Turn To Me (29 page)

The line went dead.  I stood, frozen in shock.  The man knew where Blane was and was planning on giving him “what he deserved.”  Panic threatened and my hands shook as I grabbed my purse and yanked out my cell phone.  I dialed Blane’s number.

“Please pick up, Blane,” I prayed aloud, listening in growing dismay as the cell phone went to voice mail.  I tried Kade’s with the same result.

“Damn it!” I yelled, wanting to fling my cell phone against the wall.  What’s the point of having a damn cell phone if no one ever answered it?

I scrambled back out to the bar, flinging off my apron as I went.

“I’ve got to go,” I said to Scott, digging my keys out of my purse. 

“What?  Why?  We’re swamped!”

“I know and I’m sorry,” I said hastily.  “It’s an emergency.  I swear.”

I didn’t wait to hear his response.  Finding my keys, I clutched them tightly, the sharp metal cutting into my hand.  I hurried out the door, running for my car.  In my haste to leave, I’d not even grabbed my coat and the cold wind bit into my exposed skin.  The inside of my car was frigid and I could see my breath.

Fear and panic made me fumble my keys and it took precious seconds to start the car.  Finally shoving it into gear, I shot out of the parking lot.

I still had the address Blane had given me to Kandi’s house and I headed in that direction, praying I wouldn’t pass a cop.  I tried calling Blane again on the way, and again it went to voice mail.  I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat in disgust.

It took fifteen minutes for me to cross town and find Kandi’s house.  I pulled into the exclusive neighborhood, barely noticing the tastefully decorated homes that boasted two and three stories, their expanses spread over large plots of land.  Cars dotted the street leading up to one house in particular.  The lights inside made the numerous windows sparkle in the night, their warmth in stark contrast to the imposing mansion in which they were housed.  That had to be Kandi’s house.

Another car was pulling out and I quickly pulled into the vacant spot.  I jumped out, slamming the door behind me, and ran towards the house.  My knee-high black boots weren’t the best for this, but I didn’t fall.

The driveway was mercifully short, ending in front of a wide set of stairs that led to a large porch – though that name seemed inadequate for the massive pillars and doorway that led inside.

I rapped on the door, my breath coming in gasps.  The sweat from my exertion and panic was freezing on my skin and I began to shiver.

The door swung open to reveal a tuxedo-clad butler.  An older gentleman, his eyes took in my bedraggled appearance, his mouth turning down in distaste.

“May I help you?” he asked, his tone decidedly unfriendly.

“I’m looking for Blane Kirk,” I blurted.  “It’s an emergency.  Is he here?”

I peered past him, trying to see, but he moved, blocking my view.

“I’m sorry, but this is a private party,” he said.  “I’m sure Mr. Kirk will be happy to speak with you on Monday at his office.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, frustrated.  “It’s an emergency -  a matter of life and death.  I have to see him.”

The butler seemed to hesitate so I pressed my advantage.

“Please.  I’m begging you.”

He sighed, stepping backward into the foyer.  “Wait here, miss.”

I nodded, eagerly following him inside, the door easing shut behind me.  I watched as he disappeared down the corridor.  I could now hear the noise of revelry – people talking, glass and silverware clinking, and the strains of holiday music.

I chewed on a ragged nail as I waited, wondering if the man who’d called me was inside the house as well.  No doubt people like this hired a catering staff for their parties.  Maybe he was masquerading as a waiter.

I drifted down the corridor, unable to quell the compulsion to find Blane, make sure he was all right.  Make sure he knew someone was here – watching him, possibly waiting to kill him.

My hands clenched into fists as I struggled to keep my composure.  My pace quickened, the tapping of my boots on the marble floor echoing down the hallway. 

I burst through a doorway into a large ballroom.  No one noticed my presence, engaged as they all were in conversation or dancing.  A live band played in the corner.  I searched the well-dressed crowd for Blane’s familiar form, but came up empty.

“Miss Turner?”

I jumped, startled to hear my name.  Whirling, I saw Senator Keaston standing a couple feet away.  He looked as surprised to see me as I was to see him.  Embarrassment shot through me at showing up dressed as I was, but concern for Blane overrode those thoughts.

“Senator,” I said, “have you seen Blane?  I must find him.  It’s very important.”

“Of course,” he replied genially.  “I believe he stepped into the library not too long ago.”

“Thank you.”  I turned to leave then abruptly stopped.  “Wait – where’s that?”

“Across the ballroom, down the hall, last door on your left.”

I shot him a quick smile then hurried across the room.  If anyone noticed me rushing by, I didn’t stop to notice.  The doors were a blur as I passed, the last one on the left my target.  It was shut.  My knuckles rapped twice before my hand wrapped around the brass knob and I pushed it open.

My heart froze in my chest and I was left staggering in shock.

Blane was in the library, that much was true.  What the Senator hadn’t mentioned, what perhaps he hadn’t known, was that Blane was not alone.

A woman was astride Blane’s lap as he sat in a leather chair in the far corner.  They hadn’t yet noticed me, as engrossed as they were in their kiss.  Blane’s hands were on the woman’s waist, the skirt of the red taffeta dress she wore pushed up her thighs.  I was horrified to realize that they might be doing more than kissing – had I interrupted them actually having sex?  Bile rose in my throat at the thought.

  I must have made a noise of distress, for Blane abruptly pushed the woman off him and leapt to his feet, his gaze landing on me.  The woman stood, seemingly unfazed by her sudden exit from Blane’s lap, serenely shaking out her skirts.  Finally, she turned toward me, allowing me to glimpse her face. 

Kandi.

I don’t know if it would have been better if it had been just another of Blane’s myriad nameless, faceless women – all I knew was that a shaft of pain cut through me so deeply, it seemed I could no longer draw breath.  Time seemed to stop for a moment, my aghast expression meeting Kandi’s smug and self-satisfied one.  I swung my gaze to Blane, who stood unmoving in the middle of the room.

The room was so silent I was afraid he could hear my heart thudding in my chest, each beat painfully reminding me that this wasn’t a nightmare from which I could awaken.

For a moment, we just studied each other.  His expression was as unreadable as ever, though I thought maybe I saw a trace of regret in his eyes.  I closed my gaping mouth with a snap, refusing to play the idiot girlfriend who had no idea this might happen.

“I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?” Kandi said with a smirk.  As she passed, the stiff taffeta of her fabric rustled, concealing the words she hissed at me.  “Nice outfit.”

My fists clenched as it took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to rip her hair out.  Instead, I ignored her, my eyes still on Blane as the door shut soundlessly behind her.

Silence reigned.

“You have lipstick on you,” I said quietly, my voice sounding foreign to my ears.

Blane took the handkerchief out of his tuxedo pocket and wiped his mouth.  I felt frozen inside as I watched him, stiff and breakable.

“What are you doing here?” Blane finally rasped.

I forced a tight smile.  “You invited me, remember?  Perhaps it slipped your mind.”  Venom filled each word as I struggled with both anger and despair.  “I thought this supposed to be a private, family affair, Blane.”

“I thought it was to be as well,” he replied.  “I was as surprised as you.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Silence again - so thick I was surprised it didn’t smother me.

“Kat, it wasn’t-” he began.

“Shut up!” I screamed at him, my control snapping.  “Don’t call me that!”  The sound of the familiar nickname had sent rage rushing through me.  I took a shuddering breath, pushing both my hands through my hair and trying to regain control.  When I spoke again it was in a much calmer, though no less furious tone.  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

Blane said nothing, his lips pressed tightly closed.  A nerve pulsed in his jaw.

I was suddenly struck by the disparity of our appearance.  Blane, dressed impeccably in a tuxedo that I could tell had been hand tailored.  Then myself, looking like a sleazy tart in my barely-there outfit, my hair disheveled and my boots old enough to show their age.  I wasn’t in Blane’s league and never had been.

I broke our staring contest, dropping my eyes to the floor.  Exhaustion hit me hard, overcome as I had been by the panic and rush of getting here, of finding Blane, and now this.  I swayed on my feet.

“No.”  I held my hand, palm out, to stop Blane.  He’d seen my moment of weakness and had moved closer, to catch me if I passed out, I thought grimly.  As if I would give him that satisfaction.

A huff of laughter, devoid of humor, left my throat.  I looked up at Blane, directing my icy words to his chest, refusing to look in his eyes.

“I actually came here to warn you,” I said flatly.  “A man called me, said he was watching you.  Implied he was going to hurt you.”

“I know,” came Blane’s soft reply.  I laughed again.

“Of course you do.”  I couldn’t disguise the bitterness in my voice.  It had been for nothing then – the rush over here, the panic, the fear.  My only reward had been to find him with another woman.  The awful irony was not lost on me.

“Thank you,” he said.  “For worrying.  For coming here.”

“Yeah, well...”  My voice trailed off.  I still refused to look at him.  My heart felt like it was breaking in two.  I’d always known this fate awaited me if I fell in love with Blane – I’d been kidding myself to believe any other ending was possible.  I swayed again.

“You need to sit down, Kathleen,” Blane said, reaching for me.

“Don’t touch me,” I snarled, retreating a few steps.  Blane stopped in his tracks.  I swallowed, took a deep breath and tried to regain some of my fragile composure. 

“I’m not quitting my job,” I said flatly.  “You’ll have to fire me if you want me to leave.”

“I’m not going to fire you,” he said, watching me carefully.

Well, that was a small comfort.

“I’ve got to leave.”  I had to get out of there, had to get away from Blane before I broke completely.  I absolutely could not let him see how much he’d hurt me. 

Without waiting for him to say anything more, I turned on my heel, rushing out of the room.

“Kathleen, wait!” Blane called.

I ignored him, nearly running in my haste to get away from him. 

This time when I entered the ballroom, I was most definitely noticed.  Dressed as I was, with tears running unchecked down my cheeks, pursued by Blane – I was hard to miss.  Thankfully, most people were too stunned to do more than get out of my way.

I hit the hallway and tore through it toward the front door and freedom.  It was hard to see, my vision blurry from tears.  I was nearly to the door when I felt his hand close around my arm.

I swung around, acting more on the instinct of self-preservation than anything else.  My fist came up and connected with Blane’s jaw.

We stood in a frozen tableau, me in horror at what I’d done, and Blane...his expression was stricken as he took in my tear-stained face.  I thought my hand probably hurt more than I’d hurt him, but the look of pain on Blane’s face was unmistakable. 

A crowd had gathered now, the silence in the foyer seemed condemning as dozens of eyes rested on Blane and me.  With a jerk, I freed myself from Blane’s grasp and walked out with as much of my tattered dignity intact as possible.

A few minutes later, I was in my car again.  The tears were still falling freely and I let them.  I’d done what I’d told myself I wouldn’t do – I’d fallen in love with Blane Kirk.  I rested my arms against the steering wheel and my forehead on my hands as I cried.  What a fool I’d been. 

I cried longer than I should have, wearily lifting my head to dig for my keys.  No thought was in my head except the desire to get away, go home and lick my wounds in private.  I glanced up as I fumbled with the keys, and I froze.

The heat from my body and breath had fogged up the windshield and now I could see that someone had written on the glass directly in front of me, only one word:

BOOM

Chapter Eleven

I didn’t move. 

I didn’t breathe.

My mind was having difficulty processing the very real possibility of a bomb in my car.  My fingers were numb as they rested on the cold steering wheel.  Time seemed to stand still for a moment, then to rush forward as panic set in.

“Kathleen.”

I jerked in surprise, my head whipping around to look out the window at Kade standing next to the car, peering inside at me.

“Kade-” I gasped.

“Open the door,” he said, his voice muffled from the glass.  He reached for the door handle.  “You’re in no condition to drive.”

“No!  Wait!” I shouted.  The panic in my voice must have gotten through to him because he froze.  “Look.”  I pointed at the windshield.  Kade looked and I could tell when he’d made out what it said because his expression turned cold and hard.

“Fuck.”

My thoughts exactly.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, before dropping out of sight.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I replied weakly to empty air.

A few seconds later, he was back on his feet.

“Okay,” he said, “now don’t panic.”

Those words weren’t exactly comforting.

“There is a bomb underneath your car.”

The blood left my head so fast that I sagged in my seat.

“Don’t you pass out on me, Kathleen!” Kade yelled and I jerked upwards, obeying the urgency in his voice.