Point of No Return (37 page)

He was attractive, with sandy-brown hair and blue eyes, but his eyes were cold and emotionless. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said he was bored, which sent a chill through me.

“Knew you’d come in here eventually,” he said in my ear. I couldn’t place his accent, which caressed the words spoken so calmly. “If you’re quiet and do what I tell you, only you will die tonight. Make a noise, cry for help, and I’ll make sure your boyfriend out there dies, too.”

I was breathing hard, not getting enough air with his hand covering my mouth and nose so tightly, and I gave a jerky nod. Slowly, he removed his hand and I sucked in a lungful of air. I was trembling all over, the knife in his hand glinting in the light, but I didn’t make a sound.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now we’re going to exit through the window. And don’t try running, because I’ll throw this knife and you won’t get five steps, understand?”

I nodded again, tears I refused to let fall filling my eyes. I didn’t want to die, not like this. But I was too afraid to call out for Kade. I was sure I’d be dead in seconds if I did, then would he kill Kade? I couldn’t take that chance.

It took us only a moment to climb outside, then he had hold of my arm and was leading me down the beach, away from the bungalow and hotel. I swallowed, trying to think.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“Somewhere your body will be easily disposed of,” he said. “I just need a finger to prove your identity to my employer. But don’t worry, I’ll wait until you’re dead to take it.”

He spoke so matter-of-factly, reassuring me as to when he’d cut off my finger, it made me want to vomit. It took me a minute or two to fight back the panic and despair.

“You
. . .
you must be John,” I finally said.

That got a reaction. His head whipped around and he jerked me to a stop.

“What did you just say?” he hissed.

“I
. . .
I said you must be John,” I repeated, wondering if I’d just made a colossal mistake.

He jerked me closer. “Who told you that name?” he snarled. When I didn’t immediately reply, he shook me. “Tell me now or I swear to God, I’ll slit your throat right here.”

“John, you always were so overly dramatic,” Kade said.

Both of us whirled around in the direction of the voice and I rejoiced even as I panicked. John pulled me in front of him as a shield, the knife pressing into the skin under my right ear. I tried to tip my head up, but the knife stayed steady. If I so much as breathed too hard, it would slice right through me. John wasn’t an amateur at this.

John squinted into the darkness. “Dennon?”

I saw Kade step closer until he was about ten feet away, then he stopped.

“What the hell are you doing here?” John asked. “Don’t tell me we both got sent on the same contract.” Now he sounded irritated. “Bloody hell.”

“Sorry, man,” Kade said with a shrug. “But I was here first.”

John seemed to think about that. “I’ll split it with you,” he offered.

“You can have all of it,” Kade said, taking a few steps closer. “I’m getting paid in a slightly different way.” His eyes traveled down my body and back up, the look in them predatory.

John laughed. “Ah yes, I’d forgotten. You like to play with them first. We have a deal, my friend. I just need a finger, then you can have her.” The knife left my throat and he grabbed my hand.

“I want her intact,” Kade said, his voice colder now. “She’s not much good for fucking if she’s writhing in pain and bleeding all over me.”

John hesitated. “The employer wants proof,” he said with a shrug, and the affability in his voice was gone now, too.

“Since when is the word of the Krait not good enough?” Kade scoffed. “I’d tell him to go fuck himself if I were you.”

John considered and I held my breath, waiting. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I have your word then? She’ll be dead when you’re
. . .
finished?”

“Since when is
my
word questioned, either?” Kade growled, menace dripping from the words.

“Sorry, you’re right,” John said. He gave me a shove toward Kade, who wrapped an arm around my waist, dragging me to his side. I tried not to look relieved, which wasn’t hard since I was still terrified.

“See you around,” John said. He turned to walk away and only then did I let out the breath I’d been holding.

Kade didn’t speak for a moment and we both watched the darkness consume John. Finally, he looked down at me, turning my head so he could see the small cut on my neck from where the knife had pressed too hard.

“The thing is—”

I choked on a gasp, clutching at Kade. John had returned without a sound and he was staring shrewdly at us.

“The thing is,” he continued, “she knew my name.” His head tipped to one side. “How would she know that?”

Time seemed to stop as horrified realization set in. No one moved. John stared at Kade and Kade stared back.

“You should’ve kept walking,” Kade said, and his voice was as cold as an arctic wind.

John moved suddenly, as did Kade. I saw a knife flying through the air toward us, then I was on the ground, Kade crouching over me. A scream climbed up my throat as I saw the knife embedded in the back of Kade’s left shoulder. He jerked it out by the hilt, flipped it to grab the blade, and sent it flying through the night. It happened so fast, everything was a blur.

The blade sank into John’s throat. His eyes went wide and his hands clutched at his neck, pulling out the knife, but blood was flowing and he couldn’t breathe. He staggered, collapsing to his knees. I watched in horror as he fell face-first onto the sand.

Kade got up and walked to the body. Taking the knife from where it had fallen, he went to where the surf was flowing up the sand with the waves and washed it. Then he carefully wiped it off before tossing it back to the ground.

When he reached me, he took my hand and helped me to my feet. I was still shaking and now I could see blood staining the back of his shirt from the wound in his shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” I said stupidly. Hello, obvious. I’d seen him pull the damn knife out.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, a sob of relief building in my chest. “Is it over?” I managed to ask. “Is it finally over?”

“Yeah, it’s over.”

I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck as I cried. His arms circled my waist, holding me close. One hand rose to cradle the back of my head.

“I was s-so afraid he was going to h-hurt you,” I blubbered through my tears.

“Shhh. I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

Kade packed us up and we left the posh hotel right then. And when he had the cabdriver drop us off at a run-down motel far from the beach, I didn’t complain.

“Old habits die hard,” he said with a half smile as he unlocked the door to our room.

We showered together and I took great pains to clean the wound in the back of his shoulder. I knew he wouldn’t get stitches, which meant he’d have another scar. He didn’t seem to mind, though, his hands drifting over any part of me he could reach as if he was reassuring himself that I was okay.

Butterfly bandages we’d bought at an all-night drugstore kept his wound closed and I used lots of them, not wanting Kade to be in pain from the skin tearing apart more.

We were both solemn as we climbed into bed. I hadn’t dressed and neither had Kade, though sex wasn’t on either of our minds. Instead, Kade nestled me against him spoon style, his hips cradling my backside while his arm draped over my waist, his large palm resting on the bump of my abdomen.

“How’d you know where he’d taken me?” I asked, my voice quiet in the dark.

“I knew what I’d do, if I was him,” Kade replied. “The bungalow presented limited options.”

I was silent as I digested that, then said, “Thanks for going all Batman and saving me.”

Kade chuckled at that and I smiled. I thought of something and turned in his arms so I could see him.

“So if John was called the Krait, did you have a code name, too?”

Kade’s lips twisted in a smirk. “Yep.”

“Well? What was it?”

Leaning down, he whispered in my ear.

I looked at him and grinned. “Okay, that might be hot.”

“Might be?” he asked, rubbing his nose alongside mine.

“Okay. Definitely,” I amended. “Definitely hot.”

Kade chuckled softly. “You’re such a cliché,” he said, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine.

Then he kissed me and I had to amend my earlier thought that neither of us had sex on the brain tonight.

C
HAPTER
N
INETEEN

M
ona and Gerard were overjoyed to see Kade and me once we returned to Indy. Blane was in Washington, and it seemed Alisha had been right—word all over the news was that he was a shoo-in for the senate appointment. Kade and I told Mona and Gerard about the baby, and Mona got tears in her eyes, hugging me so tight and so long she nearly brought me to tears, too. They insisted on us staying for dinner, which was why we were still at Blane’s house late into the evening.

“We should probably go,” I said, turning to look up at Kade from where I lay on the couch, my head in his lap. Tigger readjusted his position lying across my legs. “Mona and Gerard left a while ago.” He took another drink of the scotch in the glass he held, his other hand resting on my stomach. I smothered a yawn.

“My place is still shut down,” he said. “I need to get the utilities turned back on. We can stay here or get a hotel, if you’d rather.”

I grimaced. “You really think I trust you to pick a hotel that won’t give me hives?”

Kade shook his head. “Such a princess,” he said, trying to hide a smile.

“You know,” I said, a sudden thought occurring to me, “you’ve never actually shown me your room here.” I’d seen him disappear into it many times, but I’d never been inside. “Does it still have all your high school stuff?” I’d pay serious cash to go through Kade Dennon’s yearbooks.

“All that crap is buried in a box somewhere in the closet,” he said, finishing his drink.

I climbed off his lap and stood. Tigger jumped to the floor, disgruntled. “I wanna see,” I said. “Show me?”

Kade cocked an eyebrow at me, but he stood and took my hand. He led me upstairs, only this time I didn’t go to my room, nor did I head for Blane’s at the end of the hall. Kade stopped in front of the door to his room and opened it.

I followed him inside, curiosity raging. I wanted to know more about who Kade was, what he’d been like when he was young.

Kade stood to the side, watching me as I looked around. The room was larger than mine, though not as big as Blane’s. Like in mine, the walls were painted in a mural, only the theme was
. . .

“Cowboys and Indians?” I asked.

“Frederic Remington,” Kade clarified. “Famous American painter. He specialized in depictions of the Old West. I think Blane told me his mother hired someone to duplicate a few of his pieces as a mural in here.”

It was beautifully done, the figures of men on horses captured in such a way that they appeared to be moving. The landscape showed both the beauty and desolation of the American West. I spent several minutes moving around the room, inching along the walls to see the entire mural.

When I turned back to Kade, he was still watching me. He wore his typical dark jeans and black button-down shirt, left untucked and with one too many buttons undone in the front. He was the only man I’d ever seen who could get away with that and not look sleazy. His hair was black as night, a lock falling over his forehead, and his eyes were piercing blue beneath thick, dark lashes. His cuffs were turned back several times and my eyes caught on his hands—large, strong, capable. His forearms were marked by the trace of veins just under the skin, evidence of hours pumping iron.

“I love when you look at me like that,” Kade said, his voice a low murmur.

Startled, I jerked my gaze back up to his face. “Like what?” I asked innocently.

Kade moved closer. “Like you want to rip my clothes off and have your way with me,” he teased, reaching out to wrap a lock of my hair around his finger.

“Your ego is imagining things,” I said loftily, moving out of his reach. “And I’m still exploring.”

“Can you explore naked?” Kade asked, settling onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and bent his arms to lock his hands behind his head, his legs crossed negligently at the ankles.

I gave him a look but he just smirked, completely unrepentant.

The bed was similar to the one in his apartment only not as big, queen-size rather than a king, the frame a heavy, dark oak. There was a matching desk in the corner with computer equipment on it, which even to a nontechie like me had to be at least a decade old. It must have been what Kade had used in high school or college and I found myself drifting toward it. The keyboard was so well used that the letters were nearly worn off. My fingers traced the keys as I pictured Kade sitting there years ago, typing.

“So
. . .
” I said slowly as I explored, “tell me about the first time you
. . .
you know.” I deliberately didn’t look at him. I was embarrassed but too curious not to ask.

“The first time I what?” Kade asked.

“The first time you
. . .
you know
. . .
your first time,” I tried to clarify, glancing over at him now.

His eyebrows climbed. “You want to hear about the first time I had sex?”

My cheeks were burning, but I nodded. “I’m curious,” I said defensively.

Kade shook his head. “You know these conversations never end well.”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was fifteen. She was my fifth-period algebra teacher.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re joking,” I said in disbelief. Kade just smirked at me. “You had sex with your
teache
r
?”

“Ms. Thompson,” he said. “And before you go thinking it was a long-term thing, it wasn’t. She had a thing for me and I took advantage of that.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Wow. I didn’t even know what to say. I shook my head and went back to exploring the room.

Two framed photos peeked out from a couple of shelves, likely put there by Mona, I figured. Both were of Blane and Kade together. One looked to have been taken when Kade was really young. I picked up the photo to examine it more closely. Kade looked thin, almost scrawny, in clothes that were too big. He wasn’t smiling as he and Blane posed for the picture, his lips twisted in the poor parody of a smile I’d seen on him too many times. Though he and Blane stood close, they did not touch.

“When was this taken?” I asked, moving to sit next to him on the bed. Kade glanced at the photo.

“About a month after Blane assumed guardianship of me,” he replied. “I wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy.”

“What was it like?” I asked. “When Blane came for you and you first started getting to know each other. Was it hard?”

Kade hesitated. “I didn’t know what his agenda was,” he said. “Why he’d take me to live with him. In walks this guy who looks like he just stepped off the pages of
GQ
and he tells me we’re brothers and he’s taking me home.” He paused. “It was too much for me to believe it was real, and it took a long time and a lot of patience and persistence on Blane’s part for me to trust him.”

“So what made you decide to trust him?” I asked. “Did it just take time or did something happen?”

“He almost got himself killed because of me,” Kade answered, “and he didn’t have to. He could’ve just let it go, let me go, but he didn’t.”

Kade didn’t offer any more to the story and I didn’t ask, only nodded. I wasn’t surprised. Blane was a good man. I looked back down at the picture. “So why don’t you two hug more?” I asked idly, my thoughts still dwelling on what Blane had gone through to reach Kade.

“I don’t like guys touching me.”

Kade’s answer surprised me, as was the vehemence with which he’d said it, and I glanced up at him. His expression was utterly blank.

“It’s creepy,” he added with a dismissive shrug.

And I suddenly realized what Kade would probably never tell me, what had most likely happened to him when he was young that had made him so averse to men touching him.

I felt the blood leave my face and I looked away, hurriedly standing to replace the picture on the shelf, my hands trembling slightly. Tears blurred my vision and I quickly blinked them back. I knew Kade. Any sign of pity would not be welcome, nor would he want to know that I’d guessed what he hadn’t said.

I bought some time to regain my composure by drifting around the room some more, studying knickknacks here and there, probably placed by Mona, and a stack of magazines. I smiled a little. Some men might have a pile of
Playboy
s; Kade had a hoard of techie publications.

“I’m hungry,” Kade said, getting up. “You want anything?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m good. I think I’ll just take a shower.”

Kade nodded and headed out the door. I walked into the bathroom attached to his bedroom and stripped.

I took my time, trying not to think about Kade as a little kid because when I did, I started crying. Breathing deeply, I pushed away the images my mind drew, instead focusing on the present. I was Kade’s future, as was the baby I carried. The past was the past and there was nothing I could do to change it. All I could do was love Kade and build a life for us together.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Kade still hadn’t returned. I tightened the towel around me, wondering if our conversation had upset him more than he’d let on. I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the darkened hallway.

“There you are.”

I spun around, a startled cry on my lips, and I recognized the man who stood there immediately.

James.

He thrust his hand at me, something hard in his grip, and pain arced through my body. Then I knew nothing.

My eyes fluttered open, a headache pounding in my skull. I slowly became aware that I couldn’t move my arms or legs.

“Waking up, I see.”

I focused my eyes with effort. James stood over me looking more unkempt than I’d ever seen him. Two days of beard growth shadowed his jaw, and he wore a wrinkled shirt and slacks. His hair was rumpled and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a while.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I raised my head and saw that I was naked, my towel gone, and that James had tied me spread-eagled to Blane’s bed. The sharp tang of fear rose in the back of my throat.

“Did you think I was gone for good?” James asked, his calm voice belying the wild look in his eyes. “Or were you too busy fucking Dennon while Kirk’s out of town to bother thinking about me?”

That’s when I caught sight of Kade and my breath left me in a rush. James had duct-taped him to a chair. He was unconscious, his head lolling on his chest, a gag in his mouth. At least, I prayed he was unconscious. If he was dead, I reasoned, James wouldn’t have bothered restraining him.

“I’ve lost everything,” James continued. “But you know that, don’t you. Now that Kirk’s going to slide into a senate seat, everyone’s scrutinizing how I pushed for his arrest in Kandi’s murder.” He swallowed. “I’ve been forced to resign. My career’s over.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” I said, desperately trying to reason with him. “Why are you doing this to me?”

James started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could say I’ve had an epiphany,” he said, his gaze unblinking as he stared at me. “Ever since I met you, my life has gone to shit.” He tugged the shirt off and dropped it to the floor.

I shook my head. “I didn’t do anything to you, James.”

“And I realized,” he continued as though he hadn’t even heard me, “that all this time, you were trying to keep me from a dark path, the path I was on. Only I was too stupid to see it. Just like Dennon. That’s why he keeps you with him. To save himself from the demons inside his head. The same demons inside me.”

A noise made me jerk my head toward Kade and I saw with a sinking knot in my gut that he was awake. His eyes blazed with rage as he stared at James, every muscle in his body straining against the bonds that held him. But even as I prayed he’d be able to save me, I knew that there was no way Kade would be able to break free. No one could.

James was looking at Kade, too, then to my horror, walked over and punched him. Kade’s head snapped back from the force of the blow, but his eyes were no less filled with fury as he looked back at James. James hauled back and hit him again and blood spurted from Kade’s nose.

“Stop! James, please!” I cried out. I couldn’t stand watching him hurt Kade.

James turned to look at me.