Turn On A Dime - Blane's Turn (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 14

  “Aren’t you going to wish me a happy Halloween?” she asked, pressing against him. Blane could smell alcohol on her and frowned. Kandi wasn’t nice at the best of times. Drunk, she could turn into a total bitch.

  “What are you doing here?” Blane asked instead. “This isn’t your crowd. Why aren’t you at the party?” His hands settled on her arms, but removing them from around his neck was easier said than done.

  Kandi stood on her toes and Blane obediently leaned down so she could speak into his ear.

  “Don’t make me beg, Blane,” she hissed. “Stop playing hard to get and take me home. You know you want to fuck me.”

  Annoyance flashed through Blane, along with disgust followed by guilt. He’d toyed with Kandi for too long, their relationship on and off again too many times for her to realize that this time he’d really meant it.

  His cell phone buzzed and this time Blane was able to pry Kandi off him enough to reach it. The caller ID said it was Kade.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said to Kandi. “Stay here.” She was drunk and he felt responsible for her safety. He’d take the call, then stick Kandi in a cab home.

  Blane answered while he was still making his way to the door.

  “Where the fuck are you?” Kade asked.

  Blane finally got outside where it was blessedly quiet, the sounds of the bar and bad karaoke muffled now.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “What do you have?”

  “Yeah, so bad news and good news, brother,” Kade replied. “The bad news is, Mark’s house burned to the ground today, courtesy of Jimmy.”

  Blane closed his eyes with a sigh and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “Wish I were, but now for the good news. There’s a good chance whatever he had on TecSol made it out. Some chick has it, but I figure I’ll have it by tonight or tomorrow night at the latest.”

  Blane’s eyes shot open at this. Some “chick” had it? Surely that couldn’t be . . . no. “How are you going to get it?” he asked.

  “I have my ways.”

  “Don’t hurt anybody,” Blane reminded him. “And for God’s sake, don’t kill anyone either.”

  “You take all the fun out of this, you know?”

  Blane rolled his eyes. “Just do it my way, okay?”

  “Fine,” Kade groused. “But no promises when this is over. That Jimmy asshole is really starting to piss me off.”

  Blane couldn’t disagree with him there. He pocketed the phone and returned to the bar, just in time to see the second bartender placing a shot glass full of tequila between Kathleen’s breasts.

  The crowd cheered and Kathleen reached up to the guy’s mirrored shades, taking them off and smiling at him. His arms slid around her waist as he whispered something in her ear. Blane’s hands curled into fists at the sight of his hands on her. He wanted to break each and every one of the bastard’s fingers.

  But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do as the guy licked Kathleen’s neck, sprinkling salt before licking her again. His face was too deep in her cleavage for too long before he tossed back the shot glass. Kathleen seemed to be having a good time, putting the lime in her mouth for the guy to take. Their lips met briefly and a wave of possessive fury like Blane had never known swept over him. Kathleen and the guy hugged and she laughed, but all Blane could see was the hands on her, his mind replaying the other man’s tongue against her skin.

  It was almost as if she could sense Blane, feel the burning heat of his gaze as she suddenly looked up and their eyes met.

  Her face paled and for a moment, everything around them seemed to disappear, leaving just him and Kathleen. Lust, fury, jealousy, desire — they consumed him. Kathleen held his gaze for a long moment, then her chin lifted, as if in challenge, before she broke their staring contest and went to the far end of the bar, away from him.

  Blane would have to be a bumbling idiot not to get that “Fuck off” message.

  Uncomfortably close to losing his cool, Blane found Kandi and hauled her outside and put her into a cab, his ears deaf to her protests. After she’d gone, he headed for his car. Kathleen had to come home sometime, and when she did, he’d be there.

  Mark’s last words, “Think like a smuggler, Kathleen,” echoed in the apartment as Blane hit the button on the television, shutting it off.

  So much for hoping it was just a coincidence, a “chick” having what Mark had been hiding.

  She’d lied to him. Blane had asked Kathleen specifically if she knew of any reason why someone would break into her apartment and she’d denied knowing anything. She wasn’t stupid. She had to have realized that the only thing that had changed was the backpack Mark must have given her. Though the fact that she’d given Kade the slip, twice, was something Blane would have to give Kade shit about later.

  Blane paced while he waited, glancing at his watch too often. The bar should’ve closed nearly an hour ago. Where the hell was she? Maybe he should have waited. Did they know where she worked? Blane didn’t even have a cell number for her. That was going to have to change.

  Just when he’d about worked himself up into a frenzy and was debating going back to the bar to search for her, the door to the apartment opened and Kathleen stepped inside.

  Overwhelming relief was followed quickly by anger and Blane was in front of her in two strides, his hands closing on her upper arms.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Kathleen’s eyes flew open and she jumped. She hadn’t even seen him and now Blane regretted scaring her, but not enough to curb his anger. The sight of her in that bartender’s arms still burned in his mind’s eye and when he spoke, he couldn’t stop jealous accusations from pouring out.

  “You should have been home an hour ago. Where were you? With that pretty-boy bartender who had his hands all over you?”

  “What is it to you?” Kathleen retorted, recovering quickly. “Shouldn’t you be fucking your fairy about now?”

  She’d been watching him, seen him with Kandi. It surprised him, as did the profanity. Hearing it come out of her mouth made it sound even more vulgar. “Don’t talk like that,” he said. “I didn’t know Kandi was going to be there tonight.”

  “That didn’t stop her from telling me exactly what she thought of me,” Kathleen shot back. “As if I haven’t had enough of that today.”

  Yes, Blane could imagine what Kandi had said to her. Obviously, she’d seen Blane staring at Kathleen and had jumped to conclusions. Kandi would have made her contempt clear, adding to the “white trash” Kathleen had already been called today by someone under his employ. Abruptly, his anger drained away.

  “So I heard,” Blane said, loosening what he now realized was a too tight grip on her. “You shouldn’t have lost your job. I’ve taken care of things. You can come back to work on Monday.”

  “Why?”

  Blane stared at her, his hands running a path up and down her arms now.

  “Why?” she repeated, stepping away from him. “Why are you doing this? Why the apartment makeover? The new clothes? New furniture? Why are you even here?”

  Blane stiffened. Her questions were more like accusations, angry and suspicious.

  “Am I some sort of project?” she continued. “A charity case for you? Just tell me, because I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Blane instinctively denied that. She was anything but charity. “I don’t want anything from you. I told you last night that I would take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.” No matter how insane it must seem to her. And surely it must. She’d been on her own for years now and suddenly a man, her boss, had insinuated himself into her life.

  “But why?” Her exasperation was obvious. “It doesn’t make any sense. I’m nothing, no one to you, so why would you care what happens to me?”

  Obviously “Because I want to” wasn’t going to fly. How to put into words the way he felt, was feeling, for her when he couldn’t even pu
t a name to it? Blane reached for a kernel of truth is the morass of confused emotions inside him.

  “Because I like you,” he said. “And because you needed help and I’m in a position to offer it.”

  “And you want nothing in return?”

  “Nothing.” Which wasn’t precisely true and they both knew it.

  “Right. Because life really works like that.”

  It suddenly struck Blane how much she reminded him of Kade, when he’d first come to live with Blane. Distrustful of everyone, he hadn’t been able to understand why Blane would do something for him just because he wanted to, without expecting anything back, not even a thanks. No one had ever expected something for nothing before, and Blane sensed that Kathleen was as disbelieving as Kade had been.

  Kathleen turned her back and stumbled, her arm flailing to grab the wall so she wouldn’t fall. Blane rushed forward, sliding an arm around her to keep her steady. He caught the whiff of alcohol and realization struck.

  “You’re drunk,” he said. Had she driven home like this? He was going to kill her.

  “I’ve had a really bad day,” she groused. “I thought I deserved a drink.”

  Perhaps she had a point there. Blane would have hugged her, but didn’t think she’d appreciate that. Instead, he gave her shoulder a little squeeze, then abruptly let go when she yelped in pain.

  “What? What’s wrong?” He hadn’t squeezed that hard. But she just shook her head.

  “It’s nothing. Just a bruise.”

  Blane flipped the switch on the kitchen light, scrutinizing Kathleen who squinted in the sudden brightness. But Blane didn’t notice that. What he did notice was the livid bruise on Kathleen’s cheek. He could swear she hadn’t had that earlier at the bar. If this was evidence of Kade’s methods, then Blane was going to kick his ass.

  “What happened to you?” he bit out.

  “It looks worse than it feels,” Kathleen said, shrugging off his concern. She moved past him to the sink and started peeling Band-Aids from her hands.

  Blane followed, stepping up behind her. Reaching around, he grasped her hands, turning them palm up. Angry red cuts marked the fair skin of her palms. What had she done? Then it hit him. Mark’s message, Kade saying his house had burned to the ground. Somehow, Kathleen had gotten caught up in whatever had happened there—and gotten hurt in the process. Exactly how close of a call had she had today?

  “You went to Mark’s,” he said.

  “How did you—”

  “I saw his message to you on the DVD,” Blane answered the unfinished question.

  Kathleen turned around to face him, her expression angry and hurt. “That was a private message. You have no right to go through my things!”

  Blane was sick of pretending. He didn’t know how it had happened or why, but he was drawn to Kathleen, tied to her in a way he couldn’t understand. But it was a fact, whether they liked it or not, and he was willing to bet she knew it, too.

  “Don’t I?” he said. His fingers brushed the bruise on her cheek. “Tell me what happened today.” Blane needed to know not only who had dared to strike her, but wanted her to come clean with whatever she was hiding from him. To his relief, she started talking.

  “Well, you know Diane fired me,” she said.

  Blane nodded, his hands dropping down to settle on her waist. He noticed with satisfaction that though they stood so close, she made no move to back away, but just accepted his proximity. That was a good sign.

  “She said James told her to fire me,” Kathleen continued. “So I came home, and that’s when James showed up.”

  Blane stiffened, but kept his face as impassive as possible. He didn’t want her to stop talking, so he held his tongue and just listened, which became nearly impossible when she told him how James had hit her, attacked her. The only thing that enabled him to hold on to his control was planning exactly what he was going to do to James.

  When she kept talking, explaining the fire at Mark’s, how Jimmy had been there and killed another man and how she’d hid in the bathroom before escaping out the window, Blane thought he couldn’t have been further from the truth this morning when he’d hoped she’d just chill out at home today.

  Finally, she finished recounting her harrowing escape. The thought of how easily she could have been more seriously hurt today, or died, was enough to have Blane barely hanging by a thread. He couldn’t think about it or he’d go crazy, so he focused on something else she’d said.

  “What did you do with the drive?” he asked. If he could get that from her, that should alleviate some of her immediate danger.

  “I hid it somewhere safe,” she said, glancing away from him.

  She didn’t trust him. That stung more than it should have.

  “You should give it to me,” Blane pressed.

  “You’ll have to get in line,” she answered. “Kade’s already said I have to give it to him tomorrow.”

  “Kade?” She was on a first-name basis with him and Kade hadn’t said a word? “Kade Dennon?”

  “Yeah. You know him?”

  “We’ve met.” Blane told no one about Kade being his brother. Not because he didn’t want to acknowledge the relation, but because of a promise he’d made to Kade a long time ago.

  Blane turned Kathleen around again and washed the cuts on her hands. None were that deep, thankfully. As he toweled her hands dry, he asked, “Were your hands all that got cut?” He wouldn’t put it past her to be hurt somewhere else and just refuse to tell him.

  She nodded, but Blane could tell by the way she wouldn’t look at him that she was lying. When would she learn?

  “Where else?”

  “My . . . legs,” she sighed tiredly. “But it’s fine, not a big deal. I’ll just take a shower and they’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not showering in this condition,” Blane retorted. At least, not without him.

  “And what condition is that?” she blustered.

  “Drunk. You’re liable to fall and break your neck. Go sit down.” He aimed her in the direction of a kitchen chair.

  “I’ll be fine,” she protested. He shot her a look that said he’d put her ass in that chair if she didn’t, and luckily she wasn’t too drunk to not understand. She sat.

  Blane filled a bowl with warm water and grabbed a towel, crouching down in front of her. He took off her shoes and socks, inspecting the smooth skin of her legs, and finding nothing.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Hmm?”

  Blane glanced up. Kathleen was staring at him with desire in her eyes. Her gaze was a little unfocused, but he knew what she was thinking. Damn it. As if there was anything he could do while she was drunk.

  “Where are the other cuts?” he asked, speaking slowly and clearly.

  “Um . . . higher,” she mumbled, looking away from him again.

  Shit.

  It was a real hardship to push Kathleen’s skirt up and spread her knees. Blane’s mind was busy trying to go places it shouldn’t when he finally saw the bandages on her inner thighs. They were reddened with blood. As he carefully removed them, he said, “Do you have any idea how close you came to cutting your femoral artery?” Good God, the woman was a walking death magnet.

  Kathleen sighed, rubbing her eyes like a small child. “Biology wasn’t really my strongest subject,” she muttered.

  Blane cleaned and bandaged the cuts, which had stopped bleeding, as quickly and gently as he could. When he was done, he helped Kathleen to her feet. The alcohol was really starting to take effect now, her eyes drooping and her body limp.

  “Let’s get you to bed,” he said. Talking to a sober Kathleen would likely produce better results than talking to her now.

  “Only if you’re joining me,” she said with a teasing grin. She hooked her fingers into Blane’s belt and tugged.

  That was not going to happen and it seemed Kathleen must have figured that out from the look on Blane’s face because she scowled and let go.

 
“Fine,” she retorted, before flouncing away into her bedroom.

  Blane followed her. The last thing he needed was her passing out and hurting herself. But she ignored him, stripping off her shirt and sweater as she walked.

  A sinking feeling in his stomach told Blane what was going to happen next, and that not only would he be powerless to stop her, he was wholly incapable of turning away.

  Sure enough, she tossed him a saucy grin over her shoulder before proceeding to remove every stitch of clothing right in front of him. As she removed her skirt and panties, she bent over, giving Blane a mouthwatering view of paradise. His hands clenched in fists, his dick at full attention, as she casually walked to her bureau and found a set of silk pajamas.

  Blane would have preferred a long-sleeved flannel nightgown that came to her chin, but she chose a shorts and camisole set that barely covered her. A moan climbed up his throat but he swallowed it down as she dressed. When she was finished, she grabbed a brush and walked over to Blane, not stopping until she had to tip her head back to look him in the eye.

  “Will you help me with my hair?” she asked, handing him the brush.

  Considering at the moment Blane would have gladly cut off a limb if she asked, what else could he do but nod and follow her to the bed? She sat in the middle and Blane knelt behind her. Tentatively, he reached for the braids, carefully undoing them and sliding the bristles of the brush through the long, wavy strands.

  It was something Blane had never done before, had never thought to do. It was innocently erotic, brushing her hair. Kathleen sighed as he brushed and he was careful to not pull too hard, he didn’t want to hurt her. The scent of her shampoo and perfume drifted toward him as he worked.

  “I remembered there’s a case pending with the firm regarding TecSol,” Kathleen suddenly said out of the blue. “I need to know what it’s about.”

  “Why do you need to know?” Blane asked, still brushing her hair.

  “Mark worked for them,” she said. “He was afraid of them. Afraid they were after him. That Sheila was killed because of him.”

  “What else did he say?” What all did Kathleen know and why hadn’t she told him sooner?