Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) (35 page)

“Why would he think you could be used as leverage against Kade?” Blane asked.

I shrugged. “He followed me to Kade’s apartment the night it got blown up, then to your house.” I carefully smeared more salve on the cuts while Blane wordlessly placed the bandages.

After Blane had covered the last wound, he asked, “Why did you go to Kade’s the other night?”

Something in his voice made me look up at him, and I remembered how angry he’d been that Kade had been here tonight. His expression was guarded.

“I’d said something,” I answered, choosing my words carefully. The last thing I wanted was to cause any more discord between Blane and Kade. “Said something awful to him, and I wanted to apologize. He was… entertaining… a woman when I got there. I think she was working with Garrett.”

Blane nodded, as though he understood my attempt at tactfulness. His expression eased and I relaxed.

“I wanted to tell you”—he took both my hands in his—“that I decided to not take that position the Navy offered me.”

My breath caught. “So you’re not going to be deployed again?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.

“No. That part of my life is over. I’m quite anxious to start the next part.”

I threw my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. “I’m so glad! I would have hated to see you go, hated you being gone.”

He hugged me back just as tight. After a few moments, he released me, easing me back and taking my hands again.

“About the next part,” he said, “I’ve decided to announce my candidacy for governor.”

“Blane, that’s fantastic!” My smile was somewhat forced this time.

Governor. Wow. My heart sank. How could I possibly fit into the life of the governor of Indiana?

“My uncle Robert is arranging the announcement, a big party, press, the works. It’s Friday night downtown at the Hyatt.”

“Sounds great,” I enthused, hoping I didn’t sound fake.

“I want you there,” Blane said, his grip tightening on my hands. “I need you there with me. But not as my girlfriend.”

My forced smile faded. Not as his girlfriend?

“I want you there as my fiancée.”

Stunned, I just stared at him. Memories of the last time we’d discussed marriage immediately came to mind.

He smiled. “I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t like last time. I did everything all wrong. This time, I’m going to do it right.”

He slid off the couch and got down on one knee in front of me. Then his image blurred as tears welled in my eyes.

My hands shook in his as he said, “Kathleen Turner, I’m in love with you. You’re everything I’d hoped to find in a woman. I want you by my side, now and always. Would you do me the honor of being my bride?”

My tears were flowing freely now and I almost didn’t notice the small velvet box he’d taken out of his pocket. Opening it, he displayed a beautiful diamond solitaire ring, its large square gem sparkling even in the muted light.

I looked back up into his gray eyes, surprised to see a hint of uncertainty there, as though he weren’t positive of my answer. As if I would have any other answer than yes.

I managed to say through my tears, “Yes, I will.”

His answering smile was wider than I’d ever seen it. He pulled me off the couch and into his arms, kissing me fervently. I twined my arms around his neck, hardly daring to believe what had just happened.

When he pulled away, it was only to place the ring on my finger. Slightly too big, it still fit well enough to wear.

“You look good with my ring on your finger,” he whispered against my lips. Then he was carrying me into the bedroom. And we celebrated.

D
awn found me awake, Blane asleep next to me. I gazed at the ring on my finger, the early morning light making it sparkle. Contentment curled low in my belly, joy spreading to my limbs like warm sunshine, making sleep impossible. Afraid I’d accidentally wake Blane, I eased out of bed, pulled some clothes on over my nakedness, and put on a pot of coffee.

Checking my phone, I saw that there were no missed calls or texts from Chance, though there were several from Blane. I was worried about Chance, but resolved to give him a few more hours before I really started to panic.

I was sipping my second cup of coffee when my cell rang. I grabbed it.

“Hello?”

“Miss Turner,” an unfamiliar voice said. “This is Senator Keaston.”

I was immediately on guard. What was I going to tell him? What would he say when he found out about Blane’s proposal?

“I trust you know by now that Blane has decided to declare his candidacy for governor, and that you remember our conversation?”

“Yes.”

“Have you decided to take me up on my very generous offer?”

I steeled myself. “I’m not going to break up with Blane,” I said. “Not for you or anyone. I love him and he loves me.”

Silence, then, “I see.”

“I know you think I’m not good enough for him,” I said, “but he doesn’t think like you do, and it’s really his decision, not yours. He respects you very much, Senator. I’m sure he’d want your blessing. We both do.”

“Blessing on what?” he snapped.

I took a deep breath. “On our engagement.”

“You are incredibly naive, Miss Turner.” The menace in his voice made the hair stand up on my arms. “More’s the pity.”

The line went dead.

My earlier happiness had evaporated, and my hand shook as I put down the phone. What was Blane going to say when he found out how much his uncle was against our engagement? Would it affect how he felt about me?

I sat staring into space, my coffee growing cold. Finally, I roused myself enough to go into the kitchen for a fresh cup.

“How’s my beautiful bride this morning?” Blane pressed against my back, his arms around my waist as he nuzzled my neck.

“All right,” I said, leaning into him. “But I’m worried about Chance.”

Blane released me, reaching over my head to get another coffee mug out of the cabinet. “Why? Where is he?”

“That’s the point,” I said as he poured the steaming liquid. “He called yesterday and said that he had to get Lucy
out of town. That if I hadn’t heard from him by this morning, I was supposed to call this number he gave me and ask to speak to Detective Wells.”

Blane took a sip of the coffee, his brow furrowing. “Have you called him?”

“I was about to.”

Blane handed me my phone. “Call.”

I did as he said, my stomach in knots as I dialed.

“May I speak with Detective Wells?” I asked the man that answered the phone.

I was put on hold, and then another voice came on the line.

“Detective Wells,” he identified himself.

“Detective, my name is Kathleen Turner. I was given your number by my cousin, Chance Turner. He told me you would know how to reach him.”

“Miss Turner, I’m sorry, but I don’t have good news.”

My heart lurched in my chest.

“Chance was supposed to check in with us six hours ago, and we haven’t heard from him. When was the last time you spoke with him?”

“Yesterday morning,” I replied. “Don’t you have someone else with him? Another officer?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to answer that question,” the detective said.

My frustration mounted. “He said he was going to get Lucy and Billy out of town,” I said. “Did anyone go by Xtreme? Maybe they’re there.”

“We can’t search Xtreme,” the detective said. “We have no warrant. And if Chance is still undercover, we’d be compromising him by doing so.”

“Then I’ll go,” I retorted. “I’m supposed to work there tonight anyway.”

A pause. “You work there?”

“Yes,” I explained. “I was investigating the disappearance of Amanda Webber. I work for the law firm representing her boyfriend.” Technically, that should have been in the past tense, but I wasn’t going to argue semantics.

“Hold on, please.”

I waited impatiently while he covered the phone with his hand. I could hear muffled voices. Blane sipped his coffee, watching me intently.

“Miss Turner,” the detective said, “would you be willing to come down to the station and speak with me?”

“Come to the station?” I asked. Blane’s gaze sharpened. “Um, sure. When?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going with you,” Blane said the minute I hung up the phone.

“That’s fine with me,” I agreed.

We showered and dressed quickly before heading to the police station downtown. An hour later, I was asking for Detective Wells.

He was younger than I thought he’d be, looking to be in his late twenties. His hair was a dark auburn, his eyes tawny brown. At about six feet, he towered over me but didn’t achieve Blane’s height. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved dark-gray shirt, his gun tucked in to the holster at his side.

“Miss Turner?” he asked.

I nodded, shaking his proffered hand.

“I’m Detective Nathan Wells.” His gaze shifted to Blane, who likewise held out his hand.

“Blane Kirk. Her attorney.”

The detective’s eyebrows climbed skyward. “An attorney wasn’t necessary,” he said stiffly.

“She’s my fiancée.”

Those words made me glow on the inside.

“Ah. I see,” replied Detective Wells.

He led us back to a small conference room, motioning for us to take a seat. “Would you like some coffee? Water?”

“No, thank you,” I said. Blane declined as well.

He closed the door and took a seat next to me. “Let me get right to the point, Miss Turner—” he began.

“Please call me Kathleen,” I interrupted.

“Kathleen,” he continued, “you’re in a unique position to help us.”

“Help you?”

“Other than Chance, we have no one on the inside at Xtreme,” he confessed. “If you work there, have been working there, then you already have an advantage.”

I just looked at him, waiting.

“We were hoping you’d consent to wear a wire tonight when you go in.”

I was taken aback. “A wire? But I’m not a cop.”

“I know, but you don’t have to worry. All you need to do is work as usual, perhaps ask a question or two, that’s all. Our team will be across the street. We’ll hear every word.”

“What’s the point of me wearing a wire?” I asked. There was something they weren’t telling me.

“We think David Summers is going to be there tonight.”

“David Summers? Matt’s uncle?”

Wells nodded. “If we can tie him to the illegals they’re smuggling into the country, we can take his whole organization down. That’s what Chance has been working on.”

“Absolutely not,” Blane cut in. “There’s no way you’re going to put a civilian in danger.”

“She won’t be in any danger,” Detective Wells argued.

“You don’t know that,” Blane shot back. “It’s not worth the risk.”

I interjected before the detective could respond. “Will this help find Chance?”

“If we can get Summers, there’s a good possibility he’ll know where Chance is.”

I studied Wells, hoping he was telling me the truth, though he didn’t seem like the type to make empty promises. I didn’t know if I agreed with him that I wouldn’t be in danger, but if it meant finding Chance, then I didn’t really have a choice.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Kat, don’t—”

I held up my hand, silencing Blane. “It’s my decision,” I said quietly. “I can’t just leave Chance, not if there’s a possibility I could help find him.”

Blane’s face was like stone, his jaw locked tight. “Fine,” he bit out, turning to Detective Wells. “But if she goes, she wears a GPS transmitter as well.”

Wells quickly agreed.

My hand was in Blane’s, his grip strong and solid.

A few hours later, I was being fitted for a wire inside an unmarked van around the corner from Xtreme.

“We’ll be able to hear everything you’re saying,” the woman who was taping the wire to my chest said. The thin microphone was nestled between my breasts.

I buttoned up my shirt, covering the wire.

“This is the GPS transmitter.” She handed me a small circular device. I slipped it in my pocket.

“You’re sure you won’t be far?” I nervously asked Wells, who was standing nearby.

“We’ll be in at the first sign of trouble,” he assured me. “If you start feeling uncomfortable, or that you’re in danger, just come outside or say something into your wire.”

“I still don’t like this,” Blane said. He stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest and an ill-tempered look on his face.

I faked a smile. “I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to reassure him despite my own nerves.

He pulled me in his arms, giving me a brief but hard kiss. “I’ll be here, too,” he whispered in my ear. “Just say the word and I’ll come get you.”

His words calmed me more than any of the assurances from Detective Wells. My gaze met Blane’s. His eyes held a promise I knew I could rely on. Come hell or high water, he’d protect me. He’d shown me proof of that many, many times.

“I love you,” I said.

“Me, too.”

It was getting dark by the time I left the van and walked around to the front entrance to Xtreme. The place seemed to have a menacing air that it didn’t have before, though I was sure it was just in my head. I was apprehensive about wearing a wire and even more scared that something had happened to Chance.

Jack was already there and the place was starting to pick up with customers. Holly was dancing onstage at the moment. I filled drinks for a while, then decided to start snooping.

“I’m going in back to get some more vodka,” I said to Jack, who responded with a wave of his hand.

I searched the back of the place, not knowing what I was looking for. I peeked inside the Champagne Room, but it was empty.

There were a couple of doors I’d never looked behind, so I started there. One was to a closet. The other was locked. I stood there, pondering what to do. It was dark and quiet back here as usual, but this time, the silence seemed more eerie than peaceful.

A sound behind the locked door alerted me, and I barely had time to slide inside the closet before it opened.

I peered through the tiny crack in the door. It was Lucy and Billy, along with some man I’d never seen before. He held a gun, and Billy was crying. Lucy looked as pale as a sheet.