Razing Kayne (9 page)

If his parents could see him now, they'd be in heaven. To Kayne, it felt closer to
hell. Every time he looked at Gracie, he saw Natalia. A part of him died a little
more when he realized this was what it could have been like.
Should have been like.
If Oksana had only spared his children.

It made him sick to think of the fear they must have suffered in those moments before
they died. And where the fuck had he been?
Working overtime so that he could pay for daycare and avoid his wife.
Sure, she'd been acting differently. Better. Or so he'd thought. Still, he'd placed
his
kids
right into the hands of a mentally unstable woman who'd murdered them.

Kayne glanced at Gracie in his rear-view mirror. She had the same chocolate curls,
the same sky blue eyes that Natalia had inherited from Oksana, and though Tasha had
been so very young, he knew she would have looked just like her mother and sister
too. There was so much of Gracie's personality that was like Natalia's too, but maybe
that was just because of Gracie's age. He honestly didn't know, and needed to find
out. He needed to know about the accident and where Gracie had come from. How had
she been the only survivor in a car crash, and why hadn't another family member stepped
in to claim her? And a thousand other questions he couldn't even begin to contemplate.

Somehow, he needed to get answers without hurting anyone in the process. Other than
himself, that was. He knew it was going to hurt like hell when—if—he found out that
the precious little girl happily rocking out wasn't his missing daughter. If he handled
it well, he could quietly slip back out of their life without anyone knowing he'd
ever had an agenda.

So what the hell was he supposed to do about Jessica? He'd never felt that much need
for someone, been so consumed he forgot where he was or who was around. All he'd been
able to think about was getting inside her. No finesse, no foreplay, just raw, fuck
her against the wall, S-E-X. And wouldn't that impress the hell out of her?

Shit, he needed to get laid.

It had been months since he'd had sex and years since he'd had any desire to make
love to a woman. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever made love, even to his wife.

Barely eighteen, Oksana had emigrated from Russia to escape a violently changing political
climate. Embroiled in a coup, her father had begged Kayne, the son of a childhood
friend, to marry Oksana while he still held the power to get her out of harm’s way.
What should have been a flat out no, turned into a reluctant yes when Kayne learned
that she'd be married off to a man almost twice his own age if he refused. A man Kayne's
department had been investigating for ties to organized crime activity.

Her beauty had taken his breath away, but she'd been spoiled and selfish—and lost.
For nearly six months, she'd cried herself to sleep at night over her lost homeland.
It had taken another six months to consummate their marriage.

And only because she'd confronted him, convinced that their separate bedrooms and
his extensive overtime meant he was having an affair; that he was in love with someone
else. But it didn't, and he wasn't. He wasn't in love with Oksana either, and though
he hadn't said the words, she'd seen the truth reflected in his eyes. She'd fled to
her room sobbing, and he'd escaped into a bottle of whiskey, trying to drown his guilt,
knowing he was about to break his vows by ending a marriage that had failed before
it ever began.

Yet, somewhere in the middle of the night she'd crawled into bed with him, and the
only thing his inebriated brain cared about was that he hadn't had sex in over a year.
The events of that night were still hazy, but he knew he'd fucked her, and in turn,
himself. For weeks he'd prayed that she wasn't pregnant, but that prayer had gone
unanswered, and nine months later, his son Niki was born.

By the time Niki was six months old, Oksana was pregnant with Natalia and suffering
from depression. But it wasn't until after a condom failure gave them Natasha that
Kayne finally accepted that the life he'd hoped for would never be. He’d made the
best of a bad situation because of his children and stayed the hell away from her.

After the murders, he'd been too fucked up in the head to be
intimate
with anyone. When the need became too great, when he got sick and tired of his own
hand, he sought out a willing partner for a no strings fuck—mutually satisfying unemotional
sex, no cuddling, no endearing
words, no promises or repeats. Deep down, he knew Jessica wouldn't agree to something
like that, and if he was honest with himself, he couldn't have unemotional sex with
her.
Merely being in her presence stirred up too many feelings.
So where did that leave them?

The simple answer was nowhere. God, he was losing it.
Time to forget about Jessica.
You keep saying that
, his inner voice mocked,
and then you change your mind.

***

Once again, the night found Kayne sitting on the couch staring at the whiskey and
his service weapon. For the first time, he wasn't tempted to touch either of them.
He clicked on the TV and started flipping channels to fight off sleep, certain that
he'd be bombarded with nightmares. But when he did sleep, when he did dream, it wasn't
nightmares that haunted his sleep, but rather a beautiful moment in time.

He was holding a brand new, red-faced, slimy wet, and mad as hell baby girl. At first
he didn't know which baby he was holding, and then he saw the birthmark.
A crescent moon just above her right ear.
Tasha.

NINE

The blaring alarm startled Kayne into wakefulness. He fought to keep Tasha's image
in his mind, knowing there was something he needed to remember, but it had already
faded. She'd been a sweet quiet baby. She'd slept through the night almost from the
beginning. It was foolish to hold out any hope that she lived, but if she did, he
prayed she was safe and happy.
Loved.

Kayne laid there thinking of all the excuses he could use to call in sick today and
go back to sleep. People shouldn't have to work on a Saturday. They should have fun.

Fun.
Jessica.

He was supposed to be babysitting. Realizing where he was going made four hours of
sleep more than tolerable.

After a quick shower, Kayne threw on jeans and started to grab the top T-shirt in
his drawer, but after a moment’s debate, went hunting for one he hoped Jessica would
find funny and not offensive.

When Kayne reached the house, he pulled around to the garage door and called Jessica.
“Hey, short-stuff, I'm here, will you open the garage?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Is there somewhere else you want me to park? I figured since I’ll be cleaning the
Tahoe out after letting the kids eat dinner in it last night, you wouldn't want the
truck sitting outside during the party.”

“Oh, right, sorry. My brain’s not functioning yet. Give me a minute; I'm on the other
side of the house.”

“You mean that security system won't let you open the garage door remotely?”

“It does, I just don't know how to make it happen.”

Jessica had shown Kayne around the mansion last night. The place was incredible. Though
they only occupied a small wing of rooms the house/event center was expansive, with
sixteen-bedrooms and nearly as many bathrooms. There was an indoor pool, a ballroom,
a theater, and the largest play room he'd ever seen, filled with, what he guessed,
was every toy FAO Schwartz had ever made. And the state of the art electro-biometric
security system was a tech's wet-dream. The thing monitored occupants by detecting
not just their heat signature, but also by identifying the pattern of a specific heartbeat.

By the time Kayne climbed out of his truck, Jessica was standing at the door in a
long fluffy robe and fuzzy slippers, her Tasmanian
Devil
pajama pants peeking out between. Her head was covered in hot rollers held in place
by bright pink clips. She held Gracie—still in her own footie pajamas—against her
chest. The little cherub looked to be sound asleep. Kayne had to fight not to smile.
They definitely weren't dating, or he would have never seen that look this early in
the game.

Jessica started laughing when he got close. “Perfect
.
'
God created cops so firemen would have someone to look up to.’
You declaring
war?” She pointed at his T-shirt.

“Maybe.
I have one about dispatchers but—”

“No, this one is good.” She smiled as she petted his chest.
Tracing the design.
Damn she needed to quit doing that. He felt himself grow hard, as if she were stroking
his cock instead.

“So do you get good reception with those in?” Kayne pointed to the hot-curlers.
Anything to get his mind off lustful thoughts of Jessica.

She blushed. “I was hoping you wouldn't notice them.”

“Short stuff, if I didn't notice something like that, I'd have to turn in my badge.
And I had to dig through an awful lot of Crackerjacks boxes to find it.”

Her voice became defensive. “Well, I didn't have a choice. I have to dress up for
these things.”

Note to self: Jessica is not a morning person.
“So what do you wear to something like this?”

“Something dressy with heels.”

Kayne ducked his head, making sure Gracie was really asleep.
“Pantyhose and little heels, or stockings and sexy heels?”
His voice turned gruff. God, if Gracie wasn't in her arms...

“Why?”

“So I can accurately imagine helping you undress later.”  Damn! Apparently his verbal
governors weren't working this morning.

Jessica sucked in a quick breath then started chewing on her bottom lip, as the shock
slowly changed to something else. There was a gleam in Jessica's eyes when she motioned
him forward with the crook of her finger, as if she were about to share a secret.
“Think red, stretch lace, strapless corset, matching thong.”  Her voice sounded rough,
like she'd been screaming his name all night long. “Silk stockings held up by dainty,
satin, garter ribbons and matching
fuck-me,” —
she whispered the word  as if she weren’t used to saying such things, making it sound
far more dirty than it should have—
“
red heels.”

Stunned, he didn't protest when she handed Gracie over to him. Kayne's hand snaked
out and snagged Jessica’s arm when she started to turn away. “What exactly are you
wearing over that?” he growled. The red in his vision wasn't over what she'd described,
but an angry haze at the thought of any other man getting even a glimpse.

Jessica batted her eyes innocently.
“As little as possible, of course.
This is
your
fantasy after all.”

The little devil had the nerve to laugh as she walked away. Oh, she was going to pay
for that, he thought grimly. When he finally got her into bed, she was going to pay.

So today we're back to fucking her?
He wished that voice would just shut the hell up.

***

Jess could feel Kayne's eyes on her as she walked away. God, had she really done that?
She'd spent enough time around officers to know she'd just waved a red flag in front
of a bull. A man like Kayne wasn't going to back away from a taunt like that, so why
had she taunted him? Hadn't she learned the hard way that she'd be nothing but a disappointment?

She had nothing to offer Kayne, and, while he might be kind to her children, he would
want at least one of his own, were he to decide to start another family. Not as a
replacement for the ones he lost, but a man like that would want a child with his
blood coursing through its veins. Something she could never give him.

She knew all of this, yet as she dressed, she put on sheer silk stockings and some
barely there panties. She pulled out the black suit with the pencil skirt that, while
still professional, was a
little too
short,
and paired it with a lacy, red camisole that played peek-a-boo under her suit jacket.
Then, in a moment of utter insanity, she unearthed the box hidden in the back of her
closet, pulled off the lid, and stared at the beautiful red satin heels. She looked
longingly at the sexy red dress she'd bought them to go with. She'd planned to wear
it to dinner for her anniversary. But it had never happened. Jarred had left her,
then
died, within hours. She'd packed away the dress and shoes and spent her anniversary
planning a funeral.

Reluctantly, she put the shoes away. One day she'd wear them, but it would be with
that dress. One day she'd matter enough to someone that she'd have reason to wear
it. Until then, the shoes would stay in a box, and the beautiful dress would stay
in the bag, and her hopes and dreams would stay hidden away so they couldn't be trampled
by another man with his own agenda.

Jess dressed and finished her hair and makeup. Following the heavenly aroma of bacon,
she entered the kitchen to see Kayne had breakfast ready
He looked her over from head to toe. Was it possible to look relieved and disappointed
at the same time?

“Bacon and eggs with toast okay? Or would you like me to fix you something else?”

“Toast and eggs are fine.” She'd avoid the bacon, though she loved it. She was a full
size larger than when Jarred was alive, and he'd constantly been after her to lose
weight.

“Nice shoes.” Kayne set a plate in front of her that was loaded with eggs, buttered
toast, and three slices of bacon.

“Thanks.” She blushed. They were practical black, not sexy red, and yet he managed
to make it sound dirty.

He was the devil. It was the only explanation as to why he tempted her on every level.
With his black hair and charcoal gray eyes, his lean, muscular body, and his rugged
good looks, he most certainly looked the part.

The only thing he was missing was the—

“Apple?”

“Excuse me?” God, had she said something out loud?

“Juice.
Do you want orange or apple?”

Juice, right.
She was the only one lost in the whole devil in the Garden of Eden fantasy. “Just
coffee, but I'll get it. You sit and eat.” She jumped to her feet, needing a little
distance. She figured her face had to be as red as those satin heels she'd put back
in the box. What was wrong with her? Getting involved with someone like Kayne Dobrescu
would be a horrible mistake. And she'd made more than enough of those for one lifetime.

***

Kayne's morning consisted of a thorough cleaning of the Tahoe, a run-in with the belligerent
hose-monkey, and a trip to the park to feed the ducks and play on the playground.
Five hours later, he and the kids walked in the door, and he still hadn't been able
to get the image of Jessica out of his mind. She was a solid foot shorter than his
six-foot-three, with a sexy hourglass figure, breasts that would fill his large hands,
a tiny waist, and hips made for holding while he made love to her.
Fucked
her.
Love was not a word he was willing to associate with a woman ever again.

After sending the kids upstairs to clean up and change, Kayne made his way into the
kitchen. Jessica had changed into a T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots
.
Her hair, still a riot of curls down her back, made him think of sinking his hands
into it and holding on as he claimed her body. He felt his body stirring at the thought.
She stood talking to a young woman.
Her assistant?

Oblivious to Kayne's baser musings, Jessica introduced him to her assistant. While
she was talking, she pulled her hair up and secured it with a clip, making him want
to weep. It was criminal to hide such beauty.

Once her assistant walked away, Jessica turned to him.
“Any problems?”

Before he could stop himself, Kayne reached out and opened the clip, releasing her
hair. It spilled down her back.
“Other than a run-in with Cody?
Nothing.”

She gave him an annoyed look, took the clip from him, and began the process of piling
it back up on her head. “What happened?”

Kayne released a heavy sigh. It was a shame to hide all that glorious hair.
“Nothing important.
Wanted to know where you were and why I had the kids,
then
stomped off.”

“He can be kinda immature sometimes, but he was Jarred's best friend, and he only
wants what's best for me and the kids.”

Kayne highly doubted that.

“He was there when I really needed him after Jarred died. He was the one who discovered
the winch had been faulty. He helped me find a lawyer and sue the company for the
death compensation. I don't think I would have done that on my own, but he really
pushed for it. Because Jarred ignored protocol, they were threatening to deny survivor's
benefits. Cody took care of everything I needed.”

Kayne's anger flared white-hot. Exactly how much had Cody been there for her? “Were
you two...?”
D
id you fuck him?
As if it was any of his business who she'd slept with in the past.
Or in the future.

Kayne watched as her creamy complexion rouged in embarrassment
.
She looked everywhere but him. “No. I've only ever...just Jarred.”

No answer had ever pleased or disgusted him more. Pleased to know she hadn't been
with the little weasel, or anyone for that matter, and disgusted that he was still
thinking about having meaningless sex with her. And that's exactly what it would be,
because they had no future. He was only here to uncover the truth about Gracie's identity.
Once he had his answer, once his heart finally accepted what his brain knew—that Gracie
was not his baby girl—he'd have no reason to stick around.

You're so full of shit.
You can't go five minutes without thinking of that sexy little sprite standing in
front of you.

“Fuck off,” he muttered under his breath. That voice was truly beginning to piss him
off.

Jessica cocked her head questioningly. “What was that?”

“Just admiring your shirt.”
Shoving his darker thoughts away, he managed a smile. “So it's a battle of the T-shirts,
is it?” He appreciated the way she filled out her Y
ou-Might-Be-A-Dispatcher-If:
T-shirt. He loved those doll baby, or baby doll, or whatever the hell those shirts
were called that emphasized a woman's figure instead of cloaking it in a big baggy
sack.