Point of No Return (17 page)

Sleep wasn’t an option, not while Kade was on a mission, so he didn’t. Not that he was a big fan anymore of sleeping. It seemed he could control his waking thoughts much more than he could his subconscious. Nightmares plagued him, of Kathleen, of something happening to her, of what she’d say if she knew what he’d become. The look on her face as Kade confessed his countless sins. Horror, followed by disgust, then loathing.

In his nightmares, he begged her forgiveness, but before she could answer him, before she could absolve or condemn him, the blood began to flow. Wounds that had no source appeared on her flawless skin, slashes of crimson cutting her to shreds. Kade watched in helpless terror as Kathleen screamed, writhing in pain as blood seeped from her body, until the sounds she made faded into silence and her blue eyes stared into his, unseeing and lifeless. Only then did he see the knife in his hand, stained and warm with her blood, and realize
. . .
he
had killed her. Horrified, he dropped the knife, only then seeing her blood coating his hands. Pulling his gun from its holster, he stuck the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger—

Kade woke with a start, a cold sweat sticky on his skin. He’d fallen asleep after all. Then he heard the sound that had woken him. Sounds above deck. The target was here. Fuck.

More rattled than he wanted to admit, Kade scrambled, grabbing the gun and silencer at his side and checking to make sure it was loaded and ready to fire. Getting to his feet, he crouched in the corner, behind the stairs that led up to the deck. All he had to do was wait until they were far enough from shore to prevent assistance and mask the gunshot, but not so far that he couldn’t swim back.

It didn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes, before the rocking of the boat signaled Kade they were well underway. He took a deep breath, finding it hard to remove Kathleen’s image from behind his eyes every time he blinked.

A moment later, he was up the ladder, observing the shore and gauging the distance. He’d timed it just right. What he hadn’t counted on was that the target would have chosen today, of all days, to bring along his daughter.

Kade stood, gun raised and aimed, as he watched the man and the girl freeze in place at the sight of him. Neither of them moved, shock and fear rooting them in place.

They were too close together, the girl and her father. He’d been showing her something, something to do with the workings of the boat. Kade didn’t have a clear shot.

She was young, maybe nine years old, ten? Her hair was long and reddish-blonde, pulled back into a braid that hung far down her back. But it was her eyes that Kade couldn’t look away from. They were as clear blue as a warm summer sky. The kind of blue he now only saw in his dreams.

After a charged moment in which Kade didn’t speak or move, the father said, “Please. Just let her go down below.” His throat moved as he swallowed. “Please.”

The girl’s eyes were filled with terror as she stared at Kade, her hands gripping her father’s shirt in tight little fists.

Kade’s voice wouldn’t work, so he just gave a jerky nod.

“Sweetheart,” the father said, keeping his eyes warily on Kade, “I need you to go down below for a while. And don’t come up. No matter what you hear.”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes and began pouring down her cheeks. “No, Daddy!” She clutched tighter at him.

Kade couldn’t breathe.

The man began relentlessly removing her hands from him. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, his voice almost preternaturally calm. “It’ll be okay. Just do as I say.”

The child threw her arms around the man’s waist, burying her face against his shirt. “Please don’t leave me!” she sobbed, her plaintive cry audible even over the wind.

Kade’s hand began to shake.

The man, alarmed now, shifted the girl so she was behind him, moving his body to shield hers. “I don’t want her to see,” he choked out. “Please. I don’t want her to see me die.”

The girl peered around her dad. The wind had freed some of her hair from the tight braid and the loose strands whipped around her face. Her eyes were accusing as she stared at Kade, the man who would take her father from her.

Which left Kade only one choice. In a quick motion, he turned and dove into the crashing waves.

Kade lay gasping on the beach, wet sand coating his hands and wetsuit. He’d swum far and away from the boat, putting as much distance between him and them as possible, which had taken him into rougher waters. It had consumed all his energy just to drag himself onto this deserted shore.

He flopped over onto his back, staring up at the nearly clear sky dotted with puffy clouds.

Maybe he shouldn’t have swum so hard. It would’ve been easy to just
. . .
stop, and let the ocean take him down to her depths. It was peaceful there, under the water. Peace, that elusive state of being that Kade had only experienced a handful of times.

He remembered the first time, in a fleabag motel room on the outskirts of Chicago, with a woman who seemed to want nothing from him—but to be safe.

Kathleen.

Kade had been alone for so long, worked alone for so long, that he’d forgotten what a woman’s touch felt like when it wasn’t all about sex. Kathleen had seemed to actually
. . .
care, which had shocked the hell out of him. When women saw him, they wanted one thing—a walk on the wild side, preferably naked. And that had been fine with Kade, for a really long time. And then it wasn’t.

Kade closed his eyes, remembering how it had felt to rest his head in her soft lap, feel the slow slide of her fingers through his hair in a touch intended to comfort, not arouse.

Peace.

It had taken him a few moments to recognize the feeling, and when he had, he’d been bone-deep grateful for it.

Now it was gone, and Kade knew with a certainty beyond all doubt that he would never find it again. So that left one question.

What was the point?

He’d broken the heart of the woman he loved, left her to raise his child without him. Blane had been right. Kade was no better than the man who’d fathered him. He’d repaid Blane’s love and acceptance by stealing his girl, then dumped her back on him as if she were garbage.

No one hated Kade more than he hated himself. There was nothing redeeming about him, nothing good or decent in his character. And no one would miss him when he was gone.

Kade lifted his hand, the sun glinting off the metal of the gun he held. He watched his hand move as though it belonged to a different person. The cold barrel pressed against his temple. It would be so quick, take such little effort, to pull the trigger.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He realized that now. The answer to the question was:
There was no fucking point
. Not without her. It was only a matter of time before he stopped swimming
. . .
and sank.

But before he did that, he wanted to see her—had to see her—just one more time.

Kade lowered his hand.

Now he had a purpose, and he automatically went through the motions of ditching his weapon and his wet clothes, removing all traces of his presence in California before heading to the airport. His flight to Boston would leave in thirty minutes. Instead of heading to the gate, he found a ticketing agent.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone contrasting sharply with her question. Then she looked up from the computer, surprise etching her features when she saw Kade. She smiled, her gaze taking him in. “What can I do for you?” This time, her question was far more friendly.

Kade paused, then asked, “When’s your next flight to Indianapolis?” Which is how he found himself sitting in first class on a flight headed to the one place he shouldn’t go.

With the takeoff came lucidity and rational thought.

What the hell was he doing?

He’d left. Left
her
. Now he was going to
. . .
what? Just show up? She was with Blane. He’d take care of her, protect her. Kade wasn’t needed or wanted.

But he had to say goodbye.

He was sitting alone in first class, finishing his third drink, when the flight attendant came by to tell him they would be landing soon.

Excitement and dread churned along with the vodka in his stomach. Kade couldn’t help the feeling of anticipation, of getting to see her again, but he also knew it was going to be like salt on an open wound. She’d be angry, he knew that, which would help. But leaving her this time would be permanent. Maybe she’d forgive him? He’d like to take that to his grave rather than her enmity and disgust.

It was late in the evening by the time Kade showed up at Kathleen’s. He’d gone by his apartment first, replenishing his duffel bag with clothes and taking a final look at the place. He wouldn’t be back.

Now he sat in the parking lot of Kathleen’s run-down apartment building, staring up at her darkened windows. She wasn’t home. Maybe she was working.

The thought made his gut tighten. He’d given her enough money, she shouldn’t have to work, much less at a job that meant she had to be half naked and pour booze for too many ogling assholes.

He’d wait for her, Kade decided, finally getting out of the car. A quick goodbye at The Drop was not how he wanted her to remember him.

In a few moments, he was inside her apartment. He didn’t turn on any lights, letting his eyes adjust to the dim glow of the streetlamps filtering in through the open blinds.

Instantly, he sensed something was off. The smell was slightly musty, like the windows hadn’t been opened in a while and the AC was set too high to keep the air circulating. And where was Tigger? The cat had always hurried to greet him when he came through the door, acting more like a dog than a feline should. But there was no sign of him.

Kade moved with purpose now, heading back to the bedroom. He flicked on the light, then pulled open the closet door.

Most of her clothes were gone.

It was like a punch to the gut.

She’d gone, moved out. Most likely moved
in
with Blane.

Kade should be glad. His plan had worked. She’d be safe. Their child would be safe. So why did he feel like every breath he took was an effort, each heartbeat now counting against an imaginary clock inside his head?

He sucked in a lungful of air on a choked gasp, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. Backing away from the closet, he stood, staring at the empty space around him. He saw her personal things were gone, too. Pictures of her parents that had been displayed on her bureau, knickknacks she’d set on her bedside table, the books that had been stacked in the corner.

Kade’s eyes stung. Holy shit, he would absolutely not cry. No fucking way. Kade Dennon did
not
fucking cry.

And yet his vision grew more blurry, until he couldn’t swallow past the growing lump in his throat.

With a roar of pure rage, Kade turned and slammed his fist through the drywall, the thin Sheetrock crumbling at the unexpected onslaught. Pain exploded in his hand and coursed up his arm, but Kade didn’t feel it. The anger burned away all other feelings, emotions he had no desire to deal with.

Pulling his hand from the hole in the wall—there went Kathleen’s security deposit—Kade flexed his fingers, realizing with a distant surprise that he hadn’t broken anything. The anger was leaching away, leaving a calm detachment in its wake. She was at Blane’s. So that’s where he’d go.

In the car on the way to Blane’s, Kade tried not to think of how his last meeting with his brother had gone. Chances were pretty good that Blane wouldn’t let him past the front door, much less in to say goodbye to Kathleen. Not after the things Kade had said last time
. . .

Deciding not to give Blane the opportunity to refuse him admittance, Kade went around back. He was a little surprised that his key still worked. For some reason, he’d assumed Blane would have changed the locks by now, for precisely this reason.

The temptation to just head upstairs and see if he could catch Kathleen alone was strong, and Kade hesitated at the stairway. But it felt wrong to sneak behind Blane’s back. She was his now, and despite the chilly reception Kade was sure to receive, he owed it to Blane to show his face.