by Tawny Taylor
Just as he’d promised, Kam was waiting in the lobby when I returned downstairs. His gaze snapped to mine the instant the elevator door opened.
“How is he?” he asked.
“Recovering.”
“Good. Are you ready to go home?” He tipped his head toward the exit.
“Yes.” As I came closer to him, I asked, “Speaking of my brother, can you tell me what is happening with the investigation?”
“Later. We don’t need to discuss that now.” He placed a hand on my back as we walked outside. I started toward my car, but he gently steered me toward his. “I’ll have someone get your car. I’d rather you not drive when you’re so tired.”
If I hadn’t been as exhausted as I was, I probably would’ve fought him on that one. But the truth was, my eyelids were so heavy it was taking Herculean effort to keep them open. Acquiescing with a nod, I followed his lead to his car and plopped into the passenger seat.
My eyes stayed open for about five minutes. Then they fell shut. The next thing I knew, he was murmuring in my ear, and strong arms were lifting me. Without opening my eyes, I tossed an arm around his neck and let him carry me up to my apartment. But I had to open them when we stopped at the door.
Kam said, “Keys?”
I dug them out, shoved the key into the lock, and gave it a twist. Still holding me, Kam kicked the door shut behind us, then put me on the couch. “I ordered dinner. It should be here in about ten minutes. Are you too tired to eat?”
“I don’t know.” I blinked as I looked up at him. My eyelids were so heavy, the blink was in slow motion.
“Hmmm.” He sat next to me, pulled me into his arms so I was semireclining against him. “Close your eyes. You can eat later.” One of his hands smoothed down my arm. The touch was soothing. He was warm, and I was cozy.
And sleepy.
So sleepy.
It felt good being held as I relaxed into his embrace. Wonderful. I wanted to thank him for coming over and driving me home, but my body had given up. There was no energy left. Not even for speaking.
11
What is that?
Where am I?
I jerked upright, blinking blurry eyes, struggling to focus them.
My room.
My bed.
I was in my bed.
Slowly, as I checked the clock, the memory of Kam holding me as I dozed on the couch returned. That had been around eight o’clock. Now it was . . . I squinted . . . six o’clock the next morning?
Tuesday morning.
Shit!
Noticing I was still wearing my clothes from the day before, I catapulted myself out of bed and raced to the bathroom to begin my morning routine. A half hour later I was tugging up a pencil skirt and stepping into heels. The entire time I wondered how long Kam had stuck around. A tiny part of me was disappointed he hadn’t stayed the night.
He hadn’t undressed me, either.
A little ache pulled in my chest. The twinge of pain made it hard to breathe for a moment. As I hurried into the kitchen, I focused on taking slow, deep breaths.
What was work going to be like today? Would Kam be kind? Would he be distant? Would he look at me with that dark hunger in his eyes?
In the kitchen I found a note from him, written in his neat but masculine hand.
Abigail, I put your dinner in the refrigerator. You needed sleep more than food. See you tomorrow.
Kam
The note seemed so . . . abrupt. And cold.
Is something wrong?
No, why should there be?
I read the note again. And again.
Maybe I was just reading too much into things.
Hoping it was just my overactive imagination, I grabbed my purse and click-clacked out to the car. It took me twenty minutes to get to work. As I rode the elevator up to the tenth floor, I concentrated on breathing again. And I kept running my sweaty palms down my thighs, drying them on my skirt.
I gave Stephanie a little wave as I hurried past.
I opened the door.
Kam was at his desk, on the phone, writing something as he talked. He didn’t look up.
I made a beeline for my office, plopped into my chair, and scanned my desktop. It was covered with pieces of paper. Each one had a yellow sticky note glued to it. It looked like I had plenty to do today. Phone calls to return. Letters to type. Filing to complete. Appointments to change, reschedule, or cancel.
After making a quick call to my brother, I dug right in. I was grateful for all the work. I was anxious, on edge. Being busy helped me burn away some of the nervous energy buzzing through me. To my surprise Kam didn’t come into my office. Not once. I didn’t stop working until my stomach started rumbling loudly. I checked the clock. It was already after two in the afternoon.
Thinking I’d head down to the cafeteria to grab something I could munch on while I worked, I stood up, stretched, rolled my head from side to side. I’d been sitting too long. I was sore and stiff.
After getting the blood flowing a little better, I grabbed some cash out of my purse and headed toward the door connecting my office with Kam’s. I yanked it open.
A man’s white shirt.
I lifted my gaze.
Kam.
My insides twisted.
He looked so handsome today. Better than yesterday, though I didn’t think that was possible.
“I was just coming to check on you,” he said.
“I’m fine. Busy but fine.” My stomach rumbled again.
He lifted a brow.
I patted my belly and grinned sheepishly. “Hungry.”
“I’ll get you something to eat.”
I waved the ten-dollar bill in my hand. “I was going to grab something and bring it back up.”
“I’m hungry too.” Gently, he took my hand in his and moved it to my pocket. “We can go together. I’m buying.”
Ah, so it had been my imagination. There was nothing wrong. He had just been busy. We stepped into the elevator. I moved to the back. Kam hit the button, forcing the door to shut before anyone else joined us. But instead of moving closer to me, he remained exactly where he stood, staring up at the illuminated numbers as the car started its downward descent. He didn’t speak. He didn’t look at me.
That was weird.
Which was it? Was something bothering him or not?
I wanted to know. Right now. But now was not the time to ask. This was not the place.
The car stopped at the second floor and again at the first. Other riders joined us. Every one of them acknowledged Kam with either a smile and nod or a “Good afternoon, Mr. Maldonado.” Me, I was invisible in the back of the car.
When it finally stopped at the basement level for the cafeteria, the remaining passengers left the car. I was the last one. Kam paused as I stepped out, falling into step with me but not speaking to me. We walked into the cafeteria. The cook who usually stood behind the counter at noontime was gone. But there were premade sandwiches in a cooler. Bags of chips and cans of cola or bottles of water in vending machines. I was about to stuff my ten-dollar bill into one when Kam placed his hand over mine. The touch sent a quiver of aching need racing through me.
My gaze jerked to his.
I froze in place.
“I told you I was paying. What did you want?”
“The turkey and Swiss. Thanks.” Feeling eyes on me, I stepped back and glanced over my shoulder. Who was staring? Was someone staring?
No?
I watched the machine’s mechanical shelves spin as Kam pushed buttons. He fed several bills into the slot and pulled open the little door to get my sandwich. “This one?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He handed it to me, and we moved down to the next machine. “Did you want anything from here?”
“A bag of chips. Thanks.”
“Which ones?” he asked as he shoved more bills in the second machine.
“The whole grain ones.”
The bag dropped down into a
chute at the bottom, and Kam retrieved them for me, handing them over.
We moved down to the last machine. “Drink?”
Watching him, and still unsure whether he was acting more distant because something was wrong or because we were in public, I said, “Water’s fine. Thanks.”
Another few seconds later, I had a bottle of cold water, a sandwich, and a bag of chips in my hands. Kam had nothing.
“I thought you said you were hungry.” I tipped my head toward his empty hands.
“Yes, yes, I did say that.” He went back to the sandwich machine and studied the contents. “Any suggestions?”
“The turkey’s very good.”
“Then turkey it is.” He bought himself a sandwich and water. He jerked his head toward a nearby table. “Did you want to sit down here and eat?”
Still feeling as if someone was watching, I glanced around. Several small groups of employees were loitering around the machines. That had to be the problem. He didn’t want any rumors to spread. “No, thanks. I’d rather head back up.”
Hands full, we went back upstairs, away from curious stares. When we stepped into Kam’s office, he demanded, “Eat with me.”
“Okay.” I took my food to his desk as he circled around the back. As I unwrapped my sandwich, I asked, “How did you get used to it?”
“Get used to what?” he asked.
“The staring.”
He shrugged as he tugged at the plastic wrap on his sandwich. “I’m not used to it.”
“Yet you asked if I wanted to sit downstairs?” I tore open my chips and popped one into my mouth. Salty good. I crunched quietly.
“Sure. Because if you’d wanted to, I would have joined you.”
I swallowed the chip. “Even though you would be watched the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I asked, bewildered.
“Because it would have been what you wanted.”
For some reason, that statement puzzled me. I didn’t get the impression he regularly did what others wanted. No, more like he did what he wanted and everyone else followed along. I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed. “Do you always do what other people want?”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t respond right away, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake by asking that question. While we weren’t ripping each other’s clothes off, or shoving our tongues down each other’s throats, I felt this conversation was extremely intimate. “No,” he said a little sharply. “No, I don’t.”
I really, really wanted to know then why he would have acquiesced to my wants, but I decided a topic change was needed to keep the conversation going. If the tight jaw and the clipped tone in his voice were any indication, I’d struck a raw nerve. “Thank you again for yesterday. For driving me home. And buying me dinner. And . . .” I felt my face warming. “Everything.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. Even though I’d moved on to safer territory, his mien, his body language, everything was still somewhat distant.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No. Why?”
“Well . . . you’re acting a little . . . different today. And the note you left last night . . . I don’t know. It felt different.”
He didn’t respond right away. His brows were furrowed, as if he was puzzled or confused. “I have a lot on my mind.”
My stomach clenched a bit. “I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”
“No.”
I wasn’t sure if I believed him. But I didn’t know what to say or do. Trying to pry whatever it was out of him probably wouldn’t work.
His phone rang. He picked it up and said, “Maldonado.” That was followed by a few seconds of silence, then, “Okay. Put him through.” His gaze met mine. He poked a button. “Sorry, but I need you to go back to your office.”
“Of course.” I scooped up my half-eaten lunch and rushed to my desk. I set the food down, then went back to shut the door.
“Okay,” I heard him say as I was pushing it closed. “What else did you find out?”
I wished I could have heard the rest of that conversation.
At six o’clock I decided it was time to call it a day. Kam hadn’t poked his head into my office once since that phone call. He hadn’t called me either. After the palpable tension during our brief lunch break, I had to conclude something was going on. Whether it had anything to do with me or not, something was wrong.
As I opened the door I checked his desk, expecting to find him there.
He wasn’t.
He hadn’t said good-bye?
I headed down to my car and swung by the hospital to check on Joss.
He was awake and looking a lot better.
I greeted him with a happy hug. “You look better.”
“I’m getting released tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“A detective came by today,” he informed me, looking unconcerned.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if I’d like to press charges against the asshole who did this. Sue backed out. She’s too scared to follow through.”
“Oh. What are you going to do?”
“The right thing. I’m going to protect her. I’m going to file charges.”
“Good for you.”
“Yeah, but I hope I don’t regret it. Sue said she’s been through this before, that even if he’s convicted he probably won’t spend much time in jail. She’s afraid he’ll be worse when he gets out.”
“Considering what he’s done to you, and her, I don’t blame her for being afraid.” I was the last person to judge the woman for being scared and keeping silent. After all, that was what I had done.
“I don’t blame her either.” He set his hand on mine. “And I don’t blame you for . . . for being too scared to get help. You did what you could, sis. You were as strong as you could be.”
My eyes started burning and watering. I blinked a few times, dragged my thumbs under my eyes. “Why are you jumping in the middle of this situation after everything you’ve been through?”
“Maybe because of what I’ve been through. Maybe I’m sick of assholes getting away with this shit while the victims suffer in silence.” He sat upright, eyes full of anger. “I’ve finally found an outlet for all my frustration and anger. I’ve found a cause that I can focus all that pent-up energy on.”
Feeling a shiver tingling along my spine, I wrapped my arms around myself. “But I’m scared—”
“I’m scared too, but that’s not going to stop me. I need to do this. I need to help Sue.”
“Okay.”
“Will you pick me up tomorrow?” he asked.
“What time?”
“I’ll be free to go sometime after the doctor makes his rounds.”
“Okay. Call me.”
“Will do.” He swung an arm over my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m done doing stupid shit. I promise you.”
Not believing him, but wishing I could, I nodded. “Call me tomorrow.”
“I’m going to protect you, too. You’ve taken care of me all these years, but I’m a man now. It’s my time to step up.”
I couldn’t help smiling. I’d always known there was a good man under there somewhere. A man with a big heart. It seemed he was starting to fight his way out.
My brother tipped his head and scrunched his brows. “What?”
I felt my lips curl into a smile, despite my worries about what he was doing. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for a long time.”
“Thanks for being patient enough to wait for it, sis.”
My eyes burned as tears collected. Was I finally going to see my brother’s life turn around? Were the days of hell, where he went out of his way to try to destroy his life, behind us at last? One tear slipped out, dribbled along the side of my nose.
“Are you crying?” he asked.
“No. I’m just tired.”
“Go home. Get some sleep. There’s nothing you can do here.”
“Okay. If you’re sure—”
“I don’t need to be entertained.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Go home.”
The knock on our apartment door at ten minutes to ten startled me. It was late. I wasn’t expecting anyone.
Wearing a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and a sloppy ponytail, I peered through the peephole.
Kam?
I opened the door, and he came stumbling in. A wave of alcohol fumes followed.
“I’m-fucked,” he slurred. I hadn’t realized someone could slur those two words. They were so short.
Having dealt a time or two . . . or more . . . with a drunk male, I blew out a heavy sigh and locked the door.
Why did I attract drunk men to my doorstep? Why?
“You’ve had too much to drink,” I said as I reached for his arm to steady him a bit.
“No kidding?” He was semistanding. The wall was propping him up. His clothes were rumpled. His hair was a riot of sexy waves that needed combing, and unlike my brother when he was drunk, Kam looked absolutely adorable.
Adorable?
I needed to knock some sense into my head.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Warning you.”
“Warning me about what?”
He pushed away from the wall, took one wobbly step, two steps, three, threw his arms onto my shoulders and looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “You need to get your brother out of here now.”
12
It seemed I was destined to be dealing with intoxicated men for the rest of my life. First, it had been my father. A decent man when he was sober. A monster when he wasn’t. Then my brother had fallen under the spell of alcohol at a young age, first using it to self-medicate at the tender age of nine. By the time he’d reached the legal drinking age, he was a full-fledged alcoholic.
And now I had another man slurring and staggering around my living room. Unlike the first two, this one wasn’t blood. But he held both my future and my brother’s in the palms of his hands.
If it hadn’t been for that fact, I would’ve escorted him down to the limo I hoped had brought him and instructed the driver to take him home.