My heart sank. “But… you said you got that little boy out. You said he’d live…”
“Barely.” Kane stared down at me, his eyes haunted. “I barely got him out. I had to carry him all the way. It should have been easier. I wasn’t in top shape, and I should have been. If I’d had to stop and rest, we’d both be dead, and I… it took everything I had.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned away. “Everything I had,” he repeated quietly. “I barely made it.”
I ran my hand over the muscled contours of his shoulders, hardly believing that such strength could fail. “But you did make it, John,” I said softly. “How old was the boy? And how far did you carry him?”
He didn’t turn to face me. “I don’t know how old. Maybe six or seven. And it was about sixteen miles.”
“Sixteen…” I gaped at his back for a moment. “What kind of terrain? And what else were you carrying?”
His shoulders twitched in an irritable shrug. “Rough terrain. The usual gear. But it doesn’t matter, Aydan. Ten years ago I could have-”
“No!” I strode around in front of him to seize his shoulders. “No, that’s bullshit! I don’t care what you could have done ten years ago. You did it now. And today, the way you are right this minute, there’s still nobody else in the Department who could have done what you did…”
He began to speak, but I kept talking. “…and I know for a fact that you’re not telling the whole story. You were recovering from getting shot, you hadn’t slept for days, you probably hadn’t eaten, it was probably dark and raining…” He didn’t deny it, and I challenged, “Name me one other agent who could have done that!”
“Germain,” he said immediately.
I hissed frustration through my teeth. “Okay, fine. Name me another one.”
“Hellhound could do it.”
“He probably could. But he’s not an agent so he’d never be in that situation.”
Kane hesitated. “Probably Wheeler…” he began.
“Bullshit! Don’t give me ‘probably’! You’re still the best of the best, and you damn well know it!”
We locked eyes, and he dropped his gaze first.
“John.” I stroked down his arms to take his hands. “If you were talking to a young agent who’d just been through the same experience, what would you tell him?”
“That’s not the point, Aydan-”
“Yes, it is the point! Tell me. Tell me what you’d say.”
His shoulders sagged and he spoke to the floor. “I’d tell him everybody has a physical limit. You can push the limit with adrenaline and guts and willpower, but there’s a point where you just… can’t…” He trailed off.
I softened my tone. “And if that young agent wasn’t as physically fit and strong as you, would you tell him to quit the Department because he might not be able to do what you just did?”
“No, of course not,” Kane mumbled.
“So, John…” I let go of his hands to cup his face and make him look at me. “If you need to quit the Department because you’ve had enough, or if you want to quit because you’ve given your entire life to it and it’s time to do something for yourself for a change, that’s fine. Quit and don’t look back. But if you still want to be an agent, don’t ever believe you’re a liability just because you’ve got a big birthday coming up next year.”
He started to shake his head, but I went on, “That little boy is alive today because of you. If any other agent had been in your place, he wouldn’t be.” I held up a hand to forestall his objection. “Okay, except Germain, but the point is that even if you or any other agent had tried and failed, at least that little boy would have died knowing somebody cared enough to give their life for him.”
I linked my arms around his hips and smiled up at him. “And anyway, a very wise man once told me ‘What almost happened doesn’t matter’.”
Kane’s face softened. “Do I know this wise man?”
“Yep. He’s your dad.”
The tension eased from his shoulders. “He is a very wise man, isn’t he?”
“Uh-huh.” I stepped away to plant my hands on my hips in mock indignation. “So, you sonofa-wise-man, you chased away my help. You’d better be ready to work now.”
Kane laughed. “I’m no carpenter, but I can hold the dumb end of a measuring tape and I follow orders well.”
“Good.” I grinned up at him. ”Then hand me that level and get ready to flex those muscles.”
Chapter 15
I was acutely aware of Kane’s flexing muscles. Thigh muscles, to be exact. Inches from my nose while I knelt in the doorway trying to concentrate on the bubble in my torpedo level instead of the heat rolling off that luscious…
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Stupendous,” I breathed before blinking my attention back to the job at hand. “And the door frame’s pretty good, too,” I added. “Just push it toward me a bit…”
His thigh flexed again and I exerted all my willpower to keep from sinking my teeth into that heavy ridge of muscle and nibbling all the way up to…
“There,” I said faintly, and secured a shim in the gap.
Then I pushed in another shim, trying to ignore the sexual connotation of rigid wood driving into the waiting, wanting aperture…
“Jesus,” I muttered, and stood.
“Sorry, what was that?” Kane asked.
“I said ‘just’… um… just hold it there for a second while I grab a couple more shims…”
“They’re here by my foot.” His arms still braced in the doorway, Kane nodded toward the floor.
Caught by the sight of his biceps swelling and curving into the mountains of his shoulders, I was a little slow to follow the direction of his gaze. When I didn’t respond immediately he glanced up and caught me ogling him.
A slow smile started at the corner of his mouth. Holding me with a smouldering gaze, he shifted his hips ever so slightly. My mouth went dry at the memory of those hips circling in a sensuous dance.
“Ms. Kelly,” he rumbled, his baritone stroking me like hot hands. “The help wants to know…” He shifted again, invitation sizzling in every line of his body. “…what you want to do next.”
A dizzying rush of arousal stole my breath for a moment. Then I gave him a slow smile of my own and prowled toward him. “Are you saying I’m the boss?” I inquired silkily.
Kane glanced down at himself, spread-eagled in the doorway. “It certainly looks that way.”
“Well…” I leaned closer, inches away from his lips. “The boss says…” I traced the square line of his jaw with my lips, shivering at the fine sandpaper of his five-o’clock shadow. “…don’t move,” I whispered.
God, that brain-melting gun-oil-and-leather scent. Heat rolled through my body, half-closing my eyes. Without my permission, my tongue tipped out to flick into the hollow behind his jaw. Ohmigod, that salty, musky flavour that was one hundred percent pure Kane…
He shifted again, leaving only an inch of supercharged air crackling between us.
I went up on tiptoes to nip his earlobe. “I said, don’t move.”
A growl rumbled up from his chest, melting what was left of my brain into a puddle of lust.
I stepped away before my knees could melt along with it, letting my hand coast down his arm. Over the hot muscles of his chest to bump over the washboard of his abs. Then down…
The growl rumbled louder when I teasingly bypassed the bulge in his jeans to fondle that toothsome thigh.
“Don’t move,” I reminded him, and bent to retrieve my shims.
Securing the door in the opening was sweet torture. Brushing against Kane’s hard body as I moved back and forth, I felt each contact like an electrical charge.
Once again I cursed Drake Mallard. If not for him I’d be getting happily laid instead of interspersing my enjoyment of Kane’s considerable attributes with uneasy glances toward my yard.
At last I drove in the final screw and rose. “Okay, you can move n
ow.”
An instant later I was wrapped in Kane’s arms, his mouth savaging mine while I ground against his breathtaking erection. Just as I was considering throwing caution to the wind and dragging him to the bedroom regardless of the danger, he broke the kiss.
“We’d better finish,” he said against my lips.
“I’m halfway there already,” I assured him.
He chuckled. “Good to know, but I meant the door.”
I sighed and extracted myself from his embrace. “Yeah. And I still want to get the back door done today, too.” I aimed a half-hearted kick at the door jamb. “This sucks.” I sighed again and picked up my crowbar. “Can you do the expanding foam while I start pulling out the back door?”
Kane grinned and gave me a superheated look. “You’re the boss.”
I shivered with sheer desire and determinedly plodded off to the back door.
Some time later, my stomach let out a ravenous growl as I was kneeling to secure the last of the shims.
“’Scuse the comments from the peanuts section.” I massaged the complaining region before returning to my shims.
“You must be starving.” Kane looked down at me with concern from his Atlas-like pose inside the door frame. “It’s nearly six and you didn’t even stop for a snack.”
“Yeah.” I held out my hand to gauge its tremor before flashing him a rueful smile and returning to my work. “But I really wanted this done. There. You can let it go now.”
He stepped out of the doorway and reached down to help me up. I rose slowly, grimacing at the crackling under my kneecaps.
“God.” I hobbled a few steps before my knees deigned to cooperate again. “Speaking of getting too old for this shit…”
“Come and sit down,” Kane urged, shepherding me toward the kitchen table. “Relax while I cook supper. Let me get you a drink.”
Dazzled by the glorious thought of a rest, a drink, and one of Kane’s gourmet meals, I sank into a kitchen chair. A moment later I came back to reality. “I don’t have much to cook with. I was so eager to be home I only bought milk and eggs. I’ve still got carrots and onions and garlic and potatoes from last summer’s garden and there’s stuff in the freezer, but…”
Kane was already inspecting the contents of my fridge and freezer. He extracted two beers and popped their caps before handing me one. Taking an appreciative swallow of his own, he held up one of the bags from the freezer. “Peppers?” he asked.
“Yeah, I cut them up and freeze them so I always have some on hand. Those are the bell peppers and there should be some jalapenos in there somewhere, too.”
“Ah.” He nodded, looking pleased while he continued to excavate the freezer. “Chicken breast. That’ll do… oh good; prawns, too…” He turned, packages in hand, and smiled. “And I’d be willing to bet a month’s salary that you’ve got peanut butter.”
I took a satisfying swallow of beer and leaned back in the chair, returning his smile. “Always a safe bet. I have panic attacks if my peanut butter jar is more than half empty.”
“Noodles?”
I nodded. “Rice vermicelli or egg noodles, whichever you want. In the cupboard to your left.”
“Excellent. I can do an Asian noodle bowl.”
I sighed in pure bliss and slouched lower in the chair to stretch out my legs. Sipping my beer and occasionally directing Kane to utensils and ingredients, I watched him prowl around my kitchen with his distinctively powerful fluid movements.
Soon delicious smells began to emanate from the region of the stove. I raised the beer bottle again, but desisted when I realized the first few swallows had already hit my calorie-deprived system hard. I sighed and pushed the bottle away. This cozy safety was only an illusion. Stay alert.
As if reading my mind, Kane reached for the window blind. “Do you mind if I close this?” he asked. “I feel too exposed with my back to a window.”
Relieved that I didn’t have to second-guess my own paranoia, I nodded. He lowered the blind before resuming his work at the cutting board, conversing easily while his hands deftly sliced and chopped as though of their own accord.
The promise of the enticing aromas was fulfilled a short time later, and I let out a small moan as I gobbled succulent chicken and prawns in spicy peanut sauce.
“Thank you,” I mumbled around a mouthful of noodles. “This is amazing. You’re amazing.”
He smiled. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Mmhmm!” I confirmed, and wasted no more breath on conversation while I devoured the delicious meal.
At last I leaned back and eased out a long breath. “Ohmigod. That was so good. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” Kane laid aside the chopsticks he’d been wielding with casual expertise and leaned back in his chair, too. “It was nice to cook for a change instead of eating restaurant meals.”
“Right, I suppose that part of the trip wasn’t really a treat for you,” I agreed. “But did you enjoy it otherwise?”
“Yes. Hellhound and I had often talked about making that trip, so it was good to finally do it. And it was good to have his company. I needed it.” Kane drained his beer bottle and set it down on the table in a way that looked like a decision. He gave me a level look. “Hellhound brought up the night we spent together in your tent. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it.”
My post-dinner contentment drained away into an anxious void. “Oh. Okay…”
“I didn’t want to talk to him about it because it’s not about him and me.” Kane gave me an intense look. “It’s about you and me.”
My stomach contracted into a queasy ball. “Okay…” I tried to keep my face under control but I knew I hadn’t managed to hide my dread.
Kane eyed my expression and sighed. “Aydan, I know how uncomfortable you are with conversations like this, so I’m going to make you a promise. This will be the second-last time I’ll ever bring up the subject of you and me. And you don’t even need to talk this time. Just listen.”
“The second-last…?” I realized I had unconsciously pushed my chair back a few inches, and I drew a deep breath and relaxed my rigid leg muscles.
“Yes,” Kane said firmly.
I sprang up. “Do you want another beer? I could sure use another beer-”
“No.”
The word landed between us like a rock and I hesitated, trying to decide whether to grab another beer or just take a page out of Eddy’s book and go for a shot of straight whiskey.
“And, frankly, I’d prefer it if you didn’t, either,” Kane added. “I don’t want any misunderstandings between us and alcohol won’t help that.”
“Oh…” My voice crept reluctantly from my throat.
My feet tried to flee for the door but I overpowered them and forced them into an ungraceful shuffle back to my chair. My knees didn’t want to bend, but I subdued them, too. Perched on the edge of the chair, I gulped at the constriction that felt like a noose around my throat and braced myself.
Chapter 16
“Okay,” I whispered through dry lips. “Shoot.”
Kane hesitated. Then he scrubbed his knuckles through his hair and muttered, “Why am I even doing this?”
“If you’d rather do it another time…” I began hopefully.
“No.” He squared his shoulders. “This is important, and it’s long overdue.” He drew a deep breath. “Aydan, I haven’t been completely honest with you. Or with myself, for that matter…”
“It’s okay,” I said hurriedly. “I know you can’t always be as honest as you might like. It’s just part of the job-”
“No!” His fists clenched, then released. “Aydan, I need to say this and it will help if you can just let me say it-”
“Without interrupting, okay,” I interrupted, then realized what I’d done. “Shit. Sorry.” I knotted icy fingers together in my lap. “I’m shutting up now. Please go ahead.”
Kane drew another breath and let it out halfway in the same ritual
I used to calm my pulse while sighting a gun. “I told you I love you,” he said abruptly. “That was… is… the truth.”
I almost spoke aloud the ‘but’ that was hanging in the air, but I managed to hold back.
“…but I lied when I said it didn’t bother me that you didn’t… don’t… want an exclusive relationship with me,” Kane went on. “It does bother me. It bothers the hell out of me.” His fists clenched. “I told myself a casual relationship was what I needed right now. That the job makes it impossible to have any other kind. I told myself that everything was perfect the way it was.” His lips twisted. “More lies.”
I gripped the seat of the chair to prevent myself from jumping up and running away.
Kane eyed my glowing white knuckles and passed a hand over his face. “This last mission…” He trailed off, staring into the past for a moment before he gave his head a slight shake. “This last mission was a gut-punch. That abused child… that would upset anybody. But it was more than that for me.”
His gaze bored into me and I suppressed a shudder at the bleak iron-grey of his eyes. “Aydan, this mission woke me up. Made me think about my priorities. And I want more than just a… a…” The muscles in his jaw rippled. “A fuck-buddy,” he said tightly, the uncharacteristic word sounding impossibly vulgar coming from his lips. “I want a committed relationship.” His jaw muscles rippled again. “No,” he ground out. “No, dammit, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I want a wife. A family. And I’m running out of time.”
I began to speak but he silenced me with a raised hand. “Please. I’m not finished yet.”
I bit my lip and nodded, my pulse pounding in my temples.
“I know you don’t want that,” he went on. “Not now, maybe not ever. Or maybe just not with me.” The pain in his words stabbed my heart, but he went on without a change of expression, his cop face impassive. “I know better than to make any major decisions until I’ve got my head on straight. I don’t know how long it will take, but I seriously doubt it’ll be soon.”
Spy Away Home (The Never Say Spy Series Book 10) Page 12