by V. K. Sykes
Answer him!
“No.”
Lowering his chin slightly, he regarded her beneath his arched brows. “And if I want to know you?”
Traitorous warmth bloomed in her belly. She shut it down by digging the corner of the kit into her hipbone. That shaft of pain snapped her brain into action. He had to be amusing himself at the expense of the help. It was the only explanation she could think of. “Do you need a dozen cookies? A cake? Perhaps an emergency brownie?”
Crinkles dug in at the corners of his eyes. “What kind of emergency requires a brownie?”
She lifted one hand in a careless gesture. “Oh the usual. Breakups. In-laws arriving unexpectedly. The always popular dealing-with-the-jerk-boss. Running out of wine. And the classic…” She trailed off, telling herself not to do it. To shut up.
Challenge sparked in his eyes. “Come on, don’t be shy. I must know the classic emergency that requires a brownie.”
Don’t say it. But her mouth was already moving. “P.M.S. or to the uninformed, Pushy Male Syndrome.”
Seconds stretched out.
Kat was brutally, sickeningly aware that she had gone too far. With a man who was clearly powerful. Entitled. And totally focused on her. Her stomach churned, and the kit slipped in her suddenly sweaty hands. She tightened her grip and just held on.
The left corner of his mouth twitched. “Do you have a particular confection for the man suffering cruel rejection from a pretty baker?”
For the space of one heartbeat, everything slid away except the man in front of her. As if they were the only two people in that room.
Someone cleared their throat.
Reality broke through the strange fog in her brain that made her stupidly want to believe insincere compliments. But Kat knew better, he was just toying with her as some form of entertainment. Time to end this. Now. She lowered her tool kit and strode to his side. Ignoring the constriction in her chest, she looked up.
Right into his face. He watched her as if she were his prey.
Reminding herself she was perfectly safe in a roomful of people, she channeled fake confidence into her answer. “I’m fresh out. Maybe you should try the local bar?” Not waiting for his response, she headed for the door to the hotel kitchen.
The weight of every eye in the ballroom pricked her nerve endings. Including his. Especially his. That stare rode her back from her shoulder blades to her ass, leaving a trail of shivers comprised of a mix of want and fear.
Chapter Two
Kat pushed open the door to the hotel kitchen, stepped through and heaved a sigh of relief. She had escaped the powerfully enticing mystery man relatively unscathed.
Before she could fully recover though, a new voice got her attention.
“Congratulations,” Kellen Reynolds sang out as he took the tool kit from her. “I knew you could pull this off. And all the media pictures will bring Sugar Dancer Bakery even more business.” His hazel eyes sparkled, then dimmed. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Kat realized she was just standing there, still feeling the scorch of her encounter burning through her. “I don’t know.” In a weirdly numb state, she noted that Kellen was almost the opposite of the man in the ballroom. Where he had been dark and harsh, Kellen was blond and gentle. Their builds were complete opposites too. The darker man’s was big and boldly muscular, even in a suit, while Kellen was shorter and whipcord lean.
“Are you okay?”
She had to snap out of it. “Sure, yeah. It was just…strange.” Of all the women in the room, why had he focused on her? And who was he?
“Explain.” Sharp worry edged his tone.
“Nothing bad.” She soothed him. Then Kat launched into the story of the rich and entitled guy’s dramatic entry.
Kellen’s shoulders relaxed. He crossed the huge industrial kitchen to a deep stainless-steel sink and set the tool kit on the nearby counter. Other workers rushed in and out carrying coffee carafes and water pitchers. They were too busy with their duties to pay attention to Kat and Kellen.
Already feeling more steady just being around her best friend and roommate, she walked over to him. Careful not to trip on the black mat with her bad leg, she slipped off her watch and finished explaining her encounter with the dynamic man. “Maybe he’s one of those pompous execs who likes to use his power to force the help into having sex with him.” Kat doubted it though. He wore power too easily.
Kellen handed her the used icing bag, couplers and tips. “Or maybe he’s interested in you.”
She took the items and laughed off her regrets. “I’m not interested in him.”
“Liar.”
How could she crave touch and fear it all at the same time? Damn, she was a mess. But Kat wasn’t going there. “Forget him.” She lifted her chin and forced a smile. “My cake was a masterpiece. It totally rocked.” Even though it was upstaged by mystery man’s dramatic entrance.
Kellen flashed his dimples. “As I knew it would, Kit Kat. By the way, I brought the car around to the alley. Soon as we clean up this last bit, we’re ready to roll.”
Plunging her hands into the soapy water, she carefully washed every crevice of her decorating tips. “Thanks, Kel.”
Kellen picked up a towel and began drying. “I saw the invitation for your brother’s engagement party in your glove compartment. It shows you down with a plus-one.”
She popped her head up. “What were you doing in my glove box?”
“Making sure your insurance was up to date.”
She blinked at his deadpan lie. “And was it?”
He flashed his get-out-of-jail-free-card grin. “Busted, I was snooping. Checking up on you. So what’s with the plus-one? Do I need to mark my calendar?”
Anxiety burned up her esophagus, pissing her off. She had automatically checked that plus-one box because she hadn’t wanted to go alone. It wasn’t just her family, although the more Kat had pulled away from them in the last few years, the more they tried to control her. But her real issue was that her ex-fiancé would be there.
“I have to go,” she reminded herself firmly. There weren’t many acceptable excuses for missing her brother’s engagement party.
“So am I your plus-one?”
Stalling, she answered, “Your plus-one status is taken. Remember Diego? The guy you’re buying a house with?”
He waved that away. “Big D won’t care as long as I score him some of your cookies.” Growing serious, he added, “I’m always free for you, Kat, especially on Dealing with Family and Ex Night.”
Normally she would have jumped at the offer. She wanted to jump at it. Having Kellen at her side was so easy, and he always made her feel protected. He was a shield that let her keep the room she needed to breathe. But lately, she was trying to break her dependence on him. Had to. Her best friend was moving out of their condo as soon as his and Diego’s house was ready.
“You know what? I think I’ll pass. Otherwise you’ll find a way to get in the house and search the bedroom I grew up in to satisfy your compulsive need to snoop.” She rinsed the last of her tools, handed it to him to dry and added, “But I appreciate both the offer and your coming to help me tonight.”
He grinned. “My pleasure. You know I love it when you owe me.”
“Yes, I do. Just like I know what you were snooping for in the glove box.” She lightly smacked his arm. “But it’s not there, nor any place you’ll find it. I’m not showing you the cake design for your housewarming party.” She’d been working on it since he and Diego had made the offer on the place. When she couldn’t sleep, she sketched it, wanting to pour her love for the two men into that creation. She’d lived with Kellen for five years. Now he was graduating with his doctorate in physical therapy and setting up a home with his lover.
She worked at keeping the mood light and her fears of being alone and on her own shoved deep down.
After drying her hands, she took off her Sugar Dancer Bakery apron and shook her head. “You’ll see the cake at the h
ouse the day of the party.”
“You’re just mean,” he griped, closing and securing the tool kit. “Maybe Diego and I have a preference on the cake. It’s our party.”
She shifted her weight, trying to ease the ache in her right leg while scanning the venue’s massive kitchen for anything she’d missed. All her tools were packed. The waitstaff would take care of leftovers and dishes. She was officially finished.
Turning to Kellen, she rolled her eyes. “Maybe you’re a nosey control freak. Diego trusts me.” Which was another reason she was determined to stop relying on Kellen so much. The two men were building a life together. Kat was a third wheel.
“Diego is a full-blown slut puppy for your cookies. That’s totally unfair.” He lifted the traveling kit. “Let’s go home and celebrate your success with a glass of wine.”
“Talk about shameless.” She grabbed her keys and purse off the counter and kept the wince off her face as she moved up beside him. “You’re trying to get me drunk to look at my sketches.”
“One glass of wine along with a leg massage and you’d give me anything I want.” He opened the door and smirked at her. “You’re that easy.”
“Bite me.” Kat walked out toward her light green Hyundai Santa Fe SUV and clicked open the locks. While Kellen stored the case in the back, she pulled open the driver’s-side door and noticed her bare wrist. “Crap. Forgot my watch.” She turned to go back in and grab it off the counter where she’d set it while washing her tools.
“I’ll get it.” Kellen closed the back of the SUV, strode around to the kitchen door and vanished through it.
She climbed in, tossed her purse on the backseat while hanging on to her keys and reached for the door.
It was yanked out of her hold. The keys slid from her other hand.
She whipped her head around, expecting Kellen.
Instead, the flood of the security light revealed two men wearing dark shirts and pure menace. One stood so close he trapped her in the car. The other stood a few feet away, his head swiveling back and forth like an attack dog hunting for a target.
Her lips and fingers went numb. Cold sweat popped out on her skin. A roar built in her ears, and everything around her grew fuzzy. Gray.
The man shot his hand out, catching her ponytail and yanking her toward him.
Her fingers locked around the steering wheel. She couldn’t move them to fight back. Fear froze her muscles in an all-too-familiar fashion.
Oh God. Will I die this time?
“Get out, bitch.” He pulled harder, serious about dragging her out of the car by her hair.
The other guy stepped toward them. Something glinted in his hand.
Before she could identify the object, the door to the kitchen burst open and all five-feet-ten-inches of Kellen stood there. His face shifted from confusion to fury in an instant.
The second guy lifted his arm, and Kat saw exactly what was in his hand. Knife. Horror exploded. She struggled to move, to scream. To warn Kellen.
But a full-blown panic attack iced her muscle control. Grayed out the edges of her vision.
Kellen lunged toward her.
The second man spun around and plunged the knife into him. Kellen’s face twisted. His mouth opened. Nothing came out. His legs collapsed and he went down in a loose puddle of limbs.
A scream filled Kat’s head but stayed trapped in her throat.
Her attacker grabbed her arms, yanking her numb hands off the steering wheel, and threw her to the ground.
Kat hit the asphalt on her hands and knees. Head down, she labored to get air into her lungs. Fought the need to drop and curl up in a ball.
Kellen. She had to get to him.
“Let’s go!” the one by her car yelled.
The legs of the knife-wielding man pounded by her and toward the back of the car.
Forcing more air in and out, she felt the needle pricks of sensation in her fingers. Lifting one hand, she moved it forward and slapped it down in front of her. Then one knee. She determinedly crawled across the asphalt while staring at Kellen sprawled on the ground with blood darkening his upper abdomen/chest area.
“I’ll get the keys from the bitch.”
Kat risked a look back toward the voice. The thug shoved out of the driver’s seat.
Oh shit, she’d dropped the keys. Terror gripped her throat. They’d kill her and Kellen if she didn’t do something.
The door to the kitchen flew open. Desperate for help, Kat twisted her head around.
Him. The man who’d made the late entrance to the reception. His harsh stare took in the scene, going from intense to rage in a single blink. His cheekbones stood out, his eyes blazed. He snapped into action, ripping off his coat and tossing it to her. “Pressure on the wound. Call 911.”
The coat hitting her was like a splash of ice water, clearing her fog. Kat grabbed it and shot forward, getting to Kellen’s side.
His shirt was soaked with blood.
Her lips began going numb again. No! She tugged up Kellen’s T-shirt to see how bad it was.
Her stomach heaved at the sucking wound. She swallowed hard and pressed the coat down on the vicious cut. It took all her effort to force out the words, “You’re going to be all right.”
His expression was tight from pain. Pale. Panic was dilating his pupils. “Can’t.”
“What?” She leaned forward.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
Oh God. She had to do something. Then she remembered the orders from their rescuer. Keeping pressure on the wound, she searched Kel’s pockets, found his cellphone and dialed 911 with one hand.
She glanced to the man who’d come out and taken over, and the phone nearly slipped from her hand. He was crouched, his body low, facing the guy with the knife.
The other one, the guy who had attacked her, was on the ground. Not moving.
“911 what’s your emergency?” a voice stated on the phone.
Kat forced herself to answer calmly. “We’re being attacked. One man stabbed in upper abdomen/lower chest. He can’t breathe. Another man is trying to get the knife away from an attacker. Hurry!” She dropped the phone. “Help’s coming,” she reassured Kellen. “Breathe with me. Draw air in, slow and easy. One, two…” She worked with him, desperate to keep him breathing.
Hearing a grunt behind her, Kat craned her head around.
The knife-wielding guy attacked their rescuer.
The man shifted in a blur, caught the attacker’s arm. Wrenched.
Kat heard the sound of a bone snapping. Heard. It. Then the guy screaming.
Bile shot up her throat. She forced herself to turn back to Kellen. His frantic eyes begged her for help. “Let the air out, one, two…” She gripped his hand, willing him to be okay. Prayed silently and kept breathing with him, through the sounds of sirens and chaos and voices talking to her. None of them mattered, only keeping Kellen breathing.
Alive.
“Ma’am, we’ll take care of him.”
She realized that the woman talking to her was a paramedic. Her partner was already working on Kellen. “He can’t breathe.” She couldn’t leave him.
Someone crouched beside her. “They can help him breathe.”
Kat lifted her head, and her chest hollowed at the magnitude of him. Their rescuer hunkered next to her, too close. Too big. Exerting calm control.
While her insides churned like the agitation cycle of a washing machine.
“Who are you?”
“Sloane Michaels. What’s your name?”
“Kat Thayne.”
Something flashed across his face, then vanished. He held out both hands to her. “Let me help you up, Kat.”
Ignoring his outstretched hands, she turned to Kellen. The paramedics ripped open plastic packages, setting up an IV line and doing various things with quick efficiency. But Kellen wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving?
“No, look at me.” Sloane caught her arms, tugging her to her feet.
Away fr
om Kellen. Anger roared in her head. She pulled against his hold on her arms. “Let go of me.”
Instantly, he released her but kept his hands up, bracketing her shoulders without actually touching her. “You need to understand that they are working to stabilize him. You can’t get in their way.”
He was right, but the fear was swamping through her, trying to drown her lungs in heavy, muddy green slime. She could taste the rancid sludge in her mouth. He couldn’t die. Her heart beat frantically in the thick mud.
“Talk to me,” Sloane said gently. “Tell me his name.”
Slowly, she realized his face was so close that she could see the scar by his mouth. His light brown eyes burned with authority. “Kellen,” she managed to get out.
“Good.” He nodded slightly while still holding his hands close to her arms.
He wasn’t touching her, but if she tried to get in the way, he’d stop her. She couldn’t decide how she felt about that.
“Is Kellen your husband? Boyfriend?” he asked.
The word boyfriend spun in her head for a second. Something important. A second later, it hit her. “I have to call Diego. His boyfriend. They are buying a house together. He can’t die.” Why was she telling him this? Didn’t matter. Right now, Kat was the only one here who knew Kellen. She had to get herself under control and help. Using the shortcut of pain, she bit the inside of her mouth to help clear her brain.
Sloane glanced away from her, then back. “They’ve got him stabilized.” He lowered his hands.
Kat sucked in a breath and went to where they were loading Kellen on a stretcher, getting ready to transport him.
The flashing red-and-blue lights cast an eerie glow over his sickly pale skin, but he was breathing. Thank God he was still breathing.
She stepped closer. “I’m going with him,” she told the paramedics.