Trusting Zane

by Casey Hagen

  “You guys like pizza?” he asked.

  “Pizza? Really?” Brielle whispered, her eyes wide.

  He smiled. “Yes, why?”

  “Only big people eat pizza,” she quietly.

  “Who says?” Kinsley asked with a hand on her hip, her eyes narrowed, and her nose scrunched.

  “Mommy’s boyfriend,” Brielle said with a shrug as she bit into her cookie.

  Mommy’s boyfriend, the selfish, abusive prick, was going to get real familiar with Zane’s fist one day.

  Zane’s gut clenched, and the smile on his lips turned brittle. “When the adults ate pizza, what did you guys eat?” he asked, almost positive he didn’t want to know the answer.

  “Sometimes we didn’t. Other times, something out of a can,” Tyler said, glancing at his empty milk glass, his shoulders tight, a look of longing in his eyes.

  Oh yeah. Zane would take great pleasure in the sound of the boyfriend’s breaking bones under his fist.

  He pushed away from the wall and took a seat at the opposite side of the table. “You’re welcome to have more milk. You can have anything you want here. This is your home now. Nothing is off limits.”

  Tyler hesitated but finally pushed away from the table and reached for the fridge handle. Pulling out the milk, he popped off the cap and tipped the jug, filling his glass halfway before he bobbled it and milk rolled down the side of the glass, splashing into a puddle on the table.

  Terror-filled eyes locked on Zane, and the milk slapped against the table as Tyler let it go, dropped the cap, and took a step back.

  “Whoa, easy, Tyler,” Zane said with his palms up, keeping his butt firmly in his seat. He’d never really paid much attention to his voice, the depth, the timbre, but in this moment, he tried to dial it back, the ill-fitting sound making him cringe.

  Brielle whimpered from where she sat frozen in her chair, silent tears welling in her terror-stricken eyes, the first taking a tumble down her cheek as she stared at Zane.

  Zane cast a glance at Kinsley, resisted the urge to lay into her again for the way she had failed these kids, and turned a small smile at Tyler. With a flick of his wrist he took an unused cup from the center of the table, one probably taken out for him to begin with, and poured his own milk.

  As a teen, he’d made a mess every time in his impatience to fill his glass and get it over with, but now he had to force himself to fill it so fast that he would slosh milk over the top, on purpose.

  He’d swear his brain spasmed when the milk rolled over the edge and down the back of his hand, but he’d kept a straight face through far greater horrors than spilled milk.

  “You’re not going to make me sit here in a puddle all by myself, are ya?” Zane asked the boy.

  “I’m not in trouble?” Tyler asked, narrowing his eyes as if looking for a trick in Zane’s words, his actions.

  “It was an accident, Tyler. Accidents happen. But you know, my spill wasn’t an accident so maybe I should be grounded. What do you think? No TV for a week?” Zane asked, winking at Brielle.

  The little girl hiccupped and gave him a watery grin.

  Tyler took tentative steps toward the table. Once in arm’s length of the napkins, his hand shot out to grab a stack and wipe up his mess. Taking a step back, his gaze met Zane’s.

  “Did you really do that on purpose?”

  “Sure did. Couldn’t leave my man embarrassed all by himself, could I?” Zane asked.

  Tyler tossed the napkin in the garbage, took his seat, and gave Zane a tentative smile. For a moment, that dull look left his eyes, and the flicker of a child who might just rebound from his shit life surfaced.

  And that rebound started with pizza.

  He grabbed his phone and shot off a text to Dylan.

  Bring pizza. Bring all the pizza.

  Hell, he’d put in a pizza oven.

  Just minutes later, Kinsley helped the kids wash their hands and shuffled them back to the den where their puzzle pieces lay face up and ready to be put together.

  “You were good with them,” she whispered.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know. Your sister said—”

  “Considering what my sister has put them through, her words don’t mean shit,” he bit out.

  She rubbed her arms up and down, and damn him, the way her shirt tightened over her breasts drew his gaze. “It was so much worse than I thought,” she whispered as she watched them settle on their knees, their heads huddled together as Tyler showed Brielle how to separate the border pieces.

  He grunted. It was the most polite thing he could do at this point.

  He wanted to lash out at her. God, did he want to. But none of it would solve one damn thing, and Brielle had opened up a bit more than before, so he swallowed the words down.

  “What? No, ‘and it’s all your fault’?” Kinsley said, glancing up at him.

  “Did you notice how she walked past me without shying away?” he said quietly. “She’s never done that.”

  “How long has she been here?” Kinsley asked.

  He glanced down at her, his gaze landing right on her pink lips.

  He cleared his throat. “Not even a full twenty-four hours.”

  Kinsley’s mouth fell open in surprise, and he caught a glimpse of her tongue.

  “I’m impressed,” she said quietly.

  “Don’t be. I’m bound to screw it up at some point,” he admitted.

  “Will you tell me what happened when Chloe dropped them off?” Kinsley asked, turning back to the kids.

  “It was more than your run-of-the-mill dropping the kids off, and that’s all I’ll say about it right now. I won’t have them reliving what happened last night.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse,” he said with a sigh. “Look, I’ve got business associates coming over tonight. It’s probably not going to be easy on the kids. If you’d be willing to help keep them comfortable, I’d appreciate it,” he said.

  “Oh, that had to hurt,” she said with a light laugh. “You asking me for help? You must be desperate.”

  “Desperate to not do any more damage than Chloe and her lifestyle already did.”

  “Not that I plan to go anywhere, but really, how scary can a few business associates be?” she asked, turning to him and leaning against the door casing.

  “They all used to be Navy SEALs. Chances are, they’re going to terrify Brielle just by being in the house.”

  “You were a SEAL?” Kinsley’s wide eyes roamed over him.

  His skin heated under her avid gaze. “It was a long time ago, but yes.”

  “How long ago are we talking?”

  “Does it matter?” he asked, not liking the direction of the conversation.

  “Not really.” She shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out your age.”

  He faced her, leaning against the wood opposite of where she stood. “I’m thirty-six. I was only in the SEALs for a few years.”

  She cocked her head, her gaze roaming over his face. “Really? Huh.”

  “What?” he asked, fighting the urge to squirm as she examined him from little more than a foot away. She saw too much, and there were some things no one was allowed to see.

  Not ever.

  “I thought you were closer to my age. You don’t look like you’ve got the wear and tear on you that most people approaching middle age do.”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve only seen me from the neck up,” he said, pushing away from the wall and crossing to the other side of the room before he said more.

  They weren’t going to be friends or anything else. She was there for the kids. He was allowing her to stay for the kids.

  That’s it.

  The minute they didn’t need her anymore, she was out.

  Chapter 8

  Kinsley had just slid down the ladder in Chutes and Ladders when she heard the doorbell ring. Tyler’s mouth turned down with tension, and Brielle stiffened beside her, but she smiled and cupped Bri

elle’s little shoulders. “You remember what your uncle told you. He has coworkers coming over tonight, and there’s nothing to be afraid of, right?”

  Yeah, well, you’ve only seen me from the neck up.

  His ominous words vibrated through her for what had to be the hundredth time, filling her with a sliver of fear and a mountain of curiosity.

  “Bad things happened whenever my mom and her boyfriend had a lot of people over,” Tyler said.

  She pushed Zane’s words out of her mind and smiled at Tyler. “That was your mom and her boyfriend. Has your uncle given you any reason to be scared so far?” she asked, sliding into the role of social worker instead of whatever she had become since she’d walked through his door.

  “He’s a giant,” Brielle whispered with a wide-eyed stare.

  Normally, she would laugh at the words coming from a four-year-old, but even to Kinsley who stood at five seven, above average for a female, yeah, Zane was a giant.

  Imposing.

  Suffocating.

  Of course, that had a whole lot to do with the heat of attraction that simmered inside her whenever he was near. Much to her mortification, and further proof of how bad she bungled boundaries. “I guess you would see him that way. He’s big and strong, but doesn’t that make you think he can protect you?”

  Tyler shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Plus, he has that gun.”

  Kinsley’s mind skidded to a full stop. “Wait, what gun?”

  Tyler shrugged and counted spaces on the board. “The night we got here and our mom was taken. He had a gun.”

  “Your mother was taken?” Kinsley asked, doing her best to keep her voice calm despite the way her heart pounded in her chest, threatening to shatter her ribcage into a thousand pieces. What the hell was he doing running around with a gun? And what kind of trouble had Chloe gotten herself into that someone had ripped her away from her children?

  Tyler glanced at her. “Yes.”

  “By who?” she asked as she wondered if she was taking this too far. These were questions for police officers, not a social worker to be asking a child without the authorities there. Which begged the question, why the hell hadn’t Zane called the police? If he had nothing to hide and was on the up and up, there was no reason to avoid the authorities.

  And he had to have avoided them because there would be a whole lot more activity going on right now if he hadn’t.

  “By some guys that her boyfriend knew,” Tyler said.

  “Where were you when this happened?” Kinsley asked.

  “Hiding in the bushes,” Tyler said, his voice hitching just a fraction.

  Kinsley’s heart seized in her chest at the details. Sure, they didn’t get into a graphic description of that night, but she didn’t need them to. Between her imagination and the guilt that had swelled inside her, she did just fine building the horrifying picture on her own.

  They could have died. Children she had the responsibility of protecting could have died.

  They still could.

  “Can you two do me a favor? Stay right here and keep on playing while Zane and I talk about grown-up things?” Kinsley asked.

  “You aren’t going to fight, are you?” Brielle asked in a hushed whisper.

  “No, sweetheart, we are absolutely not going to fight,” Kinsley said, smoothing a hand over Brielle’s soft tumble of waves. “But it is an adult conversation, and I would very much like if you and Tyler could take turns playing my piece while I’m gone. Do you think you can do that?”

  And she meant it. There was no fight to be had. She was right; he was wrong, and she would damn well be making sure he knew the fact.

  “As long as you promise,” Brielle said.

  “I promise,” Kinsley smiled. “You take over for me first, Tyler. Okay?”

  He nodded and gave her a tentative smile.

  Pushing to her feet, she followed the sound of Zane’s gravelly voice rumbling in the entry. Manners dictated that she wait until a better time, a better place, but the image in her mind of Zane running around with a gun—no, they’d do this now.

  She turned the corner, and her stomach pitched at the sight of him smiling down at a gorgeous blond. She had no right to feel anything. Zane sure as hell didn’t have an interest in her, and her interest was clearly born of one too many lonely nights with only her hand for relief.

  “I hope you don’t mind that we brought Ashton with us. She’s great with kids,” the blond said from the doorway, casting an inquisitive glance at Kinsley.

  “I don’t mind at all. Actually, I appreciate the extra hands. I think the kids will love it,” Zane said, his expression transformed from the sullen belligerence he so readily aimed at Kinsley to affable and kind in a way that erased the harsh lines of his face, shed a good five years off his age, and a boatload of attitude from that big-ass chip on his shoulder.

  The woman caught her eye, smiled, and walked up, reaching out a slim hand. “Hi, I’m Harlow.”

  “Um, hi, Kinsley,” she said, returning the handshake while squashing the stab of jealousy that had no business flooding her.

  A light tap on the door had Harlow turning toward the sound. “And that’s my daughter and husband with the pizza.”

  Kinsley’s shoulders relaxed with relief that she was just part of the associates he had told her about. The heat of embarrassment rushed through her, and she met his narrowed gaze, all broody and clenched once again. If he didn’t do something about that thread of tension, he was sure to snap one of these days. She’d be damned if he’d snap at those two traumatized children in the other room, so he’d better get that unpredictable temperament of his under control.

  Maybe that’s what Chloe had been referring to. Only, Kinsley had to wonder. She saw his other side, specifically the way he handled Tyler in the kitchen. He’d treaded carefully with a patience that stood in contradiction to all the shade he constantly threw at her.

  The man seemed to like children. Adults? Not so much.

  Well, some adults.

  She blinked and shifted her attention to the man walking through the door with four pizzas stacked in his big arms, followed by a teenage girl carrying another three.

  “Wow, uh that’s a lot of pizza,” Kinsley said with a glance at Zane before offering a smile to Dylan.

  “Cole is bringing a few Sicilian pizzas, too. He’s a bit of a pizza princess,” he said with a chuckle. He stopped before her and smiled. “I’m Dylan. And this is my daughter, Ashton,” he said, nodding toward the beauty that looked just like him.

  “Hi,” Ashton said, balancing the pizzas on one arm and lifting her sunglasses onto the top of her head with her other hand in a rare show of politeness from a teenager.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Kinsley said. “Can I take those?”

  “I’ve got it. If you just point me in the direction of the kitchen, I’ll get them laid out. Dad’s buddies are going to be here in just a few minutes, and once they come in, it’s going to be a free-for-all,” Ashton said.

  “The kitchen is right through there,” Zane said, pointing toward the back of the house.

  Once Harlow, Dylan, and Ashton crossed the doorway into the kitchen, Kinsley grabbed Zane’s sleeve. “We need to talk.”

  Zane’s forearms flexed, and his gaze landed on where her fingers curled into the crisp cotton. “This is the second time you’ve grabbed me by the shirt.”

  “Too bad,” she said, tucking a wayward strand of hair that had escaped her elastic behind her ear. “Why didn’t you call the police last night when Chloe was kidnapped?”

  His lip curled with a sneer she’d come to expect from his surly temper. “What the hell? I trusted you to be alone with them, and you questioned them?”

  “They brought it up on their own while they were talking about their uncle wielding a damn gun. What the hell is going on?” she asked, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper as she glanced over his shoulder to make sure the kids hadn’t left the den.

  “You’re not minding your own business, that’s what’s going on,” Zane bit out with a quick glance over his shoulder.

  “I mean it, Zane. If you don’t start talking, I have to call my supervisor. And the police.”

  Zane’s mouth flattened, and he bared his teeth. “Where are the kids?”

  “They’re in the den. They’re fine. Now start talking.”

  He shook his head. “I swear to God, woman, you’re quite possibly the biggest pain in the—”

  She balled her fists and glared up at him. “Zane,” she warned.

  He shoved his hands through his short-cropped hair before sliding his palm over the beard along his jaw. “They were following her. She had just enough time to get the kids to my porch and knock a couple of times. She was frantic, so I grabbed my gun and ran for the door. By the time I got there, they had all but dragged her back to their car, knocked her out, and drove off with her.”

  He recited it all as though he had been watching it unfold on a crime show and not on his front stoop.

  As if it hadn’t happened to his own family.

  What did that make him? “You need to call the police. Now.”

  He sliced a hand through the air. “No.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you hoping she’ll just disappear, and you won’t have to worry about the chaos she causes anymore? Because let me tell you—”

  He yanked his arm out of her grasp and bent over until his face was just inches from hers, his dark eyes drilling a hole into her. “Let that be the last time you assume I’m just some callous bastard with no feelings.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, you did. Do you think I want her harmed, or worse, dead? She’s my sister. She was my goddamned best friend for my whole childhood. Losing her was worse than everything I lost fighting for my fucking country including my best friend who died in my lap. Knowing I may never get her back—Jesus, you must think I’m some heartless bastard if you think I’m just sitting back doing nothing.”

  Her heart lurched into her parched throat with everything he had said, and hadn’t said, answering a handful of questions, but raising hundreds of others. Damn her curious mind for wanting to go further than her job allowed to delve into a personal history that was absolutely none of her business. “Well, aren’t you? Doing nothing, that is?”

  -->