Turn On A Dime - Blane's Turn (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 9

Clarice just looked at him until he sighed. “Fine. I’ll be nice. I promise. Send her in when she gets up here.”

  Blane was too keyed up to sit, so he stood behind his desk, staring at some papers on his desk, but not seeing them. It was ridiculous how much he wanted to see Kathleen. He wasn’t a high school teen with a crush. He should take a step back, regain his usual aloofness.

  Which was all well and good until a light tap on the door made his pulse jump. He glanced up, as if he didn’t already know who was there.

  Kathleen.

  She looked nervous, Blane noticed as he waved her into his office. “Close the door behind you,” he said, and she obeyed.

  Blane walked toward her, thinking. He had to have some excuse for making her come see him, right? And somehow he doubted “Because I can’t get you off my mind” would go over real well.

  Kathleen stopped when he got close, her eyes wide and unsure. Well, he had threatened her last night. Blane heaved an inward sigh.

  “Did you bring that list for me?” he asked. He knew she hadn’t. She couldn’t. He’d taken the phone.

  “No,” she said.

  He waited for an explanation.

  “It was gone when I got home last night,” she said.

  Blane frowned, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said. I left the phone on my kitchen counter yesterday and when I got home last night, it was gone.” She looked at him strangely, and for a moment, Blane thought she suspected him.

  “Was your apartment locked?”

  “I always lock my apartment.”

  Just not your car, he thought but didn’t say.

  Kathleen cleared her throat. “Is that all?”

  Blane wasn’t ready for her to leave. “I don’t like the idea of someone breaking into your apartment,” he said. In his defense, he hadn’t broken in. He’d had a key.

  “Yeah, you and me both,” she retorted.

  She was so feisty. He liked that.

  Moving into her personal space, he said, “You’re so combative. Are you this way with everyone or just me?”

  Kathleen looked like she didn’t know what to say to that, stammering an “I..um” without saying anything more. Blane lifted a hand, eager to touch her again and see if the silk of her skin was as soft as he remembered from last night. His knuckles brushed her cheek and jaw.

  “I like that color on you,” he said softly. The deep crimson set off her eyes and the red tones of her hair, and her lips. Desire flared. He wanted to kiss her again, see if she had the same effect on him today and she had last night, and he her.

  But she took a step back, blurting, “I have to go. I have a date tonight.”

  James. Jealousy spiked, the emotion unwelcome but perhaps not unexpected.

  He stalked her, Kathleen retreating until she came up against the wall which was, coincidentally, right where he wanted her. Blane trapped her, bracing his hands on either side of her head as he leaned into her personal space.

  “So you said.” His voice was low and quiet, forcing her to listen closely. “Though somehow I doubt James will be to your liking.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, the breathlessness in her voice giving Blane a surge of satisfaction. “James is a nice man.”

  Pathetic defense, especially when said as she had, almost as an afterthought. Kathleen’s eyes dropped to his mouth and Blane smiled. She was as ready to be kissed again as he was eager to kiss her.

  “Maybe,” Blane murmured, “but I don’t think you like nice men.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she sputtered. “Of course I do.” Her gaze dropped even lower to his neck. She licked her lips and Blane nearly groaned. But he had to take it slow. Slow seduction would get Kathleen into his bed. He’d get under her skin until all she could think about was him, building a slow burn that would consume them both in the best possible way.

  Blane placed his lips at her ear. “But I’m not a nice man,” he whispered, “and I know you like me.” His mouth grazed her neck in the lightest of touches.

  A knock sounded at the door, shattering the spell he was weaving over her. Blane ignored it, capturing her jaw in his hand. His thumb caressed her lips, moist and trembling at his touch.

  The knock came again and Blane wanted to shout at whomever it was to go away. But the damage was done. Kathleen ducked under his arm and hurried to the door, throwing it open to reveal Derrick Trent, another senior partner in the firm.

  “I’m sorry, Blane,” he said, glancing from Kathleen to Blane. “I didn’t realize you were in a meeting?”

  “I was just leaving,” Kathleen said, hurrying away down the hall.

  Where the fuck was Clarice and why hadn’t she stopped Derrick? Blane shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh.

  “It’s fine. Come on in,” he said to Derrick.

  Blane had been hoping to have a chance to convince her not to go with James, but to spend the evening with him instead. Now all he could do was sit and stew, wondering how Kathleen’s date was going.

  Blane locked his car and pocketed the keys, checking to make sure his Glock was firmly wedged in the holster under his arm. It was fully dark now, the neighborhood where Mark lived was quiet and still. An occasional dog barked and lights were on inside houses, but the carpet had been rolled up for the evening.

  Keeping to the shadows, Blane crossed the yards from where he’d parked down to where Mark lived. A few other cars were parked on the street and he took a moment to watch until he was sure no one was inside them.

  Blane’s approach to Mark’s house was silent, his training as a SEAL second nature. He melted into the shadows and crouched under the door in the back, listening.

  A television was on inside and Blane heard a floorboard squeak. It was a matter of a moment to pick the lock on the door, then he was inside. Blane reached for his gun, its familiar weight reassuring in his hand.

  He found Mark in the living room and though the TV was on, Mark was staring off into space. Blane holstered his gun.

  “You haven’t returned my calls,” he said.

  Mark leaped to his feet, knocking over a glass that had been sitting on the coffee table.

  “Blane, you scared me to death,” he said, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

  “Like I said, you haven’t been returning my calls,” Blane replied. “You told me you had evidence against TecSol. Proof that they’re trying to rig the online election voting.”

  Mark was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man, but I don’t have anything.”

  Blane took a few steps toward him. Mark was six inches shorter than him and about eighty pounds lighter. “You lied to me?”

  “No, I just don’t have it. I was wrong.” He swallowed heavily as he eyed Blane.

  “I think you’re lying now,” Blane said. “I think someone got to you, that you’re scared, and now you’re going to run out on me.”

  Mark looked terrified, his gaze darting to the windows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

  Blane tried his hunch. “Is this about Sheila? Are they sending you a message?”

  “You’ve gotta go,” Mark said. His face was sickly pale and shone with sweat. “If they see you—”

  “Who is ‘they’?” Blane asked. “Who threatened you? Who killed Sheila?”

  “None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t come to you!” Mark burst out. “You told me no one would find out who I was, that you’d make sure of it!”

  Blane flinched inwardly. All of that was true. He just hadn’t expected there to be a mole in his own firm. “I can protect you,” he said to Mark. “Just give me what you have—”

  “Screw you! Why should I trust you? For all I know, you’ll kill me as soon as I hand it over.” Mark’s eyes were crafty now, his cheeks becoming a mottled red.

  “I promise you—”

  Mark bolted for the door. Blane lunged, catching a hold of his shirt, but it ripped. Mark grabbe
d something off a nearby shelf and flung it at Blane, who ducked. It shattered against the wall.

  Mark headed for the kitchen, grabbing his backpack before flinging open the door and running outside. Blane was just steps behind. He had to stop that kid. Mark would get himself killed, or worse, and it would be for nothing.

  But the kid was fast, staying out of Blane’s reach and ducking into a neighbor’s yard. It was a moonless night, pitch black except for the patches of light cast from the street lamps. Mark seemed to know the area a lot better than Blane did, and after chasing him through several backyards, Blane had lost enough ground that he could no longer tell which way Mark had gone.

  Cursing under his breath, Blane stood still and closed his eyes to listen, but heard nothing. The kid was gone and Blane knew he wouldn’t dare come back to his house again.

  It was getting late when Blane pulled into his driveway. He headed to the den to pour himself a drink. He was mulling over possibilities of where Mark might have gone when Kade came in.

  “Find out anything?” Blane asked as Kade went to the sideboard. Unlike Blane, Kade preferred vodka to bourbon, a choice Blane never could understand. The stuff had no flavor.

  “Junior’s in it up to his eyeballs, if that’s what you mean,” Kade replied, taking a seat opposite Blane. “I was in his office, but then he showed up and I had to ditch.”

  Blane’s brows rose. Guess the date hadn’t gone very well with Kathleen if James had gone into work afterwards.

  “He had the case file on TecSol,” Kade continued. “And he was talking to someone, but I couldn’t tell who.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Something about the timing being bad, but I didn’t get much.”

  “He’s not on the TecSol case. There’s no reason he should have that file,” Blane said.

  “Is Mark’s information in there?”

  Blane nodded. “Yeah, but the files are locked and only the senior partners have access.”

  “Then it looks like one of your senior partners is working for the opposite side.”

  Yes, that’s the same conclusion Blane had drawn. He heaved a sigh.

  “Mark got away from me tonight,” he said.

  Kade frowned. “You mean the snitch?”

  “That’s the one. Found him at his house, but he grabbed his backpack and ran. Little shit lost me in the dark.”

  Kade laughed. “Losing your touch there, brother,” he teased.

  Blane just gave him a look which only served to broaden Kade’s smirk.

  “Can you put a trace on his phone, see if he calls anyone? His credit cards, too.”

  “Consider it done,” Kade said. “I’m getting close to figuring out where TecSol gets their money. It’s buried, but I should be able to track it down.”

  “Okay. Just keep me posted. And here.” Blane handed Kade Sheila’s phone. “The dead girlfriend’s phone. She worked as an escort. There may be something on there that can help us.”

  “Got it.” Kade tossed back the rest of his drink and stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Blane gave him a nod, watching as Kade disappeared from the room, but as hard as he listened, he couldn’t hear when he left. A smile tinged with pride tugged at the corners of his mouth. His little brother was good. They made a damn fine team.

  The first call Blane made while driving to work was to the florist he had on speed dial. Kandi had demanded flowers for every infraction, real or imagined. It had ceased being a pleasure to give them to her and had become a chore. This order made him feel quite different and he was clear to the florist about his specifications.

  There wasn’t a woman Blane had yet met who didn’t have a weakness for an elaborate display, the more expensive, the better. He wondered when the last time had been that Kathleen had received flowers. This should work to get her back into his office and from there . . . well, Blane would just let things take their natural course.

  By noon, however, he still hadn’t heard from her. He called the florist, who confirmed delivery, leaving Blane wondering if Kathleen was stubborn enough to not even acknowledge the gift. Well, what had he expected? Her to come falling into his arms because he bought her some roses?

  Well . . . yeah. Sort of.

  “Shit,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket and briefcase. He had to be in court this afternoon. It had been so long since Blane had needed to exert himself in pursuit of a woman, it seemed he was a bit rusty. It was a bit demoralizing.

  His cell rang as he was leaving the building.

  “I found Mark,” Kade said.

  Blane slid behind the wheel of his Jag. “Good. Take him to my place.”

  “Can’t. He gave me the slip.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Don’t be judgy,” Kade retorted. “It was either follow him or his backpack, I picked the backpack.”

  “So you have that?”

  “Not yet—”

  Blane interrupted him with a disgusted snort.

  “—but I will.”

  “And what exactly am I paying you for?” Blane asked as he started the car’s engine.

  “You’re not,” was Kade’s dry response before he ended the call.

  Blane smiled. Kade hated looking incompetent. Come hell or high water, Blane was positive he’d have that backpack and its contents within the next forty-eight hours.

  Court seemed to drag this afternoon and afterwards Blane had dinner with a potential client. Wining and dining was his forte so William Gage, the managing partner of the firm, often sent Blane to win new business.

  While part of his mind was focused on the conversation, another part was solely occupied in wondering about Kathleen. Blane couldn’t help the niggle of worry in the back of his mind. Yes, he’d taken away Sheila’s phone and hopefully distracted Kathleen from thinking there was anything else she could do with this case, but from what he was quickly learning about her, she wasn’t the type to dissuade easily.

  His smile was automatic as he listened to the man sitting across from him, impatiently waiting for the dinner to be over. Finally, the tab came and Blane paid before walking the guy out to his waiting car. With a final handshake, he sealed the deal and sent him on his way.

  Now to go check on Kathleen.

  He was close to home so stopped to change into jeans, throwing on his leather jacket to conceal his gun. Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to her apartment.

  The windows were dark and no one answered his knock. Blane stood there, wondering if she was on another date. He had no way of knowing, no way to track her down, and not enough of a relationship with her to be informed of what she was doing, and more importantly, who she was doing it with.

  Shoving a hand through his hair in frustration, he turned to go just as her new neighbor stepped outside. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him.

  Blane immediately smiled. People always responded more positively to a smile. “Hi,” he said. “I’m looking for Kathleen. Do you know where she went?”

  The girl was young with dyed black hair and black clothes. Her eyebrow was pierced and she had a lit cigar in one hand.

  “What’s it to you?” she asked.

  “I’m her boyfriend,” Blane lied. “Wanted to come by, surprise her.” His smile turned slightly sheepish. “I thought she’d be home tonight.”

  The girl still looked suspicious, but said, “She left hours ago. I thought she was going to work or something, the way she was dressed.”

  Of course. Her bartending thing. “Thanks,” he said before heading back down to his car.

  Sure enough, her car was at The Drop. Blane checked his watch. On a weeknight, they’d be closing soon. He briefly considered going inside, but then decided against it.

  At closing, a few of the workers left, but Kathleen wasn’t among them. Blane waited a bit longer, then got out of the car, leaning against the side as he waited for her. If he knew her like he thought he did, he’d lay odds she’d been the one who’d offered
to stay behind, clean, and lock up.

  Blane’s patience was rewarded when the door opened once again to reveal Kathleen. She didn’t even see him, preoccupied as she was with holding a sack and her purse while trying to lock the door.

  The sight of her, alive and unharmed, eased a tightness inside Blane’s chest that he hadn’t even been aware was there. That surprised him. Yes, he was attracted to her and yes, he wanted to seduce her. But he hadn’t realized that keeping her safe had somehow become personal in the last forty-eight hours.

  Distracted by these thoughts, Blane didn’t immediately say anything to alert her to his presence. Something he regretted when she turned around and he saw a flash of fear in her eyes before she saw just who was standing in the shadows, watching her.

  “If you could stop scaring me half to death when you show up, I’d appreciate it,” she snapped at him.

  Her obvious pique was adorable. “Did you get my flowers?” Blane asked.

  Blane thought he saw guilt in her eyes as she said, “I did, thank you. They were beautiful.”

  Yeah, she sounded real thankful. She was as prickly as a kitty cat, pretending aloofness while taking in every move he made. Even now she took a small step away from him, which was like waving a red flag at a bull. Or perhaps more like a tiger, the way the instinct to pursue her grew.

  Blane’s lips twitched as he thought of what she’d say to that analogy. “Is it just killing you to thank me?” he teased, just to watch her get her back up, and he wasn’t disappointed.

  “Of course not,” she denied in a huff. “I just don’t know why you sent them, that’s all.”

  She didn’t know? Hadn’t figured it out yet? Yes, he was indeed too rusty at this if his wanting her wasn’t blatantly obvious by now.

  Blane pushed away from the car and stalked her as he’d wanted to. She took another step back, running into the wall at her back. The predatory feelings inside seemed directly linked to his arousal, which notched upward with each step he took. When he stopped, he was directly in front of her, their bodies nearly touching.

  “How was your date?” Blane asked, reaching out to snag the long braid she wore. He had a burning desire to see her hair long and loose again and didn’t think twice about slipping off the band holding the strands together.