took the phone. Usually, he’d just lie, but for some reason he was reluctant to do that to her.

  “You’re right,” he admitted. “I did take the phone.”

  Blane assumed she’d be relieved to know a stranger hadn’t been in her apartment, but his words seemed to have the opposite effect. She swallowed hard, her eyes glancing nervously past him to the empty street. When his fingers unconsciously combed through her hair again, she jerked back, a tremor running through her small form. Blane abruptly realized she was afraid.

  Of him.

  His hand cupped the base of her skull, forcing her to look at him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I took that phone because I’m trying to protect you.” She still looked skeptical. “The people who killed your neighbor, they wouldn’t think twice about doing the same thing to you.” But first, they’d have to get through him.

  “You know who killed Sheila?” she asked.

  Of course she’d leap on the one thing he didn’t want her to focus on.

  “Stay out of it, Kathleen,” Blane said firmly. “Or you’ll end up the same way.”

  “Is that a threat?” she retorted, fire in her eyes.

  Blane closed his hand, pulling her hair and forcing her head back. She made a little gasp that sent Blane’s pulse into overdrive. Snagging her around the waist, he gave in to temptation and pulled her fully against him, lifting her feet off the ground. She dropped the bag she’d been carrying, her hands coming up to try and push him away, but it was a futile effort.

  “You’re like a cornered kitten, Kathleen,” Blane said, his eyes intent on hers. “Still hissing and pretending you can fight your way out. I’m trying to protect you. Let me.”

  She stopped fighting, her brow knitting in confusion as she stared at him. The blue of her eyes was as deep as a midnight sky.

  “But . . . why?”

  Why indeed, Blane thought. How to explain that he couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop fantasizing about her?

  Her body felt right against his, the curve of her hips, dip of her waist, swell of her breasts, all of her so very feminine and fragile. Blane touched his lips to her jaw, gratified at the choked breath she took. He tugged her hair again, forcing her head further back so he could trail his mouth down her throat, the scent of her more potent at her neck. Blane breathed it in like the aphrodisiac it was.

  “I don’t know,” he murmured against her skin. She shivered in his arms and this time it wasn’t from fear. “I can’t seem to stay away.”

  The taste of her was like a fine wine, her skin satin against his tongue. Blane buried his head against her neck, licking and kissing the tender skin. She was making those panting noises again, causing his dick to go hard as a rock. Her body melted against his, her little arms sliding around his neck. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, a gentle pain that caused Blane to briefly wonder who was seducing whom. He fastened his mouth to her neck and sucked.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  The voice made Blane react on pure instinct, releasing Kathleen and pulling her behind him, putting himself between her and the unknown threat behind them.

  But it was just a cop.

  “Ma’am, do you need some help?” he asked again, giving Blane a jaundiced glare.

  Kathleen stepped out from behind Blane. “I’m fine,” she said to the officer. “Just heading home for the night.”

  She glanced at Blane, who was too busy trying to reign in the desire to tell the cop to fuck off so he could toss Kathleen in his car, drive her home and talk his way into her bed. From her responses to him so far, he didn’t think it would take much talking.

  “I’ll see you later, Blane,” she said before heading to her car. She gave him one last glance before driving away.

  “Better luck next time, buddy,” the cop chortled before turning away and ambling down the street.

  Asshole.

  Blane shoved a hand through his hair again, heaving a heavy sigh. He glanced down and something caught his eye.

  The bag Kathleen had dropped. She’d forgotten it.

  Frowning, Blane picked it up and peered inside. His lips twitched in amusement, his bad mood forgotten as he pulled out the costume pieces.

  This should come in handy.

  Seventeen Years Ago

  It was four days later that Blane woke up to find Kade’s bedroom empty. It wouldn’t have been that big of a deal if he hadn’t also noticed his backpack gone. Kade never went anywhere without it.

  Blane stood in the front entryway, keys in hand, as he tried not to panic. If he panicked, he couldn’t think. Where would Kade have gone?

  He should have listened to Mona. She’d told him last night that Kade was sneaking food again. Blane didn’t think much about it, but it seemed Kade had been preparing. The question was, why? Why would he leave?

  Blane ran to his car, wondering how long Kade had been gone. Had he left last night? Or early this morning? Blane had told him good night, seen him to go bed. Why would he leave? What had Blane done?

  Acid churned in his stomach as he drove, slowly making his way to the heart of the city. That’s where he’d go, right? Blane was guessing. He had no idea. He just knew he had to find him. Allowing Kade to live on the streets wasn’t an option. And whatever it was Blane had done that had set him off, he’d apologize, swear to never do it again, anything so long as Kade agreed to stay.

  Blane drove to the police station, telling the guy at the front desk what had happened, asking what he should do. Though the cop looked sympathetic, he also wasn’t real positive about Blane’s chances of finding Kade.

  “You can try down off New York Street,” he said. “Sometimes the runaways gather there, banding together for protection, work, that sort of thing.”

  Grateful for a lead, any lead, Blane took off. He found a spot on the street and parked, opting to hoof it as a better means
of looking for Kade. God, what was going to happen to him? He was just a kid. Worry ate at Blane, anxiety making his palms sweat as he searched alleys and walked the streets.

  It wasn’t until dark that he finally came across a group of kids. Teenage boys, they were huddled near the mouth of an alley smoking. Blane approached them. They eyed him warily, their gazes raking him from head to foot.

  “I’m looking for a boy,” Blane said. “About ten years old, dark hair.”

  The one who seemed to be the leader spoke up. “We got Johnny over there, he’s the youngest, but he’s blond. It’s fifty bucks up front.” He dipped his chin toward a smaller child huddled in the shadows.

  Blane felt the blood drain from his face as he realized they’d misunderstood why he was there. Bile rose in his throat and he choked it back down, dragging his gaze away from Johnny’s haunted eyes.

  “No, I’m not here for . . . that,” he rasped. “I’m missing someone. My brother. I was hoping maybe you’d seen him. Dark hair. Blue eyes. His name is Kade.”

  “Sorry, man, can’t help you,” the boy said, turning away.

  Blane didn’t know if he should be relieved these boy prostitutes hadn’t seen Kade, or disappointed that he still didn’t have a lead on him.

  He kept going, ducking in and out of homeless shelters, laundromats, anything that was open all night. Finally, he sank onto a dilapidated bench, the despair he’d been fighting all day overwhelming him. He rested his head in his hands, swallowing the lump in his throat that felt as though it might choke him.

  “Blane?”

  Blane’s head jerked up, hope flaring in his heart. Kade stood on the sidewalk, staring at him in utter astonishment.

  “Kade,” he choked out, relief making his eyes water. “Thank God.” He jumped up and had nearly grabbed Kade for a hug when he remembered how much he hated to be touched and stopped himself at the last second.

  “What are you doing here?” Kade asked.

  The utter relief at finding Kade unharmed faded to anger, the emotions of the day taking their toll on Blane. “What do you mean ‘what am I doing here?’” Blane bit out. “Why the hell do you think I’m here? I’ve been looking for you all goddamned day!”

  Kade’s expression shuttered. “Well, you found me, so now you can go home.” He turned to go.

  Blane grabbed his arm and Kade spun around, jerking it from his grasp. “I told you not to touch me,” he snarled.

  “You’re coming home with me,” Blane said. “And I don’t care if I have to drag your ass there by your neck.”

  “Man, I’m doing you a favor,” Kade sneered. “You did your good deed, brought the orphan home for a while. Now you go your way and I’ll go mine.”

  The anger abruptly drained from Blane. He was going to lose Kade. He could feel it.

  “Please, Kade, come home with me. Whatever I did to make you want to go, just tell me. We can make it work.”

  Kade studied Blane. He couldn’t believe he’d come looking for him. Kade had left in the middle of the night, hitched a ride downtown, and been going back to his old haunts all day, lining up a place to crash. The last person he’d expected to see sitting on the street was Blane.

  “Why are you here?” Kade asked. He honestly didn’t know why the guy had spent what looked like the whole day looking for him. He hadn’t shaved, his hair was in disarray, probably from his habit of shoving his fingers through it. It was hot, the end of July, and his normally immaculate clothes were stained with sweat and dirt.

  Blane’s throat moved as he swallowed. “You’re my brother. I want to take you home, to our home. We can talk about it, change whatever set you off—”

  “Nothing set me off,” Kade interrupted. Frustration at the guy’s inability or unwillingness to just let it go edged his voice. “I just left, okay?”

  “But . . . why?”

  “God, do I have to spell it out for you?” Kade burst out. “You think I want to wait until you throw me out? Fuck that shit. You can go to hell for all I care.”

  Blane felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Of course. Kade didn’t trust that Blane wouldn’t want to get rid of him at some point. After all, hadn’t that been his experience for the past four years?

  “I’m not going to throw you out,” Blane said. “I swear it. I’m not lying to you.”

  He could tell by the suspicion on Kade’s face that he didn’t believe him.

  “If you stay out here,” Blane said, “then so do I.”

  Kade’s lips twisted. “What?”

  “I mean it. If you live on the streets, then that’s where I’ll be, too. I’m not leaving without you. I refuse to be at home, in my house, knowing you’re out here. You’re my brother. We stick together. No matter what.”

  Kade glanced away, his shoes scuffing the dry pavement as he considered. Should he take a chance? Staying longer with the guy wouldn’t hurt, he guessed. There was no way he’d last long on the streets, that was for sure, not even with Kade to protect him.

  “All right,” Kade finally said. “I’ll come.”

  “And you’ll stay?” Blane persisted. “No more running away?”

  “Man, what the fuck do you care?” Kade asked in exasperation.

  “You’re my brother,” Blane said evenly, despite Kade’s outburst. “And you may not like it or believe it, but I love you.”

  Kade struggled not to let his astonishment show. The guy looked completely serious, his eyes unblinking as they looked at one another. It had been years since Kade had heard those words, and he reeled from hearing them now. Instinctively he knew that if he did believe them, the guy so determined to keep Kade with him, would have the power to hurt him more than baseball bats or bottles ever had.

  Kade approached Blane until he stood right in front of him. “So you say.”

  Blane looked down at Kade, stark anguish in his eyes. “So I swear.”

  To Blane’s relief, Kade followed him as they walked back to the car and got in. They didn’t speak on the way home or as they headed inside.

  Mona and Gerard were waiting, Mona nearly bursting into tears when she saw Kade. He allowed her to give him a hug, then hurried into the kitchen, dabbing at her eyes.

  Blane felt ready to drop, the emotional toll and physical exertion of the day exhausting him. Even so, it was a long time before he fell asleep, his senses constantly alert for any sound of a footstep in the hallway or the creak of a door.

  He knew in his bones that Kade would try again, and he just prayed he’d be able to find him when he did.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Blane had court the next morning, leaving him no time to check in on Kathleen. By the time he finally got to the office, he had a stack of messages of calls to return. One on top caught his eye.

  “What’s this?” he asked Clarice, who’d followed him into his office with several folders in her hands. He held up the message. “The IMPD called?”

  “I guess you gave the police your name the other night at Kathleen’s?” Clarice asked. When Blane nodded, she continued, “Well, they called to speak to you. Said they wanted her to come downtown.”

  “Did they say why?”

  “No, sorry.”

  Blane sighed. It seemed everything he was trying to do to separate Kathleen from the murder of her friend was in vain. The universe was aligned against him.

  “Do you want me to tell Kathleen?” Clarice asked. “She could probably go by herself.”

  “No, I’ll take her,” he said. “Clear my schedule this afternoon.”

  “Got it.” Clarice left, closing the door behind her.

  Blane’s pleasure at being given the opportunity to again see Kathleen warred with his reluctance to put her in harm’s way. If the police were still interested in what she knew, or what they thought she knew, then she wouldn’t escape the notice of the dangerous people who would want to hurt her.

  Leaving his briefcase in his office, Blane grabbed his keys and headed downstairs. It took him only
a few minutes to find her again.

  Kathleen glanced up in surprise as he stepped inside her cubicle. Her cheeks flushed pink, making Blane wonder what she was thinking about, and if it was the same thing running through his mind, namely their encounter last night. Blane dragged his thoughts back to business.

  “We need to go downtown,” he said.

  “Why do we need to go downtown?” she asked after a moment. Her eyes did a quick path down and up his body and her blush deepened. Blane really wished he could read her mind.

  “The police want to meet with you,” he said.

  “What for?”

  “They wouldn’t say.” Blane turned away. He didn’t want to discuss anything further here where they could be overheard. He held the door for her as they left the firm, letting her precede him before walking her to his car. A few moments later, they were heading downtown in his Jag.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Kathleen said. “I could have gone by myself.”

  As if Blane would have let that happen. “I’m your lawyer. It’s my job to go with you.”

  “Then I need to pay you,” she replied.

  Her stubbornness made Blane’s lips twitch. He billed his time out at nearly a thousand dollars an hour. She probably didn’t know that information if she was offering to pay. A wicked image inside his head made him say, “You can pay me by wearing what’s in the backseat.” It would be well worth the money.

  Kathleen turned to see what he was talking about and when her eyes lit on the bag she dropped last night, she groaned, causing Blane to laugh softly.

  “I’d hoped I’d lost it,” she said, her voice forlorn.

  “Dare I hope it’s an example of your usual taste in non-working-hours apparel?” Blane teased. The image of Kathleen dressed as a naughty Catholic school girl made his mouth water.

  “No,” she retorted, “it’s not. The staff at the bar are all dressing as pop divas Friday night.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m supposed to be Britney.”