Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series)

by Snow, Tiffany

  “Sorry,” I murmured quietly the third time it happened, blinking hard to clear my vision.

  “Don’t fucking apologize,” Blane bit out, his jaw like granite.

  Okay then.

  Kade stopped at the exit door, which had no window. After a moment of silent communication with Blane, who nodded, Kade slowly pushed the door open. No gunshots sounded and I let out the breath I’d been holding.

  We crept through the doorway, sliding stealthily along the rough brick wall of the building. Well, Blane and Kade were stealthy, moving like shadows. I couldn’t say the same for myself. Fear made my heart pound, and a cold sweat chilled my skin.

  It was almost preternaturally quiet, and I was reminded that it was the middle of the night. Not even the bars that stayed open extra late or the hookers who hawked their wares could be seen at this hour. It felt like Kade, Blane, and I were the only people alive.

  Right up until a gunshot shattered the bricks above my head.

  I yelped. My first instinct was to cower in fear, not shoot back. Blane grabbed me by the arm, dragging me along with him as he ran for cover. A hail of gunfire followed us. Blane shoved me to the ground, turning to shoot back.

  Kade made a motion with his hand and Blane nodded. I watched in horror as Kade took off. Blane’s gun spit bullets as he provided cover for Kade’s retreating back.

  Blane kept firing, reloading twice as the minutes passed with agonizing slowness. Finally, his SUV squealed to a stop in front of us, with Kade at the wheel. Blane pulled me to my feet.

  “Get in!” Kade shouted.

  Blane wasted no time in complying. Swinging me up onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, he jerked open the back door.

  I saw movement. A man stood fifty yards away, a lethal-looking gun in his hand aimed straight at Blane’s back.

  Pulling my gun from Blane’s belt, I fired. To my surprise and relief, the man fell.

  Blane shoved me in the car and then pivoted, his gun swinging up to face the neutralized threat. When there was nothing more, he followed me into the car.

  “Go!”

  Kade stomped on the gas and we shot down the street. He drove fast and I barely had time to process all that had happened tonight before we pulled to a stop in front of Blane’s house.

  “Kathleen needs to go to the hospital,” Blane said roughly. “She could barely walk back there.”

  “Not going to the hospital,” I declared, climbing out of the car. “I’ll be fine. I just need a few minutes of not being shot at, that’s all.”

  And I thought it was true, mostly. My head really hurt, but there was no way I was going to get stitches. They’d have to shave that part of my head. That was so not happening. Not to mention that I’d rather pay a visit to the taxidermist than the hospital.

  Neither man replied and I walked inside unaided. I felt the need for a stiff drink, regardless of my recent vows of sobriety, so I headed in the direction of the library. The crystal decanter seemed unusually heavy and I had difficulty with the stopper. Then it was lifted out of my hands.

  “I’ll do that,” Blane said quietly. “Go sit down.”

  I obeyed, heaving a tired sigh as I sank down onto the leather couch. I shrugged off my tattered coat, dismayed at the level of damage done to it. It was the coat Blane had given me months ago. Absurdly, tears stung my eyes. It was just a coat, yet I couldn’t help the sobs that started.

  “Kathleen! Hey, it’s okay.” Kade tried to soothe me, his hand gently rubbing my back.

  “My c-c-coat,” I babbled through my tears. “It’s r-ruined!” I sobbed harder.

  His hand paused, then he gave a snort of laughter. “You’re crying because of your coat?”

  “I l-l-love that c-coat!” I felt inconsolable, which was ridiculous. It was just a piece of clothing, but I couldn’t help it.

  I felt the eyes of both men on me and knew they were probably stymied at what to do with a hysterical woman sobbing over a coat. Valiantly, I tried to stem the tears until finally I was left with only hiccups and sniffles.

  Blane pressed a glass into my hand, a healthy dose of amber fluid in its depths. I drank it down at once, welcoming the heat that burned a path down my throat to my belly. There was a fire in the fireplace and I watched the flames dance, transfixed. Several minutes of blessed silence passed.

  “Well,” Kade finally sighed, “it’s been a hell of a night. But we make a good team, brother.” He lifted his glass in toast to Blane, who merely stood watching him.

  “You want to tell me what the hell happened?” Blane’s voice was like ice. “And why you nearly got Kathleen killed. Again. Not to mention why she was even there in the first place.”

  Kade stiffened. “Kathleen is fine,” he shot back.

  I jumped a foot when Blane’s glass shattered in the fireplace.

  “She is not fucking fine!” Blane snarled, grabbing the lapels of Kade’s jacket with both hands and hauling him to his feet. “She’s hurt and in shock. Or are you too much of a selfish bastard to see that?”

  “Fuck you,” Kade gritted out. “You think I wanted this to happen? You think I wanted her to get hurt?” He shoved Blane’s arms away, jerking out of his grip.

  I watched with growing dismay, my clouded brain struggling to keep up with the scene playing out in front of me.

  “I just wish for once you’d think of someone besides yourself,” Blane shot back.

  “What’s the fun in that?” Kade sneered.

  “She could’ve died!”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it! Both of you! Stop!” I jumped to my feet. The room tilted, but I stoically remained standing. “It’s not his fault, Blane! They followed me.”

  Blane’s eyes snapped to mine, then turned to Kade. “What’s she talking about, Kade?”

  Kade shrugged insolently. “What the fuck do you care?”

  “Don’t give me that martyr shit,” Blane snapped.

  Kade’s eyes narrowed. “The same people that tried to kill me in Denver traced me here. I’m guessing they followed her to my apartment. And for the record, I didn’t ask for her to show up tonight, she just did.”

  Blane’s hands fisted at his side as he processed this information. “We’ll fix this, with you, but you have to stay away from her. Especially if they know she’s tied to you.”

  I would have protested the fact that they were talking about me as though I weren’t right there in the room, but I was too tired and dizzy to form the words. I brushed a shaky hand across my eyes, watching my fingers as though they were disconnected from my body. How odd.

  “That’s not going to happen.” Kade said flatly.

  Blane was suddenly in Kade’s face. “You want her to die right along with you?”

  The menace in his tone made me shiver, and Kade’s was no less threatening when he replied.

  “I’m saying I won’t stay away.”

  “This isn’t a fucking game, Kade!” The anguish in Blane’s voice made my chest hurt.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Kade said.

  “Everything I’m doing is for her!”

  The tension in the room was so thick I felt as though it was smothering me, pressing against my chest like a leaden weight. The room tilted again and my knees buckled. I heard someone curse, and it seemed like a really good time to close my eyes and let the encroaching darkness consume me.

  I woke to a sharp stinging on the back of my head.

  “Ow, stop,” I muttered, waving my arm blearily in an effort to halt the pain.

  “Shh. If you refuse to go to the hospital, the cut has to be cleaned.”

  My arm was caught in a gentle but firm grip and the stinging recommenced.

  I gritted my teeth, fully awake now, and stared ahead at my surroundings. Blane had brought me to his bedroom, where I lay on my side while he medicated the wound. I hoped I wasn’t getting the duvet on his bed dirty. I felt gross. My jeans were covered in dust, as was my hair, which had the added attracti
veness of being matted with dried blood. Not one of my best looks. Blane had removed my shoes, which was a good thing since they’d been covered in dust, too.

  My head was clearer now, and I remembered the argument in the library. What had happened after I passed out? Blane was angry with Kade, but it hadn’t been Kade’s fault I’d been there when someone had tried to kill him. It was my fault they’d even found him in the first place.

  “There, that should take care of it,” Blane said quietly. “Feel any better?”

  I carefully turned toward him. He brushed the backs of his knuckles against my cheek. I nodded, unsure what to say from here. Tonight had been a strange night.

  “Good.” His hand moved down my arm to lightly grasp my palm, slotting his fingers with mine.

  “Are you and Kade okay?” I didn’t mean physically.

  Blane didn’t answer for a moment, his gaze still on our entwined hands. Finally, he said, “That’s not important right now.” He lifted his eyes to mine. “What’s important is that you and I are okay.” A pause. “Are we?”

  I slowly shook my head. “Not if you and Kade aren’t.”

  Blane studied me. “Why are you so insistent on this?”

  “Because,” I sputtered. “You’re family. Brothers. I won’t come between you.”

  Blane sighed. “We’ve disagreed before, Kat, and I’m sure we will again. That doesn’t stop making us brothers.”

  His words reassured me, but I still felt compelled to add, “I don’t feel about Kade the way he feels about me. I just want you to know that.”

  Blane looked at me, really looked at me, until I wanted to squirm.

  “What?” I asked in frustration. “You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you,” he said. “But your point of view and Kade’s may be… drastically different.”

  I held his gaze. “I’m not going to lie to you,” I said firmly. “I care about him. He’s a good man, underneath everything. I don’t want anything to happen to him, not least because of what that would do to you.”

  “You wouldn’t be the kind of person I know you to be if you didn’t care what happened to Kade,” he said.

  That brought a tiny smile to my face and I breathed a sigh of relief. My resolve to kick Kade’s ass the next time he made some suggestive remark or innuendo was strengthened. I wasn’t going to let him goad me into doing something that would hurt all three of us.

  At my insistence, Blane helped me into the shower. There was no way I was going to sleep like this, and he was waiting for me when I got out. He didn’t suggest I go to a different room, and I didn’t say anything either. I climbed into bed beside him and crawled into his waiting arms. I sighed in contentment. The warm skin of his chest pressed against my cheek. His arms and body surrounding me made me feel safe and protected. His lips brushed my forehead.

  I wondered where Kade was but didn’t dare ask. I hoped he was okay, that he was getting some rest.

  The last thing that stole unbidden through my mind before I drifted to sleep was the image of the senator lying in wait for me.

  I was choking on dust, the gritty feel of it clogging my throat, my nose. The explosion had ripped everything apart and I recognized nothing that had been.

  They were coming. I could hear them, their voices, coming closer.

  I had to find him, had to get to him before they found me.

  I tore through the debris, each piece seeming heavier than the last. The sense of urgency overwhelmed me as I heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

  Gunshots. I cried out. Standing, I tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. More gunshots. I fell, tripping over something. It was a man’s body. Dreading the truth, but unable to halt the compulsion to see, I crept closer. My hand shook as I pushed away the cloth covering his face.

  Blood trailed from his mouth in a sluggish stream while sightless green eyes stared up at me.

  I screamed and screamed and screamed.

  “Kathleen!”

  I came abruptly awake, panic and despair still clawing at my throat. The dream had felt so real, the taste of dust still in my mouth.

  A cold sweat covered my skin, and my chest heaved from my frantic gasps for air. Blane brushed my tangled hair back from my face.

  “It’s just a nightmare,” he said quietly. “You’re all right.”

  I turned to him, the pale moonlight streaming through the window behind him casting shadows and pools of light across his shoulders. His face remained in darkness.

  I felt cold from the inside out and brittle as glass, my emotions balanced on the edge of a knife. I’d never felt this way before, this out of control, as though my life were in a tailspin.

  But Blane was real. He could anchor me, ground me.

  Without a word, I got to my knees, my arms crossing over my chest to tug my nightgown over my head. I let the gossamer fabric fall from my fingers as my arms rested against my sides. The moonlight caressed my naked breasts like a lover’s touch. The length of my hair brushed the middle of my back.

  I could feel Blane’s eyes on me. The width and breadth of his shoulders was clearly outlined in the moonlit glow. He was still, so I remained still as well. My gaze was locked on his unfathomable eyes, denied to me in the shadows.

  Finally, he spoke. “You’re perfect, Kat. We’re perfect together.” His voice was a gravelly rasp. At some other time, perhaps I would consider his words and preen with feminine pride at the awe in his voice. But not tonight.

  “Show me.” My request was breathless, but perhaps only I could hear the tinge of desperation.

  “With pleasure.”

  He took his time, mapping and relearning every curve, dip, and hollow of my body. His hands touched, caressed, stroked. And where his hands went, his mouth followed, until I was begging for him, needing to feel him inside me. He covered my body with his much larger one, and I felt the fragility of being the weaker sex, but I didn’t mind. He was hard and strong everywhere, under my palms, against my belly, between my thighs. When I cried out his name, his lips took the syllables from my mouth. And afterward, when I lay boneless and sated in his arms, my thoughts were finally, thankfully, quiet.

  The sun was streaming through the window when I woke, and when I moved, my whole body protested.

  I blinked, clearing the sleep from my eyes, automatically reaching for Blane. My hand encountered nothing but sheets and empty space. Sitting up, I glanced toward his pillow and saw a single red rose and a folded piece of paper. There were only two words written inside, and I recognized Blane’s handwriting.

  Be mine.

  I smiled. Today was Valentine’s Day.

  That lifted my spirits. I loved holidays, any holiday, and Valentine’s had always been a favorite, though I’d seldom had a boyfriend for the occasion. Rather, I’d enjoyed using the holiday to surprise friends with little tokens of affection, a box of candy, or a funny card. People always appreciated the unexpected. As for me, I never expected anything, which was good, considering I rarely received anything.

  I showered and dressed, changing into a pair of jeans and thick sweater I found in the other bedroom, and I wondered where Blane had gone. It was nearing noon—I’d slept the morning away. I headed downstairs, in search of him and coffee.

  Voices were coming from Blane’s study, but when I recognized one of them as Kade’s, I hesitated.

  I didn’t know how to act after last night, how to behave. While it may have been fine to handle the situation alone with Blane, I felt very anxious about being in the same room with both him and Kade. If they were talking, that meant they were getting along and working together. My being there would only cause awkwardness and tension, which I was loath to do.

  Steeling my resolve, and my courage, I tentatively knocked on the half-closed door and peered inside.

  Both Blane and Kade turned to look at me. My eyes brushed Kade’s before I fixed my attention on Blane, though I could feel Kade’s penetrating gaze on me.

  �
��I need to head home,” I told him. “I have to work this afternoon.”

  Blane’s body stiffened, his face a mask. “I want you to stop working at Xtreme,” he said.

  I walked a few steps into the room, my temper igniting at his order. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” I said tartly, throwing his own words back at him. “A woman who works there knows what happened to Amanda, and I’m going to find her. And last night I saw Matt Summers there, too. You know, the guy you’re defending? I watched him rape another woman last night. Lucky she’s not pressing charges, eh?”

  Blane’s steely gaze met my angry one. I was still having a really hard time reconciling the man I thought I knew with the persona of an ambitious lawyer who would trade an acquittal for campaign cash.

  “Maybe you’d better listen to Mr. Overprotective this time around, princess,” Kade threw in. I glared at him.

  Blane tossed a folder down onto the desk he stood behind. “Take a look at this, and maybe you’ll change your mind.” Curious, I stepped closer to see, then gasped.

  Pictures of Chance stared up at me.

  I snatched up the photos, thumbing through them. I could tell they’d been taken from a distance and at night, but Chance was unmistakable, though I didn’t recognize the man he was with.

  “Where did you get these?” I asked.

  “Whoever your friend is,” Blane bit out, “he’s involved in some serious shit. You know who that man is with him?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “His name is Fernando Alvarez. You know what he specializes in? How he makes his money?”

  Blane’s anger robbed me of speech, and I only shook my head.

  “He likes to sell things. Preferably women. Usually, they’re from some god-awful third-world country where they think anything would be endurable, just to get to America. He gets them here, then sells them into slavery.”

  My eyes widened in horror. I looked back at the pictures. “That… that’s impossible! Chance would never—”

  “His name is Chance?” Kade cut in, standing now, right next to me. “Chance who?”

  I closed my mouth with a snap.

  “How can we find him?” Blane asked. “If he’s a friend of yours, maybe we can get him to help us. Is he in it for the money?”