by J. Kenner
I'd called Angie and Sloane, but neither they nor the other knights had seen him.
I'd slept for a few hours, but not well. Now it was past seven and I still couldn't track him down. My closing was at ten and I was going a little bit out of my mind.
I knew that I'd end up making Angie late for work, but I needed company and reassurance, and so I headed to her condo, stopping for donuts along the way.
I wasn't worried that he was hurt or injured. Instead, I was worried that something inside him had broken--something I didn't understand but knew that I had to soothe or else risk losing this man forever.
"Hey," Angie said, once she'd buzzed me up. "You look like shit."
"And hello to you, too."
"Still no word?"
I shook my head. "No. He hasn't checked in with you guys, either?"
"Not as far as I know. Evan went out for a run. You can ask when he gets back, but he knows you're worried. He would have told me--or just called you--if he'd heard something."
"Shit," I said, then ran my fingers through my hair, because I really didn't know what else to do.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"What I want is to just wish it away. But the bottom line is that he thinks he went too far. He thinks he hurt me."
"Did he?"
"No," I said. "No, he really didn't. But before this thing started he told me that there couldn't be anything between us. Because he was certain that he'd cross a line and somehow injure me. Honestly, Angie, it really worried him."
"Self-fulfilling prophecy."
"He's an idiot. I swear he has more self-control than I do. I don't see why he can't see it."
She shrugged. "Sometimes it's hard to see yourself, you know?" She glanced over me. "Speaking of seeing yourself, I'm guessing you haven't changed clothes since yesterday."
I glanced down, saw that she was right, and shrugged.
"Go take a quick shower. Then find something in my closet. You don't want to look wrecked when you see him, even if you are. He's the one who's wrecked, right? You're the one who's supposed to be strong."
"You sure?"
"Positive. And I'll go make some coffee for when you get out. You look like you need the jolt."
"I don't want to make you late for work."
She waved my words away. "What's the point of being the director if you don't go in late from time to time? Besides, I want to be here when Evan gets back. Just in case he's heard something."
"You think he has?"
"I don't know. But maybe Cole called during his run. Those three are in each other's pockets, so maybe." She glanced at her watch. "What time is your closing?"
"Ten."
"You have time," she said, then waved toward her bedroom. "Go. I'll meet you in the kitchen."
When I emerged fifteen minutes later, I did feel better. Not by much, though. And Evan still hadn't come home.
I forced myself to push it away. I told myself to take deep breaths, de-stress, and trust that it would all work out. It had to. Because I needed Cole in my life, and damn the man, I was certain he needed me, too.
"It's going to be fine," Angie said when I slid onto one of the chairs at her breakfast table.
"Keep saying that," I said. "Maybe the universe will listen." I devoured a donut, then licked the sugar off my fingers. "Listen. There's something else I want to talk to you about."
Her brow furrowed, and she sat down beside me. "Is something wrong?"
"No. No, it's just--" I sucked in a breath. "It's just that I've got this secret, and--oh, shit," I said. "I'm not exactly who you think I am."
"Oh, really?" Her brows lifted as she leaned back in her chair, and to my relief she looked more intrigued than pissed. "I'm listening."
"Right," I said, then told her everything. How I'd grown up. The mess my dad was now in. Even the Big Truth about how I'd originally tagged her as a mark.
"Oh my god, seriously?"
"Well, yeah." I dragged my teeth across my lower lip.
"So why are you telling me this now?"
"Because I'm about to go buy a house."
She laughed. "We must be really good friends, because that makes total sense to me."
"You're not mad?"
"Why would I be? You know my secrets--and god knows I have them. Now I know yours." She narrowed her eyes. "Unless this is some sort of long con? Am I going to wake up tomorrow and find out that I've deeded this condo to you?"
I laughed. "I wish."
"Well, there you go. We're even. We're good. I love you. And," she added, reaching across the table to give my hand a squeeze, "we'll figure out what to do about Cole."
And that, I thought, was why she was my best friend.
seventeen
I stood just outside the hangar and stared at the sleek silver jet owned by one of the knights' various corporate entities. I knew Cole was inside, and in a moment, I would be, too. He hadn't invited me--didn't even know that I was standing outside--and I could only hope that the emotion I'd see on his face when I stepped onto that plane would be pleasure. And not anger or fear.
Or, worst of all, regret.
"He's going to Los Angeles," Evan had said.
"Los Angeles? Why?"
"For you."
"What? How?"
"You'll have to ask him."
"I damn sure will. If he's going, I'm going."
"Good," he'd said. "I wouldn't have told you if I didn't think you should." He'd taken my arm. "You're good for him, Kat. He knows it. Don't let him forget it."
"He's good for me," I'd countered, and Evan's mouth had curved into a slow, sad smile.
"I believe you," he'd said. "But Cole's going to be harder to convince. I love him like a brother, but of the three of us, he's the most fucked up. Honestly, he has the most reason to be."
"I don't care about the reasons. And I'm not giving up on him."
"Good," he said, then kissed my forehead.
Now I drew in a breath for courage, then walked inside the hangar, knowing that the crew was holding the plane for me, making excuses about mechanical issues per Evan's instructions so Cole wouldn't wonder why they weren't already underway.
"Welcome aboard, Ms. Laron," a petite flight attendant said as I began to climb the stairs leading into the main cabin. "Mr. Black requested that you stay in the crew section until we're underway, and then you can move to the main cabin."
She said all that as if it wasn't the world's strangest request, and I had to admire her professionalism. The plan had been Evan's, but I'd easily agreed. Because there was no way that Cole could kick me off this plane once we were cruising at thirty thousand feet.
The attendant, who introduced herself as Jana, offered me a glass of wine before takeoff, which I gratefully took. Then, once we were airborne, she offered me another, and I downed that as well. By the time the plane had reached cruising altitude and I was allowed to stand up and move through the door that separated the two sections, I'd bolstered my courage enough to think that I just might survive the wrath of Cole.
I drew in a breath, then another, then slid the door open, stepped inside, and closed it behind me. I saw him immediately, of course, as he was the only person in the cabin. He was seated in one of the chairs that surrounded a small table. He was leaning back, a White Sox baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.
He hadn't noticed me, and I took a moment to look around. I'd never been in a private jet before, and this small room seemed more like a hotel lobby than the interior of a plane.
There were three other chairs around the table at which Cole sat, making a small conversation area. On the opposite side of the cabin, a sofa sat beneath a row of cloud-filled windows. A small coffee table filled the space in front of it. Finally, two plush recliners filled the area in the rear.
The entire cabin positively gleamed with polished wood and bright metal trim. The upholstery managed to look both comfortable and expensive. Honestly, I could get used to this.
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And, of course, I was stalling.
I took one step toward him, then another, then another after that until I was standing just a few feet away, my hand on the table for balance.
I started to say his name, but then he lifted his head. I couldn't see his face because of the cap, but after a moment, it was clear that he was slowly letting his gaze travel up the length of my body, and when he reached my face, he pulled the cap off and tossed it onto the chair beside him.
"Kat," he said, and though there was sadness in his voice, I thought that I heard hope, too.
"Hey," I said. "Fancy meeting you here."
His mouth quirked up into a quick, tight smile. "I heard the door, then your footsteps. I thought, dear god, that can't be her, because that would be a miracle, and I don't believe in miracles."
He reached out a hand for me, and I took it, letting him tug me closer. His knees brushed my legs, and that connection--that spark of light and arousal that I always felt when I was with him--burst through me, making me feel warm and happy. Making me feel like I'd come home.
"I believe in miracles," I said. "I believe in you, too. Cole, you shouldn't have gone."
"You're right," he said, and I felt as though wings had burst free on my heart. "I shouldn't have left like that. But, Kat," he added gently, "I was right to leave."
The words hit me with the force of a slap, and I knew that I had let myself believe too quickly. That I'd let hope settle inside me, and it had gotten the better of me. Like Icarus, I'd allowed those damn wings to draw me higher and higher--and all I got for my reward was to come crashing back down to earth.
"You son of a bitch," I said, my voice as tight as wire because right then it was me who was having to work to control my temper. "I never took you for a coward or a fool, but you're both. I can't fucking believe it, but you're both."
"Dammit, Kat, don't do this."
"Don't do what? Don't fall in love with you?" The minute the words were out of my mouth I wished I could suck them back in. "Dammit," I said, then pushed away from him, needing space to think and to move.
I stalked to the couch at the back of the cabin and fell upon it, then bent over, my head in my hands. Goddamn him. Goddamn him to hell.
I felt the pressure of his hand on my shoulder, but I didn't look up. I knew I couldn't. Not yet. Not without crying. I'd shown too much of my heart, and I really wasn't in the mood to have it trampled.
The cushion shifted as he sat next to me, then took my hand, twining his fingers through mine. "You're missing your closing."
"Yeah," I said. "I know."
"Baby . . ."
I sighed. "I talked to Cyndee. The sellers will do their thing, and then I'll do mine and eventually I'll get the house."
"That's not the point," he said gently. "It's the ritual. The being there. In that tiny room scrawling your name on all that official-looking paperwork. Besides, don't you have movers coming on Saturday?"
I turned my head so that I could look at him. "Some things are more important."
He held my gaze for a moment, then ran his hands over his head. He stood up, paced to the end of the cabin, then turned around and came back again. I knew he was looking at me--I could feel the weight of his gaze--but I was focused on his hands. On the fists he made and released. On the battle he was waging.
Finally, he stopped in front of me. "I sat in that room at The Drake and listened to your father praise me for taking care of you. And what a goddamn load of bullshit that was."
"Cole--"
"No. I practically forced you in that ladies' room. Pinched you. Hurt you. And then at your house I almost ripped your hair out, and then I fucking made you cry. I was so wrapped up in what I wanted, what I needed--in my own fucking need to just shoot my goddamn load--that I didn't even realize I was hurting you. Choking you. Jesus, Kat, do you know how much it killed me to see you like that? Sprawled on the floor, tears streaming down your face? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself?"
Now I really was crying, and I brushed the tears away and then stood in front of him. I pressed my hands to the sides of his face, then brushed the softest of kisses over his lips. "For a man who is so smart--who has made so much of himself--you're a damn idiot, Cole August."
"Catalina . . ."
I pressed my finger to his lips. "My turn," I said, then brushed away a fresh spill of tears. "Forced me in the ladies' room? Are you kidding me? I was so hot I'm almost embarrassed to admit it. That was an incredible moment, Cole, don't you get that? Naughty and sensual, and just public enough to be a bad girl turn-on. I mean, come on. It was like acting out a fantasy, and it was amazing."
He started to speak, but I just shook my head. "No. Not finished. Did you mention pinching me? Did you say that it hurt? Well, guess what, mister, I have a secret to tell you."
I pressed a hand to his shoulder for balance as I leaned in close to his ear. I felt a tremor go through him, and a corresponding wash of heat shot through me, brought on by nothing more than a simple touch and our proximity.
"It did hurt," I said, as his body tensed beneath my hand. "It hurt, and then it felt amazing, and dammit, Cole, it made me so fucking wet. You hurt me? Maybe you did, but I loved it. Hurts so good, right? Isn't that what they say? That's how you made me feel."
"Kat. Oh, baby."
I eased back so that I could face him again. "You keep interrupting me. Stop that." I pointed to the couch. "Sit. Before we hit an air pocket or get lectured by Jana for not wearing our seat belts."
He sat, and to my relief I saw that some of the pain on his face had been replaced by humor.
I perched on the table in front of him, my eyes trained on his face.
"Made me cry, you said? If I remember right, I was having one hell of a good time getting you off. I liked it, Cole. I was into it. I was into you."
I knelt in front of him then gently pushed his knees apart so that I could ease in closer. Very deliberately, I moved my gaze from his crotch to his eyes, and as I did, I reached out and pressed my hand over his cock, then felt it stir beneath my palm.
"I wanted to taste you, to suck you off, to take you in as deep as I could because it turns me on to know that I'm giving you pleasure." I stroked him as his erection hardened under my touch and with my words. "But guess what? There's this whole physiology thing working there, too, and let's see you try to deep-throat a cock as impressive as yours and not have tears prick your eyes."
A flicker of a grin touched his mouth. "I'd rather not."
"Yeah, well, you owe me. I was damn close to taking you all the way, and you bolted on me, you bastard. And as for yanking my hair," I continued before he could interrupt, "yeah, that hurt. You yanked, I wasn't expecting it, and it hurt."
I saw him flinch as if I'd slapped him.
"BFD, Cole. Big. Fucking. Deal. So you accidentally yanked my hair. One of these days you'll probably roll over in bed and whack me with your elbow and I'll have a black eye for a week. It's not like you lost your temper and beat me to a pulp."
"What if I had?"
"You didn't, and you wouldn't. You're not capable of that. Of losing it, sure. But you couldn't hurt me if you tried."
"Kat, you don't understand."
"The hell I don't. What have I just been telling you? There was no reason to go, but you did. Hell, you ran. And that was what hurt me, Cole. Not the rest of it."
He looked away, and I bit back a curse.
"God, you're thickheaded. You say I don't understand, but you're wrong. Don't you get it? You've showed me a new side of myself, and I love it. I'm not scared of what you'll show me about yourself." I reached for his hand. "The truth is, I understand more than you think."
"Bullshit."
"You need pain," I said softly. "You need to inflict it. Turns out I rather like it. Seems to me like we fit together nicely. A perfect set. Like salt and pepper. It's what I should have told you last night in the house, but I didn't know how to say it. I want it, Cole. When I said
I wanted you to get everything you need from me, that's what I meant. And I'm not scared that you'll go too far. Because you can't. You won't."
His eyes flicked to mine, but he said nothing. Please, I thought. Please let me be getting through that damn thick skull.
"You think you don't have control, but I'm telling you that you do. Everyone loses it occasionally. Hell, you've got an edge up because you've worked at it for so long."
He scrubbed his hands over his face, then dragged them back over his scalp. Then he just looked at me while I sat there, my stomach twisting in anticipation of his answer. "How do you do it?" he finally asked.
"What?"
"Make me believe that maybe I'm not as fucked up as I think I am."
I lifted a shoulder. "So what if you are? At least we won't be bored."
He almost laughed, and I felt a swell of relief that maybe--just maybe--the storm had passed.
"Seriously, Cole. Who isn't fucked up? I think we all are. I sure as hell am. Maybe the trick is to make your fucked-up-edness work for you. For us."
He said nothing.
"Cole. Please." I closed my eyes and took a breath, debating what I wanted to say, knowing I was showing more of my heart than was smart or careful. But maybe around Cole I didn't have to be either. Maybe I just had to let him know how I felt.
"I need you," I said simply. "I thought at first that I just wanted you. That you were an itch I had to scratch so that I could get you out of my system. But it's more than that, and I can't stand the thought of losing you. I honestly don't know if I could survive it." I drew in a breath. "And right now, I really need you to say something."
I sat frozen, praying he would do just that, but also terrified of the words he might say. After a moment, he stood up, then crossed to the far side of the cabin. He stood with his hand on one of the armchairs, his back toward me, his head turned in a way that made me think he was looking out the window at the world spread wide beneath us.
"I've always been able to get by," he began, his voice low but firm. "Slide in with the gangs. Mingle with students, with professionals, with artists, with anyone. I was able to easily pick up the way men with money talk and walk and act and behave. I blend, and it's easy, and I make it look good."
He turned then to face me. "But at the core, I'm just one more motherfucking gangbanger."
"Bullshit," I said, the response immediate and firm.