by Tiffany Snow
“Kade, you’re hurt,” she said, as though surprised.
Yeah, he was shocked, too.
“No, shit,” Kade said, tugging his shirt over his head. There went a Tom Ford. Glancing down just as Kathleen gasped, he saw the slice on his side underneath his arm.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” Kathleen said.
Not. Kade just huffed a laugh. “For this. Please. Just get me some water and something to cover it. You have Band-Aids here?”
“You can’t be serious?” she gaped. “That cut needs stitches.”
Needles. Don’t think so. “You going to get me some water or should I do it myself? And I wouldn’t mind a shot or two of bourbon.” Or three. Maybe four, if he was going to have to keep looking at her in that cock-tease outfit.
“Fine,” she snapped, getting all pissy. Going behind the bar, she returned quickly with a bowl of hot water, clean towel, and a glass of bourbon. Kade reached for the towel, but she pulled it back.
“I’ll do it,” she insisted. “You can’t even see what you’re doing.”
Everything in his head screamed that this was a bad idea, but Kade could no more refuse her than he could stop looking at her. He didn’t speak, just waited as she tentatively stepped closer, dipping the towel in water before starting on his face.
Maybe it hurt, it might’ve been excruciating, but Kade didn’t feel it or care. She was so close he could smell her perfume, feel the brush of her breath on his skin as she worked. He should find those assholes and thank them.
Her hands were soft and gentle, carefully cleaning the blood from his face. She chewed her bottom lip, drawing Kade’s eye to the plump bit of flesh. Her brow was drawn in a slight frown, worry in her eyes, as she swiped at the cut on his cheek.
It had been a long time since Kade had allowed a woman to care for him in this way, to touch him so intimately. Sex was different. They used him as much as he was using them. But this, this was more. It involved actual feelings—trust in her to allow it, and if she bothered to take care of him, that meant she must have some softer feelings for him, right? But that was too much to hope for, and hope did nothing but destroy the soul.
He stared into her eyes, unable to look away. She kept at it, though he could’ve told her she didn’t need to be so gentle. He could take it. But if he said that, then it might be over too quick.
“What happened?” she asked. “How did they get the drop on you?” She’d moved to the cut on his lip and Kade bit back a groan at her soft touch.
“I was…distracted,” he said, forcing his thoughts away from the path they wanted to drift down. “My own fault.”
“Distracted by what?” she asked.
I was consumed with thoughts of you was on the tip of his tongue, but Kade knew he couldn’t say that. She was dabbing at the cut above his eye now. She was so close, just a breath away. What would she do if he leaned forward those few scant inches and kissed her? Would she push him away? Would she be disgusted that Blane’s brother would cross that line? There was no excuse of someone watching them tonight.
“What was it?” she asked again when he remained silent.
Kade abruptly turned away before he did something colossally stupid. Grabbing the glass of bourbon, he downed it in two swallows, ignoring the slight tremor in his hand. Kathleen just watched in silence.
“Bowers’ place was cleaned out,” he said roughly, setting the glass back down. “I watched and waited for a while, thinking he might show, but nothing.”
“What about the phone records?” she asked, gently turning his face back toward her and swiping at his jaw. His hand tightened on the glass, wanting to tell her to stop touching him for God’s sake, but unable to force out the words that would push her away.
“Tracing numbers even as we speak,” he said. “I was headed back in when they jumped me. Then this Playboy Bunny showed up with a gun and scared the bad guys away.”
Kathleen smiled a little at his teasing, but it quickly faded. “I’m so sorry, Kade,” she said. “If it weren’t for you helping me the other night, this wouldn’t have happened.”
As if she should apologize for those douche canoes. They weren’t fit to breathe the same air as her. “Don’t mention it,” he said, cutting off any further apologies. “Want me to get the rest? You’re squeamish, aren’t you?” He didn’t know how much longer he could take of her touching him, her being so near and yet so utterly beyond his reach.
“Of course not,” she said, wringing out the towel and turning back to him. “Can you lift your arm?”
Shit.
Kade hesitated, knowing how close his control was to snapping, and wondered if she could read the longing in his eyes. Bending his elbow, he stuck his hand behind his head so she could get to the cut.
She moved closer to him, stepping right between his spread thighs as he sat on the stool. Her eyes dropped to his chest and Kade saw the column of her throat move as she swallowed.
Every sense was focused on her, the pain of the cut a distant throb. Her hair was close enough for the scent to drift toward him. The delicate curves of her neck and shoulder drew his eye and he clenched his hand into a tight fist so he wouldn’t touch.
“You should really get stitches for this,” she said quietly, her fingers brushing softly at the damaged skin in something more like a caress.
“Forget it,” he said roughly.
“What’s the deal, Kade? It only hurts for a second when they numb you and then—”
The mere mention of it brought back the anxiety he always felt where needles were involved and Kade abruptly lowered his arm, forcing Kathleen back. “And we’re done here,” he said.
“You are kidding me,” she said, staring at him as though stunned.
He frowned. “What?”
“You’re afraid of needles, aren’t you?” she asked.
Damn. Perceptive little thing. “Right,” Kade snorted, lying through his teeth. As if he wasn’t already a total wimp in her eyes now because of the beating, being “afraid of needles” would surely seal the deal. She’d never look at him the same way again.
Kathleen laughed, the sound like music to Kade’s ears. “It’s okay,” she said, holding up three fingers. “I swear I won’t tell anyone. Girl Scout’s honor.”
“I am not afraid of needles,” Kade said.
She nodded, still grinning. Kade liked the sight too much to be angry that she’d guessed.
“Fine. But I’m not afraid of needles. I just…don’t like them. That’s all.” And if she knew the horror story behind that dislike, she wouldn’t laugh at all. But Kade had no desire to tell her that. He’d rather have her disdain and contempt than her pity.
Grabbing his empty glass, she rounded the bar and refilled it before setting it in front of him. “And yet, you have a tattoo.” She got a first aid kit from under the bar, coming back around to him and glancing at the dragon on his bicep.
Dammit, she was up in his space again, close enough to trace the inked edges with a slender fingernail. The touch shot right to his dick, and injured or not, Kade had a brief mental image of picking Kathleen up and setting her on one of those tables behind him, pushing her skirt up to her waist, and—
“What does it mean?” she asked, breaking into his fantasy.
Those blue eyes met his, so innocent and trusting, and guilt immediately chased away the images inside his head. The need to touch her was nearly overpowering.
Finding control he didn’t even know he possessed, Kade turned away and grabbed the bourbon again. “Tattoos are different,” he said. “Not like the needles they use in hospitals.” He swallowed the bourbon in one gulp. And he told no one what the tattoo meant. Not even Blane knew.
She sighed then said, “Lift your arm again.”
Kade did as he was told, assuming she had a bandage, but then her hand was on him, skin against skin, and he stiffened. She was rubbing some kind of ointment into the cut and it burned like fire, but didn’t even begin to c
ompare to the heat in his blood at her touch.
Then it was over and she was using butterfly bandages to hold the skin together.
“There. That should work for now. Though you need a real bandage. We should stop at the drugstore on the way home.”
Kade merely grunted and turned away, though inside he reeled. We she’d said, meaning her and him. Like they were a couple and would be going home together. It struck a need in him so deep and strong, it was overwhelming.
He needed another drink. Glancing behind the bar, Kade was searching for the bottle of bourbon when he heard her.
“Kade—”
She sounded weird, so he glanced around, but she looked fine, just staring at him. “What?”
“Your back…” Reaching out, she touched him, and Kade realized what she meant.
She’d seen the scars.
Yeah, yet another story she didn’t need to hear. She didn’t need to know the shit people did to those more helpless than themselves. To kids. And once upon a time, to him.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just chicken pox scars. No big deal. Not everyone has perfect skin like you, princess.” Though perfect seemed inadequate for the strawberries and cream of her flesh.
But she didn’t smile, and the look on her face was now one of horror. “I know those aren’t from chicken pox,” she said in a pained whisper. “Who did that to you, Kade?”
The pity in her eyes was the final straw on his crumbling control. He was pissed. Pissed at those assholes who’d jumped him. Pissed that the woman he was supposed to be protecting had been the one to save him. Pissed that he had these…feelings that he didn’t know what to do with. And pissed that the one woman he wanted, the one he couldn’t get out of his head, was the one woman forbidden to him.
Kade snatched her wrist, jerking her toward him to wedge her between his knees. She caught herself, her hand bracing against his chest. The touch only infuriated Kade more. Did she know what she was doing? How insane she was driving him?
“I don’t want your pity,” he snarled past his clenched jaw.
“I’m not…I don’t—” stammered.
“What are you doing anyway?” he snapped, cutting her off. “This playing nursemaid crap?”
“I’m just trying to help you—”
“Well, I don’t need your help.”
“Everybody needs somebody,” she said softly.
Her body was pliant, so soft and warm, her skin soft like velvet in his grip. Her eyes gazed into his, the pity gone, replaced by a tinge of fear.
“I. Don’t.”
“Okay, fine, you don’t need anybody,” she blurted, the blue of her eyes shining with unshed tears.
That’s all he needed. Her fucking crying over him. He’d sooner eat a bullet.
Kade let her go, grabbed his shirt and jerked it on over his head. Time to get the fuck out of here before he did something she’d regret.
“Maybe you could talk to someone,” she said. “There are people who specialize in that sort of thing.”
God help him, she was out of her fucking mind. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?” he growled at her. Blane had tried that shit, too, taking him to some psychiatrist. That hadn’t lasted long.
Kathleen didn’t answer and Kade pulled on his jacket. Grabbing his glass, he approached her until he stood right in front of her. Holding her gaze, he swallowed the last of the bourbon. She didn’t speak.
“I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened,” he said, his voice cold. “I suggest you do the same.” Hell, this whole damn night for that matter.
“But Kade—”
His temper snapped. Kade threw the empty glass on the floor, the sound of it shattering giving him some measure of satisfaction. She gasped, staring at the shards that crunched under his boots as he got closer. His hands came down on her shoulders, gripping too hard, but he couldn’t seem to stop. She had to know; he had to make her understand.
“Do you think I want to relive it?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Do you think I want Blane to feel guilty for what happened?”
“No, Kade—”
“I don’t want Blane to know anything—”
“I won’t—”
“—and I don’t need you feeling sorry for me—”
“I never said—”
“—and I don’t want you inside my head!”
Kathleen was trembling, shaking all over, as tears spilled down her cheeks. Guilt hit Kade hard, crippling in the face of his rage.
He had to leave. He had to get away from her. This woman who he’d already let too close. Kathleen, she fascinated and terrified him at the same time.
Without a backward glance, he was out the door. Seconds later, the Mercedes was roaring down the street.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kade didn’t get far before he slammed to a stop, his car fishtailing on the side of the road. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to protect Kathleen, not go running the opposite direction.
“Fuck!” He slammed his hand against the wheel once, twice. He had no choice. He had to go back.
Stomping on the gas, he swung the Mercedes in a sharp u-turn, the tires leaving rubber on the asphalt as he sped back to where he didn’t want to go.
He couldn’t see her, though, couldn’t handle another conversation with her. The pity in her eyes, the tears shining in the blue depths—it made him hate her and want her at the same time.
Kade parked around the block from the bar, this time making sure no one was around to get the drop on him. Though in the mood he was in, they’d end up regretting it.
What the fuck had he been thinking, letting her get so close? He was supposed to make her hate him, keep that wall of distrust and hostility firmly between them.
The problem was…he didn’t want Kathleen to hate him. What he wanted was so far from that, it was nearly a physical pain to think of some of the things he’d said to her. But he had to keep her at arm’s length. Not only was she off-limits, Kade knew in his bones that somehow, some way, he’d managed to stumble onto the one woman who could destroy him. And the more he knew about her, the more he knew her, the more certain of this he became.
Sticking to the deep shadows, he watched the bar until he saw Kathleen step outside. She’d thrown her coat on, but Kade could still see a flash of the red Santa costume underneath. Following her to her car, he watched as she got in, then he went to his and followed her.
Kathleen was oblivious to his presence about four car lengths behind her as she drove home. Kade rolled his eyes. Some investigator she was. She needed training, skills in observation second only to self-defense.
He parked across the street and watched as she went into her apartment. His hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. He wanted to talk to her, apologize for being such a dick, but he couldn’t. She needed to know he was dangerous, to think he didn’t want anything to do with her.
Kathleen’s light came on in her apartment and Kade watched, imagining her stripping off the Santa outfit before showering, then climbing into bed in that little T-shirt she always wore. What color would her panties be tonight?
It was almost an hour before the lights went off and Kade deemed it had been long enough for her to fall asleep before he entered the apartment. He was drawn to her room like the sick fuck he was, standing in the shadows and watching her sleep.
The cat twined around his legs, his purring a low rumble in the quiet bedroom. Kathleen gravitated to one side of the bed, the other side empty and taunting him. Kade’s hands clenched into fists so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. He did ease closer—closer than he had before.
Shafts of light from the streetlamp outside fell through the slatted blinds, illuminating her face and body every few inches in an amber glow. She was a restless sleeper and the covers were all tangled again as she lay on her side. Her hair was splashed across the pillow like a river of molten gold. The swell of
her hip gave way to the deep valley of her waist and Kade remembered how well she’d fit in his arms and hands.
He didn’t know how long he stood there. It calmed him, just being in her presence, even if she wasn’t aware. He knew this obsession was getting out of hand, but he was helpless to stop it.
Exhaustion finally drove him to the couch. He pulled off his shirt and dragged the same quilt over him, falling asleep with the echo of Kathleen’s touch drifting across his skin.
Kade woke automatically at six in the morning as he’d programmed his body to do. He ached all over from the ass-kicking he’d taken last night and he spent a long time standing under the hot water of Kathleen’s shower.
After shaving and dressing, he made a pot of coffee, expecting and yet dreading Kathleen waking. But she didn’t. He should be glad; she needed the rest and he needed less face-time with her. The disappointment he felt was ridiculous.
Grabbing a pen and pad of paper, he scrawled a note.
Have business to take care of. Stay put. I’ll be back to take you in tonight.
Would she obey? He doubted it. But he had to go. No way in hell could he take another day of constantly being with her. The tracker he’d put on her cell would tell him if she went anywhere.
He grabbed his jacket and was shrugging it on when something caught his eye. Walking to the Christmas tree, he removed the locket ornament. He flipped it open and stared at the photo of Kathleen’s parents. After a moment, he snapped it closed, then stuffed the whole thing in the pocket of his coat.
Kade locked the door behind him on the way out, did a quick recon of the place and her car before getting behind the wheel of the Mercedes. He could have easily just went back to his apartment and showered, but there was something about using Kathleen’s that made him ignore that. Knowing it was her shower, that she stood in the same spot every day, made it…intimate somehow.
He was seriously losing it.
His cell rang and he glanced at the display before answering. Blane.
