Did she have a boyfriend? Fiancé?
That last thought brought about an unexpected pang of something close to jealousy. Odd. Jealousy was a tiresome, wasteful emotion and not one that usually afflicted Blane. Ever.
Blane pushed the uncomfortable thought aside as he pulled into a parking lot. Time for business. The puzzle that was Kathleen Turner would have to wait.
Blane got out of the car, thinking she could wait here for him. But on second thought, she was a pretty girl sitting alone in a very expensive car. A billboard sign screaming temptation to criminals. He leaned back inside. “I’d say you could wait inside the car, but it’s not the best area,” he said.
She didn’t bat an eye. “It’s not a problem,” she replied, immediately getting out.
It was obvious she wasn’t into conversing with him, following a step or two behind rather than walking at his side, but Blane didn’t push it. He didn’t want to draw any attention to her, if he could help it. Though once they were inside and being let into Santini’s office, he wondered if that would even be possible. She stood out like a bolt of sunshine on a gloomy day, her eyes round and taking everything in, though she seemed to miss Jimmy in the corner.
“Blane!” Frank exclaimed, coming to shake his hand. “Fantastic that you could get here tonight.” His eyes lit on Kathleen, a gleam coming into them that made Blane’s teeth clench. “Who is your lovely friend?”
“This is Kathleen,” Blane said. “She works for me. Kathleen, this is Frank Santini.”
Kathleen’s smile was as fake as Frank’s dye job. Her smile grew even more forced as Frank pressed a sloppy kiss to her knuckles. After she slid her hand from Frank’s, she sidled a bit behind Blane, as though instinctively trusting him to protect her despite her antipathy for him.
And she was right. Feelings Blane hadn’t felt since his Navy days washed through him, including the overwhelming need to protect and shield.
“I brought the file with the affidavit summary you requested,” Blane said, handing the file to Frank. “I’m not sure why it was so urgent that you had to have it this evening.” This entire case had been a mess, and Blane knew the Santinis were behind the recent “accident” of their accuser. He just needed them to screw up. Then he and Kade would have them.
“I spoke with Bill about it,” Frank said, tossing the folder onto his desk.
Blane felt that Bill, senior partner in the firm William Gage, was a bit too willing to accommodate the Santinis, clients or not.
“We’d like a quick word with you,” Richie said from where he still sat. “Alone, if you wouldn’t mind.” His gaze rested pointedly on Kathleen. “Jimmy can take her outside.”
Jimmy slithered forward into the dim light like the snake he was. Blane stiffened even as Kathleen inched closer to him. He had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out and pulling her behind him, out of Jimmy’s path. But he knew he couldn’t do that, not if he wanted to keep up this charade with the Santinis.
Kathleen looked up at Blane, the alarm in her wide, clear blue eyes causing the conditioned response to again flare in Blane. Protect. Defend.
It was an act of sheer will to give her a quick nod. He didn’t know what the Santinis wanted, but he’d make it quick, five minutes, tops.
His eyes stayed on Kathleen as she walked out the door, Jimmy following closely behind.
“This case needs to go away, Kirk.”
Blane turned toward Richie, who hadn’t moved from his chair, but still puffed on his cigar.
“The witness is dead,” Blane said. “It’s only a matter of time, now.”
“We’re not sure if he managed to get the information to anyone else,” Richie added. “The election is in two weeks, you know.”
“I’m aware.”
“See that you don’t forget.”
The threat was there, behind the words, and Blane stared long and hard at Richie. He didn’t appreciate being threatened.
“Listen, Kirk,” Frank cut in. “We have a little . . . party coming up, right after Halloween. We’d like you to come.”
“What kind of party?”
Frank leaned closer. “The kind people don’t talk about, if you know what I mean.” He chuckled. “I’ll send you what you need to find it and get in. We’d love to see you there.”
Blane wanted to question Frank further, but Kathleen was waiting, so Blane gave a curt nod and walked out the door. By the time he reached Jimmy and Kathleen, Jimmy was doing what he did best—being an asshole.
“. . . because I’d hate to mess up that pretty face,” Jimmy sneered.
“Knock it off, Jimmy,” Blane snapped. Kathleen looked terrified, her face white as a sheet. She jumped to her feet as Blane approached, moving toward him as he squared off with Jimmy.
“You got a problem, Kirk?” Jimmy had pulled his trademark switchblade. Word had it, he liked to slit his victims’ throats and carve his initials into them while they bled to death. He was an ice cold killer without a conscience or a shred of humanity. It made Blane anxious just to have him in the same room as Kathleen, never mind him knowing her name or anything else about her.
Blane took Kathleen by the arm, tugging her behind him. She came along quite willingly, her frightened gaze on Jimmy’s knife. “Stay away from her, Jimmy,” Blane threatened. It would be a pleasure to take Jimmy down, but he didn’t want Kathleen anywhere nearby when he did.
After a tense moment, Jimmy smirked. “Watch your back, Kirk.” The knife disappeared and he backed away, his malevolent gaze still fixed on Blane.
Blane wasted no time in hustling Kathleen out of there. It had been a bad decision to bring her along. He should have just jumped her car and sent her on her way. Irritation with himself made him walk fast and he didn’t even realize how tightly he was gripping Kathleen until she said, “You’re hurting me.”
Blane immediately loosened his grip, noticing that she was nearly jogging to keep up with him. He slowed down, glancing back at the building before opening the car door for her. She didn’t speak again until they were pulling out of the parking lot.
“Who was that guy?” she asked.
“He’s called Jimmy Quicksilver,” Blane answered. “His real name is James Lafaso.”
“Why is he called Jimmy Quicksilver?”
Blane hesitated before answering. He didn’t want to scare the girl even more than she already was, but neither did he want to lie to her. “Because he’s good with knives,” he finally said.
He couldn’t tell how she took that. Glancing over, he saw her rub her forehead. A stab of guilt pierced Blane. The girl had already gone through enough today without an asshole like Jimmy scaring her even more.
“You all right?” he asked.
Her answer seemed a little dazed. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”
It had probably been hours since she’d eaten. She was probably hungry. A little thing like her couldn’t afford to skip meals.
Up ahead, Blane saw one of his favorite restaurants. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, he pulled into a parking spot along the street and turned off the car. Kathleen looked around, confused.
“Why are we here?” she asked.
Yeah, Blane, what the hell are you doing? Take the girl home. She’s on the Do Not Touch list.
But Blane ignored the voice inside his head. He was close enough to her to get another whiff of her perfume and temptation reared its head. His gaze dropped briefly to Kathleen’s mouth before he replied.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said. “And I could use a drink.”
Her look of shock would’ve been comical if Blane didn’t feel exactly the same way. He knew better than this and no flimsy excuse that he just wanted to make sure she got something to eat justified him spending more time with her.
And yet he hurried to get out of the car before she could say no, heading to her side to hold the door open for her. To his relief, she hesitantly got out, looking up at him with those eyes that made his breath hi
tch in his chest. Reaching for her, Blane took her elbow and led her inside.
Seventeen Years Ago
Kade sat in the car, looking up at the imposing mansion the guy had driven them to. Obviously, the guy was rich, and it looked like there were plenty of places to hide in there. If he turned out to be an asshole—and all of them had—he’d have a hard time catching Kade inside there.
“This is my home,” the guy said. “It’s yours now, too, if you want.”
Yeah, right. Whatever.
Kade grabbed his knapsack and got out of the car, instinctively moving to keep a distance between himself and the guy as he approached to stand next to Kade.
“Come on,” he said, heading up the walkway to the front door.
Kade followed, trying to ignore the increasing apprehension creeping in his bones. He hated that feeling, hated being afraid. But this house was far away from the streets where he knew all the players and who dominated which corner. Who set the rules here? And what if he broke one without even knowing? His steps slowed without him consciously doing so.
Blane glanced at Kade, concerned but trying not to show it. It was obvious the kid was terrified. His face was pasty white and he clutched that dirty knapsack as though afraid someone was going to take it from him. He was so thin, Blane could see the rapid pulse beating in his neck. His steps grew slower and heavier the closer they got to the house.
“You know what?” Blane said. “I forgot that this door is locked. Let’s go around back.”
Leading the way around the house, Blane took his time, his feet crunching in the few leaves scattered on the grass. The grounds were covered with oak trees, their wide expanses shading the house while their leaves were a constant source of irritation to Gerard, especially in the fall.
Kade seemed to relax as they walked, his body not as stiff when he moved, and he glanced curiously around.
“Do you have a dog?” he asked.
Blane shook his head. “No, but we can get one, if you want.”
“Nah. They just die.” He said it matter-of-fact, completely without emotion.
A chill went through Blane. It seemed the only emotions Kade was capable of were anger and fear.
This was what he’d let his brother become.
The door into the kitchen was unlocked and Blane entered first, hoping Mona was there. To his relief, she was. She knew where he’d gone and was anxiously waiting for his return, saying she’d make cookies, since everyone knew kids liked cookies.
Kade entered the kitchen warily, one slow step at a time, his eyes swiveling to take it all in. Blane looked around, trying to see things through Kade’s eyes.
The kitchen was bright and cheery, one of the few rooms in the house that Blane would term “welcoming.” Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing the line of plants on the window ledge. A white kitchen table with four chairs sat in an alcove, a vase filled with white flowers at its center. Another beam of sunlight rested on a plump cat snoozing in its warm rays, and the whole place smelled like freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies.
Mona, Blane’s housekeeper and erstwhile nanny, stepped closer, smiling. A petite woman, she had a bob of brunette hair and kind eyes. She and her husband, Gerard, had been Blane’s salvation growing up. She’d heartily approved of him bringing Kade into his home, if for nothing else than to keep Blane company. Mona and Gerard lived adjacent to the property, and now that William Kirk was gone, it was just Blane in the house.
“You must be Kade,” Mona said. “I’m Mona. It’s so nice to meet you!”
Kade eyed her, but didn’t react nearly as suspiciously as he had with Blane, giving her a nod and mumbled, “Hi.” No smile, though, and Blane noticed his knuckles were white again as he clutched the knapsack.
Mona cast a practiced eye over Kade and Blane knew what she was seeing - a dirty, scared little boy who was too skinny for his age. Her lips thinned, but her voice was friendly when she asked, “Are you hungry? I made some cookies. Would you like some?”
“Sure.”
Mona placed a platter of cookies on the table along with two plates.
“And I know you’ll want some, Blane,” she said.
Kade seemed unsure whether to stand or sit, so Blane sat in one of the kitchen chairs, slouching in his seat while Mona set two glasses of milk on the table.
“Come sit down, Kade,” she encouraged.
Kade approached the table and slid into a seat. Mona reached for his knapsack.
“Here, let me take that—”
“No,” he interrupted loudly, clutching the knapsack. “I’ve got it.”
Mona smiled like this was nothing out of the ordinary. “Okay.”
“So how’s Gerard coming with the garage door repairs?” Blane asked Mona. He didn’t want Kade to feel like they were staring at him. Mona seemed to catch on, picking up the conversational ball and telling him all kinds of minute details about the house Gerard’s current projects. Blane listened with half his attention, the other half firmly focused on Kade.
Once Blane had taken a cookie to munch on, Kade had reached out, too. That cookie had disappeared pretty quick, as had five more in rapid succession, one of which was stealthily slid into his knapsack.
Both Blane and Mona pretended not to notice this, keeping up the patter of conversation until Kade seemed to have his fill and leaned back in his chair after draining the last of his milk.
“Come on,” Blane said, getting up from the table. “I’ll show you your room.”
Kade followed him up the stairs and Blane took him to the first room on the left. Serving as a guest room, Mona had quickly redone the décor in something more personal to a ten-year-old boy than the bland elegance that had been there before.
A queen-size bed a navy and hunter green plaid print bedding took up one corner, the matching furniture in a warm honey oak. The heavy drapes that had dressed the window before were gone, replaced by filmy white ones that let the sunshine in.
“The bathroom is across the hall,” Blane said, watching as Kade looked around the room. “And I think Mona put some clothes in the closet for you.” She’d guessed at his size and Blane knew everything she bought was probably going to be too big, but maybe after a couple months of her cooking, the clothes would fit Kade properly.
“I thought you said you had video games?”
“Yeah, I do. They’re in the TV room.”
Kade follows him back downstairs, still keeping his knapsack with him, and Blane sets up the video games. They spent the next few hours playing Super Mario on the PlayStation. Blane had never seen someone beat the levels as fast as Kade did. After Blane’s Mario died yet again, Kade tossed down the controller.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
Blane glanced at his watch, then rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent so long playing video games. “Mona should have dinner done by now. Let’s go check.”
Sure enough, Mona was just setting the dishes on the table when they got to the kitchen. Blane chatted with Mona and Gerard during dinner, watching as Kade put away a good amount of food as well as sneaking a chicken leg and biscuit into his knapsack to go with the cookie from earlier.
Blane glanced at Kade, who seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes open. “Well, I’m tired,” he said. “I think I’m heading upstairs. Kade? What about you?”
Kade nodded and slid out of his chair. He looked at Mona. “Thanks. That was really good.”
She smiled at his blunt honesty. “You’re very welcome, Kade. Good night.”
After a little encouraging, Kade took a shower. Blane got him some pajamas from the bureau drawers while he waited, but Kade came out dressed in the clothes he’d had on before.
“Here,” Blane said, handing Kade the pajamas. “I thought you might want something clean to wear.”
Kade eyed the clothes before reluctantly taking them. “What’ll happen to my clothes?”
“I’m sure Mona can wash them for you,�
� Blane said. Or burn them.
“Turn around,” Kade ordered.
Blane obediently turned his back so Kade could get undressed. He faced the mirror now, though he didn’t think Kade noticed. Blane was about to glance away to give Kade his privacy, when he took off his shirt.
It was like someone had slammed their fist into his gut.
Kade’s skinny torso was marked with a vivid, jagged scar that ran nearly the entire length of his chest. It was still red and puckered, recent then. He turned around and Blane had another shock at the pink pockmarks that dotted his back, the kind that came from cigarettes. Then everything disappeared as Kade pulled the pajama shirt over his head.
“Okay, you can turn around,” Kade said.
But Blane couldn’t. His feet were rooted to the spot as the horror of what his brother had endured washed over him.
“Dude, I said you can turn around now,” Kade repeated.
It took a massive amount of will to compose his features into something resembling normalcy. Blane turned around and forced a smile. Kade had already climbed into the bed. Blane bent and pulled the covers up over him, noticing the knapsack rested beside Kade in the bed.
“Got everything you need?” Blane asked.
“Yeah.”
“Okay then.”
Blane headed for the door and flipped off the light. In the doorway, he hesitated.
“Kade, I’m really glad you’re here.”
He couldn’t see Kade, not in the dark, but knew Kade could see him in the light from the hallway. There was no reply and Blane didn’t expect one. He softly closed the door and went back downstairs.
He could really use a drink.
CHAPTER TWO
The restaurant was quiet, the lighting dim, and Blane immediately relaxed. He led Kathleen to his usual table and watched as she paused for a moment before climbing onto the tall barstool. Her feet didn’t touch the floor and Blane hid a smile as he pushed her stool in to the table. She mumbled a “Thanks” even as her cheeks flushed rosy pink.
Greg came by to take their order and Blane ordered his usual drink, Dewars and water. Kathleen took him by surprise, ordering a manhattan. A drink like that would probably knock her flat on her ass in about twenty minutes, especially considering Blane had doubts as to the last time she’d eaten today.
Turn On A Dime - Blane's Turn (The Kathleen Turner Series) Page 3
