Silver Tongue (a PowerUp! story)

by Marie Harte

  He kicked Morley in the knee and followed up with a foot to his face, which Morley rolled from in a move that spoke of experience. They circled, and when Dane glanced to where Kitty had been waiting, he saw no one.

  Morley punched him in his bloody shoulder, and Dane roared. Tingling returned to his other arm, but fuck if he had time to wait. He yanked the smaller man into a bear hug and took him down.

  “Time to die, asshole.”

  NOT SURE OF much, Kitty staggered out of the arena into sunlight, stunned to see police arresting well-dressed people left and right. She pivoted, trying to recognize her surroundings. It still appeared as if she was on Linda’s estate. The landscaping looked familiar.

  A large hand grabbed her, and she panicked and brought up the gun to shoot.

  “Hold on.” The gun vanished.

  Oh hell. That guy, Kyle. The one who could have crushed her a half dozen times but hadn’t. She’d thought he was toying with her, then come to find out he wasn’t as bad as he looked. Which was a good thing, because he looked like a serial killer.

  She’d been inundated with emotion from the crowd, and having already expended so much energy on the guard with Morley and then Morley himself, she’d been unable to use her empathy for more than a pathetic shield to hold out the audience’s sick excitement. She’d relied on her physical strength to fight Kyle.

  She hadn’t done badly, considering his size, but she knew if he’d really been trying to harm her, she’d have been in a world of hurt. Still, she’d held her own. But now…

  “Remember what I told you? I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated. “Man, you picked a helluva day to show up to fight. We’ve been waiting to bust these dickheads for months. Where’s Morley? Did you see him?”

  “He’s inside with Dane.”

  Kyle frowned. “Who?”

  “My partner. The guy Morley James shot.” She’d forgotten that when Dane had tossed her from the ring. “Hell.”

  “No. Stay here. I’ll go get him.” Kyle put a necklace around his throat. No, not a necklace, a…

  “You’re a cop?”

  He grinned, and she saw he wasn’t a bad-looking guy with a smile and a badge.

  Light-headed with relief, she watched him walk away. With her gun.

  Before she could call to him, she spotted Linda Cavendish running from the crowd. Bitch. With Dane fighting Morley and the police on the way to help, she didn’t worry about him. Oddly enough, she trusted him to come out of this okay. But she had a job to complete.

  Kitty followed Linda, keeping out of sight when Linda looked over her shoulder. They hurried over a grassy expanse and through a small glade, what looked like a manicured lawn of a golf course. And then she saw a pool and the guest house. Holy crap. Linda and her murderous lover operated illegal fights on her own private property. No wonder no one had caught them until now.

  With determination, Kitty entered the house. She didn’t see any security, but the low buzz of an alarm made sense of the empty house. Knowing Linda would hurry to find her most valuable possessions, Kitty ran to Linda’s study and moved through the secret door, where Linda stood, holding The Little Death with a look of shock etched into her face. Kitty could sense her emotions scattering all over the place.

  “You did this,” she hissed and glared at Kitty, not quite sane.

  Knowing how much Dane would get a kick out of her language, Kitty responded in kind. “Fuck you, bitch. You did this.” Kitty yanked the statue out of her hands and belted the woman in the mouth.

  Unlike Kitty, who trained daily and had taken her share of hits, Linda Cavendish didn’t fight with fists. She screamed, flailed, and cupped her bloody mouth.

  A surge of energy flooded Kitty, a kind of peace that radiated and calmed her…and made her think of Dane and his warm smile. In her hand, the statue felt hot but not scorching. Definitely not normal.

  “You’re not worth killing.” Kitty punched Linda again and kicked her in the gut. “Hitting, however, isn’t against the rules.” Kitty released TLD long enough to tie Linda up and secure the doorway so it couldn’t swing closed again and hide her from the authorities.

  Then she walked out of the house with the statue.

  After stashing the item in the rental car and leaving it behind at the house, because she had no way of knowing how to actually drive to the fighting ring, Kitty hurried back to the mess of police by the gymnasium and found Dane arguing with Kyle.

  They stood toe-to-toe while a bunch of amused cops looked on. Dane had a bandage around his shoulder that seeped blood, but he didn’t seem to feel it, if the rage on his face was any indication. He continued to berate Kyle, and together, they looked like a pair of overgrown pit bulls.

  “Dane?”

  He spun around and stalked to her in three huge steps. Then he hugged the breath out of her. “Thank God. Dickwad here wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone.” Dane loosened his hold to glare at Kyle. “He was too busy pulling me away from Morley.”

  “I saved your ass from jail, Hanson,” Kyle growled. “Be thankful I didn’t let you kill him, or I’d have hauled your ass downtown too.”

  “You motherfu—”

  “Dane.” Kitty stopped him when he would have gone for Kyle’s throat. The other detectives just laughed. Idiots. She turned to Kyle. “Um, Kyle, we need to go.”

  “After you give your statements.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” Dane swore. “With all you have on James and Cavendish, you really need our testimony too?”

  Kyle glared. “Yeah, I do. At the station.”

  She interrupted the lovefest. “He’s bleeding. I’m taking him to a hospital first.”

  Kyle opened his mouth and closed it with a glance at Kitty. “Fine. But then I want to see you both at the station. Officer Kildaire will go with you.”

  “You can—” Dane started.

  Kitty stopped him again. “Fine. Thank you. We’d be happy for the escort.”

  “Asshole,” Dane muttered at Kyle, who muttered a few of his own choice words.

  Officer Kildaire drove them in his car to Kitty’s vehicle. She and Dane left the police car, and Kitty walked around to the officer’s window. She put a hand on Officer Kildaire’s arm and pushed a tendril of worry, like he’d forgotten something important Kyle wanted him to do.

  “Damn.” The officer blinked. “I need you two to wait here for me while I fix something. Don’t leave.”

  “No problem.” Kitty shook her head. “I need to grab my things from the house anyway.”

  Kildaire sped out of the drive, and Kitty dragged Dane with her.

  “Huh?” He looked tired but was still full of fire.

  “Come on. TLD is in the car. We have to go.”

  Dane just looked at her for a moment, then started laughing. “Classic. Fuckhead is going to be so pissed we took off.”

  She frowned at him, and he laughed harder. “I mean, Officer Fuckhead. Ow. My shoulder hurts, but damn, that’s funny.”

  She joined him, and they laughed like crazy people while they drove away from the Cavendish estate toward the airfield.

  * * * *

  While Kitty slept on their private plane, Dane washed up as best he could. His shoulder hurt like a bitch, but the worry that had consumed him was gone. Kitty slept like a baby, her skin fine, her eyes shadowed with fatigue. In the span of two days, she’d been knocked out, beaten up, and nearly raped by an undercover cop. Oh, and she’d been fucked six ways from Sunday by a man who might—just might—have feelings for her.

  He hesitated to say falling in love. How the hell did you fall in love with someone so quickly? But he couldn’t call what he felt for her lust. It was so much more than that. He liked her, he respected her, and he wanted to know her. All of her. Like, as a girlfriend, maybe.

  He brightened up at the prospect. And suddenly, the need to hold her surfaced. He stared at The Little Death sitting next to her and smiled. She’d described the statue as alive, and in a way
it was. It showed the best of what could be between a man and a woman: a true love as expressed on the carved faces of the man and woman looking into each other’s eyes while they joined both physically and emotionally.

  What Linda had seen when she looked at it was anyone’s guess, but Dane thought the thing brought lovers closer together. It certainly made him want to bury himself in Kitty and never look back. Or maybe that was the fault of the pretty redhead frowning in her sleep.

  He leaned close and kissed her forehead. “Shh, baby. I’m right here. Rest easy.”

  Her frown eased, and she sank deeper into the luxury seat. Working for a multimillionaire had its perks. The little jet would have them home in half an hour. Time enough for him to cradle his new girlfriend in his arms.

  Sucking in a breath, he pulled her up from the seat, ignoring the ache in his shoulder, and sat down with her in his lap.

  She sighed and cuddled closer, right next to his heart.

  * * * *

  Linda didn’t like being unprepared. She thought she’d known what Owen would throw at her. Instead, she’d been arrested. Her lover had gone to jail, along with most of her friends as well. The authorities had stomped through her home and invaded her space while she’d been forced to watch in cuffs, like a common criminal.

  With her one phone call from jail, she’d contacted her lawyer. With any luck, he’d search the house as instructed and find something to trace back to Kitty or Dane. Not that she needed it. She knew where Dane lived. And where he was, Kitty wouldn’t be far. She’d felt their passion, enhanced through The Little Death. It had showed her their connection, even as it whispered of Morley’s betrayal.

  Even now Morley was ratting her out, trying to save his own skin. She could almost hear him doing it if she concentrated hard enough. He’d never loved her, not the way Dane and Kitty felt for each other. And the urge to kill grew stronger. Just as she’d once taken care of the tarts clamoring for Morley’s affection, so too did she feel the need to kill Morley.

  The craving for blood festered, and she mentally spun in circles, trying to reason a way out of this mess. Fortunately, with her money and connections, they’d never put her away. She wouldn’t spend one night in jail.

  As she sat in the holding cell, she saw a familiar face rush into the precinct. Her lawyer. Good man. Behind him, the flash of a few cameras went off before police pushed back a few paparazzi. Though Linda hadn’t been Hollywood royalty in decades, she had enough of a tie to the rich and famous to still be a train wreck when the tabloids surfaced.

  And after that bitch had kicked her in the face, she knew she wasn’t looking her best. Linda fumed. When her lawyer finally freed her, she’d board his private jet under an assumed name and lie low. No one would think her clever or brave enough to take the revenge she so richly deserved.

  As she rubbed the spot where The Little Death had burned her and stared through the bars of her cell, she thought about Kitty, and about Owen, the man she’d had the misfortune to fall in love with and lose within the span of a few short weeks. They’d have to pay, obviously. And as her mind worked and her skin burned where she’d last held the statue, she worked up a plan to make everything all right. Kitty, Owen, Dane, Morley, they’d all burn. And she’d watch while they died screaming.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Getting rid of The Little Death made everything better. Dane could breathe easier now. Staring at his latest creation a week after his return to Bend, Oregon, he felt back on track. Almost.

  “When do I get to see it, oh genius brother of mine?” Karen asked from the doorway.

  “Shut the door.” The cold air swept in until she closed the door behind her. “You can see it when it’s done. It’s just a lump now.”

  “No. I see two people.”

  Dane stared at the unfinished clay on the table, his hands gray and filmy. He sprayed the thing again with some water and adjusted Kitty’s—his model’s—shape. He’d intended to parody The Little Death. In a weird mood since he’d returned, he thought about Kitty all the time. What she might be doing, how she felt, if she’d accepted a date from any of her many admirers. He lowered the spray bottle to the ground and flinched, rubbing his aching shoulder.

  “What the heck? Dane?”

  He closed his eyes and cursed himself for being stupid. He favored his shoulder when in the studio by himself. He’d been careful not to be seen without his shirt on, and the wound in his shoulder would take some time to heal. At least a few weeks before full range of motion returned.

  “I strained my shoulder the other day.”

  “Really?” Karen sized him up and shook her head. The brat had always been able to catch him in a lie. “So the little trip you took to Phoenix, for an art show, screwed up your shoulder?”

  He nodded. “I was, ah, lifting a crate for a friend.” He stretched it farther than he should have to prove to Karen he was okay and kept a smile on his face. He didn’t want her to worry.

  “You’re so full of it.” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I don’t want to know how you hurt it.” She paced back and forth, and he waited for her to spit out what she’d come to say.

  “We’re having a party next week at Doug’s house. A pre-engagement party.”

  He frowned. “Pre-what? I thought you were already engaged. Did he want to slow things down? You still wearing the ring? Is it over?” He tried to keep the hopeful tone from his voice.

  “Good try, but no. We’re still engaged.” She held up her hand. “I’m wearing the ring. The party is to celebrate our families no longer hating each other.” She paused. “His folks sold the ranch.”

  “No shit?” That he hadn’t expected.

  “Honestly, Dane. Language?”

  He had to laugh. “You sound like Kit—ah, like Aunt Moira.”

  She practically danced around his studio. “I knew it. It was no coincidence you and Kitty were gone at the same time. She went with you, didn’t she?”

  “Come on, Karen. That’s a stretch.”

  “No, it’s not. Ian told me you went out of town together.”

  Damn. “Ian? That twink from the gym?”

  “Oh God. You are such an ass. He’s not a twink.”

  Actually, he was. Ian made no bones about his orientation, and Dane couldn’t give a rat’s ass. So long as the guy didn’t stand between him and Kitty, Ian could bone as many dudes or chicks as he wanted.

  “Anyway,” Karen continued, “my point is that she asked me about you. I saw her today at the gym.”

  Aware Karen watched him like a hawk, he kept his attention on his sculpture and worked on the male’s form, broadening his chest a bit, making him taller. “Oh?”

  “She said she was going to call but thought you might need some space. She thinks you might be avoiding her.”

  “I’m avoiding her?” He glared at his sister, who laughed at him. “Hell. That was a setup, right?”

  “Yup. Walked right into that one.”

  He’d tried to talk to Kitty yesterday and the day before, but Kitty had found better things to do. Knowing she probably needed to wrap up paperwork and settle back in to her day job, he gave her space. He didn’t want to come across as needy. He wasn’t some lovesick moron mooning over a woman.

  He left the male figure alone and moved back to the woman’s form, not happy with her bust size. Or the shape of her face.

  “So I was thinking you should bring Kitty to the party next week as your date. Then she’d know you’re not still mad about Doug, and I’d feel better about you welcoming him to the family.”

  The words Kitty and family sounded too right together, and it freaked Dane the hell out. Kitty Nelson had burrowed into his mind and refused to leave. He was dying to tap her submissive potential, to show her what she needed wasn’t about harm but trust and compassion. There was so much they hadn’t experienced yet, so much she would love if she’d stop running from herself and realize how right they would be if she’d give them a chance.
/>   Oh man, I do sound like a lame-ass, lovesick moron. Fuck.

  Dane shrugged. “I’ll think about it. And for the record, Kitty and I are not an item.” Yet.

  “Sure, sure. He doth protest too much,” Karen muttered on her way out.

  He spent another two hours working, and he’d just started to like the Kitty figure. Hell, he might as well be honest with himself. He was making a copy of The Little Death, starring him and Kitty. The statue had called to him. Cursed or blessed, the weird thing had power and an ability to resonate with its audience. After coming home, he’d done a little more digging into its history.

  More marriages and deaths surrounded The Little Death than most folks knew. True love abounded, while cheaters and liars ended up killing each other. It was enough to convince Dane the statue was like cupid on crack, nothing to screw with.

  He sighed and put his work away, then grabbed his cell phone and tucked it into his pocket just as it rang.

  He saw the number, and his heart raced, but he kept his voice steady as he answered. “Hello?”

  “Dane?”

  Kitty. His pulse sped up, and he frowned. “Yeah? Who is this?”

  “Don’t be an ass if you can help it.”

  “Kettle calling black. Nice to hear from you. Thought I’d scared you away.” He had to get that dig in. Call him immature, but the woman was screwing with him, and he didn’t like it.

  “Good to see you’re just as charming as ever,” she sang back.

  He grinned. “You called, kitten?”

  He could almost hear her teeth grinding. “I need you to come in. Owen has some questions we need you to answer. Stuff I thought I could answer, but I can’t.”

  “Sure thing.”

  She paused.

  “And…?” he asked.

  “And I owe you for saving me.”

  “True. What else?”

  “What else? What else is there?” She acted puzzled, but Dane heard the wary excuse and finally felt at ease.