Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (12 page)

Maybe she did think he was dreamy.

The burning impatience to see Kathleen didn’t abate, his curiosity about her overwhelming, and Blane knew he had to see her again. Unfortunately, after their kiss last night, she seemed even more determined than usual to avoid him.

Blane found an excuse to loiter by Clarice’s desk around the time Kathleen usually came by, but she never appeared. Frowning and avoiding Clarice’s sideways glances, he went to get a cup of coffee. When he returned, she was on the phone. Blane took up his position loitering again, listening with half an ear.

“Um . . . yes, Mr. Galloway, we do have those files you requested,” Clarice said.

Blane closed the file he’d been fake-reading. He knew for a fact that Galloway was in London this week, which put him at having dinner right about now. She had to be talking to Kathleen.

“Absolutely,” Clarice continued. “You’re correct about that, sir.”

Blane held out his hand, giving Clarice a look that said he knew what she was up to. She sighed, realizing she’d been caught, and handed the phone over in time for Blane to hear Kathleen say, “ . . . interference for me, Clarice. He’s the last person I want to see right now.”

“I assume you mean me and not the aforementioned Mr. Galloway,” Blane said, careful to keep his voice flat, as if he was angry. “I’d like you in my office, Kathleen,” and about a dozen other places just off the top of his head, but who was counting? “You have three minutes.” He hung up the phone.

“Don’t scare the poor girl,” Clarice gently admonished.

“I’m not scaring her,” Blane protested.

Clarice just looked at him until he sighed. “Fine. I’ll be nice. I promise. Send her in when she gets up here.”

Blane was too keyed up to sit, so he stood behind his desk, staring at some papers on his desk, but not seeing them. It was ridiculous how much he wanted to see Kathleen. He wasn’t a high school teen with a crush. He should take a step back, regain his usual aloofness.

Which was all well and good until a light tap on the door made his pulse jump. He glanced up, as if he didn’t already know who was there.

Kathleen.

She looked nervous, Blane noticed as he waved her into his office. “Close the door behind you,” he said, and she obeyed.

Blane walked toward her, thinking. He had to have some excuse for making her come see him, right? And somehow he doubted “Because I can’t get you off my mind” would go over real well.

Kathleen stopped when he got close, her eyes wide and unsure. Well, he had threatened her last night. Blane heaved an inward sigh.

“Did you bring that list for me?” he asked. He knew she hadn’t. She couldn’t. He’d taken the phone.

“No,” she said.

He waited for an explanation.

“It was gone when I got home last night,” she said.

Blane frowned, playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I left the phone on my kitchen counter yesterday and when I got home last night, it was gone.” She looked at him strangely, and for a moment, Blane thought she suspected him.

“Was your apartment locked?”

“I always lock my apartment.”

Just not your car, he thought but didn’t say.

Kathleen cleared her throat. “Is that all?”

Blane wasn’t ready for her to leave. “I don’t like the idea of someone breaking into your apartment,” he said. In his defense, he hadn’t broken in. He’d had a key.

“Yeah, you and me both,” she retorted.

She was so feisty. He liked that.

Moving into her personal space, he said, “You’re so combative. Are you this way with everyone or just me?”

Kathleen looked like she didn’t know what to say to that, stammering an “I..um” without saying anything more. Blane lifted a hand, eager to touch her again and see if the silk of her skin was as soft as he remembered from last night. His knuckles brushed her cheek and jaw.

“I like that color on you,” he said softly. The deep crimson set off her eyes and the red tones of her hair, and her lips. Desire flared. He wanted to kiss her again, see if she had the same effect on him today and she had last night, and he her.

But she took a step back, blurting, “I have to go. I have a date tonight.”

James. Jealousy spiked, the emotion unwelcome but perhaps not unexpected.

He stalked her, Kathleen retreating until she came up against the wall which was, coincidentally, right where he wanted her. Blane trapped her, bracing his hands on either side of her head as he leaned into her personal space.

“So you said.” His voice was low and quiet, forcing her to listen closely. “Though somehow I doubt James will be to your liking.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, the breathlessness in her voice giving Blane a surge of satisfaction. “James is a nice man.”

Pathetic defense, especially when said as she had, almost as an afterthought. Kathleen’s eyes dropped to his mouth and Blane smiled. She was as ready to be kissed again as he was eager to kiss her.

“Maybe,” Blane murmured, “but I don’t think you like nice men.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she sputtered. “Of course I do.” Her gaze dropped even lower to his neck. She licked her lips and Blane nearly groaned. But he had to take it slow. Slow seduction would get Kathleen into his bed. He’d get under her skin until all she could think about was him, building a slow burn that would consume them both in the best possible way.

Blane placed his lips at her ear. “But I’m not a nice man,” he whispered, “and I know you like me.” His mouth grazed her neck in the lightest of touches.

A knock sounded at the door, shattering the spell he was weaving over her. Blane ignored it, capturing her jaw in his hand. His thumb caressed her lips, moist and trembling at his touch.

The knock came again and Blane wanted to shout at whomever it was to go away. But the damage was done. Kathleen ducked under his arm and hurried to the door, throwing it open to reveal Derrick Trent, another senior partner in the firm.

“I’m sorry, Blane,” he said, glancing from Kathleen to Blane. “I didn’t realize you were in a meeting?”

“I was just leaving,” Kathleen said, hurrying away down the hall.

Where the fuck was Clarice and why hadn’t she stopped Derrick? Blane shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a sigh.

“It’s fine. Come on in,” he said to Derrick.

Blane had been hoping to have a chance to convince her not to go with James, but to spend the evening with him instead. Now all he could do was sit and stew, wondering how Kathleen’s date was going.

Blane locked his car and pocketed the keys, checking to make sure his Glock was firmly wedged in the holster under his arm. It was fully dark now, the neighborhood where Mark lived was quiet and still. An occasional dog barked and lights were on inside houses, but the carpet had been rolled up for the evening.

Keeping to the shadows, Blane crossed the yards from where he’d parked down to where Mark lived. A few other cars were parked on the street and he took a moment to watch until he was sure no one was inside them.

Blane’s approach to Mark’s house was silent, his training as a SEAL second nature. He melted into the shadows and crouched under the door in the back, listening.

A television was on inside and Blane heard a floorboard squeak. It was a matter of a moment to pick the lock on the door, then he was inside. Blane reached for his gun, its familiar weight reassuring in his hand.

He found Mark in the living room and though the TV was on, Mark was staring off into space. Blane holstered his gun.

“You haven’t returned my calls,” he said.

Mark leaped to his feet, knocking over a glass that had been sitting on the coffee table.

“Blane, you scared me to death,” he said, breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“Like I said, you haven’t been returning my calls,” Blane replied. “You told me you had evidence against TecSol. Proof that they’re trying to rig the online election voting.”

Mark was already shaking his head. “I’m sorry, man, but I don’t have anything.”

Blane took a few steps toward him. Mark was six inches shorter than him and about eighty pounds lighter. “You lied to me?”

“No, I just don’t have it. I was wrong.” He swallowed heavily as he eyed Blane.

“I think you’re lying now,” Blane said. “I think someone got to you, that you’re scared, and now you’re going to run out on me.”

Mark looked terrified, his gaze darting to the windows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Blane tried his hunch. “Is this about Sheila? Are they sending you a message?”

“You’ve gotta go,” Mark said. His face was sickly pale and shone with sweat. “If they see you—”

“Who is ‘they’?” Blane asked. “Who threatened you? Who killed Sheila?”

“None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t come to you!” Mark burst out. “You told me no one would find out who I was, that you’d make sure of it!”

Blane flinched inwardly. All of that was true. He just hadn’t expected there to be a mole in his own firm. “I can protect you,” he said to Mark. “Just give me what you have—”

“Screw you! Why should I trust you? For all I know, you’ll kill me as soon as I hand it over.” Mark’s eyes were crafty now, his cheeks becoming a mottled red.

“I promise you—”

Mark bolted for the door. Blane lunged, catching a hold of his shirt, but it ripped. Mark grabbed something off a nearby shelf and flung it at Blane, who ducked. It shattered against the wall.

Mark headed for the kitchen, grabbing his backpack before flinging open the door and running outside. Blane was just steps behind. He had to stop that kid. Mark would get himself killed, or worse, and it would be for nothing.

But the kid was fast, staying out of Blane’s reach and ducking into a neighbor’s yard. It was a moonless night, pitch black except for the patches of light cast from the street lamps. Mark seemed to know the area a lot better than Blane did, and after chasing him through several backyards, Blane had lost enough ground that he could no longer tell which way Mark had gone.

Cursing under his breath, Blane stood still and closed his eyes to listen, but heard nothing. The kid was gone and Blane knew he wouldn’t dare come back to his house again.

It was getting late when Blane pulled into his driveway. He headed to the den to pour himself a drink. He was mulling over possibilities of where Mark might have gone when Kade came in.

“Find out anything?” Blane asked as Kade went to the sideboard. Unlike Blane, Kade preferred vodka to bourbon, a choice Blane never could understand. The stuff had no flavor.

“Junior’s in it up to his eyeballs, if that’s what you mean,” Kade replied, taking a seat opposite Blane. “I was in his office, but then he showed up and I had to ditch.”

Blane’s brows rose. Guess the date hadn’t gone very well with Kathleen if James had gone into work afterwards.

“He had the case file on TecSol,” Kade continued. “And he was talking to someone, but I couldn’t tell who.”

“What did they say?”

“Something about the timing being bad, but I didn’t get much.”

“He’s not on the TecSol case. There’s no reason he should have that file,” Blane said.

“Is Mark’s information in there?”

Blane nodded. “Yeah, but the files are locked and only the senior partners have access.”

“Then it looks like one of your senior partners is working for the opposite side.”

Yes, that’s the same conclusion Blane had drawn. He heaved a sigh.

“Mark got away from me tonight,” he said.

Kade frowned. “You mean the snitch?”

“That’s the one. Found him at his house, but he grabbed his backpack and ran. Little shit lost me in the dark.”

Kade laughed. “Losing your touch there, brother,” he teased.

Blane just gave him a look which only served to broaden Kade’s smirk.

“Can you put a trace on his phone, see if he calls anyone? His credit cards, too.”

“Consider it done,” Kade said. “I’m getting close to figuring out where TecSol gets their money. It’s buried, but I should be able to track it down.”

“Okay. Just keep me posted. And here.” Blane handed Kade Sheila’s phone. “The dead girlfriend’s phone. She worked as an escort. There may be something on there that can help us.”