Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (28 page)

The hurt and betrayal on Blane’s face made Kade’s gut clench even tighter and he was sure he was going to lose the dinner he’d made himself eat. He forced his face to be blank before he replied.

“Yeah, it’s not working out, man. I didn’t want to deal with any sloppy goodbyes, so thought I’d just leave quiet like.” He waited, barely breathing. If he didn’t get out of this house, Willie would be back, and if Kade didn’t have something for him, he’d come get it himself. Blane could get hurt, even killed, or Mona, or Gerard.

Blane crossed his arms over his chest and moved closer until he stood within arm’s reach. “Now why don’t I believe that,” he said quietly.

Kade shrugged. Unable to hold Blane’s penetrating gaze any longer, he looked away.

“Look,” he said, “this brother bonding shit, it was a real good try. But it’s pointless. I’m not staying. You can’t make me. You may stop me tonight, but I’ll just leave another time.”

“So why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re leaving,” Blane said. “And no more shit about not liking it here. The truth.”

“What do you want from me?” Kade exploded, panicking now. “Just because we’re related doesn’t mean I give a shit! You think I want to stay here and play house forever? You’re not my dad and no matter how much you try, this isn’t going to work.” He was breathing hard now, his hands clenched into fists.

The words stung, hitting Blane where he was most vulnerable, but he refused to give up. He didn’t know what had happened today with that guy, but that was why Kade was trying to leave, not because he wanted to go.

It had been patently obvious something was wrong all evening, Kade uncharacteristically quiet during dinner. Kade rarely let an evening go by without a cynical, snarky remark or two that made Blane laugh. He’d looked like he was eating the proverbial last supper before an execution.

Determined not to be taken by surprise this time, Blane had sat in wait, hoping he was wrong, hoping Kade wasn’t going to try to run away again. His heart had dropped when he’d recognized Kade’s light step on the stairs.

“This is about that guy, Willie, isn’t it,” Blane said. He could tell by the flicker of surprise in Kade’s eyes that he was right.

“I told you, it was just some guy. I don’t know who it was,” Kade protested.

“Bullshit. I know who he is, that he runs a gang of kids on the street.” Thanks to a late phone call from his buddy on that license plate. “What did he want? Did he threaten you?”

Kade just shook his head, glancing away and shifting his weight from one foot to another.

“I can help you,” Blane persisted. “Give me a chance.”

“What can you possibly do?” Kade blurted, exasperated. “You don’t know anything about these people, what they’re capable of. This isn’t a game.”

“I know that,” Blane said, relieved. “You just need to trust me. Can you do that?” He needed to prove to Kade that he was serious, that this was real, what he felt for Kade was real. It wasn’t going away and it wasn’t conditional. He just prayed Kade would give him that chance.

Kade hesitated. He wanted to, but he’d taken care of himself for so long, it went against every survival instinct he had to nod his head.

Blane breathed a sigh and reached for him, catching himself as Kade stiffened. He drew back again and took for Kade’s backpack.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said.

Kade followed him back upstairs, wondering if he was making a mistake, and if so, how much he was going to regret it.

The next day, Blane was standing at the bus stop waiting for Kade. Kade had warned him that Willie was going to be looking for him today. Blane hoped so. There were a few things he’d like to say to Willie.

They were only a block from the bus stop when the Buick pulled alongside. Blane moved Kade behind him.

“You must be Willie,” Blane said, bending down to the window.

“Aw, Kade, you bring your sugar daddy today?” Willie sneered. “You know this ain’t how it’s s’posed to go down.”

“Let me tell you, how it’s gonna go down,” Blane said, his voice like ice. “I know who you are, and so do the cops. You leave now and don’t come back? We’re square. You come around Kade again? Try to threaten him again? Touch him again? Then you’re going to have a big problem. I hear you’re legally an adult now. You know they don’t throw you in juvie as an adult, they put you in with the murderers and rapists. Guess which group will be looking for you.”

Blane stood up as Willie stared daggers at him, then the car took off down the street.

Kade stared after them in surprise. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been for Willie to back down, at least, not so quickly.

He glanced up at Blane, who smiled at him. “I think Mona made a fresh batch of cookies for you,” he said. “Let’s go see.”

They headed for the house while inwardly, Kade reeled. He’d never heard Blane sound like that before. He’d sounded like somebody you didn’t want to fuck with. And he’d done it on Kade’s behalf. No one had ever taken Kade’s side before, tried to protect him. It gave Kade that odd sensation again in the middle of his chest, a tightness that made his throat close. He wanted to say thanks, but the word wouldn’t come.

Blane chatted like nothing big had happened, telling him how Gerard had finally caught the chipmunks, but then couldn’t kill them. Instead, he’d taken them across the street to the Clarks’ house and let them loose in their backyard.

Kade dared to hope, as they entered the house to the aroma of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, that maybe things would be okay. Which just goes to show how little he knew.

CHAPTER NINE

Blane pulled his gun, running flat out now, until he drew near the exit. Hugging the wall, he could hear Jimmy talking.

“If you’re really good, I may even keep you alive for a day or two.”

Any doubt Blane had regarding whether or not Kat had been hired to trap him evaporated. She was a threat to them, as he’d thought from the first, and now they were going to eliminate that threat.

Jimmy yelped suddenly, and Blane eased around the corner in time to see him punch Kathleen in the stomach. She doubled over and would have collapsed if Jimmy didn’t still have his fist in her gut. Cold fury filled him, but he shoved it aside. Emotion had no place in a fight.

Blane pressed the barrel of his gun against Jimmy’s temple. “Let the girl go,” he said.

Jimmy froze, but didn’t release Kathleen, who struggled upright. She was bound and gagged, her eyes wide with fear.

“I said, let her go,” Blane said again.

“Kirk, you’re messing with stuff you should leave alone,” Jimmy said. “Walk away and I’ll forget we had this little conversation.”

“Not gonna happen, Jimmy,” Blane countered. “Let her go or you die.” And he’d be more than happy to do the honors.

Jimmy spun around, knocking the gun from Blane’s hand. He leaped for Blane, a glittering knife in his hand. Blane jumped back, dodging Jimmy’s strikes. At one point, he miscalculated and the burning slice of the blade struck his arm. Dodging to one side, Blane saw an opening and grabbed Jimmy’s wrist. A quick twist and the bone cracked. Jimmy cried out, the knife dropping to the ground, and Blane smashed his fist into Jimmy’s face. Blood spurted from his nose and Blane pressed his advantage, unleashing his fury and replaying the image in his head of Jimmy hitting Kat.

Only when Jimmy collapsed did Blane stop, his chest heaving from exertion. He swiped his sleeve across his mouth, wiping away the blood there from a punch Jimmy had landed. Blane had barely felt it, his rage burning away pain.

Blane grabbed his gun from the ground and hurried to Kathleen, who’d sidled away from where he and Jimmy had been fighting.

“Time to go,” he said.

Kat’s eyes suddenly widened, her gaze fixed behind Blane, and she screamed, the sound muffled by the gag.

Blane reacted on instinct, throwing himself into her so they both hit the ground. He heard Kat’s head hit the concrete hard as a knife whizzed by over their heads. Blane flipped onto his back, pulled the trigger, and Jimmy fell, dead.

“You all right?” Blane asked anxiously, helping Kathleen to her feet. He wanted to get the bindings off her, but they needed to get out of here first, before the sound of the gunshot brought people out to investigate.

Taking her arm, he hurried them down the path to the street just as Kade pulled up with the car. Kathleen put on the brakes, stumbling to a halt and resisting Blane.

“That’s our ride,” he reassured her, tugging her with him. Throwing open the back door, he pushed Kathleen inside, quickly following her into the back seat.

“Go,” he barked to Kade, who stepped on the gas.

“It’s about fucking time,” Kade said. “Thought you were going to need help.”

“Not likely,” Blane retorted. Killing Jimmy had been deeply satisfying, the prick.

Time to free Kat from the ties around her wrists and gag. Digging in his pocket, Blane pulled out his switchblade, flicking it open and leaning toward her. She flinched, scooting away from him, her eyes wildly rolling from him, to the knife, to Kade sitting in the front seat.

She was terrified.

Blane froze in place, his gut churning with guilt. Kathleen was caught up in all this, had been inches from being killed, and had no one she could trust. God knows he’d given her no reason to trust him.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Kat,” he said, keeping his voice calm and quiet with an effort. “I just want to get the gag off. Will you let me do that?” Too bad he hadn’t asked her permission before putting his hands on her earlier. She might trust him now if he had.

Her eyes filled with tears, which burned him more than the slice of Jimmy’s blade. She nodded and Blane wasted no time slicing through the fabric, which he belatedly realized was a black tie.

“Turn around,” he said, and she obeyed, moving so her back was to him. Another quick slice and she was free. She sat back in the seat, flexing her fingers and keeping her gaze on her lap. Blane watched her, worrying. Was she okay? Blood seeped from a cut on her lip, its garish red accusing Blane. If he hadn’t doubted her, he could have gotten her out of there a lot sooner. She wouldn’t have been hurt.

Pulling the square of white linen from the breast pocket of his tux, Blane reached over, gently blotting the blood from her lip. Kat didn’t respond, which only heightened his concern. Had Jimmy done something else to her? Something Blane couldn’t see?

Tipping her chin up, he gently turned her face towards him until her gaze lifted to his. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Did he hurt you?”

Tears spilled from her eyes, pouring in crystal rivulets down her cheeks, and Blane felt as though a hot knife had sliced into his gut.

She let him pull her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her trembling body to hold her close, while she cried into his neck. Sobs shook her, each one notching the guilt he felt that much higher. She seemed so tiny in his arms, her fragility mocking him.

After a few minutes, she seemed to get a hold of herself, her sobs tapering off, but Blane made no move to release her. He couldn’t. Not yet.

“Is she done yet?” Kade asked, irritation lacing his voice.

“Shut the fuck up, Kade,” Blane said.

“Blane, you’re such a bleeding heart,” Kade accused. “Remember, this is the same chick that cold cocked you less than an hour ago.”

Kathleen’s voice whispered weakly in his ear. “I’m really sorry about that,” she said. As if she was the one who needed to apologize.

Blane lightly kissed her lips, mindful of the cut. “It did take me by surprise,” he said, “and hurt like a son of a bitch.”

Her smile was tentative as she curved her hand around his neck, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. The heat between them exploded instantly, her lips parting and their tongues entwining. The taste of her was an intoxicant and he was an addict. The adrenaline rush of fighting Jimmy, the fear of nearly losing her, all of it built into a frenzy of passion. A feminine moan reached his ears, and if they didn’t have an audience, nothing would have stopped Blane from parting her legs and burying himself inside her.

“Not in my backseat, please,” Kade interrupted from the front. “I just had it cleaned.”

Kat pulled back, her face flushing red in embarrassment. Blane ignored Kade, lightly tracing his fingers over her brow, her eyes, brushing the tender skin of her cheek and lips. She was beautiful, pure. Innocence shone in her eyes as she looked at him. She was mesmerizing.

“So, what were you doing there tonight, if I may ask?” Kade continued.

“I was trying to find out who killed Sheila,” Kat said, answering to Blane rather than Kade.

“By becoming a prostitute?” Kade shot back. This time, he must’ve irritated her, because she turned toward the front and leaned forward as she answered.