Turn On A Dime - Blane's Turn (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 8

  He couldn’t see the next blow as the bat landed in his ribs and this time Kade couldn’t help crying out. His knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. Joe advanced on him and it took everything Kade had not to crawl away. He wouldn’t show fear, even though he was terrified.

  The man towered over him, his eyes bloodshot, his pants buttoned but unzipped. “That real clear, you little punk?” Joe stepped forward, placing his foot in the middle of Kade’s forearm as he lay on the floor. “Just so you don’t forget.” He put all his weight on Kade’s arm and the bone cracked. Kade screamed this time, the pain too much to take, and he lost control of his bladder.

  “You’re a loser and a pussy, kid,” Joe scoffed. “You peed yourself like a little girl.”

  Kade barely heard him, shame engulfing him along with the pain as tears he couldn’t stop poured down his cheeks.

  Joe shoved Kade out of the way with his foot and stepped over him. As he started down the stairs, Kade used his good arm to pull himself forward. With the last of his strength and his impotent rage, he kicked out, his foot connecting with the back of the guy’s knee.

  Joe cried out in surprise as his leg collapsed underneath him. His arms flailed and he seemed suspended for a moment. Kade watched in satisfaction as he fell, his body toppling down the wooden stairs. The noise was horrendous, and then it was over. Joe lay at the bottom, his neck at an odd angle, and didn’t move.

  Kade lay there, fighting the pain, and tried to breathe. His chest hurt where the bat had hit, every breath a stabbing pain. Worry for Branna drove Kade to his feet. He stripped his jeans off in the bathroom, digging in the dirty laundry for his other pair and painstakingly pulling them on.

  Branna wasn’t in the bed any longer, making Kade’s worry ratchet even higher. He finally found her hiding in the closet.

  “It’s me,” he said, once he realized she was in there. “Don’t worry. He won’t be back.”

  Kade could barely see her, huddled in the far reaches of the closet, but it didn’t look like she’d be coming out anytime soon. Crouching painfully down, Kade crawled inside the tiny closet.

  He couldn’t see out of one eye and it still hurt to breathe, but the pain in his arm seemed detached somehow, and he wondered if he was in shock or something. Being careful not to jostle the arm, he settled inside the closet, leaning back against the wall with a sigh. He closed his eyes.

  “You okay?”

  The words were faint, barely discernible, and Kade opened his eyes. “Yeah,” he replied to Branna. She’d inched closer and now watched him with fearful concern. “You?”

  She shrugged. Kade knew the feeling. “Okay” covered a lot of shit. They were breathing, that was the important part. He wondered if this had been the first time something like that had happened to her. Or maybe, like him, the hell that they endured was the tenor of their lives, the difference being only in the gradation from day to day.

  Branna moved to sit next to him on his uninjured side. Tentatively, she leaned into him. It took effort, but Kade put his arm around her. The doll was clutched tightly to her chest and her thumb was in her mouth. Eventually, she fell asleep, sinking down until her head lay on Kade’s lap.

  Kade stayed awake until the dawn sent streaks of light across the sky, then he, too, couldn’t resist the pull of his exhausted and abused body to rest.

  A cop found Kade and Branna hiding in the closet the next day, when the wife had come home to find her husband dead at the foot of the stairs. The look on the cop’s face when he saw Kade was one of horror that dissolved into pity. They’d taken him to the hospital, and he hadn’t ever seen the girl again. An autopsy showed the husband had been at three times the legal limit for intoxication, so no one questioned the fact that he’d fallen down the stairs to his death.

  If Kade’d had a knife like the switchblade, the sonofabitch wouldn’t have had the opportunity to break his arm. A gun would be better, but it looked like they were all kept inside a safe here, so the knife would have to do.

  Now he just had to figure out when to leave.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After Blane had calmed down, he decided to use what resources he had to find out all he could about Kathleen. She was lying to him about the phone, didn’t seem at all inclined to let the murder of her friend go, and had a date with a man Blane knew was rotten. There were plenty of excuses to rationalize digging into her life, and none of them were personal.

  Right.

  “Clarice,” he said, standing by her desk. She looked up from what she’d been working on. “You’re friends with Kathleen, correct?”

  “Yes,” she said, somewhat hesitantly. Blane ignored the question in her eyes.

  “For how long?”

  Clarice shrugged. “Since she started, I guess. A few months ago.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “Um, well, just the usual stuff. She’s twenty-four, just moved here from Rushville. Single, no kids or anything. I think she’s real sweet, seems to be a hard worker.”

  “Did she go to college?”

  “I think she went for a while, then her mom got sick and she had to quit.”

  Yes, Blane knew about the deceased parents, thanks to the disastrous car ride with her last Friday.

  “Is she seeing anyone?”

  “Well, she told me she has a date with James tomorrow night,” Clarice said, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, “I don’t like him.”

  “Neither do I,” Blane said. “Has she been out with him before?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Has she dated anyone else at the firm?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Blane stared off in the distance, thinking.

  “So, what’s this about?” Clarice asked, drawing Blane’s attention back to her. “These don’t seem like the type of questions that have anything to do with what happened the other night.” The knowing grin on Clarice’s face had Blane schooling his own expression into one of indifference.

  “Just looking out for one of my employees,” he said.

  “Uh huh. She’s so pretty, don’t you think?” Clarice asked, all innocence.

  “I hadn’t noticed.” Blane’s dry reply only made her chuckle. He turned away to head back into his office.

  “I think she’d go out with you, if you asked,” Clarice called after him. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”

  Blane paused. He shouldn’t, but couldn’t seem to resist asking. “What way does she look at me?”

  Clarice’s eyes twinkled as she said, “Like she thinks you’re dreamy,” she teased in an exaggerated sigh.

  Blane rolled his eyes, though he was secretly pleased, and disappeared back inside his office.

  He tried multiple times to call the snitch he’d mentioned to Kade. His name was Mark and Blane had a suspicion that it was the same “computer guy” that Kathleen had said was dating her neighbor. Blane had been trying to get him to come forward. Mark had tentatively agreed, but then had gotten spooked and had refused to return any of Blane’s calls. Blane left another message for him, not holding out much hope that he’d hear from him.

  Blane didn’t see any reason why Mark would have killed his girlfriend. It was much more likely that whoever showed up at Sheila’s place had taken him and killed her, or just killed her to send a warning. Keep your mouth shut. Which also meant they had no reason to go after Kathleen.

  Unless she kept poking her nose in and drew their attention.

  He’d have to talk to her again and make her listen. She couldn’t get dragged into this. The bastards wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if she got in the way or found out too much, just as they had Sheila.

  And Blane wasn’t about to let that happen.

  Blane let himself into Kathleen’s apartment with the key he’d had copied. If she wouldn’t bring Sheila’s phone to him, he would get it from her. The less she had to go on, the more quickly she’d give up. He hoped.

  The cat, Tigg
er, purred and wound its way around Blane’s legs as he glanced around the apartment. There. A cell phone sat on the kitchen counter. He pocketed it and turned to go, but paused.

  A neat stack of envelopes sat on the kitchen table. Blane hesitated. He shouldn’t look, that would be invading her privacy.

  But then again, he was standing in the middle of her apartment, without her knowledge, in possession of a key she hadn’t given him. The “invading her privacy” ship had sailed.

  Thumbing through the opened envelopes, Blane saw they were all bills. Several were from medical places such as a hospital and a cancer treatment center. Those were in the thousands and were past due. From the history, it seemed Kathleen sent in sporadic payments of varying amounts, he guessed whatever she could afford when she could afford it.

  A couple of utility bills were there, too, their amounts piddling and yet they were close to being overdue.

  The phone rang in her apartment and Blane automatically glanced toward it. She had a machine. He replaced Kathleen’s bills where he found them, careful to arrange the stack just as he’d found it, when he heard someone start speaking at the beep.

  “Ms. Turner, this is Alfred Lloyd and I’m with the credit collection department for Mission Cancer Treatment Center. We need to speak, please return my call at—”

  “Hello,” Blane said, picking up the phone.

  “Oh, hello,” Alfred said, sounding surprised. “I’m looking for a Ms. Kathleen Turner. Is she available?”

  “Not at this time,” Blane said. “I’m her attorney, Blane Kirk. How may I help you?” He’d be damned if some creditor was going to start harassing Kathleen, the vultures.

  Alfred seemed taken aback. “I see. Her attorney?”

  “Correct.”

  “Well, Ms. Turner has been woefully neglectful of the amount she owes this facility,” Alfred said. “I was calling to speak to her before we begin action to place a garnish on her wages.”

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  A few minutes later, Alfred had been schooled on exactly what would happen if they tried to do that to Kathleen. When Blane hung up, he was relatively certain they wouldn’t be contacting her in that fashion again. Reaching over, he erased the message on her answering machine.

  Okay, that privacy thing was a distant point in the rearview mirror now. Blane locked up behind him as he left.

  It was at the end of the day when he saw Kathleen’s car back in the firm’s parking lot. He knew she stayed late most nights, so he didn’t rush outside. The sun had nearly set by the time Blane dropped his things off at his car and crossed the lot to Kathleen’s.

  As he’d predicted, her car was unlocked. She came from a small town, but her dad had been a cop. She should know better. Anyone could just get inside and lie in wait for her.

  Including him.

  Blane didn’t have to wait long. About twenty minutes later, the shadows had deepened and he saw Kathleen walking toward the car. Her shoulders drooped and her steps were slow, her body language saying she’d had a long day. She didn’t look around at the lot, completely oblivious if someone had been following her, and didn’t even check the backseat before opening the unlocked door and sliding behind the wheel.

  It took a split second for her to see him, then she jumped about a foot, biting off a scream. She recovered quickly, though, and Blane was left staring at a highly pissed off female.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled. “You nearly scared me to death!”

  “You should lock your doors,” Blane said automatically, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. Her sweater was ripped. Correction. Not ripped. Cut. “What happened to you?”

  “I had a run-in with your friend Jimmy,” she snapped. “He had a message for me.”

  That fucking asshole. Blane kept a tight grip on his temper. If Jimmy had harmed a hair on her head—

  “I’m supposed to keep quiet or else I’ll get sliced to ribbons,” she continued. “Any idea what he was talking about?”

  The accusation in her eyes stung Blane, as if she thought he was behind Jimmy’s threat. As if he would ever hurt her. “What are you implying?” he asked.

  “I’m implying that you’re the only one I’ve said anything to about who Sheila was seeing and who I think might’ve killed her and now, suddenly today, Jimmy’s telling me to keep my mouth shut! Do you want me dead?”

  Blane took the opportunity Kathleen had offered. If she wouldn’t listen to him as a protector, maybe she’d listen if he was a threat.

  In a flash, Blane had her by the throat. His hand easily held her neck in his grip, the delicate bones just under the skin reminding him of how terrifyingly fragile she was.

  She choked on a gasp, her hands pulling at his arm, but he barely felt them. Seeming to realize the futility of struggling, she squeezed her eyes shut and went still.

  Her pulse beat wildly as Blane leaned to place his lips by her ear. “If I wanted you dead,” he whispered, “you’d be dead. And I wouldn’t need Jimmy to do it for me.”

  A shudder wracked her body at his threat and Blane felt a wave of self-loathing. He’d never deliberately tried to scare a woman before, and it didn’t sit well now, despite the fact that he was doing it for her own good.

  His hold loosened and her eyes opened, their gazes colliding. But it wasn’t fear he saw in the blue depths of her eyes. It was something else entirely, and it called out to him as though she’d spoken aloud.

  Her lips were parted slightly, just enough for Blane to see a hint of gleaming pearl beyond. The rose tinted skin was moist and begged to be tasted. Unable, or maybe unwilling, to resist, Blane lowered his head and brushed her mouth with his.

  At first she didn’t respond, out of stubbornness or fear, he didn’t know. But her lips were pillowy soft and he teased them gently, brushing his tongue against the tender skin in a silent request. She made a noise at the touch, her mouth opening fully beneath his, and Blane couldn’t stop a groan from escaping as his tongue surged inside to stroke hers.

  Kissing Kathleen was like having his first kiss all over again. Her innocence was immediately apparent, her hesitation slowly evaporating as Blane kissed her. It was like she was giving him a gift, something precious and special, and not something bestowed just for a fleeting moment of carnal pleasure.

  Blane’s hand moved to cup the back of her neck, his fingers sliding through the silk of her hair. The tentative exploration of her hands as she touched his chest made Blane wish she was wearing a skirt, the need to touch her nearly a compulsion.

  In another time and place, Blane knew he would’ve seduced Kathleen without a second thought. The chemistry between them could easily ignite into a raging inferno and it would be very, very good.

  But the front seat of her car in the middle of his firm’s parking lot wasn’t the place. Reluctantly, Blane pulled back, the sweet taste of her still on his tongue. Her eyes were liquid pools of desire, her lips reddened and full.

  God had to be keeping score because Blane deserved a damn gold star for not taking this further. His cock was hard as a rock, which was uncomfortable as hell. Blane consoled himself by knowing that at some point, he’d have her. Just not yet.

  Kathleen shivered and Blane realized the confines of the car had gotten cold. The heat in his blood would serve to keep the chill away and he shrugged out of his suit jacket, wrapping it around her. As he lifted her hair from under the fabric, his fingers brushed her skin and she trembled again at his touch.

  A blush bloomed in her fair cheeks, discernible even in this low light, and Blane was struck anew at the sight.

  “You’re blushing,” he said, brushing the backs of his knuckles against the soft satin of her cheek. “So young and innocent.” Which he would do well to remember, in spite of the heat between them. She wasn’t a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. He’d need to go slow, be gentle. He ached just imagining it.

  Kathleen wouldn’t look at him so Blane forced her chin up until her gaze lift
ed to his. He wanted to make sure, despite the kiss, that she understood the danger.

  “Be careful,” he said. “Don’t get involved any further in this.” Blane brushed her lips once more in a fleeting kiss. Her eyes were still closed when he got out of the car and walked away.

  Maybe she did think he was dreamy.

  The burning impatience to see Kathleen didn’t abate, his curiosity about her overwhelming, and Blane knew he had to see her again. Unfortunately, after their kiss last night, she seemed even more determined than usual to avoid him.

  Blane found an excuse to loiter by Clarice’s desk around the time Kathleen usually came by, but she never appeared. Frowning and avoiding Clarice’s sideways glances, he went to get a cup of coffee. When he returned, she was on the phone. Blane took up his position loitering again, listening with half an ear.

  “Um . . . yes, Mr. Galloway, we do have those files you requested,” Clarice said.

  Blane closed the file he’d been fake-reading. He knew for a fact that Galloway was in London this week, which put him at having dinner right about now. She had to be talking to Kathleen.

  “Absolutely,” Clarice continued. “You’re correct about that, sir.”

  Blane held out his hand, giving Clarice a look that said he knew what she was up to. She sighed, realizing she’d been caught, and handed the phone over in time for Blane to hear Kathleen say, “ . . . interference for me, Clarice. He’s the last person I want to see right now.”

  “I assume you mean me and not the aforementioned Mr. Galloway,” Blane said, careful to keep his voice flat, as if he was angry. “I’d like you in my office, Kathleen,” and about a dozen other places just off the top of his head, but who was counting? “You have three minutes.” He hung up the phone.

  “Don’t scare the poor girl,” Clarice gently admonished.

  “I’m not scaring her,” Blane protested.