No Turning Back (23 page)

His hands moved hesitantly upward, as if waiting for me to protest, but I kept my lips pressed firmly closed. It wasn't my fault. He had been the one who wanted to play doctor.

Slowly brushing my miniskirt up my thighs, his fingers touched the bandages. His hands closed over my knees, pushing them apart, and I felt a flash of desire arc through me. But judging by what he said next, he wasn't feeling the same.

"Do you have any idea," he ground out as he pulled off the reddened gauze, "how close you came to cutting your femoral artery?" Well, that was a bucket of cold water if I'd ever felt one. I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes.

"Biology wasn't really my strongest subject," I said dryly, then hissed in pain as the water touched the open cuts. "Crap that hurts!"

To his credit, Blane was quick and efficient. He had the cuts cleaned, medicated and bandaged more quickly than if I had done it myself. Getting to his feet, he pulled me upward as well, sending the room into a tilt-a-whirl once again.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, and to my addled brain, it sounded like an invitation.

"Only if you're joining me," I said, hooking my fingers into his belt and tugging. In the part of my brain that still retained a semblance of common sense in spite of the alcohol, I was shocked at my propositioning of him. It appeared he felt the same for his lips pressed together in a look I was starting to know well.

"Fine," I retorted, spinning away from his grip and stomping into my bedroom. He followed me, more to make sure I didn't fall on my face, I think, than anything else. I decided since he had no interest in having sex with me, then it wouldn't bother him if I changed my clothes. I peeled off my sweater and shirt, dropping them carelessly on the floor. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw he'd paused right inside the doorway, his eyes riveted on me.

Conscious of the lack of my usual inhibitions, I flashed him a smirk. Keeping my back to him, I crossed my arms over my chest, pulling the black sports bra over my head. My braided pigtails brushed the bare skin of my back, but I didn't look at Blane. Instead, I slowly slid down the zipper on the back of my miniskirt. Hooking my fingers inside the waistband, I dragged it and my panties down over my hips, needlessly bending at the waist as I slid the material down my legs. When the fabric puddled at my feet, I stepped out and walked to my bureau. I'd never done a strip tease before, but it hadn't seemed very hard.

I wasn't brave enough to look at Blane as I searched through unfamiliar piles of satin and lace for pajamas. Finally, I gave up and pulled out a blue satin shorts and camisole set. I slipped them on and turned to face Blane. He hadn't moved from where he stood, but his eyes blazed and his hands were fisted at his sides. I felt a surge of satisfaction. So he wasn't immune to me after all.

Grabbing my brush off the bureau, I walked until I stood mere inches from him, tipping my head back to meet his eyes as I held out the brush.

"Will you help me with my hair?" I asked as innocently as I could. He hesitated, then gave a curt nod. I climbed into the center of the bed with my back to him and started removing the braided pigtails. After a moment, I felt the bed dip as he moved behind me. My hair was down and I combed through it with my fingers as a sigh escaped me. It felt good to have the braids out. I waited and finally felt the bristles pull tentatively through my hair.

It was immediately clear that Blane was unaccustomed to combing a girl's hair. He was slow and exceedingly careful when he hit tangles. I couldn't repress a small smile. It struck me as sweet, actually, that he didn't want to hurt me. I could have told him he could pull all he wanted, I had a pretty hard head, but kept my silence. After the many women I knew he'd been with, it meant something that this was a task unfamiliar to him. What had been a ploy on my part to get him to touch me was turning into something tender and sweet.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle tugging of the bristles and the feel of his hands smoothing the strands as he brushed. I felt a warm tightness in my chest and knew I was in dangerous territory. Although my head knew I couldn't risk getting more attached to Blane, it seemed I was powerless to stop it. Feeling the need to get back on more familiar footing, I cleared my throat.

"I remembered there's a case pending with the firm regarding TecSol," I said, and the brush paused for a moment before continuing. "I need to know what it's about."

"Why do you need to know?" Blane asked guardedly.

"Mark worked for them," I said. "He was afraid of them. Afraid they were after him. That Sheila was killed because of him."

"What else did he say?" The brush combed through the strands effortlessly now, the tangles gone.

I thought. "He said it might have something to do with Eve." Mark had also said someone at the firm had betrayed him, but I kept that to myself. I wondered who Eve was and what part she had played in Mark's death. "Is there someone named Eve involved with the case?"

"No," Blane said. "EVE's not a person, EVE's a thing. They call it Electronic Voting Evaluation. TecSol wrote the software that the city is using for the first election where all voting will be done online."

I frowned. "The case with TecSol – wasn't it about election fraud?" I asked, trying to remember what I had read that night.

"Yes," Blane confirmed, still brushing my hair as he spoke. "Six months ago, someone came forward from TecSol claiming to be a whistleblower and that the software had security flaws. They were terminated and sued for disclosure of proprietary information. They counter-sued for wrongful termination under the Whistleblower Protection Act."

"What do the Santini brothers have to do with any of this?" I remembered Blane and I having to deliver those documents to them that evening.

"They own TecSol through a front company," Blane answered.

"What's the status of the case now?"

"The case is no longer pending as the plaintiff is dead," he said flatly.

Startled, I turned around to face him. "The whistleblower is dead?"

Blane nodded, his face grim. "Car wreck," he explained.

I felt a flash of fury. "You know they were killed," I insisted, and he nodded again. "But," I sputtered, "they can't do that. They just can't go around killing people!"

"I know," he said calmly, "and I'm working on it. But you need to stay out of it. It doesn't concern you."

"It concerns me now," I retorted. "Mark said he knew about the problems with EVE, and that he'd come forward. He said someone at the firm betrayed him and now he's dead. But he gave that information to me. I can't just ignore that. And you," my eyes narrowed at him and I quickly scooted backward on the bed, away from him. "You work for them! Whose side are you on? Did you betray him?"

Blane's hand flashed out and snagged my waist, dragging me back toward him. I struggled briefly, but was so quickly subdued by Blane it was embarrassing. My arms were pinned to my sides as he loomed over me.

"I didn't betray him, Kathleen, I'm on your side," he said curtly, "but you're not helping me protect you. I don't want them to know about you or what Mark told you. You could very well end up dead." My face paled at the reminder as Blane's eyes searched mine intently.

"I think they might already know," I said weakly, "or will soon." My anger had dissipated in a cloud of anxiety.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Kade," I answered, my voice small. "He threatened to tell them if I didn't bring him the drive." Growling a curse, Blane sat up, releasing me.

"I was going to give it to him," I said, sitting up. "He said to meet him tomorrow night at Monument Circle."

"Good," Blane said. "He'll leave you out of it so long as he gets what he wants. Kade's number one priority is himself." His eyes focused on my bruised cheek again. "And I'll take care of James," he said grimly. Alarm shot through me.

"No! You can't!" I said, latching onto his arm and tugging as he made to stand. Blane paused, though not because of my ineffectual pulling on him.

"Don't tell me you have feelings for him," he said with disgust, "not after what he did to you?"

"Of course not!" I protested, still hanging on to his arm. "He's a bully and a jerk!"

"Then why are you stopping me?"

"Because he's crazy!" I said, dismayed. "Really crazy. And he has this weird competition thing with you and I don't want you to get hurt!" Our eyes caught and held.

"I couldn't handle..." my voice caught, and I had to stop and take a breath. "Please," I finally managed, "just...stay. With me. Please stay." My eyes pleaded with him and I could tell when he relented.

"This isn't a good idea," he muttered, his eyes dragging down my body. Still, he turned off the light and kicked off his shoes, leaving his jeans and shirt on. He turned to climb into bed but I was on my knees, stopping him. He looked at me questioningly, but I just dropped my gaze and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He didn't stop me and I was able to tug it from his waistband and push it off his shoulders and down his arms, sighing in pleasure as I did so.

"You're still drunk," he said gruffly, and I shrugged, scooting back on the bed and under the covers. After a moment he followed me. I unabashedly snuggled up to his side, resting my head on his chest as his arms encircled me. I remembered what he'd said last night, about me being innocent, and the words fell out of my mouth before I could think better of it.

"I'm not a virgin, you know," I said baldly. Blane went very still. After a moment, he spoke.

"Tell me about your lovers," he said lightly, his hand stroking my back. It felt nice and I scooted closer.

"Not lovers, plural," I corrected, "lover, singular. Men," I groused, "always thinking women are as promiscuous as they are."

"I stand corrected," he said. "Tell me about your lover."

"That's really too romantic a title for him," I said, remembering the groping in the confines of the car. "I was sixteen. It was homecoming and his father had a big sedan. End of story." Blane's hand paused on my back.

"How was it?" he asked carefully. I tried to concentrate. Sleep was crowding into my brain along with the booze and my thoughts were fuzzy. I consciously had to make my mouth move to answer him.

"Quick. Painful. Embarrassing." Those were the feelings I would forever associate with that encounter. And that was my last thought before sleep claimed me.

When I woke, weak light cast a dim glow in the room and I realized it must be morning. I lay on my back, Blane's arm beneath my head, as he lay on his side against me, his other arm across my stomach. Closing my eyes, I relaxed, enjoying the moment.

Blane's hand moved down my stomach and underneath the waistband of my shorts. "I knew this was a bad idea," he whispered in my ear. "I can't seem to keep my hands off you." Without another word, his hand parted my thighs and a long finger slipped inside me. I gasped at the intrusion and his mouth covered mine. Our tongues dueled even as he stroked me and I felt like I was on fire from the inside out. My arms lifted and wound themselves around his neck.

Blane added a second finger to the first and I bit back a moan. My hips rose of their own volition to meet his thrusting fingers and my breath came in pants. Heat flared between my legs as his thumb slid over a spot that made my body jerk against his hand.

"God, I want you, Kat," he groaned against my lips.

A pounding on my apartment door shattered the cocoon around us. Blane's hand stilled and I wanted to cry in disappointment. The pounding came again and Blane was up and out of the bed, heading to the front door. Scrambling up on legs that were shaking, I grabbed his shirt and stuffed my arms into the sleeves. I didn't have a robe but it was long enough to serve as one.

Blane pulled open the front door, gun in hand, and I nearly collapsed in relief to see CJ standing there. I had been afraid it might be James.

CJ eyed the two of us and Blane's gun, her hand still poised to knock, and I saw her eyebrows climb skyward.

"Er, sorry to interrupt," she said uncomfortably, looking past Blane to me.

"Not a problem," I said quickly. "Blane this is my neighbor, CJ. CJ, this is Blane." CJ gave Blane a curt nod.

"I was just wondering if you saw this." She held up today's newspaper. Stepping around Blane, I took it from her, read the headline and gasped.

"What is it?" Blane said, looking over my shoulder at the page.

"It's James," I said numbly. "He's entered the race for District Attorney." I frantically skimmed the article below. "It says here the previous candidate had pulled out of the race citing the need to spend more time with his family. He's endorsed James in his place." Blane took the paper from my fingers as I tried to absorb this information, reading the article himself.

"Come by when you have a minute," CJ said, giving me a meaningful look.

"Yeah, um, okay," I said nervously. "I'll be over in a bit. Just need to get dressed." With a nod and once last glance at Blane, still absorbed in the paper, she retreated to her apartment and I closed the door. Blane dropped the paper on the couch and turned toward me. My mind flashed to what CJ had interrupted and I could feel myself blushing furiously.

"I'd better get going," he said, eyeing me with regret. He glanced at his watch and tucked his gun into the small of his back. I looked up when he stood in front of me. "I'm going to need that," he said softly, and I didn't resist as he pushed the shirt down my arms, my breath catching when he touched me. Putting it on, he rolled up the sleeves and carelessly did up a couple buttons, his eyes never leaving mine. His fingers came up to softly brush the bruised skin of my cheek and I saw his eyes turn cold and hard. Then he was kissing me again, his arms crushing me to him. When we finally broke apart, I was gasping for air. He rested his forehead against mine.

"I'll see you tonight," he said softly and I nodded, unable to speak. Then he was gone.

I hurried through a shower, throwing on some sweats and leaving my hair wet before going over to CJ's. She answered quickly, pulling open the door for me.