No Turning Back (14 page)

Turning quickly away, I headed toward the courthouse door, glancing behind me only once to see all the cameras and cell phones extended toward Kade. He raised his head and our eyes locked. He did not look happy. At all. He looked coldly furious, actually. But he tipped his head slightly to me, as if to acknowledge he'd been outmaneuvered, and I knew I hadn't seen the last of him.

Chapter Six

I hurried through the courthouse to the other side where I'd parked my car. As I was passing by security, I had a thought. Peering through the crowds, I saw Hank, and made my way toward him.

"Hank, you have a minute?" I asked him and he glanced around in surprise. A grin creased his face when he realized it was me.

"For you? You bet," he answered, and motioned toward another guard, Carl, to take his place. I retreated to a less crowded part of the foyer and Hank followed me.

"What can I do for you, Kathleen?" he asked cheerfully. It had occurred to me that Hank, who knew nearly everyone who passed through these doors on a regular basis, might know who Kade was.

"I was wondering if you knew someone," I asked. "His name is Kade Dennon. Ever heard of him?" Hank's grin faded.

"What do you want to know about him for, Kathleen?" His brows had drawn together in a frown.

"I just ran into him, that's all," I answered vaguely. "He seemed...different." I also thought: sexy, secretive, dangerous and scary, but didn't say that. Hanks lips pressed together disapprovingly. I think he saw through me.

"You don't want to be gettin' involved with Kade, Kathleen," he said seriously. "He's bad news." Duh. As if I couldn't figure that part out on my own.

"What do you mean?" I pressed. Details, please.

"Kade's nothin' but a hired gun," Hank said, and now he looked downright disgusted, but it wasn't directed at me. "He stays just beyond the reach of the law and works for whoever will pay him the most to get the job done." I thought of the creepy Jimmy that worked for the Santini brothers.

"You mean like Jimmy Quicksilver?" Hank barked a short laugh.

"Jimmy's an amateur compared to Kade," he said. "You send Jimmy when you want to send a message. You send Kade," his voice lowered, "when you want someone to just disappear." I didn't like the sound of that.

"So he works for the Santini brothers, too?" Somehow, I couldn't imagine Kade answering to anyone. Hank shook his head.

"Kade works for himself. The Santini brothers may hire him, but he don't work for them."

"Okay, thanks for the information, Hank," I said hurriedly. My inner clock had been ticking and I wanted to get away from the courthouse before Kade freed himself from the teenage mob. "I'll talk to you later." I walked away, but not before I saw the worried look on Hank's face as he stared after me.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful as I went back to the firm and finished out the day, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the two gorillas in my cube: the flowers from Blane and Mark's backpack. I won't say I chickened out of confronting Blane, but I'd had enough stress for one day. Since I didn't want any more questions from co-workers, I took the flowers home with me.

I had to work at The Drop tonight, and for once I was glad for the diversion. I plaited my hair in a French braid and hurriedly donned my uniform. Uncomfortable leaving Mark's backpack in my apartment after Sheila's phone had disappeared, I stowed it in the trunk of my car.

As I locked my door, I noticed a moving truck outside. Someone was moving into Sheila's apartment. It took me by surprise and I had to swallow back the sorrow that threatened. I walked to my car and saw a girl carrying a box upstairs. She was about my height and dressed all in black. Her hair was jet black and hung raggedly down her back. One streak had been dyed red. Hmm. I didn't think she and I were going to be buddies, if appearances were anything to go by. I would have introduced myself anyway, just to be neighborly, but was already running late. Sliding behind the wheel, I headed downtown.

I was bartending alone tonight, Wednesdays not being usually very busy, and Tish and Jill were waitressing. Romeo was throwing a big Halloween bash since it fell on a Friday this year, so we spent our downtime putting up decorations. I was glad to have pulled the Halloween shift - I knew from previous experience that tips were usually pretty good on Halloween.

"So, what are you dressing as, Kathleen?" Tish asked me, as we hung a strand of mini lighted jack-o-lanterns over the window. The question took me by surprise. I hadn't thought we were supposed to dress up.

"We have to wear a costume?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Romeo thinks it'll bring in more customers," she answered. "And I was told the girls should try to sex it up a little." She rolled her eyes at this and I agreed. I doubted Romeo had told Scott to "sex up" his costume.

"I have no idea," I said honestly. "What are you dressing as?" She brightened then and I had a feeling of foreboding.

"Well," she said excitedly, "I had this idea. You know how you do such a great Britney Spears?" Okay, don't judge me, but I love Britney. Not everyone can be a Pavarotti fan. I'd realized back in high school that I could do a dead-on impression of Britney. They'd found that out at The Drop one night when I'd been too enthusiastic in singing along when one of her songs came on the jukebox.

"Yeah..." I said slowly, wondering where Tish was going with this and sure I wasn't going to like it.

"I thought it would be pretty neat if you dressed as Britney and I dressed as Madonna! I already talked to Jill and she's coming as Christina. Deirdre's going to be Beyoncé. What do you think?" I'd stopped stringing the lights, my jaw agape as I stared at her in horror.

"You can't be serious," I said when I finally found my voice. "There's no way I can pull that off!" Tish waved her hand dismissively at me.

"Of course you can! I even have an outfit you can use." When I still stared at her, speechless, she explained with a shrug. "I dressed as Britney a few years ago. It's in the back. I'll give it to you so you'll have it for Friday."

There was no way I was going to be able to talk her out of this. Tish was nice but could be like a bulldog when she got something in her head. I had misgivings, but maybe it would be fun. After all, I hadn't dressed up for Halloween in years.

"Fine," I said, giving in with ill-grace. "But I am
not
kissing you." She laughed and I made a face at her before going in the storeroom for the box of black and orange candles that were to be the table centerpieces.

The bar looked very festive by the time we were done and I felt my spirits lift. I was a holiday junkie. Any holiday would do. I celebrated everything from Fat Tuesday to Flag Day. Customers were slow but steady and had cleared out by the time we closed, which was always nice since we had to clean and set up the bar for the next day before we left.

I was finishing drying some bar glasses when Tish appeared and set a paper bag on the bar.

"Don't forget the braids," she reminded me, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"You leaving?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Unless you want me to wait for you?"

"No, that's fine," I said. The bar was in a decent neighborhood and I was parked close. I'd never felt uncomfortable leaving late at night and told Tish she could go on and I would lock up.

Fifteen minutes later, I was finished and locked the door, juggling my purse and the paper bag in my arms. I turned the key and checked to make sure the deadbolt was secure. When I turned around, I was startled to see a man standing in the shadows. A flash of fear went through me before I processed the fact that his silhouette was familiar. Blane.

He was leaning against his car which was parked against the curb. My heart raced from his sudden appearance, but I couldn't resist drinking him in. He'd opted for casual again and his jeans hugged his legs, tapering to his negligently crossed ankles and boots. He wore a dark shirt that I couldn't see clearly due his leather jacket. His arms were crossed as he watched me.

"If you could stop scaring me half to death when you show up, I'd appreciate it," I said dryly, sensing a pattern in how he'd gotten the drop on me yet again.

"Did you get the flowers?" he asked, ignoring my reprimand. I immediately felt guilty for not thanking him. My mother had taught me better manners than that and I was sure they had cost a small fortune. Flowers had been a rare luxury for my mother when my father was alive. Though she had always chastised him when he bought them for her, saying they were too expensive, she'd secretly loved them. The specialness of the treat had rubbed off on me.

"I did, thank you," I said stiffly. "They were beautiful." I took a small step back, careful to maintain a safe distance away from him. His lips twitched, suppressing a smile as he observed me.

"Is it just killing you to thank me?" he asked, and I bristled.

"Of course not," I lied, my cheeks growing hot from embarrassment that he would assume my manners were lacking. "I don't know why you sent them, that's all."

He pushed away from the car and suddenly was standing much closer to me than was comfortable for my heart rate. I instinctively took another step backward only to run into the wall. Blane moved closer until I had to tip my head back to look at him. The faint light from the streetlamp was at his back and illuminated me even as it threw his face into shadows. He was close enough now for me to smell his cologne as it mingled with the scent of leather from his coat.

"How was your date?" he asked in a soft voice. His hand reached out to snag my braided hair and he slowly slipped off the band holding it. I felt my breath seize in my chest. I knew he'd asked something, but I was having a hard time remembering what it was as his fingers started loosening the plaited strands of my hair. Then I remembered and blurted out an answer.

"Fine, it was fine." My voice was too breathless. I searched the darkness of his face, trying in vain to see his eyes. His fingers kept methodically unbraiding my hair.

"Sounds thrilling," he said dryly, and I had the fleeting thought that I should defend James.

"Wh...what are you doing?" I stammered. He'd completely undone my hair and was now letting the wavy strands slide through his fingers. I'd always been a sucker for someone touching my hair. Add to it Blane's overwhelming sensuality and natural charisma and I felt like I was going to melt into a puddle of goo on the sidewalk.

"Touching you," he replied in a low voice, and I think my heart rate tripled. Those two words conjured up all kinds of images that I had no business thinking about. I tried to remember why I needed to stay away from him.

"Stop," I said, and it was a truly pathetic protest. Really, I was surprised that he didn't laugh at me.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in that same raspy tone that went through me like an electric current. I couldn't think with him so close, with his hand in my hair, his other hand now closing over my hip. I blurted out the first thing I could think of that would help me get back behind my defenses.

"Did you find out anything with those numbers on Sheila's phone?" His hand stilled in my hair.

"I know you're the one who took it," I persisted. "Which was really low of you, you know?"

"How do you know I took it?" he asked, and this time his voice had an edge to it. It made me shiver and not in a good way. I belatedly realized I was in an extremely vulnerable position. Blane had a way of getting past my suspicions and defenses and I was kicking myself for being such a stereotypically gullible female.

"I don't, I mean, you could've, but maybe not," I backtracked nervously. "I guess anyone could've broken in and taken it. Hey, what do I know?" I was babbling and forced myself to shut up. After a few moments, he responded.

"You're right," he said, "I did take the phone." Part of me exulted that my instincts had been right. The other part, the more sensible and realistic part, thought that I may have just put myself in a bad situation. Mark's warning about not trusting Blane and the firm echoed in my head. We were alone on the street, late at night. What an idiot I was. I vividly remembered Blane's hand around my throat in my car.

Blane's fingers moved in my hair again and I instinctively jerked back in fear. He towered over me and suddenly the shadows of his face no longer looked mysterious, but threatening instead. I felt a shiver run through me. He must have felt it too because his hand moved up to the back of my head, fingers entangled in my hair, and he forced me to look up at him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said firmly. "I took that phone because I'm trying to protect you." I must not have looked convinced because he continued. "The people who killed your neighbor, they wouldn't think twice about doing the same thing to you." Many things about what he said bothered me but one stood out more than the others.

"You know who killed Sheila?" I searched his face, hoping I could tell whether he was lying. He shook his head.

"Stay out of it, Kathleen," he ordered. "Or you'll end up the same way." My temper flared again.

"Is that a threat?" I demanded, my eyes narrowing in anger. I was sick of this game. I needed to know who was my friend and, more importantly, who was my enemy.

Blane's hand fisted in my hair and my head was tugged backward, the slight pain making me gasp. He wrapped his arm around my waist and jerked me to him, until I was fully pressed against him. I dropped the bag as my hands came up to try and push against his chest, but I couldn't get any leverage. He lowered his face until it was mere inches from mine, his eyes boring into mine and they shone silver in the night.

"You're like a cornered kitten, Kathleen," he said, shaking his head. "Still hissing and pretending you can fight your way out. I'm trying to protect you. Let me." I wasn't sure I appreciated being compared to a kitten, but I suppose there were worse things. I wavered. He seemed so sincere. I could feel his heart beating in his chest and mine seemed to have taken on the same rhythm.