Small-Town Redemption

by Andrews, Beth

  Charlotte sat down on a kitchen chair, hoping he’d do the same eventually, but restless energy rolled off him like waves. “That must have been hard for her.”

  “Meryl’s stronger than any of us realized. She was willing to raise Estelle alone if it meant keeping her safe from me.”

  “But you were clean and you did get to know your daughter.”

  “I stayed clean until Christmas of that year. By July I was back in rehab. When I got out, all I wanted was to spend time with my daughter.” He sat on the edge of a chair, his left leg bouncing. “I picked Estelle up. She was so excited to see me, it was like a miracle. No matter how many times or how badly I screwed up, this little person loved me. It was huge, like this weight of responsibility on me. I wasn’t sure I wanted it. Knew I didn’t deserve it.”

  He finally leaned back, let his left hand rest between his knees. “We spent the day together, went to the zoo, then to the park. She fell asleep in the car on the way home so I put her to bed at my apartment. I...I thought she’d sleep all night....” His voice dropped off. He cleared his throat. “I took oxycodone. Told myself it was to take the edge off, that it wasn’t really using again if I just did it once.”

  Oxycodone was a highly addictive opioid and could affect people even if they took the recommended dose. “What happened?” she asked gently.

  He hung his head. “I thought she’d stay asleep,” he repeated. “She didn’t. She woke up screaming, said her ear hurt and she wanted her mommy. I couldn’t handle the crying so I called Meryl and told her I was bringing Estelle home.”

  Char was getting a really horrible feeling about what happened next. She laid her hand on his knee. “Kane—”

  He shook his head. “About a mile from Meryl’s house, I lost control on a curve,” he said, his voice flat, his gaze somewhere over Char’s head. “We crossed lanes and flipped over before hitting a tree.”

  Oh, Kane. Her heart broke for him.

  “I was knocked out, got pretty busted up—cracked ribs, broken leg, concussion...” He swallowed. “When I came to, they were loading me into the ambulance. I couldn’t see Estelle. They had me strapped to the gurney as they took me into the hospital and I couldn’t move, couldn’t get to her and no one would tell me where she was, if she was okay.”

  No wonder he’d been so upset getting his stitches, being in the hospital again. Char edged forward so she could touch him, offer him some small amount of comfort. She gripped his hand with hers, let the other one stay on his knee. His skin was ice cold, his muscles tense. “How long until you found out she was all right?”

  “Hours. Finally, after they’d run their tests and set my leg, my father came into my room. Told me Estelle was fine, that Meryl was with her and she’d be taking her home within the hour. I wanted to see her, but he suggested that might not be the best idea,” Kane said, his mouth twisting sardonically. He glanced at Char’s hand as if surprised to see it on his. Kept staring as he continued, “It was about the only time I can ever remember the old man being right.”

  “Did you...were you sent back to rehab?”

  He shook his head. “The police wanted to press charges against me—reckless driving, driving under the influence, endangering a child. I didn’t care. I knew I deserved to be punished for what I’d done. Dad had other ideas.”

  Kane stood, crossed to lean against the counter, his good arm bent protectively across his sling. “He made it all disappear.”

  Char frowned. “Made what disappear?”

  “Everything. Charges were never filed so, just like that, I was free to move on with my life, as if nothing had ever happened. No consequences. No punishment.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that. Seemed he was still punishing himself. “Your dad has that much influence?”

  Kane’s face was unreadable. “He has that much power. More than enough to convince a judge, the police chief and a top hospital administrator to alter the reports and make a criminal act go away.”

  “I can’t imagine going to such lengths.” Lengths that were not only illegal, but also highly immoral. “Not even to protect my child.”

  Especially when that child was an adult and obviously needed to face consequences for his actions.

  “The old man didn’t do it to protect me,” Kane said, the fingers of his left hand curling. “He did it to protect the family name.”

  That, somehow, was so much worse. “I’m sorry.”

  One side of his mouth kicked up. “Don’t feel bad for me, Red. I knew the real reasons behind his actions, just like I knew there would be strings attached if I didn’t break free of him for good. I checked myself into another rehab facility, this time paying for it myself.”

  “When did you join the service?”

  “After I was released from the program. One of my counselors was a former Ranger who thought the Army would be a good fit for me. My father hated the idea, which only made it that much more appealing. It hasn’t been easy but I’ve managed to stay clean for fourteen years.”

  What he’d done had taken incredible courage and willpower. She’d seen addicts come into the E.R., complaining of a variety of ailments in the hopes of getting drugs. The desperation in their eyes always tugged at her soul. She hated knowing Kane had been like that. That someone so strong had been controlled by his addiction.

  “Meryl must have forgiven you,” Char said, though she couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for the other woman. “She obviously trusts you with Estelle now.”

  “It took time. I wrote them every day while I was in rehab. I think that’s what got me through, knowing they were reading my words, seeing my progress, how hard I was working. Meryl let me see Estelle for an hour before I went to boot camp, and during my first leave, they met me in New York for a few days. Eventually, Meryl gave me a second chance.”

  He sounded shocked, as if no one had ever done that for him before.

  Kane’s mouth quirked into that smirk of his she loathed, but this time, she wondered if it was self-directed. “Still think Estelle would be all right living with me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Char said simply. Emphatically. She stood and crossed to him. “You’re not that person anymore. What you did, what you’ve been through and have now become...” She smiled. “I think you’re incredibly strong. And resilient.”

  And brave. Brave enough to live with his past mistakes, to face those demons inside him every day and still stay sober.

  He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  The only reason people do anything for someone else is if they get something out of it.

  His words came back to her, made her realize he not only meant what he’d said, but that it seemed to be some sort of personal mantra. As a way to protect himself.

  “Now,” he said softly, “you know all my secrets.” He angled his body toward her, leaned in close. “What are you going to give me for them?”

  A chill raced across her skin, foreboding or anticipation, she was afraid to define it. “Nothing’s free, is that it?”

  “Nothing worthwhile.” He scanned her face, his gaze sliding from her forehead to her cheek to chin before settling on her mouth with an intensity, a heated interest that threw her, had her thoughts tumbling round and round in her head. When he touched the indentation above her upper lip, the tip of his forefinger lightly rubbing her skin, she about jumped out of her clothes. “But some things,” he continued, his gentle touch hypnotizing her, the lazy cadence of his voice lulling her into believing every word he said, “some things are worth the cost.”

  Charlotte swallowed. Hard. Holy spit, he was going to kiss her again. She could see the intention in his eyes, feel it in the way his hand slipped to cup her jaw. Sense it with some instinctual, inner feminine certainty she’d never known she’d had.

  She wanted
his kiss, she couldn’t deny it. All she had to do was stand still, maybe shut her eyes and let him do his thing.

  But their first kiss had knocked her for a loop, had sent him running from her as if she’d lit his hair on fire. Letting him do that again would be the dumbest thing ever.

  His head lowered, his mouth inching closer to hers. Mindful of his injuries, she decided against the hearty shove she should give him, opting to go with the uninspired, yet universal, turning of the head.

  His lips brushed her ear.

  “Ouch,” he murmured, his lips sweeping up the side of her neck. Well, she hadn’t exactly pushed him away, hadn’t moved at all. “Don’t be like that, Charlotte.”

  The combination of him saying her name and his mouth vibrating against the sensitive skin of her neck made her shiver. “You kissed me the other day and couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”

  His mouth slid up and he pressed a warm kiss behind her ear. “This payback?”

  “Yes,” she said, shooting for a dry tone, but it came out as a gasp when he gently sucked her earlobe into his mouth. She really, really should back up. “Because the only reason a woman would reject you is because they have been previously scorned.”

  Finally, thankfully, he leaned back. Watched her out of hooded eyes. “If it’s not payback, then what is it?”

  Self-preservation, pure and simple. A woman had to be smart and very, very careful when it came to men like Kane.

  “I suppose it could be pride,” she said, still unable to move an inch. It was as if he’d put some sort of force field around them, keeping her close. She tapped her forefinger against her chin, pretending to give her next words great thought. “Or it could be that I’m not all that interested in kissing you.”

  His grin flashed, sharp as a scalpel and incredibly sexy. “That a dare to see if you can get me to prove otherwise?”

  She gave a short laugh. “Good Lord, no. I don’t need you to prove anything. Even with my limited experience, I imagine you can be very...persuasive. Especially when it comes to getting what you want from a woman.”

  “You sure this isn’t some sort of petty revenge?” he asked, exasperated, irritable and suspicious. She bet he didn’t often get turned down. For anything.

  “I’m sure.” She smiled. How could she not when he looked so put out by her rejection? It was flattering. And went a long way toward stroking her ego, which had taken quite a beating by him not so long ago. “Okay, maybe part of it—” She held her forefinger and thumb close together. “A teeny, tiny, insignificant part was for revenge.”

  “Like I said. Petty. And beneath you.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say I was proud of it.”

  His lips curved. The brief glimpse of humor lighting his eyes hit her square in the chest, hard and swift.

  Forget self-preservation and pride, she thought.

  And she launched herself at him and pressed her mouth to his.

  * * *

  CHARLOTTE KNOCKED HIM back a step and he bumped into the edge of the counter. Pain shot up from his ribs, traveled from his shoulder to his wrist. It was worth it. Any pain was worth it because she was kissing him.

  She was kissing him.

  God, she was warm. And her scent wrapped around him, beckoning him closer. He wished like hell he could put both arms around her, but he’d have to make do with one. He wrapped his arm about her slim waist, tugging her forward until their bodies aligned. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. Thigh to thigh.

  He angled his head, took their kiss deeper, swept his tongue into her mouth. She trembled. He groaned. He loved how she responded to him so quickly, so easily. As though she couldn’t get enough of him.

  He dragged his hand up her back, trailing his fingers along her spine, pulling her shirt up. He ached with the need to be with her, and he didn’t like wanting, not this much, having it be this important to him.

  He set out to seduce her, not with flowery words he didn’t mean, wasn’t sure he’d ever mean. Not with promises he had no intention of keeping or soft touches or long kisses. He wanted her to be inflamed, to be as desperate for him as he was for her.

  He wanted to lose himself in her. If only for a little while.

  He kissed her hungrily, turning them around and around until they were in the living room. Pushing her against the wall, he kept his hand at the back of her head, held her there. Deepened the kiss, knowing he was out of control, hungry and desperate for her, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

  Please, God, don’t let her stop him.

  Her hands went to his shoulders and then up to his head, her fingers stabbing into his hair. She matched the movement of his tongue, of his hips gently rotating against hers. Matched his desire. He kissed her again and again until they were both gasping for breath, her hands caressing his shoulders, his neck, down his left arm and back up again.

  He stepped back far enough to slide his hand under the hem of her shirt. She was soft and warm and so receptive to his touch, the way her muscles jerked under his hand, how she gasped into his mouth.

  He broke the kiss and somehow managed to pull her shirt up with one hand, helped her tug it off, then tossed it aside and kissed her again. Her breasts were small, but they were big enough to press against him, fill his hand as he cupped her through her lacy bra, his thumb bringing one nipple to a hard peak. She whimpered into his mouth, squirmed, so he did it again. And again, then pinched it lightly.

  She bucked against him, her hips brushing his erection, and he growled. Stepped back and ripped open the buttons of his shirt, shoved it off his good arm, then quickly removed his sling and pulled the shirt down his cast. Her hands were there, helping him, skimming against his stomach, his ribs. The material caught on his cast and she was already kissing him again, touching his chest as he yanked the shirt off. He loved the way she touched him, as if memorizing the feel of him, his shape. It drove him crazy. Having her hands on him was better than he’d ever imagined. And he had imagined being with her. He hadn’t wanted to, didn’t want this strong of a need for anyone. He couldn’t count on her to be there, didn’t want her to count on him to be there after this was done.

  But they were together now. That was all that mattered.

  He kissed her again, deep kisses, his tongue rubbing against hers, his hand sliding up and down her side, her back, his fingers trailing across the side of her breast. He walked her toward the hallway, intending on somehow making it to his bedroom, to his bed, but when he got to the doorway, he couldn’t help but press against her there, his body holding her prisoner.

  He kissed a line down her throat, across her collarbone and to the slope of her breasts. Then tugged her bra down and touched her. “I wish I could put both of my hands on you,” he growled in frustration, loving the flush that turned her chest pink.

  He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth and sucked.

  He kissed his way between her breasts, down her stomach to her lower abdomen, his hand gripping her waist. He straightened, kissed her again, hungrier this time, demanding a response from her, an answer to his need. Her hands were hesitant on him, but he couldn’t get enough of her touch, the feel of her fingers skimming his shoulders, down his chest.

  “Kane,” she gasped, tearing her mouth from his. Now she pressed against his chest. Holding him back. He didn’t like that at all. “Wait.”

  It took all his willpower to straighten, to keep his hand on her still, to not kiss her mouth, which was swollen and glossy. “What’s wrong?”

  He winced. He hadn’t meant for that to come out so rough, so accusing.

  Her eyes were wide. Still dazed from his kisses, his touch. She licked her lips, the move unconsciously, incomprehensively sexy when she stood before him, naked from the waist up, her hair tousled. “I...I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

  He in
haled through his nose, tried to calm his heart rate. He needed to slow down. A woman like Charlotte, with her pretty fantasies about what life was supposed to be like, about relationships and happy ever after, needed more than a quick bang against the wall.

  She deserved so much more.

  He wished he could give her more, wished he could walk away from her, but his need for her was too great. Being with her soothed the ache in his chest, appeased the constant hunger in his soul.

  Made him feel less alone.

  “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low as he trailed one finger down the long line of her neck. He watched that finger slide over her collarbone, dip into the hollow at the base of her throat before sliding down the slope of her breast. Her nipple tightened. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve had this week. Maybe ever.”

  Now he had to convince her to agree. He didn’t want her to have regrets, didn’t want her to think of this as a mistake. He wouldn’t force her. But he’d do his damnedest to seduce her.

  He traced her nipple, watched as the pink bud tightened, jutting out, waiting for his hands. His mouth. “Do you like when I touch you?” he asked.

  Her chest rose and fell heavily to match her breathing. “I... Yes...but—”

  He kissed her, nibbling at her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. Leaned back so their mouths were inches apart. “Do you like when I kiss you?”

  Her fingers trembled on his chest, above his heart. “You know I do, it’s just—”

  He kissed her again, dragged his hand down her side, traced his fingers back and forth along the waistband of her pants. “I love touching you,” he murmured.

  “You...you do?”

  He’d done too good of a job of convincing her he hadn’t wanted her that night. “I do. I want to touch you all over. I want you, Charlotte.”