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

by Snow, Tiffany

  It was enough to drive him mad. Finally, when he felt like he would come out of his skin if he didn’t get out of here soon, he heard someone at the door.

  Taking up a spot just inside, Blane waited. Whoever it was, he’d grab them and get the hell out of here.

  The keys jangled as they scraped at the lock, then the door opened.

  Blane seized the collar of the janitor. Hauling him into the room, Blane shoved him up against the wall. The hat the guy was wearing fell to the floor and long, strawberry blonde hair tumbled out.

  “Kathleen?”

  The shock of seeing her went through Blane like an electric current. He didn’t think, he just felt, and what he felt was a relief and joy that went bone-deep. Blane was kissing her before he’d made the conscious decision to do so.

  She was alive. Warm and soft and unhurt. They hadn’t killed her.

  Blane pulled back, his gaze intent on hers as he cupped her jaw. He memorized the blue depths of her eyes, the feel of her cheek as his fingers drifted lightly over her skin. He’d been given a second chance with her. Another chance to keep her safe. Another chance to make her his. And suddenly Blane realized he wanted that. He wanted that very much.

  “They told me you were dead,” he rasped, still touching her as if to reassure himself that she was really there.

  “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” she said, her voice slightly breathless.

  The Mark Twain quote amused Blane, knocking him out of his funk.

  “I’m here to bust you out,” she said. “Let me go now?”

  Blane realized he was pressed tightly against her, rendering her nearly immobile, and he stepped back. As glad as he was that she was alive, she wouldn’t be much longer if he didn’t get her out of here.

  “How did you get in here?” he asked.

  “I’m temping here today and I saw you on the security cameras,” she said, unknotting the cord that tied his hands together. Blane worked at the rest until it fell to the floor. It felt good having his arms free.

  She’d been here? All day? Good God. The thought nearly made Blane’s heart stop.

  Kathleen reached for his face, concern etched on her features, and Blane grabbed her wrist.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Typical. Kathleen was the one they wanted to kill, and she wanted to know if he was all right.

  “I’m fine,” Blane answered. “Though I have a serious problem with you being within a mile of this place.”

  Her jaw set in a stubborn line. “I don’t recall asking your permission,” she retorted.

  Blane had nearly failed her once. He wasn’t about to again. He easily took the gun from her.

  “Hey!” she protested.

  “Stay behind me,” he ordered, pulling her into position so his body blocked hers. He eased open the door and saw a guard lying motionless on the floor. “Is he dead?”

  “Of course not! I wasn’t trying to kill him. Just knock him out.”

  Blane shoved the gun in his pants and grabbed under the guy’s armpits. “And how did you manage that?” he said, dragging the guy into his erstwhile prison.

  “I hit him with a plunger.”

  That stopped Blane in his tracks. He gaped at her. She’d come to rescue him with only a plunger as a weapon?

  Kathleen shrugged. “Then he slipped and hit his head. I got lucky.”

  She had no idea. “Let’s hope your luck holds.” He grabbed the guy’s jacket, shrugging it on over his torn shirt. “Let’s go.”

  Blane led the way down the hall to where he hoped there was an exit. Gun in hand, he eased around the corner. No one was there and he saw a freight elevator. Perfect.

  Once inside, Kathleen got rid of her janitor disguise. Blane didn’t bother looking anywhere else but at her as she took off the overalls. Her skirt was bunched at her waist, providing a lovely view of her legs and more before she smoothed the wrinkled fabric down. She tried to fix her hair, then gave up and let it fall around her shoulders. The fierceness of what he felt as he watched her surprised Blane and he filed it away to analyze later.

  They reached what seemed to be the basement level without incident, but their luck didn’t last.

  “What are you doing down here? Stop right there!”

  Shit. Blane grabbed Kathleen’s arm and started running. The guy behind them fired and Kathleen cried out. The bullet missed, hitting the wall instead. They reached the elevator and Blane hit the button, dragging Kathleen in front of him to shield her with his body. The guy was getting closer and fired another shot. This one hit its mark, embedding itself in Blane’s shoulder and coming out the other side.

  Turning, Blane fired. The guy fell and didn’t move.

  The elevator finally got there and they wasted no time getting inside. Kathleen jabbed again and again at the button until the doors closed. Blane leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and trying to compartmentalize the pain.

  Kathleen suddenly pulled aside his jacket. “Oh my God, Blane! You were hit!”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said to calm her. She looked near hysterics. Her face was white and her hands shook. Blane remembered what she’d said to him when he’d seen the bruise on her face. “It looks worse than it feels.”

  She swallowed. “Good, because it looks horrible.” She looked on the verge of tears.

  The elevator doors opened and Blane concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other as they walked through the lobby. A couple dozen other people were also leaving for the day. Good. They’d blend in.

  Kathleen’s palm pressed into his and Blane curled his hand around hers. She was ice cold. Two men rushed toward the elevator behind them and Kathleen’s grip tightened. Blane could almost smell the fear and adrenaline pouring off her.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured, trying to soothe her. She couldn’t panic now. They were almost at the doors. “Keep moving.”

  With a degree of calm that belied the fine tremors running through her body, Kathleen walked beside him until they’d reached the outdoors and freedom. Her pace sped up and Blane gritted his teeth. Blood loss was getting to him. He could feel it oozing from the wound and coating his skin and the fabric of the coat. The pain was becoming harder to manage and he pressed his lips tightly together.

  Kathleen seemed to sense that he was in trouble, wedging herself under his arm and taking some of his weight as he staggered. Blane didn’t pay attention to where they were going, his focus on staying conscious and alert for signs anyone was following them. They rounded a corner and suddenly Kade was there. Blane didn’t think he’d ever been so glad to see him.

  “What the fuck did you do?” Kade bit out angrily to Kathleen.

  “Not her fault,” Blane said, moving to lean on Kade instead of Kathleen.

  Kade helped Blane to the car and Blane gratefully sank into the passenger seat.

  “Is he going to be okay?” he heard Kat ask Kade.

  “He will be. As soon as I get him to a hospital. You coming?”

  “No. I have to be at the airport by seven.”

  That got Blane’s attention, dragging him abruptly out of fog permeating his mind.

  “Why?” He couldn’t manage more than that, but he couldn’t think of a single damn reason why she should be going to the airport instead of his house, where she’d be safe.

  “They’re going to Chicago tonight,” she said. “I’m working for one of the vice-presidents, Stephen Avery. I’m hoping I’ll be able to find the right server on-site.”

  Blane looked at Kade. He didn’t need to say anything, Kade knew exactly what he was thinking. She’d wouldn’t get two feet inside the door before they executed her.

  “Grab her,” Blane ordered.

  He saw Kade wrap an arm around a protesting Kathleen and heaved a sigh of relief. She was safe. Kade would keep her safe. Darkness enveloped him and this time he gave in to its silent embrace.

  When he woke, he was staring at the white cei
ling of a hospital room. Blane sat up with a jerk. His shoulder reminded him of why he was here and he grimaced. His clothes had been removed and he was wearing one of those awful hospital gowns.

  A nurse nearby stepped forward. “Mr. Kirk?”

  “Where am I?” Blane asked.

  “Indiana University Hospital,” she answered, checking the drip on the I.V. in his arm.

  “What time is it?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “After midnight.”

  “Where’s the man who brought me?” Blane asked. He needed Kade. Kade had Kathleen. He needed to see Kathleen, needed to know she was okay.

  “He left hours ago,” the nurse said, reaching to take his blood pressure. “He did leave a cell phone for you. Said you’d want it.”

  “May I have it?”

  She nodded, finishing her task before going to a corner and retrieving his cell from the counter. As he dialed, Blane said, “Please get the attending physician. I need to go.”

  “But you have to stay overnight for observation,” she protested.

  “Did the bullet hit any major organs?”

  “No.”

  “Did they sew me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then get the doctor and I’ll leave my card for the cops.”

  Blane held the phone to his ear, dismissing her. He ignored her and she exited the room in a huff. It rang three times before Kade answered.

  “Thanks for leaving me my cell,” Blane said. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, give me a minute,” Kade said.

  Blane heard the murmur of voices as he waited, then finally Kade came back on the line. “I’m fine. How’re the nurses treating you?”

  “Good enough, I guess. I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

  “Anything permanently damaged?”

  “No. It was a clean shot,” Blane said. ““Where are you? Where’s Kathleen?”

  “Ah, yeah. About that. I’m in Chicago.”

  “Did you find the server?”

  “Yep.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s taken care of,” Kade said. “They won’t be delivering any elections tomorrow.”

  “Good work,” Blane said, relieved. He’d known Kade would come through, even if Blane had been taken out of the picture. “Did you stash Kathleen somewhere safe?”

  There was a pause. “She’s with me.”

  It took a moment for Blane to process that, then, “Are you fucking kidding me?” he ground out. “I told you to grab her, not take her to Chicago. I trusted you—”

  “Relax, she’s fine,” Kade cut in. “Short of me tying her down, she was coming here. I came along to keep her safe.”

  Blane took a deep breath, let it out. There was no sense yelling at Kade. What was done was done. “Where exactly are you?”

  “A motel. Outskirts of the city.” Kade rattled off an address.

  Kade and Kathleen were in a motel. Together. Blane tried to shake off the uneasiness that revelation had brought. It wasn’t like Kade was going to do something to her. Blane trusted him. Yet he still found himself saying, “Let me talk to her.”

  Another pause, longer this time. “She’s sleeping,” Kade said. “You want me to wake her?”

  A sharp pang of disappointment. “No. Let her sleep.” Blane hesitated. “So you know she wasn’t a plant,” he said.

  Silence, then, “Yeah, I know.” Kade sighed. “What do you want me to do with her? Bring her back in the morning?”

  A gnawing ache clawed at Blane’s gut and he instinctively knew it wouldn’t ease until he saw Kathleen, held her, reassured himself that she was well and whole.

  “No, I’ll head there soon. I should be out of the hospital here shortly and I’ll drive up.”

  The doctor walked in and Blane quickly ended the call, telling Kade he’d text when he was on his way. After the usual cautions about the injury, the doctor signed the discharge papers. Thirty minutes later, a cab was dropping Blane off at home.

  He showered, pulling on a pair of jeans and long-sleeved shirt for the drive. Quickly jotting a note for Mona, he grabbed a sandwich from the fridge and a bottle of water, then hit the road. He should be able to be in Chicago shortly before dawn.

  When Blane pulled up to the fleabag motel, Kade was outside waiting for him. The sky was just now starting to lighten in the east.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Kade asked as Blane got out of the car.

  “It’ll heal.” Blane surveyed Kade, his arms akimbo. “I wanted you to keep her from coming at all and I’m pissed that you didn’t. But it looks like you kept her alive, so thank you.”

  Kade’s lips twisted. “Sounds like one cancels out the other to me.”

  Blane snorted in reply, but was okay with letting his anger go. It served no purpose and he didn’t like tension between him and Kade. After a moment, he asked, “So are you going back to Indy?”

  Kade shook his head. “I’ve got some business to take care of back east. I’ll be in touch.”

  Blane nodded, hiding his disappointment. It had been nice having his brother around. Really nice. Blane had hoped Kade would feel the same, would want to stay and give up the lonely, nomadic, not to mention highly dangerous life he lived.

  “She’s inside. Asleep,” Kade said, handing the motel key to Blane.

  “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine.”

  Relief edged out the churning in his gut. Blane was anxious to see her, only feet from him now. As he walked by Kade, Blane clasped him lightly on the shoulder. Kade wasn’t one for displays of affection and Blane hoped he understood by the gesture how grateful he was to him—for keeping Kat safe, for helping with the case, for just being there.

  Blane would have liked to take Kat to his house instead of her apartment, though the thought was ridiculous at this stage. No doubt she’d look at him like he was insane if he suggested it, so he didn’t say anything and just drove her home.

  It seemed she’d been as glad to see him as Blane was to see her, and if the motel Kade had chosen had been of a better quality, their reunion would have been decidedly more thorough.

  Instead, Blane had packed her up and driven Kat back to Indy and to her apartment. Gerard had brought the cat back, as Blane had suggested in his note this morning, so the feline was waiting for her when they arrived. Judging by Kat’s response, that had been a smart move.

  The D.A. had called Blane while he’d waited for Kat to dress in the motel, letting him know that the Santinis had ratted out Gage and his part in the murders of Mark and Sheila. Gage would go to prison, though his son James would remain unscathed.

  The thought briefly crossed his mind that he could go now. He’d delivered Kathleen safely to her home, the bad guys were behind bars, and no one was going to hurt her. But Blane dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. He wanted Kat, wanted her for more than just a night. For how much more, he couldn’t say. What he did know was that she was the first woman he’d ever been with who was completely oblivious to his wealth or the power he wielded. She seemed blithely unconcerned with his public image or career plans, her focus solely on the man he was, without all the baggage.

  So Blane stayed. He made love to her, fed her, made love to her again, talked with her, held her while she slept. She fascinated him. Kathleen had an inner strength and innocence that remained untouched, even with what had happened to her the last couple of weeks. She’d buried both her parents and made her way alone in the world. Quiet and unassuming, it seemed she was wholly unaware of her striking looks. Or maybe Blane was just seeing her more clearly now.

  Blane woke when Kathleen climbed back into bed. It was the middle of the night. She moved tentatively, trying not to wake him, as she snuggled spoon style. The feel of her curved bottom nestling against his crotch had his cock stirring to life again. Blane’s hand drifted to her waist. Satisfaction flooded through him when he realized she was wearing his shirt and nothing else. A primal need to mark her
, possess her again, made him lift her knee to rest her leg atop his as he pushed his now throbbing erection inside her.

  Kat gasped in surprise, the sound turning quickly into a moan. She was still slick from their lovemaking earlier, the wet heat of her body like sin wrapped in silk. Blane moved slow and deep, letting her sighs drift over him. His hand kept a firm grip on her thigh, pinning her in place as he sped up, his control gradually slipping away. He thrust harder and faster, until he came in a blinding rush of heat and sensation, his cock pulsing inside her.

  His hand was gripping her leg tight enough to leave marks and Blane quickly let go, though Kat hadn’t complained. She hadn’t come yet, either, so Blane’s hand drifted down between her thighs where his aching cock was still nestled. But she stilled his hand.

  “Don’t,” she said softly, threading her fingers through his.

  Blane lifted his head off the pillow so he could see her face better. He frowned, wondering if he’d gone too far.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Her cheeks tinted pink and she shyly lowered her gaze. “I’m just a little sore, that’s all. I’m not used to this.”

  Well, now didn’t Blane feel like shit.

  “I’m sorry—” he began, but she interrupted.

  “No, don’t apologize,” she said with a small smile. “It’s a good kind of sore.” She brought their joined hands up to her breasts and closed her eyes with a sigh.

  Normally after a night like this, sated and replete, Blane would already be making an excuse to leave. Itching to get home, shower, relax. But not tonight. There was something about her, this particular woman, that had him rethinking his ideas and plans for the future. The things he was feeling should have alarmed him, sent him running for the door, but they didn’t.

  Blane lay there watching her for a long while. She drifted to sleep, her hold on his hand loosening as her body relaxed in slumber. If possible, she looked even younger and more innocent when she slept. Guilt needled Blane. He shouldn’t get involved with her any further. He should let that young pup bartender date her. Blane’s track record with women was abysmal. He was too selfish and grew bored too easily. Yet even with the possibility looming that he could break her heart, Blane couldn’t make himself leave her.