Obsession (The Plus One Chronicles) (21 page)

With the warmth of Sloane gone, Kat shivered despite the balmy breeze flowing in. Involuntarily she shifted her gaze to the monitor and alarm keypad by the garage door. A light blinked red as the gate swung open and Sloane’s dark Mercedes slid through in the bright afternoon sunshine.

Gone.

She picked up her forgotten water and headed to the couch. Sitting down, she frowned at the frail man in the chair. “Really? Stay home for me? Choose me? What the hell was that?” Snarling at her dying friend probably wasn’t her best moment.

Drake shifted in his chair. “The truth. He shouldn’t leave you behind.”

“Awesome.” She sipped her water. Flat. God, it was going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. He loves you.” He rested his head against the recliner.

Yeah, she felt all kinds of loved. But that wasn’t Drake’s fault. He was worried about Sloane and made a clumsy attempt to keep the man he loved like a son from making a bad choice. Drake genuinely wanted Sloane to choose her and to make a life with her. He wanted to die assured that Sloane would have the love he’d missed out on. It was understandable, and remorse for her bitch-attack washed over her. “Forget it, I don’t feel bad. I was just surprised. How about we watch a movie? Something fun.” They both could use the distraction. Drake would most likely fall asleep. He slept more hours than he was awake now.

“
Beethoven
.”

Smiling at his choice, she looked to see if the movie was in the selection. “Did you ever have a dog?”

“Yeah, a mutt with big ears. Named him Radar. Miss him.”

After locating the movie, she started it playing. “How’d you get Radar?”

“I took a woman to dinner one night. When we were leaving the restaurant, Radar tried to snatch a doggie bag of leftovers from her. He was a thin, mangy mutt. My date yelped in surprise and nearly scared the poor dog to death. He dropped to the ground and cowered.”

Kat had seen pictures of Drake when he’d been well. The man had been huge and intimidating. He would have frightened Kat back then, yet he took in a scared and hungry dog. “And then?”

“We fed the dog leftovers, and he just sort of became mine. He went with me everywhere. Not all women were down with that.”

The blinking on the monitor by the garage door caught her attention. Zack had arrived and was coming in the gate. He’d let himself in the house. Returning her attention to Drake, she said, “So if the woman didn’t like Radar?”

He glanced over at her with tired eyes. “We found a new woman.”

She turned a grin on Drake then frowned at the red irritation where the oxygen tube rubbed his face. Getting to her feet, she handed him the remote. “I’m going to get the ointment.” Once in Drake’s room, she quickly used his bathroom, then snatched up the tube and walked out.

Uncapping the tube, she said, “This should help—”

Kat froze, the ointment falling from her suddenly nerveless fingers. Drake’s chair was empty except for the blanket and oxygen tube.

Fear and horror collided. In the center of the room, a huge man with military-short hair held Drake in front of him, a wicked, dark-colored knife at his throat. It wasn’t Zack.

Kat tried to comprehend it. What was happening? Who was that? Why wasn’t Zack here? She stared at the fist around the knife, noting a thick scar on the back of his hand.

Scar.
That word triggered a memory, something Sloane had said.

…he has a burn scar on the back of his left hand…

Oh God. “Lee Foster.”

Chapter Sixteen

Good thing he wasn’t driving. Sloane’s famed concentration had turned to shit. Every mile they traveled away from his house and closer to his ultimate goal increased his anxiety.

You’re important to me, but I need to do this tonight.
That’s what he’d told Kat. Then he’d left her behind to care for Drake.

Because he had better things to do. Anxiety? More like a total asshole. He’d fucked that up with her. Why hadn’t he told her he loved her or something better?

Ethan glanced over at him. “Is my driving making you uneasy?”

“No.” He’d put Ethan behind the wheel to make damn sure the kid didn’t build up a phobia. The heart attack had happened while he’d been driving, and he’d totally blacked out. That could screw with his head. Better to have him get behind the wheel now when only three weeks had passed.

“Why didn’t you take Kat with you tonight? I could have stayed home with Drake and Zack.”

Sloane frowned at that. He’d never asked her to go because he didn’t want her near Foster. “She doesn’t like fights.”

Ethan shrugged. “Just wondered. Because if it’s the money, I’d have given her my ticket. It was Drake’s ticket anyway, not mine.”

Sloane strove for patience. “It’s not the money. I’d have gotten you your own ticket if Drake was up to going.”

The kid shut up. Sloane worked on getting his head in the game and not thinking about his baker girl. He was going to—

“But not Kat?”

“What?”

Ethan tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. “You wouldn’t buy her a ticket?”

Sloane’s entire body twanged. Hard. “She doesn’t like fights. I didn’t ask her to go. Drop it.”

“Fine. But Sherry’s going.”

What the hell was stuck up his ass? “Spit it out.”

Ethan looked over at him. “I heard Sherry and Kat talking about it. Sherry was excited and showing Kat clothes online, asking her what she was going to wear.”

Fuck. Sloane saw it coming. “What did she say?”

“She tried to change the subject. But Sherry kept pressing. Finally she said you hadn’t asked her to go. And besides…”

Sloane fisted his hands. “What?”

“She couldn’t afford the ticket. And she needed to stay with Drake.”

Jesus, he didn’t know what to say. Did she think he wouldn’t spend the money on a ticket for her? Kat hadn’t mentioned it to him. Not a goddamned word. In the past, she’d told him that fights could induce her panic attacks. He’d done the right thing by not inviting her. It wasn’t about the money, she had to know that. He was protecting her.

Then why did he feel like shit? Why did he suddenly, desperately wish she was there now, and would be there tonight? Then he could look at her and remember that he was more than a killer. Would she have been there for him if he’d asked her to? He didn’t know because he hadn’t given her the chance to find out, had he? Instead he’d shoved her aside to take care of Drake.

Like he was hiding her.
Those words pounded into his brain. Christ, was that what she thought?

Sloane pulled his phone out but instead of calling Kat, he asked his driver, “Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

Ethan flushed. “Kat begged me not to. I offered her my ticket and to stay with Drake. She told both me and Sherry to back off and leave you alone.”

“Drake was there too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.” That explained Drake’s comments earlier. Kat had probably been embarrassed and humiliated as she tried to explain why Sloane didn’t want her at the fight. The huge event laden with wealthy, socially prominent guests, and tickets so exclusive they had a waiting list of people willing to pay obscene amounts of money for them.

He stared at the phone in his hand. What did he say to her?
Hey, sorry I didn’t invite you, but I’ve had really important things on my mind.

Or he could let it go. Do what he had to and make it up to her later. Tell her he had been protecting her because he knew she hated fights, and he didn’t want her near Foster.

When the truth was simple—he hadn’t thought about how this all felt to her. No, he’d been too busy figuring out his big fucking decision and how to get everything he wanted. Not asking Kat if she wanted to go had been about protecting himself.

He didn’t want Kat to see him kill, couldn’t face the horror that would stain her eyes. So he’d pushed her aside.

“Turn around. We’re going home.”

Ethan jerked next to him. “What?”

“We’re going back for Kat. If she wants to go, she’s coming.”

“But women like time to get ready and stuff, don’t they?”

“John and Liza can handle things at the fight until we get there.” If Kat wanted to go, he’d make it happen. He had the money to make stuff happen. But he had to get home to her to find out. Give her the chance. Stop pushing her aside.

Make her understand she was everything to him, that she came first.

“What if she doesn’t want to go?”

Sloane belonged with her. “Then we don’t.” His earlier tension and weariness eased with that decision. He scrolled his contacts and called John as Ethan took them home.

* * *

Terror gripped Kat’s mind in a brain-squeezing vise. The knife pressed into the skin of Drake’s neck. Foster shouldn’t be here. “You’re supposed to be at the fight in Temecula.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “I’ll have more fun here. While Michaels manipulated this show, I made plans of my own. That bastard destroyed my life over a worthless tramp. Time for a little payback.”

Run.
Every cell in her body told her to run for the door. Or into the garage. Or into Drake’s bathroom and lock the door. But she couldn’t leave Drake.

“Come here,” Foster ordered.

“Run, Kat!” Drake tried to twist in the hold.

Foster jerked Drake’s head back and sliced across his neck.

“No! Oh God!” It happened so fast Kat could hardly track it. For a second she wondered if she’d imagined it, but then a thin red line of blood welled up on Drake’s throat. She rushed forward. “Stop! I’m here!” Dizziness billowed in her head, but she dug her fingernails into her palms. She was close enough to see that the cut on Drake was shallow. More painful than damaging.

Foster pulled his lips back in a smirk. “Let’s see what’s got Michaels’ attention about you. Strip.” He flipped the knife in his hand so the blade pointed down. “Fast, or I’ll stab his thigh and keep going.”

Drake tried to frantically shake his head, but Foster tightened his arm beneath his chin.

Horrified understanding exploded in her brain. He’d force her to take off her clothes. Rape her. Kill them both.

Foster raised the knife.

He wasn’t bluffing. “Okay! I’ll do it.” Shaking violently, her hands numb from panic, Kat fumbled to pull her T-shirt off. She couldn’t fight this, didn’t know how. But she couldn’t let him hurt Drake anymore.

“Small tits. Not seeing much yet. Keep going.”

His eyes on her made her cringe. Oily humiliation slithered through her. Crossing her arms over her bra, she tried to make herself smaller. Invisible.

“Don’t do it, Kat.” Drake struggled, trying to fight the bigger man.

Foster held him easily as he shot his gaze to her. “Want to hear him scream?”

Oh God, oh God.
Kat toed off her shoes while fumbling with the buttons on her jeans. Her numb fingers kept slipping. What should she do? There was no help. Sloane wouldn’t be home for hours. She didn’t know where Zack was. No one was coming.

Foster shoved the tip of the knife into Drake’s thigh. The older man grunted, his body jerking against the pain.

“Get naked, bitch.” Foster twisted the knife, ripping a weak yell from Drake.

“I will. Don’t hurt him. Please.” Hot, helpless tears poured down her face and clogged her nose. She forced her jeans past her knees and stepped out.

Foster’s eyes trailed vile shame over her bra, her belly, her tiny panties, to her scars running from her knee to mid-calf. Her skin crawled as the unholy glee crossed his face. Like her scars turned him on.

Snakes of slimy terror shot through her. She’d felt this once before—when one man held her arms and another swung the bat.

“Run, Kat!” Drake croaked against the arm around his neck.

Foster twisted the knife, pushing it deeper. A feeble, pained hiss broke from Drake.

“Leave him alone.” She sobbed the words.

Foster’s gaze slammed into hers. “Okay.” He jerked the knife out and tossed Drake away like trash. The older man crumpled to the floor near the coffee table.