by Kylie Brant
She twisted against the sheets in a restless, frustrated movement. What if Michael was injured tonight? A cold blade of fear accompanied the thought. Knowing him, he’d be right in the thick of things. When something of his was threatened, he went into a whole different mode. The idea of him hurt, maybe bleeding, made her sick and shaky inside. She wanted him back here, safe. She wanted to see him quirk the half-irritating, half-endearing grin and hear him wisecrack about her concern. She wanted to feel his arms around her and know that he was going to be all right. She wanted…him.
She jackknifed upright in bed to relieve her strangled lungs. The thought of life without Michael left her heart barren, her soul bereft. What was this, then, if not love? How odd that the emotion she’d searched for all her life should have been so difficult to identify. So frightening to feel.
Because she was more than frightened…she was terrified. She couldn’t imagine giving up what she had with Michael and Chloe, turning her back on her newly discovered love for him. She’d always been a sensible, practical person. By no means could she be called a risk taker. But now she was contemplating taking the biggest risk she could imagine by offering a lifetime of her love to a man who wouldn’t, couldn’t promise the same.
The minutes dragged by too sluggishly to count toward hours. Left only with her worries and doubts, she found the big old bed excruciatingly lonely. Twice when Chloe made a sigh or a whimper in her sleep, Kate got up and padded soundlessly to the little girl’s room to check on her. Both times found her still asleep, her breathing steady.
After she checked on Chloe the second time, she was loath to return to her bedroom. She decided to go downstairs to the family room and avail herself of one of the books that lined the shelves there. Though reading might be as difficult to concentrate on as sleep, it would help pass the time until he was back.
The house was dark, but since Chloe’s door was open, she didn’t want to turn on the hallway light. She picked her way carefully down the stairs. If she could find the light switches downstairs, she just might go to the kitchen for a glass of milk to bring back up with her. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a plate of crackers and some flat ginger ale ready in case Chloe woke up and needed something to settle her stomach.
At the bottom of the stairs she kept a hand to the wall to guide her way and then turned into the hallway. If possible, it seemed darker there, and her fingers went on a blind search for the light switch. Before she found it, her bare toes met something immovable.
Kate stifled a gasp. Only her hand supporting her on the wall saved her from toppling over the crumpled figure on the floor in front of her. Her heart lodged in her throat. For an instant she just stood still, focusing on moving air in and out of her lungs again. Then she bent down and touched the person’s shoulder gingerly. It was a man, that much she could tell. Though his features were difficult to discern in the darkness, she thought it was one of the security people who worked for Michael.
Her movement brought him to his back, and her fingers searched for the pulse below his jaw. It was thready but discernible, and relief filled her. She rose, intent on finding a light, any light, then rubbed her fingers curiously. They were wet and sticky with a substance she couldn’t identify.
Dread curled in the pit of her stomach, and with it came certainty. It was blood, the man’s blood, but she’d do him no good until she could see his wound. She didn’t know the house well enough to remember where the nearest light switch or telephone were, but the kitchen was straight ahead, at the top of the hallway. If she could turn on the light there, enough would spill into the darkened hallway to aid her search.
She stepped over the man cautiously and hurried toward the kitchen. Forgotten was the book she’d meant to select. She moved past the door to the family room without giving it a thought. But once she’d walked past the next closed door, she stopped in her tracks as if yanked by an invisible chain.
Kate didn’t breathe for a moment, straining all her senses in an attempt to convince herself that she was imagining things. But she wasn’t. The sounds she’d heard were real. Real enough to have the blood congealing in her veins.
Someone was in the den.
She looked at the closed door out of the corner of her eye, as if even by moving her head she would alert the prowler to her presence. The noises were muffled but distinct. The tapping sounds could have been made by a pen against a desktop.
Or by fingers on a computer keyboard.
Fear trickled down Kate’s spine. Without conscious thought she began backing up, slowly. She didn’t want to take the chance of going to the kitchen now. If she was discovered, the only other way out of that room was a door to the outside. And she wasn’t going to leave Chloe in the house unprotected.
She gave one desperate thought to the man Michael had said would be on security outside before dismissing it. She had no idea where to find him, and there was no telling what kind of shape he would be in. She could only imagine that the intruder would have had to go past him to get into the house.
No, her best bet was to get upstairs. Surely she would find a phone there, either in Michael’s room or perhaps in Trask’s. She could dial 911 and get the police here, preferably before the prowler found what he was looking for in Michael’s den.
Fingers touched the back of one of her heels, and a scream tore up Kate’s throat. In her distress, she’d nearly backed up over the poor security guard. Clapping a hand to her mouth, she muffled all but a thread of sound and stopped for a moment, praying it would go unnoticed. She was unable to hear anything over her hammering heartbeat. Her breathing seemed unnaturally loud as she strained her ears to listen for the sounds coming from the den that had alerted her to begin with.
She was too far away to hear them, she prayed, and made herself turn around. Taking great care, she stepped over the body sprawled in the hallway and hurried as fast as she dared to the staircase.
The first tread under her foot felt like the road to freedom. Odd, but she hadn’t noticed the way some of the steps creaked when she’d been on her way down the stairs. She was halfway up now, and the air was getting a little easier to draw into her lungs. Only a few more yards. She wondered where the phone might be kept in Michael’s room, assuming he had one there. She hadn’t noticed a table or stand for it.
A hand on the back of her shirt jerked her off balance, and terror clawed up her throat, shredding her voice. She grabbed wildly for the banister, her other hand making a fist and swinging out. It encountered a body, close, very close, behind her. Then an arm snaked around her throat, and her grip was torn away from the railing.
A gloved hand was slapped across her mouth and she bit down, heard the muffled curse. Her elbow jabbed out frantically, and she brought a leg back for a swift backward kick. The damage it did was probably minuscule, but her desperation lent a wildness to her actions that made her difficult to contain. The arm around her throat tightened cruelly, and her struggles weakened as her oxygen supply was inexorably cut off. Colors swam before her eyes and her knees went watery. When she was yanked around and forced to start down the stairs, the pressure around her throat was loosened just a little.
She had to keep Chloe safe, she thought dimly. And Michael. Would the intruder still be here when Michael got home? Her thoughts came slow, as if she were drugged, but she recognized the need to protect. She used the very real weakness in her limbs to her advantage and went suddenly, totally limp, pulling her attacker off balance. One arm released her and she used up the rest of her dwindling strength to give a mighty pull away.
She had only an instant to savor her freedom. She felt, rather than saw, the black-clad arm coming toward her and took an automatic step back. Her foot touched air and she teetered, arms circling frantically. Then, as if in slow motion, she lost the battle with gravity and toppled down the rest of the stairs.
Michael pushed open the hospital door and saw Kate sitting upright on the examining table. His eyes slid closed. Panic and relief ri
cocheted inside him. She was conscious, thank God. They’d told him that she hadn’t been when she’d been found. And then he opened his eyes and stared fiercely, cataloging her injuries.
She couldn’t prevent an occasional wince as the doctor wrapped her ribs. His gaze traveled her form, saw the bandage wrapped around her ankle and the bruise marring one cheekbone and felt rage. Hot and quick it boiled, scalding him with its intensity.
“Come on in.” Her voice was strained, her smile wobbly, but her eyes were welcoming. “There aren’t any needles in sight.”
He closed the distance between them and stood at her side, out of the way of the doctor’s deft movements. Reaching for one of her hands, he brought it to his cheek and held it there.
“How’s Chloe?”
“She’s fine,” he assured her. He forced a deliberately neutral tone to his voice. “Never even woke up. Still no sign of fever, either.”
“Thank goodness. I was afraid…” The breath shuddered out of her then, and he pressed a kiss to her hand, then meshed her fingers with his.
“There was a man on the floor,” she murmured. “He was hurt.”
“Harmon. One of my security guards,” he explained tersely. “He’s here, too. I’ll check on him in a few minutes.”
The doctor finished and stepped back. “Well, that should do it. You’re going to have a whale of a headache for a while, and we’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”
“No,” Kate said.
“Yes,” Michael contradicted immediately. “We’re not taking any chances with you.” He’d already put her at risk that night in a way he never could have foreseen, and for that, a nasty demon of guilt would eat away at him for a very long time. He traced her delicate jawline with his fingertip. “Don’t fight with me on this, baby. I’m too worried about you.”
“I’ll line up a nurse to come and take you to your room,” the doctor said, and left.
Kate gave a sigh and then winced again as her ribs protested. “There was a prowler in your den.”
“I know.” His fingers tightened in hers. “It was a setup, start to finish. This wasn’t just any prowler. He was at the open house tonight and hid himself inside until after dark. The explosion was just a decoy. He’d prearranged it with a rigged car left in the parking lot. It was a ruse to get us out of the house, giving him free access. Quincy, the guard I had stationed outside, spotted him leaving. He alerted the police, but rather than following him, Quincy decided to check the house.” A deed, Michael thought grimly, that would earn the man a hefty bonus. “He found you and Harmon and called for an ambulance, as well.”
Disappointment laced Kate’s voice. “So the intruder hasn’t been caught?”
He hesitated, then said slowly, “He’s not in custody yet.”
“Damn,” she said tiredly. “I never even saw his face. I had just a glimpse of him right before I fell, but he was wearing a face mask.” Her gaze lifted to his and her eyes widened. “He was after FORAY, wasn’t he? Oh, Michael, all your work isn’t ruined, is it?”
“Shh.” He lowered his face to her hair, careful not to jar her. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I told you I’d taken precautions. We’d switched my computer in the den with the one Trask keeps in his room. All my files, all my notes are safely locked up in the basement. And—” he brushed his lips across the silky, tangled strands “—I’ve got a security camera mounted in the wall above my desk.”
“Where?” Her surprise was obvious. “I’ve never noticed it.”
He almost smiled and brought her hand up to nip at her knuckles. “That’s because I’m good at my job. Not that you were looking for one. Luckily for us,” he said, sobering, “neither was our intruder. At least, he didn’t look in the right place. And when he didn’t find any cameras, he felt safe enough to push his mask up out of the way while he worked on breaking the code on the computer.” He saw the question in her eyes and couldn’t quite hide the bitterness in his answer. “It was my father.”
Her hand came up and cupped his jaw. “Michael, I’m sorry.”
His gut twisted, one violent churn. “Yeah, so am I. Sorry that you were in danger because of me, sorry I couldn’t protect you from him. But most of all I’m sorry that I didn’t destroy that bastard completely the first time, and avoided this situation altogether.”
He turned away from her, regret and fury a tight knot in his throat.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, Michael.”
The vehemence in her voice had his gaze jerking to meet hers. “Jonathan Friday has been making his own choices for a long time. Yes, some of those choices affected you, but you’re not responsible for them, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for his actions.”
He gave a grim laugh. “This time I’m going to take him down for good. Corporate espionage, breaking and entering, assault and battery—he’s going to find prison a far cry from the country clubs he’s used to.” And even his father’s hatred would find it difficult to reach beyond the prison walls and threaten anyone Michael cared about. The knowledge banked his rage slightly. Only slightly.
“Don’t do it.”
He stared hard at her, sure he’d misunderstood her meaning. “Don’t do what?”
She hesitated, and he could see the exhaustion working on her, watched her attempt to hold it at bay.
“Where’s that nurse?” he muttered, starting for the door.
“Don’t try to destroy your father again.” Her words followed him, stopping him in midstride.
“Kate.” His shoulders were tense, his spine as inflexible as his will. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do,” she said softly. “I know how guilty you’re feeling right now. A guilt like that will work on you, make you want to strike back at the one who tried to hurt you and yours. But you can’t hurt him without hurting yourself.”
He turned to her then, the resentment bubbling inside him. “If you think I’m going to let him walk away from this when you could have been killed tonight, then you don’t know me very well.”
“I know what it is to want to protect, Michael. I felt that need tonight, for both you and Chloe.” She was swaying a little on the table and gripped its edge tightly to steady herself. But there was no hint of weakness in her voice. “Think about it, Michael. You don’t have to go to the police. You’ve got the film from the camera. That’s your leverage over him. He’ll know that it would take only a whisper from you about the events of this evening to ruin him.”
He stared at her stonily, refusing to acknowledge the truth of her words. “You don’t know him, Kate. If I have the tape and don’t use it, he won’t see it as restraint. He’ll see it as me being a sucker.”
“Who cares?” Her voice was starting to rise. “You’re a smart guy, you can figure a way to use the film to get what you want. But you don’t have to put your father in prison to do it.”
“You’re wasting your pity on Jonathan Friday,” he said flatly.
“I don’t care about him,” she retorted, “I care about you. Hatred can be its own kind of poison, and you’ve seen what it’s done to your father. Don’t let it eat away at you, as well.” Her tone softened, the sincerity unmistakable. “You’re not like him. You couldn’t send your own flesh and blood to prison without regrets. If you deny that, you’re lying to yourself. Don’t you see?”
As if pulled by the strength of her gaze, he turned to look at her.
“To do battle with him, you have to get down to his level. Every time you do, he reels you in a little further. Show him you’re a better man than he is. Walk away. That would be your greatest triumph over him.”
The silence echoed, grew. She must have seen his answer on his face, because she made one last plea. “I’m not asking that you do it for me or for Chloe. I think you need to do this…for yourself.”
He swallowed convulsively and looked away. He clenched his hands reflexively at his sides, and his voice was bleak when he answered.
&n
bsp; “I can’t promise you that.”
The door to her bedroom opened, revealing a mellow wedge of light. Kate tried to move to her back in the deep mattress, but her bruised ribs hampered her speed.
“I’m awake, so don’t you dare go away.”
Michael padded into the room, barefoot and shirtless. He leaned one arm against a walnut post at the base of the bed.
“You should be resting,” he chided. “The doctor wouldn’t have let you come home with me if he knew you weren’t going to sleep.”
“That’s all I’ve done,” she muttered. “Is Chloe down yet?”
He nodded. “Out like a light. Fetching and carrying for you all day must have worn her out.”
She smiled. The little girl’s concern had been heartwarming, and her ideas for entertaining Kate had been creative, to say the least.
She held out a hand to him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he walked over and sat down gingerly on the edge of the mattress, watching her face closely for any signs of pain.
Determined not to show any, she stroked the back of his hand. “Have you been avoiding me?”
“Not a chance of that, honey. But I had some things to take care of today.”
Her attention focused on her fingers as they traced invisible patterns on his skin. “And?”
“And…” he repeated, then waited for her gaze to meet his. “I went to Jonathan with a copy of the film.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and cautious hope bloomed inside her.
“The look on his face when he saw himself breaking into my computer was worth the price of a ticket,” he said wryly.
“But then he reverted to type.”
“What did you decide?”
His hand twisted up to grip hers. “We came to a mutual understanding. He’s decided it’s time to retire, and sunny California is beckoning him. I thought putting a full continent between us would be wise.” He paused for a moment, his expression pensive. “You know, I’ve spent a lifetime trying to avoid becoming like my father. It occurred to me that if I took the old bastard down, I’d be falling with him.”