Out of Turn

CHAPTER TWO

Blane Kirk stepped out of the shadows and my heart stuttered in my chest.

It felt like something out of a dream, to see him again, this close to me. I was nearly light-headed from the suddenness of his appearance, but my stomach felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.

“I was ‘in the neighborhood’ because you sent my bodyguard packing,” he said. Blane’s tone was flat, completely devoid of emotion, the same as his face.

The sound of his voice after three months sent a stab of bittersweet pain through me. How many nights had I stared at my phone, wanting it to ring, for it to be him on the other end? It took everything I had not to show the pain I was feeling, though I couldn’t help pressing my arm against my abdomen to try and quiet my stomach. My insides churned with nausea and I absolutely refused to throw up in front of Blane. I’d choke on it first.

“I don’t want or need a bodyguard,” I bit out. “Especially from you.”

“So you’d rather have gotten shot tonight?” he retorted, and I could hear anger now in his voice.

“I can take care of myself,” I said stiffly. “What the hell do you care anyway?” The question came out more as an accusation and I couldn’t help but hold my breath as I waited for his answer.

“The papers would have a field day if my ex-fiancée was killed on the streets of Indianapolis.”

I choked on air, my lungs refusing to cooperate. Just when I thought Blane couldn’t hurt me any more than he already had, he had to go and prove me wrong. I lashed out, unable to resist the instinct to hurt him back.

“I’m surprised you sent another bodyguard,” I sneered. “Especially since I screwed the last one.”

I was referring to Kade, his half brother, that Blane had forced to guard me several months ago. The same brother Blane had accused me of having an affair with. It had been a lie, of course, but Blane hadn’t believed me when I’d told him the truth.

The silence between us was thick enough to drown in.

“Kade denied that you’d slept together.” His voice was cold steel, slicing through the night.

“Oh well, that’s a relief,” I shot back, my sarcasm thick. “Good to know we have our stories straight.” Blane still wanted to believe I’d had sex with Kade even after we’d both denied it? Fine with me. He could believe in chubby flying babies with bows and arrows, for all I cared.

My stomach was still churning, anger and pain both burning like acid in my gut. My head was telling me to go, to get as far away from Blane as I could. But my feet wouldn’t obey. Rooted to the spot, I drank Blane in. Well over six feet, he towered over me when he was close, which wasn’t the case right now. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt, the cotton stretched tightly over the muscles of his chest and shoulders.

The tickle on my cheek distracted me and I swiped at the blood oozing down the side of my face.

“You’re hurt.” He moved toward me, shoving the gun he held into the back of his jeans.

I threw up a hand to ward him off, hurriedly retreating until my back hit my car. “Don’t you dare come any closer,” I warned. “I don’t want your help.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said, though he’d stopped a couple of feet from me. Still too close, but at least he hadn’t touched me. If he did, I was sure I’d fall apart.

“I’m fine.” It was a phrase I’d said often in the past few months. I was pretty good at it. Sometimes I almost believed it myself.

Blane’s lips pressed in a thin line as he looked at me, his eyes unfathomable in the darkness.

“I believe you didn’t sleep with Kade,” he said, the words seeming forced from his mouth.

“I don’t care what you believe,” I hissed, rage spiking hard in me. All the anger and bitterness I’d kept bottled up for the past few months now boiled to the surface. “Is that why you’re here? Your conscience bothering you? Oh wait, I forgot—you don’t have one.”

“I’m here because William Gage is out of prison.”

That gave me pause. William James Gage Sr. had been sent to jail months before, accessory to murder and attempted murder being among the many charges against him. The “attempted” part was when he’d tried to have me killed. If not for Blane, he’d have succeeded.

“How could he possibly have gotten out of jail?” I asked. It seemed incomprehensible to me.

“He has cancer. The doctors give him weeks to live, if that. Friends in high places pulled some strings so he could die outside of prison. He’s on house arrest, though, and can’t leave the premises.”

“And you’re telling me this why?”

Blane hesitated and I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Gage blames you for ending up in prison, the loss of his business, his reputation.”

“That’s insane,” I snapped. “He’s the criminal, not me. He just got caught.”

“Yes, he is insane,” Blane agreed. “And he hates you. I think he’s going to try and have you killed. The shooting tonight was possibly his first attempt.”

Ah. Now it made sense, the bodyguard thing. “Well, let him give it his best shot,” I said. “I can take care of myself.” It surprised me a bit how unalarmed I was at this news. That coldness in the center of my chest seemed to take it in stride that my days might be numbered. Again.

“A few self-defense classes does not make you an expert,” Blane retorted.

“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it.” I turned away and jerked open my car door, surveying the shattered glass covering the interior. I spoke over my shoulder. “You’ve delivered the warning. Consider your obligation fulfilled. I’ll try not to let my death interfere with your campaign.”

The initial shock and ridiculous flare of hope at seeing Blane had faded, replaced by a numbness that I welcomed.

Getting the glass out of the seat concerned me now. The last thing I needed was to have to go to the hospital to get shards out of my ass. I dug around in the backseat. Surely I had a discarded work T-shirt back there?

“Here.”

Blane’s voice was right behind me and his hand brushed my back. I jumped about a foot.

I spun around in alarm, instinctively putting up my hands to push him away. Unfortunately, they met a bare chest. I jerked my hands back as though burned.

“Use this,” Blane said, holding out his T-shirt. “For the glass.”

Oh God. He was so close, his chest at eye level, his body inches from mine. The carved muscles seemed more defined than I remembered, the heat of the night making his skin glisten in the faint light. I couldn’t retreat any farther, the car blocking me.

Blane didn’t move and I jerked my eyes up to his. He was looking at the blood dripping down my cheek, frowning. His hand moved to touch me and I couldn’t help but flinch. He froze, his hand in midair.

“Back off, Blane.” I was glad to hear that my voice was steady even though I was quaking inside.

He obeyed, stepping back to put some space between us, and I breathed again, my eyes sliding shut in relief before I realized what I was doing.

Pull it together, I harshly told myself. I didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. My pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Fine,” I said curtly, pulling the T-shirt out of his grip. I used it to brush the glass from the seat to the floor. God, how much was this going to cost to fix? Absurdly, the thought made me want to cry.

As if he knew exactly what I was thinking, Blane said, “I can have some guys come to your place tomorrow, replace the glass.”

“I don’t want a damn thing from you,” I snapped. “Including your shirt.” I tossed it at him and he caught it. I climbed into the car and jerked the door shut. Blane leaned down to the window.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he said. “I’m going to be around whether you like it or not, to keep you alive.”

I smiled sweetly at him as I started the car. “Then you’d better hope Gage dies sooner rather than later, or he won’t be the only one needing a tombstone.”

My hands were still shaking when I got home, the aftershock of seeing Blane, talking to him, hitting me like a Mack truck.

I sat at my kitchen table, vodka tonic in my lax grip, staring into space.

I knew I should probably be concerned about Gage, but I couldn’t bring myself to be. All I could think about was that I’d seen Blane again, spoken to him, touched him. And none of it had been good for my resolve to get over him and move on.

It depressed me, the power he had over me. Even though he’d hurt me so badly, not once but twice, I was still pathetically glad to see him despite the bitter anger like bile in my throat.

And now he was, what, “going to be around”? What did that mean? And more important, how was I going to keep it together if I had to see him again? I’d barely kept myself from falling apart tonight, my rage doubling as shield and weapon in my nearly empty arsenal.

So he believed I hadn’t slept with Kade. So what? It didn’t matter a hill of beans now. Blane should have believed me when it counted, when I’d stood in his office while he accused me of being unfaithful, of betraying him. That’s when he should have believed me. It was far too late now for anything he said to matter.

I drank until my head swam and the room spun, falling into bed still in my work uniform. Tears I hadn’t shed in months streamed down my cheeks and I curled into a ball on top of the blankets, too exhausted mentally and emotionally to get under the covers. Finally, when the sky began to lighten outside, only then did I fall asleep.

A gentle hand brushed the hair back from my face, slowly combing through the long strands. I sighed in my sleep. I loved it when my hair was played with. The slow, gentle touch relaxed me and I burrowed deeper in my pillow as the hand repeated the gesture. What a nice dream. I hadn’t had a good dream in a long, long while, and I dreaded waking up, which would ruin it. Better to just stay asleep, enjoy the fantasy for a bit longer.

Something warm and soft was pressed against my cheek. It was also wet, and its gentle swiping dragged me up from the depths of slumber.

My brain was fogged from too much alcohol and too little sleep. My eyes felt swollen and glued shut from the tears I’d shed. Vague memories of last night drifted through my mind and I whimpered, the pain that was a constant companion washing over me as I remembered the current state of my life and the confrontation with Blane. God, had that just been last night? I felt like I’d aged ten years.

Another soft swipe along my cheek up to my forehead told me I wasn’t dreaming. That realization had me jerking upright in bed, which I immediately regretted as the room tilted and spun, the vodka I’d consumed still in my system.

Blane was sitting next to me on the bed.

I gaped in shock, my brain trying to process him sitting there, a washcloth in his hand, staring intently at me.

“What the hell?” I managed to squeak out, scooting away from him.

“You didn’t answer your door,” he said, as though that explained everything.

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that. I was sleeping!” I glanced down at the washcloth. Its pristine white was tinted pink. Blane had been cleaning the dried blood on my face that I had forgotten about last night, so preoccupied had I been with my shattered nerves.

“You didn’t answer your door, or your phone, and I was pounding hard enough to wake the dead.” His voice was flat. “Given what happened last night, I was worried.”

“So you just decided to let yourself in to my apartment?” I knew I should have changed the locks.

That question didn’t warrant a reply, since the answer was obvious.

“Well, I’m fine, so you can get the hell out. Leave your key.” I combed my fingers self-consciously through my hair, knowing I looked a disaster. I rolled away from him and got up on the other side of the bed.

My head ached and my mouth felt like I’d slept with a wad of cotton in it. The cuts on my face burned and my stomach felt even worse. I should’ve eaten something last night.

Somehow, I made it to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I leaned against it, just breathing.

Blane was here.

This couldn’t be happening. Somehow this was a nightmare, and I’d wake up any minute.

When that didn’t happen, I brushed my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I winced. The small cuts were an angry red against my pale skin, my eyes swollen and bloodshot. Dark circles that looked like bruises in my face didn’t help and my hair was in a complete tangle. The T-shirt I’d worn to work last night was stained with dried blood and it was tucked half in, half out of my shorts. My knees were in a similar state as my face, with dried blood on the scrapes.

I’d looked better.

A long, hot shower made a world of difference and I felt almost human when I emerged. I knew it would be too much to hope for that Blane would have left, so I wasn’t surprised to see him leaning against my kitchen counter. Ignoring him, I went back into the bedroom, discarding my towel for a pair of white shorts and a navy cami, the spaghetti straps the same color as my bra. The windows in my apartment were still open and it was already getting hot.

I had the passing embarrassment that my AC wasn’t on. I had a couple of fans going in open windows, trying to draw in some air. Very white trash, I know, but hey, they helped. Blane had to be uncomfortable in the warm apartment. I shoved the thought aside. I was the one paying the bill. He could just leave if he was hot.

My hair was wet and hung past the middle of my back, but I did nothing more than brush it. Wet hair would help keep me cool. I didn’t have the heart to look in the mirror. Why should I care what I looked like just because Blane was here? I hadn’t invited him and certainly didn’t want him to stay.

The smell of fresh coffee greeted me when I came out of the bedroom. It seemed Blane had made a pot. I didn’t say anything as I poured myself a cup. What was I supposed to do? Thank him for breaking into my apartment to make coffee?

I could feel him watching me and I avoided his gaze. He’d changed since last night, still wearing jeans but now with a white polo that contrasted beautifully against his tanned skin. I noticed with some disgust that he wasn’t even sweating.

I looked away and my eyes fell on the empty bottle of cheap vodka and glass I’d left on the kitchen table last night. Heat flooded my cheeks as I grabbed the bottle and threw it in the trash.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” I asked when I could no longer take the silence or his staring. “I’m sure Charlotte is wondering where you are.” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice as I finally forced my gaze to meet his.

“Charlotte’s an employee,” he said firmly. “Nothing more.”

I remembered what Clarice said and thought about throwing that in his face, but decided to let it go. It didn’t matter anyway and my pursuing it would just make me sound like a jealous bitch.

Which I totally wasn’t.

The gray of his eyes sparked too many memories, the sight of him standing in my apartment making me remember the time we’d spent together. Now he seemed a stranger to me.

A stranger who’d once pushed me down on the counter behind him so he could bury his head between my legs.

My hand shook and coffee sloshed over the side of the mug, burning my hand. I hissed and quickly set the mug down, putting the burned skin to my mouth.

“You should eat something,” Blane said, his eyes following my movements.

I arched an eyebrow. “Really?” I deadpanned. “You’re concerned about my diet now?” This was turning more surreal by the moment.

Blane’s gaze moved slowly down my body and back up. I stiffened when his eyes paused briefly at the gold locket I wore. Kade had given it to me for Christmas and it contained a tiny photo of my parents. I never took it off.

“You’re too thin,” he said roughly, thankfully not commenting on the locket. “And there’s hardly any food in your refrigerator.”

He’d gone through my refrigerator? My head felt like it was going to explode, I got so angry so fast.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I seethed. “You break into my apartment, refuse to leave, and now you’re snooping through my things?” My fists were clenched at my sides as I tried valiantly to keep calm, when all I really wanted to do was attack him until all the anger and pain and despair inside me went away.

I swear his face paled underneath his tan.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, and his voice was thick. He swallowed, his eyes locked on mine.

A little of my anger leached away at this, the first sign that he felt anything at all.

“I’m sorry for… a lot of things,” he continued. “And I’m not here expecting forgiveness. I know I don’t deserve that from you.” He paused. “But I can’t stop… caring… about you. Thinking about you. Wondering how you are, what you’re doing.”

These were words I’d wanted to hear for months, and a part of me was stunned at what he was saying, not ever having really expected it of him. But the other part of me, the part still encased in ice, was left… unmoved.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I finally replied with a small shrug. “You’re right—I can’t forgive you. Not right now. You said I’d betrayed you, when really it was you who betrayed me. You didn’t believe in me, in us.”

Blane was absolutely still as I spoke, his arms crossed tight over his chest, his gaze intently focused on mine, and I had the passing thought that maybe I wasn’t the only one barely holding myself together.

“Why are we having this conversation now?” I asked. “Because of Gage? Were you going to say these things to me without that threat?”

“I just thought… maybe… we could be friends,” he said.

I gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re not serious.” I laughed, and the sound was slightly hysterical even to my own ears.

Blane moved until he stood right in front of me and my laughter died a quick death. He reached for a lock of my damp hair, and this time I didn’t flinch.

“I drive by, all the time,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Just to see if you’re home. I’ve called so many times, only to hang up. I see you when I close my eyes at night. I smell your perfume at work and turn around, every time praying it’s you… but it never is.”

I studied his eyes and couldn’t deny that I dearly wanted to lean forward, let Blane wrap his arms around me, and forget the past three months had ever happened.

I’d be an utter fool to do that.

I cleared my throat. “That sounds real sweet,” I said quietly. “But we’re over, Blane. You about killed me, twice, and I’m not so stupid as to ever trust you again.”

His expression turned blank and he gave a curt nod. “I see. Then why all the booze, Kat?”

I stiffened at the nickname. He’d given up nickname privileges. “What are you talking about?”

“You never used to drink so much, at least not without cause. Why is there more vodka in your freezer than food? Why is it every time you’re at work, there’s a drink nearby?”

The blood left my face in a rush. “Were you spying on me?” It was hard to wrap my head around that.

“I’ve been around,” he said evasively. “But I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“You’ve talked to other people about me?” Now the blood came rushing back, as did my anger. “You’ve sat around discussing me like I’m some sort of… of… pity case?” I tried to push past him, needing some space, but he grabbed me, his hands closing on my arm.

“Not other people,” he said. “Clarice. She’s worried about you. I am, too.”

“I’m fine,” I gritted out. “Get over yourself, Blane. I drink more now because it’s my choice. It has nothing to do with you.” That wasn’t precisely true, but the truth didn’t matter. I was humiliated that Clarice would talk to Blane about me. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m not going away, Kat, whether you want me to or not. I’m not going to let Gage send someone to hurt you. And I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, either.”

My pride took a beating at that last part and I struggled not to let it show. “Fabulous. Get out.”

Blane’s jaw was clenched tight, our gazes locked together, but he released me and stepped away. I didn’t breathe properly until the door had shut behind him, then I sagged against the wall, letting it hold me up.

My instinct was to go next door and talk to Alisha, my friend and neighbor, but I knew she was out of the town for the weekend with her boyfriend, Lewis. My next thought was to reach for the vodka inside my freezer, but Blane’s words stilled my hand. Yes, I’d been drinking more lately, but if he hadn’t shown up out of the blue, I wouldn’t have drunk as much as I had last night. So really, it was his fault.

I sighed, pushing a hand through my damp hair. I really, really hated to admit that Blane had a point about anything, but he probably did about the alcohol. I’d been using it too much as a crutch these past few months. Apparently, so much so that Clarice had felt the need to tell Blane.

Shame and humiliation washed over me. Clarice and I were going to have a talk. She’d broken my trust, and no matter how well intentioned, that didn’t sit well with me.

And Blane had been spying on me in the bar? I remembered last night, when I’d felt as though someone was watching me. Had that been him? How long had he been outside, watching? Long enough to see me get propositioned for a threesome by those guys?

As if that event in itself hadn’t made me feel sleazy, suspecting Blane had seen the whole thing sealed the deal.

I pushed the thought aside. I couldn’t dwell on it or I’d wallow in self-pitying misery all day. I’d never kidded myself that Blane and I were of the same class, but I’d always had my dignity. Between Clarice insinuating to Blane that I was a drunken mess without him and the guys last night treating me like an easy hookup, my dignity lay in tatters at my feet.

I opened the refrigerator and peered inside. My stomach was tender, but I had to eat something. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to choose from. A nearly empty loaf of bread, the ends of which were moldy. A six-pack of beer with two bottles missing. A head of lettuce, its leaves limp and brown. Ketchup. Mayo. A half-empty bottle of soy sauce. Looked like a trip to the grocery store was in order.

I needed to check my tips from last night. My bank account was pretty low. Best to see what I’d made so I’d know how much I could spend at the store.

I’d dumped the crumpled pile of money on the table by my couch, not caring much at the time about what I’d made. The pile was now neatly stacked, but not very tall. I remembered the fifty bucks I’d made off the college guys. Bad propositions aside, that would certainly come in handy.

I sat cross-legged on the couch as I counted the money, being sure to sit on the thin blanket I’d spread over the cushions. Sweaty skin and leather did not mix.

When I came to the bottom of the handful of ones plus the fifty, I paused. A hundred-dollar bill was last in the stack. I frowned. I hadn’t cashed in my ones last night and I certainly would have remembered a hundred-dollar tip. Where had it—

Blane.

He must’ve counted the money while I’d been in the shower, adding in the hundred.

I stared at it, unsure how I felt. I sure didn’t like the charity, but then again I wasn’t in a position to be proud. The electric bill that I was behind on could really use that hundred dollars. Plus, Blane was already gone. How was I supposed to return it?

I hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t going away. After the argument we’d had, I doubted I’d see him again anytime soon, a thought that was immediately quashed when I went outside a short while later to find a glass company’s truck pulling out of the lot and Blane standing by my newly repaired car.

Déjà vu hit me hard as I remembered the first time Blane had fixed my car for me. It had felt so good then, for him to help me.

It felt quite different now.

“What are you doing, Blane?” I asked, walking up to my car. He turned toward me. “I told you I didn’t want you fixing it.”

“If Gage is behind this, then it’s an expense for the firm to absorb,” he said, eyeing me as though wary that I’d flip out on him again. He glanced at my clothes. I was wearing the same thing, had just slipped on a pair of flip-flops and my sunglasses. I’d pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. “Where are you going?”

“Weren’t you the one griping about the food in my refrigerator?” I retorted. “I’m going to the grocery store.” I stepped around him and climbed into my car. All the glass had been swept away and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t glad it had been taken care of for me. I decided not to argue with him about it. It’s not like there was anything I could do now anyway. I thought about the hundred dollars but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to humiliate myself by arguing with him over the money, especially when I was in such need of it.

Blane slid into the passenger seat. “I’m going with you.”

“You’re what?” I stared at him.

“You’re not going anywhere unprotected,” he said, slamming the door shut.

Short of throwing a big-ass temper tantrum, I didn’t see any way I was going to get him out of my car, and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d go even in the face of a tantrum.

“Fine.” I threw the car in gear and sped out of the parking lot.

We didn’t speak as I drove. I was acutely conscious of him. As it did in my apartment, Blane’s presence overwhelmed my car, too, its confines made even smaller by the size of his body. His sunglasses hid his eyes from me now as he rested an elbow on the rolled-down window, the wind artfully ruffling his perfect hair.

“Shouldn’t you be doing some campaign stuff rather than following me around?” I asked.

He glanced my way. “I’ve taken a temporary leave from the campaign.”

I swallowed and focused on the road. Blane was putting his campaign on hold to play bodyguard for me?

“I bet your uncle isn’t too happy about that,” I said stiffly.

“It’s not his decision.”

I wondered if the senator agreed with that sentiment.

When I parked, Blane followed me inside, watching as I got a cart and walking beside me down the produce aisle. We could’ve been like any of the other couples doing their weekend shopping, if the tension between us wasn’t as palpable as a living thing.

My nerves were on edge, Blane’s silent vigil next to me making it hard to concentrate. He’d hooked his sunglasses on his shirt while I’d pushed mine on top of my head. Blane looked incredibly out of place, standing in front of the broccoli. Grocery shopping was something we’d never done together.

I shook my head. Best to hurry up and get this over with. Peaches were in season and on sale. I grabbed a few. Cucumbers were plentiful and a couple of those went in the cart. Lettuce. Tomatoes.

I lived a lot off sandwiches and ramen noodles, so I grabbed some prepackaged lunch meat. The soup aisle was next, where I got some more noodles, then to the bakery for a loaf of generic white bread. I caught Blane looking sideways at the bread and noodles.

“So is there an assassin hiding in frozen foods?” I asked snidely, my pride stung when I suspected he was looking down his upper-class nose at my food.

His gray eyes met mine. “None that I can see.” His serious reply took the heat from my snit and I heaved an inward sigh.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning for the checkout.

“Wait, that’s it?”

I glanced around. Blane was staring at my cart.

“That’s pretty much what you do here, Blane,” I said with exaggerated patience. “You put food in the cart, then you put it on the belt and pay for it so you can take it home.”

His eyes flashed at my tone. “I meant, is that all you’re getting.”

I looked in my cart and did some quick math. If I was lucky, the groceries would be just under fifty dollars. I had food for sandwiches, salads, and noodles for dinner.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I snapped. “Some people have to live on a budget.”

“I need some stuff, too,” he said, inching me out of the way to take over the cart. “Might as well not make two trips.”

“You need stuff?” I asked in bewilderment, having no choice but to trot after him as he started down an aisle. My purse was sitting in the cart. “What happened to Mona?”

Mona was his housekeeper and took care of the cooking. She and her husband, Gerard, lived in a house that adjoined Blane’s property.

“She asked me to pick up some things,” he said, grabbing some jarred pasta sauce off the shelf.

Whatever. “Fine, just keep it separate from my stuff.” I reached in the cart and pushed all my things into a small pile in the back.

I followed Blane as he went back through the store. He wasn’t consulting any list that I could see and I had a suspicion as to what he was doing. Meat went in the cart, steaks, chicken, and pork chops. Cereal, granola bars, pop, chips, pasta, frozen meals, potatoes, fresh vegetables. I really hoped Mona hadn’t gone shopping recently because she was about to get a load of other stuff.

Blane was taking great care in picking out “Mona’s” asparagus, so I rolled my eyes and wandered away. He knew I liked asparagus, but it was expensive, so I hardly ever bought it. I wondered with a sigh how this was going to play out when we got to the cashier. If I’d had my purse, I would’ve just left Blane standing there inspecting the strawberries.

Glancing next to me, I saw a man looking over the melons. Our eyes caught.

“I, uh, never know how to tell what’s ripe,” he said.

He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties, attractive with blond hair that looked like it had been kissed by the sun. Blue eyes, straight teeth, and a smile that was both shy and sexy—and that had me smiling back.

“Yeah, something about if it sounds hollow when you tap it, I guess,” I replied with a shrug.

“They all sound hollow to me.”

I laughed at his self-deprecating grimace and his smile was wider this time.

“I’m Luke,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Kathleen.”

“Nice to meet you, Kathleen.” He held out his hand and I took it.

“Likewise.”

“I don’t usually do this—” he began.

“Kat, you ready to go?”

I turned to see Blane now standing behind me, his face like granite as he stared at Luke.

Nice.

“Sure,” I said easily as Luke glanced from me to Blane and back. “Luke, this is my… brother. You were saying?”

I didn’t look to see how Blane was taking that.

“Ah, yeah.” Luke focused on me again when Blane didn’t speak. “I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime.”

I could have done a little dance in delight. A cute, sexy guy was asking me out right in front of Blane and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Maybe fate had a twisted sense of humor after all.

“I’d like that,” I said. I grabbed a pen from my purse and scrawled my number on Luke’s palm. “Here’s my number. Call me.”

He beamed at me and his gaze dropped to my chest before jerking back up to my face. “Thanks! I will.”

Blane was a stiff wall of silence behind me as I walked toward the checkout. I probably wouldn’t have given Luke my number if Blane hadn’t been there. I don’t usually get picked up in the grocery store, but it had been too good of an opportunity to resist.

“Your brother?” Blane asked, his voice hard with anger.

I stopped and turned. Blane’s eyes were flashing gray fire. “Telling him you’re my ex probably wouldn’t have gone over real well,” I said.

Blane grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “He was staring at your breasts,” he hissed. “Which are barely covered in that getup.”

“Can you blame him?” I retorted. “If I remember right, you always enjoyed them.” I yanked my arm out of his grasp. “And can we stop pretending that you’re buying all this food for Mona? I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to happen.”

“You can’t live off ramen noodles and lettuce.”

I was furious now, and it wasn’t just about the groceries. My temper seemed to be on a hair trigger. “You can’t shove your way back into my life, Blane, not after everything that’s happened. And you certainly can’t control me the way you used to.” I snatched my purse from the cart. “I’m out of here.”

“I have your keys,” he said to my back.

His high-handedness had me seeing red. “Then I’ll fucking walk,” I ground out.

Tears stung my eyes as I hurried through the automatic doors. The sun was now high in the sky and stepping into the heat and humidity felt like hitting a brick wall. I slid my sunglasses back on and started trekking across the parking lot.

I couldn’t handle this, didn’t know how to act or what to say with Blane. My anger was too close to the surface, forgiveness too far away, for me to even pretend a level of normalcy with him. Our relationship had too much history, too much baggage, for us to carry on with any kind of pretend friendship.

I had to get him out of my life, and there was only one way to do that.

Getting my phone out of my purse, I dialed a number from memory, praying he’d pick up.

To my disappointment, the call went to voice mail.

“Kade, it’s me. Kathleen. Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while,” which was an understatement, “but I was hoping, if you’re not too busy, that you might come back. Just for a while. I…” My voice faltered. “I could really use some help, and I don’t know who else to ask…” The absurdity of what I was asking suddenly struck me. Was I really going to ask Kade to actively work against his brother? “You know what,” I said, suddenly changing my mind, “forget I called, okay? It’s nothing. I’m fine.…”

Someone yelling my name distracted me and I turned to see Blane running flat out my way.

“Look out!” he yelled.

I turned in confusion and saw a car barreling toward me. I froze in horror, my mind moving in slow motion. Adrenaline turned my insides cold and made my muscles move. I dove to the side but not fast enough. The corner of the car hit me and I screamed as my body glanced off the metal before hitting the burning asphalt. My phone clattered from my hand and I was aware of a burning pain in my side. I heard gunshots, then nothing.

Sirens were screaming when I pried open my eyes. I was lying on my back on the hot asphalt, the sun a blazing glare. My first thought was that I must have dropped my sunglasses. My second was that I’d broken my non-injury streak the moment Blane had set foot back in my life.

That seemed important.

Blane spoke and I realized he was kneeling at my side.

“Don’t move, Kat.”

Yeah, wasn’t planning on it. My side hurt like hell, especially when I took a breath. I could tell I’d gotten scraped up from the concrete on my arm and elbow, though that pain paled in comparison.

“What happened?” I managed to croak.

“There was a car,” Blane said. “It hit you.”

Ah yes. Now I remembered. I’d been angry and left the store. In retrospect, probably not the smartest thing to do given what Blane had told me about Gage. My only defense was that I’d been so upset at Blane that I hadn’t been thinking clearly.

The sirens were coming closer and I assumed they were for me. We’d attracted a small crowd, which had to back up when the EMTs got there. Blane stepped out of my line of sight as the technicians examined me. Once they had asked me a hundred questions (“Ma’am, can you wiggle your toes?”) and realized I hadn’t broken something vital, like my spine, they placed me on a gurney and started to put me in the ambulance.

This was the first time I’d been in an ambulance since I’d had to call one when my mother was so ill in the last stages of cancer. I’d insisted on riding in the back with her, and I still remember the sympathy on the EMT’s face as he watched me hold my mom’s hand. She’d wanted to die at home but had ended up passing in the back of that ambulance before we even reached the hospital.

That memory assaulted me now and irrational fear struck.

“Wait,” I gasped, struggling to sit up against the safety restraints they’d placed across the gurney. “No, wait… let me out!”

“Ma’am, you need to lie still,” one of the EMTs said, gently but firmly pushing me back down.

“No!” My voice was shrill now as they rolled me inside the ambulance. Medical equipment surrounded me, its silence foreboding. I couldn’t see outside. I couldn’t see Blane.

Panic hit and I started struggling in earnest despite the pain in my side, tugging fruitlessly at the belts that kept me prisoner. I couldn’t breathe properly. Each breath was a stabbing pain.

The EMT grabbed my wrists. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “Just calm down. We’ll get you to the hospital.”

“No, please, let me go,” I begged, unable to twist away from him. My vision blurred. The heat inside the ambulance was suddenly too much like the stifling heat in a shack filled with women held at gunpoint.

The man forced my arms down to my sides. “Restrain her,” he told the other guy. “Then sedate her.”

Straps held my wrists in place and I couldn’t move. I was breathing in shallow pants now, my gaze swiveling frantically from one man to the other.

“Blane!” Where was he? He said he’d come for me, protect me. “Blane!”

The men ignored me, one of them snapping on latex gloves before picking up a syringe. I couldn’t look away from the needle as I watched him turn toward me and reach for my arm. Terror clogged my throat.

I screamed.

“What the hell are you doing to her?”

Both men turned and I saw Blane standing in the doorway, his face livid.

“Blane!” I gasped, tears leaking from my eyes.

“She’s hysterical. I was about to sedate her,” the man with the syringe said. “Can you calm her down?”

Blane didn’t bother answering, his attention now focused on me as he took the man’s place at my side.

“Calm down, Kat,” he said gently, unfastening the bonds holding me. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe. I promise you.”

His gray eyes held mine captive.

“Just breathe,” he said. “Slow down. Take a deep breath.”

Blane’s hand was warm and strong around mine. I focused on him. The restraints were gone and I could breathe again. I realized I was shaking uncontrollably and my skin was clammy with a cold sweat.

As awareness of where I was and what had happened came to me, I wanted to crawl under the gurney in embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I’d just freaked out so badly over a stupid ambulance.

“Oh my God.” I breathed, covering my face with my hands. I wanted to cry. “What is wrong with me?”

“Is she calm?” the EMT standing outside asked.

“Yeah, he’s got it,” the other replied. “I think we’re good to go.”

The doors slammed shut and a moment later the engine started.

“Ma’am, I need to check your vitals. Can I have your arm please?”

I nodded, moving my arm so he could grasp it. I avoided looking at him. I could feel my face burning.

“I’m so sorry,” I managed. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“That’s okay,” he said easily, adjusting a blood pressure cuff on me. “People get panic attacks sometimes. And you did just get hit by a car, so it’s perfectly understandable.”

“Is that what it was? A panic attack?” I asked, feeling slightly better.

“No.”

Blane’s curt reply had me glancing at him. I noticed he still held my hand, but I couldn’t make myself let go. Not yet.

“You had a flashback.”

My ribs were bruised, which was why it hurt so badly to breathe. I also had multiple contusions, a sprained wrist, and a mild concussion.

And judging by what Blane was telling me, possibly post-traumatic stress disorder.

After he explained the symptoms to me, I couldn’t disagree with his conclusion, though it did make me feel… weak. Blane had been on a battlefield for months at a time, killing people and people trying to kill him. It seemed he had a right to the PTSD he’d experienced. I’d been taken and held against my will for just a week, most of which I couldn’t remember. It seemed pathetic that I was so mentally fragile that I would have PTSD from that.

After giving me a prescription for pain medication, they let me out of the hospital.

“Where are the admittance papers?” I asked Blane as he helped me get to my feet from the hospital bed.

“I filled them out for you,” he said.

I heaved a mental sigh. Another hospital bill, only no health insurance this time, plus the ambulance ride, X-rays, an MRI—the list was endless—I was sure I’d be paying on this for a long while.

Thank you, William Gage.

“He seems persistent, doesn’t he?” I said, having no choice but to lean on Blane as we left the hospital. I didn’t need to specify who I was talking about.

“It would seem so,” Blane said, his voice flat. He flagged down a taxi and helped me inside, following me in before giving the driver my address.

“Wait, what about my car?” I asked. It was still in the grocery store parking lot.

“I called Gerard a while ago,” Blane said. “He came by to get your keys while they were taking x-rays and drove it back to your apartment.”

I sighed. I missed Gerard. It would have been nice to say hello to him.

We’d been at the hospital for hours and now it was mid-afternoon. My whole Sunday shot to hell, and I had class in the morning and homework to do tonight.

After taking more time than usual managing the stairs to my apartment even with Blane’s help, I was glad to sink down onto my couch. Tigger immediately jumped in my lap.

“Are you hungry?” Blane asked.

I glanced up at him. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.” I absently trailed my fingers through Tigger’s fur. He purred, kneading my thigh with his clawless paws.

Anger flared in Blane’s eyes, but his voice was calm and controlled when he spoke. “I’m not saying you can’t, but I’m the reason for this and I want to keep you safe. Please let me.”

I decided to be brutally honest, with both him and myself. “Blane, I can’t do this,” I said baldly. “I can’t… be around you right now. We’re not friends, and while you may be able to compartmentalize us into the friend zone, I can’t.”

I hated having to make myself so vulnerable in front of him, with my weakness on full display, but I had nothing left to hide behind.

Blane was a master at concealing his thoughts and emotions, but a flicker of pain crossed his face and was gone. He glanced down at the packet the hospital had given me. I’d set it on the coffee table and now he picked up a couple of papers from the stack.

“They gave you some prescriptions,” he said. “I’ll go get them filled and grab something for dinner. Here, you take this.” He removed his gun from its holster and handed it to me. “Just in case. I’ll be back shortly.”

I thought about reminding Blane that I already owned a gun, but that would also remind him that Kade had been the one to buy it for me, so I kept my mouth shut and gave a quick nod. I had to look away from his penetrating eyes that saw too much. He hadn’t said if he’d stay or leave when he got back, but at least I’d gotten a short reprieve. Moments later he’d gone, locking the door behind him on the way out.

Carefully getting off the couch, I grabbed fresh clothes and went to shower. The apartment was stifling and I still had grit on me from hitting the asphalt. Blane hadn’t returned by the time I came out. I settled back on the couch, careful to sit on the blanket. I’d dressed casually again in a cami and knit shorts, though my bruised ribs had me skipping a bra. I was glad I’d done laundry yesterday.

A knock on the door had me sitting bolt upright, with fear slashing through my veins before I could even think. I took a deep breath. It was probably Blane. After all, it’s not like a killer politely knocks on your door before shooting you, right?

Blane’s gun was in my hand as I peered carefully through the peephole. Surprise and happiness flooded through me when I saw who it was, and I hurriedly threw open the door, a broad smile on my face.

Kade looked me over from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my breasts and short-shorts before his piercing blue gaze met mine.

“I fucking love summer.”