Hardheaded Brunette (29 page)

Or that she was still dreaming.

"Mick?" she called out, searching her night table in the dark for her phone.

A loud crack of thunder shook her small house and rattled the bedside lamps. As a pen rolled off her nightstand and skittered across the hardwood to hide beneath the bed a shudder ran through her. No response from Mick. Where was he?

Charlie, she knew for a fact, was buried in a family plot in the cemetery across town. Why would she dream he was pushing up daisies and peonies in her backyard, especially when she'd never even known the man? While she'd never believed in premonitions, a deep sense of foreboding filled her now.

Gilda reached for the light switch. No power. Not a good sign. The nearest candles were in the bathroom. The closest matches or flashlight lay in the kitchen drawer. Just the thought of creeping across the house in the darkness turned her stomach into a quivering mass.

What had she been thinking? She should have stayed with Marion, or even at Mick's apartment. Being stupid had no apparent limits, but she'd already passed her limit for bravery. But Mick insisted Fabio had wanted them to come to her house. She fumbled again for her phone to use as a flashlight.

She took a couple shaky breaths then forced her legs to move. As she crept down the hallway with one hand on the wall her fingertips touched the bottoms of picture frames, and her feet, cold and clammy, slipped along the hardwood.

A loud bang came from the kitchen. She hugged the wall and froze. Who'd broken in this time? She held her breath until several more thumps followed then sighed, sure the storm must have blown open the screen door, yet she was positive she'd latched it from inside and checked it at least three times before opening the wine. Of course, locks had never stopped people from invading her space before.

"Mick? Are you outside?" She waited until lightning brightened the house again. When nothing moved, she eased toward the kitchen once more and peeked around the corner. "Is anyone there?"

The instant she came around the corner, the screen door banged shut again a heartbeat before a massive crash of thunder shook everything. Brilliant light illuminated the living room and kitchen, which were empty aside from her aged furniture.

"Mick? Thayer?" She sidled around the corner and approached the door. No answer. No flash of revealing light to illuminate everything—scary or not. "If one of you is out there, you'd better speak up or I'll shoot."

Who was she fooling? Both Mick and Thayer knew she didn't have a gun. Kane, however, was another matter.

Gilda sucked in a bracing breath, pushed the back door open, and stepped out onto the porch then onto the grass into the downpour. The instant her feet touched the wet grass yet another clap of thunder shook Sandstone Cove and a blinding bolt lit up the backyard. At the far end of her garden, half-hidden by a large peony bush, stood a tall, drenched figure.

She screamed, her sound drowned out by even more thunder.

The figure dropped something into the dirt. A sword? Was it Kane? With minimal light, she could only guess before she twitched and ran toward the house like a frightened squirrel. She'd barely made it to the porch when someone grabbed her from behind and clapped a muddy hand over her mouth. As she fought for freedom, the heel of her right foot connected with muscle and bone.

"Holy hell cat! Stop kicking me." Kane spun her around. "Are you crazy, woman?"

"Me?" Her hair clung to her cheeks. "You're the one skulking around my garden with a sword during a thunderstorm."

He snorted. "I'm not skulking. And it's not a sword, it's a shovel." When a thunderclap boomed a second later, he flinched and jumped to shield her.

"Get off me!" Gilda gasped. "Why were you were digging up my garden in a thunderstorm? Are you nuts?"

Kane sighed. "It's a long story, love."

"You left the shovel on my deck that night. The night I called the police then found Charlie's duffel bag the next day."

"Can we go inside?" he asked. "I'm wet and tired of being yelled at."

"I suppose." She opened the door. "Come in and dry off. I'll make coffee. I don't think I can sleep right now anyway."

"Make it herbal tea and I'm in." He wiped the water off his face with one hand. "Have you got a towel I can use?"

Gilda reached to flick on the lights. Nothing happened. "Right. No power."

"Water's fine, love. Just don't dump it over my head."

"No promises." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a lighter to light the cluster of lilac votive candles she kept on the table. She handed him one candle then turned to dig out more. "The towels are in the bathroom under the sink. I'll light some more candles and get us drinks."

"You're quite the romantic, I see," Kane smiled. "I'll take Scotch, no ice, if you've got it."

"Water, it is." Gilda reached into the cupboard then remembered she hadn't replaced her glasses yet. She found two small plastic containers and filled them half full of water. Better than nothing.

He smiled then walked into the darkness with one lone candle cradled in his hand like a newly hatched chick.

When he returned, Gilda turned to hand him a plastic bowl. The candle flickered between them, casting shadows that danced across his face as he grinned. "Looks like you still need to do some shopping."

"Yeah." She took a nervous step back and ran into the cupboard.

A twisted smile brightened his face as he passed her a towel. "Darlin', if you weren't dating Mick, you'd be fair game right now. That little nightshirt you're wearing hugs all your curves and I'm willing to bet it's pretty much see-through."

"Lucky for me he and I are dating then." Gilda shivered as a surge of heat filled her body, suddenly aware he was right. Her nightshirt stuck to every curve of her body.

"Where is Mick, anyway?" he asked. "I thought he planned to be glued to your hip tonight after everything that's happened."

She wrapped the towel around her torso. "He was here when I fell asleep. I'm not sure why he left. Maybe there was a problem at the school because of the storm or something. I'm going to change. I'll be back in a minute."

Gilda clutched her phone in one hand and left the candles with Kane as she shot down the hall to her bedroom and locked the door to change in peace. No texts from Mick. Whatever happened, he must have thought he could leave and return without her being aware of his absence. She sent him a quick text.
Where are you? I need you.
 

Holding her phone in one hand, she felt around in her drawer for a pair of flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt she could pull on quickly.

By the time she returned to the living room, Kane had stripped off his shirt and rubbed the towel over his skin in silence. The candlelight made his wet, strong body glisten. Gilda wrapped a blanket around her to ward off the shivers and went into the kitchen for more candles, which she set on the coffee table, careful to turn her gaze away from him.

When Kane hesitated next to the armchair, she threw him a blanket. "You might need this. I know I have a chill."

"Thanks, love." He draped the blanket over his broad shoulders and sat cross-legged on the chair. "I guess I should've told you what was going on before I dug up half your backyard."

"I should think so," she snapped, still miffed by his earlier attempt at flirting. "I can't believe you were digging in my backyard in a thunderstorm. Are you nuts?"

Kane tugged the blanket around him tighter. "That would seem the most likely conclusion, wouldn't it, love? But could you please stop asking? You're giving me a bit of a self-esteem issue."

Gilda sat back. "Then prove me wrong."

He sank back into the chair. "Before you bought this charming little place it was owned by some little old lady named Mildred Palmer. Charlie's grandma."

"I know. I'm the one who told you that."

He scowled. "Just let me think out loud, will you, love? Charlie used to crash here when he'd go through town. He told me once he hid things here he didn't want found by the people he worked for."

"You mean like steroids for his fighters and cash to launder?" She hugged her blanket and glanced at her phone. Still nothing from Mick.

All the smugness disappeared from Kane's face. He opened his mouth then let out a long breath. "How do you know about that?"

"I have friends too." She met his gaze over the candle. "I heard Charlie got you and most of his other fighters hooked on drugs."

Kane rubbed his face with one hand then set his glass on the coffee table. "He gave me a roof over my head, some serious training, and a stellar career. But what Charlie Hunt giveth, he can also taketh away."

"What did he take from you?" She sipped her water, not so sure she wanted to know.

"Money. Pride. Sanity. My life." He sighed. "It's a long, ugly list, love."

"Which is why Thayer was convinced you killed him," she said.

He stared at the floor. "Maybe I should just let him lock me away. Guilty by reason of insanity. He and Fabio have more than enough proof of that already."

Gilda's mouth dropped open. "Is that what you've been doing since you got to town? Building an insanity case for the police to use to lock you away for life after you dig up my backyard looking for evidence?"

Kane sat back and looked around. "It kind of seems like that, doesn't it?"

"Just a bit."

"So, how do I convince them otherwise?"

Gilda bit her lip in thought. "Have you told Fabio and Thayer everything?"

"I'd kind of hoped to leave the past behind, but if it's the only way to help find a killer, even if it was Charlie who died…" Kane closed his eyes and his breathing slowed until Gilda was sure he'd fallen asleep. When his gaze met hers again, he appeared calm and peaceful. "You're right, love. I may have to answer for a few things I've done, but I suppose it'll be worth it to settle the demons."

"What demons?" Gilda's stomach churned and she thought of calling Mick to haul Kane out of her house. She paused and smiled. Only a couple months earlier she'd called Razi to cart a drunken Mick off her couch. History had an odd way of repeating itself.

Kane glanced out the window toward the raging storm. "Do you mind if I crash on your couch for a while, love? I've had enough of the rain for a bit. I need to rest and you should have someone here to keep an eye on things until Mick gets back."

"No problem. As long as you don't start searching my house, especially my bedroom." She forced a smile, glad she could lock her bedroom door and sleep with her phone clutched in one hand. "I'll get you a pillow and another blanket."

"No worries, love. I'll just use the one you're wearing." Kane stood and pulled Gilda to her feet. With no hesitation or warning, he pressed his lips to hers until heat surged through her entire body and seemed to singe the ends of her hair. He eased the blanket off her shoulders, his hands warm as he slid the fabric off her neck and down her back, letting it puddle around her ankles. So much for respecting her relationship with Mick.

Kane met her stunned gaze with a small smile. "G'night, love. You get some rest. I'll hang out and keep the bad guys away."

She'd just raised her hands to push him away when someone stuck a key in the lock on her front door.

"Gilda?" Mick shouted. "Is everything okay? I had to go to the school."

Her knees buckled. How would she explain why she had wet hair, wore fluffy pajamas, and had a half-naked MMA fighter not only wrapped around her body but also attached to her face? She shoved Kane aside and ran toward Mick.

"Are you okay? You look funny." Mick lunged inside and grabbed her arms. "I should have called Razi instead of leaving you alone. That storm is…" He stopped when he saw Kane standing in the middle of the living room and narrowed his eyes. "What's he doing here?"

"Apparently, doing some moonlight gardening before the storm blew in," Gilda said. "I couldn't just leave him out there in the lightning."

"Sure you could've." Mick closed the door behind him. "The police called to say there'd been a break-in at the school. I went to make sure everything was fine. What are you doing here, Kane?"

"This lovely lady saved me from drowning and catching my death of a cold." Kane sat back on the couch. "If I got sick, you'd have to find someone to cover my classes."

"Yeah, well, that would be the least of my worries." He scowled.

Kane folded his arms. "Can you believe Gilda was here alone with no bodyguard?"

"Yes, I can." Mick turned to face her. "That was my fault. I'm sorry."

Gilda closed her eyes and wished her bad dream would end soon. "Seriously, Mick, I caught Kane out in the storm digging up my backyard. The only reason I let him inside was because it was pouring. There's nothing going on between us."

Nothing aside from a kiss that had left her knees trembling long after, that is.

"Was there any damage at the school?" Gilda stepped between them.

"One of the windows broke when a branch went through it. Other than that, things were fine." Mick glared at Kane before he met Gilda's gaze. "You know I trust you, Gilda. Just not him."

Kane threw back his head and laughed. "So you'll believe I didn't kill Charlie, but you won't believe I'm not flirting with your girlfriend?"

"Not for a second." Mick sat in the damp armchair Kane had vacated and folded his arms. "So what lame excuse do you have for digging up Gilda's backyard in the middle of the night in a thunderstorm?"

"What lame excuse do you have for abandoning your terrified girlfriend in the middle of a stormy night?" Kane smirked.

"Charlie used to hide things at his grandma's house he didn't want found in Detroit." Gilda sat at the opposite end of the couch from Kane. "Like steroids and cash. Kane had a hunch where those things were and felt the need to dig them up."

"Steroids?" Mick glanced at Kane. "Was that really why you sent Charlie packing?"

Kane sighed. "Partly. As long as I was on top and winning every fight, he was my best friend. The second I lost a couple bouts, he trashed me behind my back and got me into trouble with the law. He said it was to give me a solid 'bad boy' image with the public."