Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (10 page)

Leaning against his desk, Blane crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed her. She wore a bluish sweater today that made her eyes seem two shades darker. The soft fabric clung to her curves, the demure turtleneck only serving to make her innocence more tempting. A headband pulled back the long strands of strawberry waves that brushed past her shoulders, accentuating her youth. Blane wondered how she’d gone this long without attracting James’s attention.

“How are you doing?” Blane asked, hoping she hadn’t had more nightmares last night.

“I’m fine.” Her stoic reply belied the sudden brightness in her eyes, but her gaze didn’t waver from his. “I was wondering if you’d been able to track down anything on the person Sheila had been seeing.”

As if he was going to tell her. “No, I’m afraid not,” Blane replied with a shake of his head.

Kathleen’s face fell, her disappointment obvious, as if she’d thought it would only take him a day to solve her friend’s murder. Her faith in him was astounding, and an aphrodisiac.

Blane couldn’t resist coming closer, her soft scent drifting to his nostrils as her head tipped back to look him in the eye. Her pupils dilated and the pulse underneath her jaw jumped.

“I’ll keep trying,” he said. Reaching out, he snagged a long, wavy lock of her hair, the silky strands sliding through his fingers. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“I managed to get Sheila’s cell phone,” she said. “I was wondering if maybe the person who killed her might have called her. Or, at least, there should be a call on there from the person she worked for. Maybe I could get in touch with her. Or him.”

Shit. It was just Blane’s luck that she’d have a brain. It’d been so long since he’d bothered with caring what a woman had between her ears, he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be with a woman who didn’t just do as he told her. This one wouldn’t. He was sure of it.

“Why don’t you bring it to me?” he suggested, careful to phrase it as a question. “I can get the numbers run and see who they are.” Logic should work. Kathleen wasn’t stupid.

She hesitated, seeming to consider his offer before replying, “I’d better put the phone back,” she said, “but I’ll write down the numbers first and bring them in.”

She was lying. Blane could tell. But he didn’t call her on it. He was much more interested in
why
she was lying to him.

“Okay. Good idea. Bring them to me tomorrow.”

Blane stepped a bit closer, wanting to test a theory. Judging by how she was looking at him and how shallow her breaths had become, his nearness was having an effect on her. The same effect he’d had on many, many other women. Kathleen was attracted to him, which meant she might be amenable to breaking her date with James.

“What’s tomorrow night?” Blane asked, his tone more seduction than curious.

She looked completely befuddled. “Um . . . Tuesday?”

Obviously she was so looking forward to her date with James that she couldn’t even remember it. Blane couldn’t help the smug twist of his lips. “Yes, Tuesday,” he said. “I meant, what were you telling Clarice about tomorrow night?”

Her eyes dropped as though she were embarrassed. “James asked me on a date.”

Blane waited until his silence forced her to look up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, hoping his influence and opinion would convince her to ditch James.
In favor of me,
he thought. But her response wasn’t anything he would have guessed.

“I’m not good enough for him, right?” she retorted, stepping away from him.

Okay. Hadn’t seen that one coming. “I didn’t say that—”

“You didn’t have to. You think I don’t know that you see me as some hick that’s far beneath the notice of someone like him?” Her blue eyes flashed with anger and hurt.

Blane bit back the words he wanted to say, that James wasn’t good enough to lick her shoes, because if he said that, she’d know. She’d know she’d gotten under his skin, that this was personal. That he wanted her.

“James at least respects me enough to ask me out on a date! You just groped me in my bed and left!”

Sometimes Blane hated being right. He’d known that would come back to bite him in the ass. He should’ve apologized . . . or had sex with her. Though she didn’t look like either of those was really an option right now.

Turning on her heel, she was through the door and out of his office before he could even think what to say, how to rectify the situation.

“Kathleen, wait!” he called, but she was already at the stairwell door and didn’t look back. It clanged shut behind her.

Well, fuck.

Blane’s gaze caught Clarice’s, who was staring at him with her mouth hanging open in shock. He gave her a “Don’t ask” look, then went back into his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Seventeen Years Ago

The place wasn’t bad, Kade had to give him that. He’d never been in a house like this. The guy had so much shit, no way he’d miss a little of it.

Kade inspected his haul so far, pulling the items out of his backpack, munching on the apple he’d smuggled at lunch. A heavy, silver paperweight, a gold-plated letter opener, a men’s watch he’d seen on the kitchen counter and pocketed when no one was looking. All of it would be easy to sell.

He didn’t entertain the thought even for a second that they’d let him stay here for long. The novelty of “saving” the long-lost little brother would wear off soon and the guy would want to get back to his picture-fucking-perfect life. It was a good idea to be prepared for when it did, because no way was Kade going back to that orphanage. He’d decided that the moment he’d left to come here. He’d rather live on the streets than go back.

You knew what you were getting on the street. Kade had managed to disappear for a while when he’d run away before. It was everyone for themselves and they made no bones about it. Not like at the orphanage where childless couples came to scrutinize him, warily eyeing his worn clothes, too long hair, and unsmiling face before deciding that maybe they weren’t cut out to adopt an older child after all. As much as he fought it with everything he had, each time a tiny spark of hope would light in his mind, only to be crushed again and again.

No one wanted him? That was fine with Kade. They could all go fuck themselves. He’d take care of himself.

The last item Kade pulled from his bag was the switchblade. He’d seen the guy empty it out of his pockets along with his keys and wallet, dumping everything on a desk. That knife would come in handy, that’s for sure. Too bad he hadn’t had it at the last foster home he’d been in. He’d have cut that fucker’s dick off for what he did to Branna—

The thought of the little girl with the jet black hair and sad, sea-green eyes made Kade go still. She hadn’t been there long, just a temporary thing, but the mom had gone out of town to visit family, leaving Kade and Branna with the husband, Joe.

Kade had seen the way Joe eyed Branna, had seen that look before in the gazes of men who looked at little girls when they thought no one was watching. Had seen that look aimed at him, and knew what followed. Kade had watched him all week and so far he hadn’t done anything. The wife came back tomorrow, thank God.

Branna had been oblivious, even now as she sat eating her bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of the television. She’d only been there two weeks and Kade didn’t think she’d said more than ten words the entire time.

Kade hovered that night, sitting on the couch while Joe drank too many beers and yelled at the game on T.V. Branna eventually got up, taking the worn doll that never left her side and disappearing upstairs into the bedroom set aside for her and Kade.

“Make yourself useful, kid,” Joe slurred to Kade. “Get me another beer.”

Kade did as he was told, hoping he’d get drunk enough to just pass out. He’d never called Kade by his name, he was just “kid.” When Kade came back from the kitchen, he looked Joe in the eye as he handed him the beer.

“Leave the girl alone,” Kade said.

Surprise flitted across the guy’s face, followed quickly by shame, then anger. “What the fuck are you talking about, you little shit?” he snarled, giving Kade a hard shove. “You’re lucky I even let you live here, you creepy ass kid.”

He backhanded Kade, who’d expected just such a reaction and braced himself. It still knocked him to the floor. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, then Kade got to his feet. Joe was ignoring him, drinking the beer while he watched television.

Kade resumed his seat on the couch, pulling his skinny knees to his chest. He wished with a longing born of desperation that he was bigger, stronger. His head throbbed and his cheek ached, but he said nothing, did nothing. So long as he sat here, maybe Joe wouldn’t do anything to Branna.

Eventually, Joe fell asleep, his snores vying with the television for dominance. Kade’s head drooped, but he kept jerking awake. He had to stay awake, had to keep watch. But finally, the hour proved too late and exhaustion overtook him.

A sound made Kade’s eyes pop open and he realized with a start that he’d fallen asleep. In the next instant, he realized Joe was no longer passed out in the chair.

Kade heard the sound again, faint but unmistakable. Branna.

He launched himself off the couch and ran upstairs, his heart in his throat. The door to the bedroom where Branna lay was half-open and Kade pushed inside, then nearly threw up.

Joe was laying half-on, half-off Branna’s bed, his pants down around his ankles, the light from the hallway falling onto his bare ass. Kade couldn’t see Branna, but he could hear her muffled whimpers.

Kade flew at the man in a blinding rage, hitting him as hard as he could and yelling. Joe threw him off, but Kade just came back. His fists were too small to do any real damage, so Kade picked up the lamp off the bedside table and slammed it against the guy’s head. That got his attention and he finally released Branna. Kade saw her crawl to the far corner where the bed met the wall and huddle there.

“You fucking piece of shit,” Kade snarled. “What’s the wife gonna say?”

As he’d hoped, that got Joe’s attention and he jerked his pants up before turning the full extent of his fury on Kade. Kade had endured beatings before and he focused on surviving the next few minutes. The important thing was to draw the guy away from Branna.

A blow to the side of his head sent Kade careening into the wall. Tears stung his eyes, but he bit his lip until he tasted blood. He would not cry. He never, ever cried.

“You tell my wife anything, it’ll be the last thing you ever do,” Joe threatened.

Kade turned to see he was holding a baseball bat. He swung and Kade narrowly dodged, the bat hitting the wall and knocking a hole in the sheetrock. Backing out of the room, Kade watched with bitter satisfaction as Joe followed. He leaped for Kade and this time Kade wasn’t fast enough, the guy’s fist colliding with his face and pain exploded in Kade’s eye.

He couldn’t see the next blow as the bat landed in his ribs and this time Kade couldn’t help crying out. His knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. Joe advanced on him and it took everything Kade had not to crawl away. He wouldn’t show fear, even though he was terrified.

The man towered over him, his eyes bloodshot, his pants buttoned but unzipped. “That real clear, you little punk?” Joe stepped forward, placing his foot in the middle of Kade’s forearm as he lay on the floor. “Just so you don’t forget.” He put all his weight on Kade’s arm and the bone cracked. Kade screamed this time, the pain too much to take, and he lost control of his bladder.

“You’re a loser and a pussy, kid,” Joe scoffed. “You peed yourself like a little girl.”

Kade barely heard him, shame engulfing him along with the pain as tears he couldn’t stop poured down his cheeks.

Joe shoved Kade out of the way with his foot and stepped over him. As he started down the stairs, Kade used his good arm to pull himself forward. With the last of his strength and his impotent rage, he kicked out, his foot connecting with the back of the guy’s knee.

Joe cried out in surprise as his leg collapsed underneath him. His arms flailed and he seemed suspended for a moment. Kade watched in satisfaction as he fell, his body toppling down the wooden stairs. The noise was horrendous, and then it was over. Joe lay at the bottom, his neck at an odd angle, and didn’t move.

Kade lay there, fighting the pain, and tried to breathe. His chest hurt where the bat had hit, every breath a stabbing pain. Worry for Branna drove Kade to his feet. He stripped his jeans off in the bathroom, digging in the dirty laundry for his other pair and painstakingly pulling them on.

Branna wasn’t in the bed any longer, making Kade’s worry ratchet even higher. He finally found her hiding in the closet.

“It’s me,” he said, once he realized she was in there. “Don’t worry. He won’t be back.”

Kade could barely see her, huddled in the far reaches of the closet, but it didn’t look like she’d be coming out anytime soon. Crouching painfully down, Kade crawled inside the tiny closet.

He couldn’t see out of one eye and it still hurt to breathe, but the pain in his arm seemed detached somehow, and he wondered if he was in shock or something. Being careful not to jostle the arm, he settled inside the closet, leaning back against the wall with a sigh. He closed his eyes.

“You okay?”

The words were faint, barely discernible, and Kade opened his eyes. “Yeah,” he replied to Branna. She’d inched closer and now watched him with fearful concern. “You?”

She shrugged. Kade knew the feeling. “Okay” covered a lot of shit. They were breathing, that was the important part. He wondered if this had been the first time something like that had happened to her. Or maybe, like him, the hell that they endured was the tenor of their lives, the difference being only in the gradation from day to day.

Branna moved to sit next to him on his uninjured side. Tentatively, she leaned into him. It took effort, but Kade put his arm around her. The doll was clutched tightly to her chest and her thumb was in her mouth. Eventually, she fell asleep, sinking down until her head lay on Kade’s lap.