Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (2 page)

Kade’s blue eyes were piercing and too old for his years, their depths holding too much pain and knowledge. They fixed on Blane.

“We going or what?” he said, flinging the knapsack over his scrawny shoulder.

“Um, yeah,” Blane said, scrambling to his feet. “Let’s go.”

It took a few minutes to sign all the paperwork for Blane to take Kade, then the social worker handed him a thick manila envelope.

“Here’s his records,” she said. “You might want to go through them at some point, get the boy some counseling.”

The pity in her voice had alarm bells going off in Blane’s head, but he just nodded and took the folder, anxious to get Kade out of this place.

Blane was glad to still see his car parked on the street where he’d left it. In this neighborhood, you never knew. He walked toward it, laying his hand on Kade’s shoulder to guide him. Kade spun away, shoving at Blane’s arm and stopping in his tracks.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled.

Blane’s step faltered at the vicious look in Kade’s eyes. There was fear there, too. His face was a mask of cold fury.

This wasn’t the first time he’d said those words to someone.

Abruptly, Blane thought he was going to be sick. He swallowed down the nausea, carefully raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“I won’t,” he said solemnly. “I swear it.”

Kade was reading his eyes again, just like he had back inside. Blane didn’t move or flinch, and finally, Kade’s body relaxed from its fighting stance.

Blane lowered his arms and fished his keys from his pocket, hitting the unlock button on the fob. The Jaguar blinked its lights.

“Nice ride,” Kade said appreciatively, the anger gone as though it had never been.

“Thanks,” Blane said.

Kade opened the passenger door and got in, immediately checking out the buttons on the console and the stereo.

Blane shut Kade’s door and rounded the car. And as he slid into the driver’s seat, he wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

CHAPTER ONE

Damn it, where was that file?

Blane Kirk dug through his briefcase as his clients filed into the conference room. They were representatives from one of the more lucrative accounts the firm handled and Blane had forgotten their file on his desk. Leaving to get it now would make him look woefully unprepared. And even though at the moment he was, he’d prefer to keep that to himself.

“Good morning,” he said, setting aside the briefcase to greet one of the men who’d approached him. He dug in his pocket for his cell phone while exchanging pleasantries. “If you’ll just excuse me for a moment, I’m going to grab a cup of coffee.”

Heading to the table in the far corner where there was a coffee service set up along with pastries for the guests, he sent a rapid fire text to Clarice, his secretary.

Left Kimmerson file on my desk. Please bring to 3
^rd
floor conf. room.

About ten minutes later, everyone had gotten seated around the table with their coffee or beverage of choice. One of the men, the CFO, was talking when the door opened. Blane glanced over, relieved. It had to be Clarice with the file. Instead, a woman Blane was certain he’d never seen before walked in the room. If he had met her, he would’ve remembered.

She was petite, her high heels adding a scant few inches to her height but even so, Blane thought she’d barely reach his shoulder. Her hair was long and the color of rose gold. It lay in waves around her shoulders, but it was her face that held Blane’s attention.

Delicate cheekbones, full lips, and blue eyes that were wide and innocent met his. She was younger than he expected, and also quite nervous, her tongue darting out to wet her lips and sending Blane’s thoughts down a path inappropriate for work.

She carried a file folder and Blane refocused. Clarice must have gotten her to bring up the Kimmerson file for him. Not wanting to appear as though he were staring at the girl, Blane glanced away, trying to tune back in to what the CFO was saying, which is why he didn’t see what was coming until it was too late.

A gasp made him jerk his attention to the girl in time to see her hurtling toward him, landing facedown in his lap, papers flying everywhere.

For a moment, Blane was too startled to move, then she did, but not in a good way.

Her hand pressed somewhere it shouldn’t and Blane nearly shot up out of the chair. Well, he would’ve, if she’d get off him. He gripped her shoulders to try and stop her moving.

“Oops,” she said, her panicked blue gaze meeting his.

Normally Blane wasn’t opposed to a beautiful woman in this position, but then again, he didn’t usually have an audience.

Well, there was that one time . . .

She was squirming to right herself again and Blane, not wanting a repeat of her earlier badly placed shove, took matters in his own hands. Picking her up bodily, she weighed next to nothing, he stood and set her on her feet. Her face was a vivid red and she wouldn’t look him in the eye as she gasped, “So sorry!” then dropped to her knees and began clambering underneath the table.

Good lord. Blane took a deep breath, his dignity somewhere on the floor with the papers, then straightened his tie and adjusted his cuffs. He caught the eye of the CFO who was staring, open-mouthed, at him.

The entire table was absolutely silent. Then, as if someone had given a signal, the muffled chuckles began. Hidden behind hands or attempted disguise with a cough, it was still obvious that Blane was a laughingstock.

Blane heaved an inward sigh. This meeting was going FUBAR pretty fucking quick.

James Gage, the son of the senior partner, suddenly dropped out of sight underneath the table as well. Blane’s eyes narrowed. James Gage hit all the ticks on Blane’s personal list as a complete asshole. Was he trying to ingratiate himself with the girl?

Just about then, the girl crawled out toward him, skirt-clad rear-end first, and Blane closed his eyes. That was another image he’d have to
not
dwell on.

She stood, her face still aflame as she thrust a sheaf of crumpled papers at him.

“Sorry,” she mumbled again before beating a hasty, and careful, retreat.

Just as the door was swinging shut, one of the lawyers in the room said, “Now they’re literally throwing themselves at you, Blane. What will they think of next?”

Blane fixed the man with a hard glare and he quickly shut up, though that didn’t stop the smattering of chuckles. Blane automatically smiled as well, though he was going to tear that guy a new asshole after the meeting.

“I apologize, gentlemen,” he said. “Now, where were we?”

Blane dropped his briefcase at his desk and immediately headed for the first floor. Clarice had told him she’d asked the new runner to bring the files by the meeting. Blane hadn’t told her what had happened and she didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss.

The joke the associate attorney had made about the girl had simmered in the back of Blane’s mind all through the meeting.

Surely she wouldn’t have done something like that on purpose? Then again, some women didn’t seem to care what they had to do to get the attention of man, especially if he had money.

There was only one way to find out. And if she lied, he’d know it, and she’d be gone. Blane had little time or patience for women harassing him at work.

Blane stopped by Diane Greene’s office first. She was the office manager and he needed some accounting issues fixed that the CFO had brought up in the meeting this morning. After he’d finished discussing that, he asked, “Who’s the new girl?”

“You mean the new runner? Her name is Kathleen.”

Kathleen. Blane turned that over in his head, putting the face with the name. It fit.

“Why?” Diane continued. “Is there a problem?”

“You could say that,” Blane said dryly. “Where is she?”

Diane gave him directions to her cube, which was right around the corner. A sharp pang of disappointment hit Blane when he saw the cube was empty, disappointment that had nothing to do with wanting to interrogate her about her “fall” earlier.

But wait . . . not quite empty.

In the reflection from the window, Blane could see her. She was hiding under her desk. How had she even squeezed into that tiny space? But she had and now seemed to be terrified, judging by the look on her face. She was chewing her lip and barely breathing.

Blane was many things, but heartless wasn’t one of them, at least not completely. If Kathleen had been aiming for an unforgettable introduction, she wouldn’t be hiding from him.

Her eyes squeezed shut and Blane decided he needed to leave her alone. Judging by her actions, she was probably embarrassed and scared she was going to lose her job. She’d obviously heard him talking to Diane, so not exactly an unreasonable expectation.

Blane abruptly turned and walked away. His curiosity about her would just need to be shelved. She was young, way too young, and his employee. End of story.

When he reached his desk, he saw he had two messages from Clarice. His girlfriend Kandi had called. Twice.

Blane sighed and reached for the phone.

Blane was not in a particularly good mood this morning. The scene Kandi had made at his house last night still had his ears ringing. He’d known breaking up with her was going to be a pain in the ass, it always was, but she’d outdone herself this time. A buddy had called earlier to razz him about something she’d stuck on Facebook about the size of his dick.

Like he gave a shit. She was as ice cold in bed as she was in person.

His client wasn’t making things any easier. A white-collar criminal who had never seemed to come to terms with the fact that his embezzling had gotten caught and he now faced prison.

The judge had granted a recess to Blane until tomorrow so he could hopefully calm his client down. Maybe the prosecutor had some Xanax on her.

“I just really need some air,” the guy gasped, tugging at his wrinkled collar. His suit was in sad shape and Blane made a mental note to make sure Clarice had it cleaned and pressed before their next appearance.

“Sure,” Blane said, concealing his irritation. “Just give me a moment.” He turned to gather his papers into his briefcase, and when he turned back, his client was gone. Alarmed, Blane glanced around, then heard a scream out in the hallway.

There was a surge toward the door as people wanted to see what was going on and it took a few tense moments before Blane got out into the hall.

It was worse than he thought. His shit-for-brains client had a woman held hostage with a knife at her throat. And it wasn’t just any woman. It was Kathleen. His new runner.

Well, fuck.

“Stay back!” His client yelled. “Everybody stay back! Or I’ll kill her!”

Blane could imagine the lawsuit already.

Kathleen looked terrified, her hands gripping the guy’s arm as she tried to keep the knife from her throat.

Blane shut off his emotions, his mind blocking out everything else but the tactical logistics of the scene. He couldn’t think about her or how pissed he was at his client. The objective now was to shut it down as quickly and as cleanly as possible.

Glancing around, Blane was relieved to see that Kade was in the courthouse. And if he knew his brother at all, he was armed, metal detector be damned.

Blane caught Kade’s eye and gave a tiny nod, watching as Kade immediately dropped out of sight. When he reappeared, Blane saw the glint of metal in his hand.

Cautiously, Blane started moving forward. Kade would take his shot, Blane would grab the girl, and it would be over in less time than it took to tie your shoelaces.

“I want to get out of here,” the guy yelled. “I’m not going to jail!”

That’s right—he was going to the fucking morgue,
Blane thought, taking another step forward and easing between two people.