Convicted (Entangled Ignite) (3 page)

They both looked over at the woman, scrambling unsteadily to her feet and stumbling toward the kitchen.

“Jimmy!”

Rick was at her side in an instant, steadying her. “He’s fine, Shana. Cade got him out. Right? He’s out?”

The woman leaning heavily on him turned toward Cade as well.

What did it say about him, Cade wondered blandly, that he didn’t flinch upon seeing the mess of swollen flesh that had once been her face. That he didn’t feel compassion. Or rage that she had been so violated.

That he didn’t
want
to feel anything else.

Especially not his gorge rising at the blood smeared across her mouth, all around her nose and cheek. Slowly spilling from her nostrils…

He looked down at the man he straddled instead, taking a deep breath until he could swallow again. Clinically, he wished he’d hit the bastard harder, just to make it fair. She was gonna bruise like a motherfucker.

“Boy’s in the backyard.” Cade knew he sounded gruff as he pulled the flexible restraints from the pocket of his belt.

“Steel cuffs,” Rick ordered. “Frank can get out of plastic faster than a snake slides through shit, so make sure they’re on tight.” Ugly words, but Rick was infinitely gentle as he helped Shana back to the couch.

Cade concentrated on getting the incapacitated man locked down, ignoring the soft sobs of the woman and Rick’s murmured words to her. Especially ignoring the fact that the shaking in his hands was starting to work its way up his forearms. He leaned down and pulled Carter over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. Small, maybe, but Carter was a heavy bastard. Shaking off the imbalance, Cade got up and strode out to the truck. Less than a minute later, he was done, having tossed Carter inside and slamming the door behind him.

God, what he wouldn’t give for a cigarette.

Of course, if he had one, it wouldn’t take long for someone to see the shaking in his hands. That thought alone was enough to make him push out a shuddering breath.

Cade looked back to the house, taking in how it somehow looked sadder now that he’d been inside. Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay here and think about why. His work wasn’t done, no matter how he wished it might be. Likely they’d have to take a look at the woman, evaluate if she needed to be taken in. Fuck. He wasn’t sure he could handle that. Then there was the kid… He bit back a groan. Why the hell had he allowed himself into this situation?

All the grumbling in the world didn’t change the answer and he knew it. Because this was Rick.

He owed his life, such as it was, to his friend and even if he didn’t, Cade knew he’d have come. No matter how blurry the world had become or disconnected he felt from it, Cade held onto his principles with both hands. Every tenant he knew demanded his loyalty to the brother who had walked through death with him, over and over again. It didn’t matter that neither of them had come out the other side completely whole.

Which was why Cade forced his leaden legs to move back toward the house. To climb those steps and head back inside.

Rick was kneeling in front of Shana, a bowl of water in one hand, a hand towel in the other, carefully washing the blood away. “He would have killed you this time, Shana.”

The woman watched Cade carefully, seeming to ignore Rick entirely. Her eyes fluttered shut as he wiped at the corner of her mouth. Thankfully, most of the blood was washed off already.

“She didn’t want her son to see her like that,” Rick explained without looking back at Cade. “It’s not like he won’t see the bruises.”

“He’s used to those.” Shana’s voice was flat. Soft, but flat.

Rick swore, dropping the towel into the bowl Cade now saw was full of pink water. “What are you going to do if we don’t get here fast enough next time?”

Blue eyes, faded as the house she lived in, flickered. “I’ll figure it out when that happens.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll die. You’ll disappear. And there won’t be anything I can do about it.” A fact that seemed to have Rick’s teeth grinding as he spat out the brutal words.

They finally seemed to be enough to make her forget her distrust of the stranger in her house. She turned to Rick with a whisper of a smile on her swollen lips. Her hand, the swollen knuckles red and scuffed, found Rick’s on her lap. Right then, Cade wondered if he was invading on something. These two shared a look that spoke of secrets. Bad ones.

“There never
was
anything you could do about it.”

Rick made a sound akin to a growl before getting up so fast he almost knocked the bowl over on her. “Cade, take a look at her. She never lets the EMTs near her, and I don’t want to leave until I know she’s okay.”

He stalked into the kitchen, leaving Cade and the woman who was struggling to hide her hurt with long, shaking breaths pushed through swelling lips.

She looked away from Cade, but he could tell she was still watching him. Still aware, trying to decide if he was someone to allow within reach.

Wary seconds ticked by as he let her assess him. He knew better than to move closer until there was some sign she would allow it. Nothing was more dangerous than a wounded animal, except maybe a wounded
maternal
animal. Cold to see a person that way, but he had yet to find much difference between people and animals when it came to instincts.

She swiped impatiently at a tear slipping down her cheek, her hand still trembling, and gave some kind of resigned snort. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were more afraid of me than you were of Frank.”

“I can punch Frank if he attacks me, ma’am.”

She eyed him, the blue of her eyes still sharp enough to be piercing. “But not me?”

He shook his head slowly.

A longer study. “You might actually mean that.”

“If that surprises you, ma’am, you’ve been spending too much time with the wrong kind of people.”

Her brow rose, the effect ruined when she winced from the hurt. “You have
no
idea.”

She gestured him over and though the last thing he wanted to do was look at her wounds, Cade made himself do it. He knelt carefully, forcing the bile down as the smell of blood hit. Rick had washed most of it away but the smell, that fucking
smell
, might as well have been thrown in his face.

All of a sudden, he couldn’t breathe. Could barely see. His vision narrowed to needle points, leaving him in darkness so thick he could feel it on his shoulders. On his chest. His head. Crushing.
Crushing
…

“Deputy? Are you okay?” Muffled words. Far away. But not far enough…

Cade reared back from that voice, stumbling toward the vague memory of a wall. He tried to remember where he was, but his body was moving too fast for his mind to keep up with. Things broke under his booted feet as he kept moving, his body starting to jerk and twitch. God, he was going to be sick. Right there, wherever the hell
there
was. He could feel the acid lurching.

Steps. He half slid, half fell down them, landing hard on his knees. He didn’t notice any pain, his fingers digging into the dry grass and dirt as his stomach emptied violently. Shame tried to push its way into him, but instead it was drowned out by the relief of gulping in a lungful of blessed air. Then another and another.

But the burning in his lungs didn’t stop. The pressure wasn’t gone. It was worse. Fuck, he could taste the air but it wasn’t coming through. It wasn’t—

“Shhh, slow down.”

A new voice. Not Shana. Someone else. Husky. Low. Feminine.
Familiar
. Hands on his back. Touching him firmly. Wrapping around his torso and holding him tight.

“You’re panicking,” the voice informed him calmly. Not gentle. Just…calm. Brooking no argument. “The air is here, you’re hyperventilating. Slow down and you can get it. One at a time. In,” she commanded.

Maybe it was too many years in the Marines, but he responded to that directive. His body did what she said without any thought from him.

“Out, slow.”

He did it, relieved to feel the pressure give the tiniest bit. Over and over again, she spoke and he listened. Chaining one breath to the next. It felt like forever, but she eventually led him back to a safe pattern. His vision broadened bit by bit, until he could see the ground he knelt on. The sick he still hovered over. Until the pressure all over his body gave and the jerking slowed to a random twitch. Still, she held on. Anchored him.

He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her warmth. The press of breasts, her body, to his back. Smell the leather she still wore, her soft perfume. Feminine, but not flowery. Dark hair fell over his shoulder, thick and lustrous. Silk on his cheek. He had the immediate inclination to touch it, rub the satiny gleam between his fingers. Most of all, he could feel her strength.

She wasn’t small. Not like Shana, who couldn’t have wrapped her arms around him like this if she tried. This woman’s arms held him tight, her lean muscles long and firm. It couldn’t have been easy, grasping him this way for so long, but she didn’t seem any worse for the wear and she didn’t let go until he patted her hand and nodded for her to do it.

Slowly, giving him time to change his mind, the last of the pressure on his body faded and her touch disappeared.

He wanted it back instantly.

The panic gone, and now her support as well, he felt as if someone had just turned his entire body into jelly. Weak, sweat dripping all over, he fell backward into a slump against the concrete steps. It wasn’t the first time he had to be grateful for a rock to lean against and as his temples throbbed, he had to remind himself that it probably wouldn’t be the last.

He closed his eyes, giving in for a few precious seconds to the exhaustion. Just a few, because he knew when he opened his eyes, reality would seep back in. Humiliation. He no longer had adrenaline and panic clouding his thoughts. He knew exactly where he was. Who had helped him back from an edge that had felt like death but never was.

Katrina Killian.

So she was one of the kind strangers after all. Why else would she be here, in Carter’s house, if she wasn’t someone he trusted?

Cade looked up, unable—unwilling?—to put off the inevitable any longer. The sight of her punched him in the gut almost as hard as the panic attack.

Blue eyes, dark and sensuous, stared back at him, watchful and devoid of the playfulness from earlier. He took in the heart-shape of her face, the full pink lips, and the skin touched with the gold of sun and health. That tiny mole kissed the corner of her left eye, catching his attention the moment she blinked. The face of an angel, he thought, though he was sure he’d given up believing in such things long ago.

“What are
you
doing here?” His voice sounded strangled even to him, but the gravel in it didn’t hide his confusion.

She smiled. A slow spreading of her lips stamped with a devilishness no angel could ever have known. She looked him up and down, as if he weren’t a quivering shadow of a man. As if he were still worth looking at.

“I’m a friend of the family, remember?” She glanced up suddenly, her grin disappearing in a flash.

Cade peered over his shoulder, not surprised to see Rick on the stoop, watching both of them. Glaring, really. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” Rick said, his voice lacking even the traces of warmth. He put his hand out, something small and black sticking out at her. “Take your shit and go.”

Cade struggled to focus on it. A phone. The kid’s phone?
Shit
.

“Last I checked, RoboCop, I don’t work for you. You don’t get to give me orders.” She took the phone, smoothly pushing it into her back pocket. How, Cade wasn’t sure. Her pants appeared painted on. Hand painted. Possibly with very tiny brushes.

“You put everyone in danger and you know it,” Rick continued. Cade tried to sort through the undercurrents flowing between them, but he was still too fuzzy to make much headway. Too unclear, too uninformed. She’d been right about that, at least.

“They were in danger way before
I
got here. I’m helping the only way I can.”

“By coming up with new ways for them to get attacked? That’s help they don’t need.”

“
You’re
going to lecture me on who I should and shouldn’t help?” Rich, husky laughter spilled out of her but her lips never curved. The wrongness of that stabbed at Cade’s mind.

“I’m telling you how to do it without getting people killed. Like not putting the weight of his mother’s life in the hands of a little boy.”

“I’m putting the chance to save
himself
in his hands.” She crossed her arms and pointedly glared. “It’s more than anyone else has done for him.”

It was a challenge, no doubt about it. Rick glared at her, long enough to start Cade’s dormant protective instincts twitching, before he finally sighed.

“Remind him to be more careful with that thing. If I hadn’t seen it in the kitchen, we both know Frank would have.” A softened tone, though not by much.

“He’s only a baby,” she muttered, seeming to relax a touch herself.

They had the air of people who’d been fighting a long time, Cade noted, still leaning against the steps, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Long enough to know how far to push and when to back down while you were ahead. But Rick hadn’t mentioned any Katrina Killian in his rundown of the town. Cade’s clarity returned strong enough to wonder why.

“And Frank’s only a psychopath looking for a reason to kill.” Rick disappeared back into the house, conversation apparently over.

“Asshole,” she snarled, gaze still trained on the backdoor. “Always has to get the last word.”

“Better than when he had to have the last bullet.”

She looked back at Cade as if she’d just remembered he was there. Oddly enough, given how little he liked being noticed, he felt an unfamiliar pleasure at having her attention again.

It didn’t last long.

“I’ll be over there with Jimmy. If you go back in, tell Shana he’s with me.” Cool words, distance all over her face. She backed away, turned on her heel to start walking toward the tree where he could see the little boy still waiting on the bricks. A kid with huge eyes and no tears.