by Casey Hagen
Taking care of the kids left him oddly adrift in the search. Between that and his routine crumbling to dust around him, everything felt off. Being tethered to them meant he finally could let go of the worry that they were upset, alone, hungry, or worse, but it meant that he couldn’t follow his instincts to hunt down the people responsible.
He had to put those two helpless kids before his sister. A foreign concept, but necessary.
Second, they wanted his security system. No matter the cost.
That particular email came within an hour of leaving his house, but he was too busy plummeting into unrecognizable territory with Kinsley. A no-man’s-land haunted with old wounds and hope where he stood on a straight asphalt road bisecting the dusty ground leading to vastly different outcomes.
In one direction, dark, turbulent clouds rolled across the sky and the echoes of his former captors slashed through the wind.
The other, endless sunshine, children’s laughter dancing on the breeze, and Kinsley’s smile. He squeezed his eyes shut, hating that instinct told him to turn to the men that tortured him and his painful past.
To the familiar.
To where he had wallowed for the past decade.
He hated even more how much he wanted to reach for her smile.
Dylan saw it, of that there was not one doubt in Zane’s mind. Not only did they want his system, but Dylan also invited him in as part of their team. He’d be their security consultant. He’d outfit their offices, their facility, and consult on jobs that required circumventing other systems.
Like they needed him for that. They didn’t. Most systems were so basic, a novice hacker in high school could work around them.
No, he had a feeling Dylan had set his sights on tossing Zane some sort of lifeline. A chance at some sort of normal.
When Zane was anything but.
What did it say about Zane that he wanted to reach for the opportunity as much as the idea of it sent fury spiraling through him?
There’s no way in hell he’d be someone’s charity case.
“Hey,” Kinsley said from the doorway to his office. “The kids are up and looking for you.”
Her long hair fell in unruly waves over her shoulders, the curling ends grazing her bare arms. Her tank top and shorts showed off a surprisingly athletic figure full of curves and contours, muscle, and tight, glowing skin.
He searched her sleepy face, looking for disgust and revulsion.
She smiled that secret smile women had been armed with for centuries. The one that told a man he might have a shot at her heart.
She bit her bottom lip, her lashes fluttering as her cheeks flushed pink under his avid gaze.
Fuck.
He blinked and turned his gaze back to his computer screen. His cock jumped in his pants. For a few short minutes last night, he could envision burying himself in a woman again, the way men did, clothes off, skin to skin.
No hiding. No shame.
Resentment at the way she made him want had his blood pounding through his veins, his heart thudding in a heavy, ominous beat. Choices that had once been black or white, blended like plunging liquid ink into a water bath, the shades twisting and turning around one another until they had no choice but to blend.
To become something else entirely.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, not sparing her a glance. It was better this way. The walls needed to be firmly back in place.
For her career.
And for his peace of mind when she walked back into her life.
“Okay,” she said quietly, turning away from him, confusion transforming her shy expression to one of hurt.
“Kinsley?”
She stopped but didn’t turn.
“Did you make a decision about your report?”
Her shoulders stiffened, and she nodded. “I did.”
“And?”
“I reported their location this morning. The county will get in touch with you. They’ll schedule an inspection and a hearing.”
“Don’t you mean you will?” he asked.
She twisted just enough to lay her eyes on him over her shoulder. “No. I gave my notice this morning as well. Effective immediately.” With those words, she turned back on her heel and walked away.
He shot out of his chair and paced his office. What the hell was she playing at? She didn’t have to lose her career over this. She’d never mentioned quitting her job. Not once.
And then they’d met in the kitchen last night.
He’d selfishly reached for something he didn’t deserve and it changed everything for her. Another life altered by his mess.
Did she have savings? Prospects for another job?
He clasped his hands behind his neck and stared up at the ceiling as the muscle ticked in his cheek and the pulse pounded in his temple.
He’d fix this. He’d get his sister back, get her head on straight, and get Kinsley out of the tangled mess his family had created for her.
Snatching his phone off his desk, he headed for the kitchen, following the sound of Tyler and Brielle’s upbeat voices, already so much different than they sounded just a day earlier.
He found them at the table drinking orange juice.
He didn’t even know he had orange juice.
“Are you having eggs with us, Uncle Zane?” Brielle asked, sitting on a pillow, swinging her legs in that carefree way that only a child could.
“Sure. Are you cooking?” he asked.
“No, silly. Kinsley is,” Brielle said, pointing to the open fridge door.
How long did it take to grab the eggs anyway? The door remained open, obscuring her body, leaving only her legs on display.
“Are your friends coming over again today?” Tyler asked, his gaze jumping between Zane and Kinsley.
“Not that I know of. Why?”
Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know. They were nice.”
“They are. Dylan offered me a job. If I take it, you might be seeing a lot more of them. What would you think about that?” His tone sounded odd to his ears, or maybe that was just the touch of family man that seemed to have seeped into him when he wasn’t looking.
Kinsley shut the fridge and headed for the stove, keeping her back to him the whole time. But something in the way she held her shoulders and the tilt of her head told him she was listening to every word.
“Would they be our friends, too?” Brielle asked.
“They already are,” Zane said, taking the seat next to her.
“I hope you take the job,” Tyler said. He dropped his gaze to the table and began scraping his nail over the surface as he chewed his lip.
“Is there something else you want to ask?”
Tyler flicked a worried glance at him and hung his head. “What about Mom?”
Brielle’s smile slipped, and her eyes filled with unshed tears.
The sound of eggs sizzling against a hot pan filled the silence, and Zane forced a smile as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “We’ll find her.”
“They hurt Mommy,” Brielle whispered.
“And they’ll pay for that,” Zane promised.
Kinsley cleared her throat and shot him a look.
“What I mean is, we’ll find her and get her back. We’ll make sure she’s okay.” Zane nudged Brielle’s chin and smiled. “I don’t want you to worry. That’s for us grownups to worry about.”
“You and Kinsley?” she asked.
“Uh, yes,” he said with a cough.
“Are you guys getting married?” Brielle asked.
The spatula clattered to the counter and dropped over the edge, landing on Kinsley’s foot. She muttered a swear under her breath.
He smiled. Why the hell should he be the only one off balance? “Uh, no. Why would you think that?”
“Well, you’re all alone, and she’s really nice, and she slept over,” Brielle said with an uncanny knack for matchmaking.
Kinsley ditched the spatula in the sink, grabbed another, and scooped eggs fro
She’d plastered a smile on her face and refused to meet his eyes. A pink flush crept over her cheeks as she went through the motions of setting food before each of the kids. She handed them forks and napkins, then refilled their juice.
They dug in as though they didn’t know when they’d get their next meal, something ingrained in them that might take months to change.
She watched them, a hint of worry sliding across her features. He knew where her mind had gone with that look, and after getting to know her better, after what they shared, and what she sacrificed, her self-blame didn’t sit well with him.
“None for me?” he asked.
Her mouth pinched, and she glared.
He gave her a smirk.
Squaring her shoulders, she served up a plate and set it in front of him. “Anything else?” she asked with her hands on her hips and exasperation in her voice.
“Nope, that’s great. Thanks.” He winked.
She glanced over her shoulder at the kids who’d begun chattering quietly as they ate. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing, why?”
“You’re being nice,” she said, her words heavy with accusation.
“Considering everything you’ve done, I thought—”
“I don’t need your pity,” she said in a harsh whisper, her words so much like the ones he tossed at her the night before.
He got it. She had her pride. She’d made some serious mistakes but recognized them, and she did what she thought was right.
The problem with that was, the more he witnessed her in action, the closer they got, the more he realized, despite her missteps, she cared about people. A little too much, but that didn’t have to end her career if helping people is what she wanted to spend her life doing.
What the world needed her to spend her life doing—because she was damn good at the caring part.
The memory of her soft, steady fingers roaming over his scars flared to life, and he fought it back.
Caring about anyone but him.
He wouldn’t do that to her, take that toll on her heart.
“No pity,” he said quietly. “Just appreciation. Is that okay?”
She searched his face to the point he had the urge to squirm, but then her gaze landed on his mouth and a whole new urge reared its head.
“Kinsley,” he warned.
His cell vibrated under his hand, and she blinked, the spell that kept her avid interest locked on what he’d begun to believe was quite possibly the most sexual body part vanished, leaving her confused.
Yeah, well, that made two of them because since when had a person’s mouth cut the line of importance over a mind-blowing orgasm.
Since you got a taste of her.
He reached for his phone like a lifeline from his wayward thoughts. He’d take anything, a call from the parents he’d avoided informing about the situation, a telemarketer, hell, a spam email for male enhancement would be welcome right now.
He flipped the phone over and swiped the screen. He tapped on Dylan’s text and read the words, his shoulders tensing, a shot of adrenaline coursing through him.
“What is it?” Kinsley asked, studying him.
He leaned in, keeping the words between them. He didn’t want to give the kids any more hope than he already had, and he sure as hell didn’t want to see that worry and fear creep across their faces again. “They think they’ve found her. We’re going in,” he said, pushing out of his chair.
Chapter 12
“I don’t like this,” Kinsley said, all the pent-up worry she’d had to bury in front of the kids bursting from her lungs the minute she finally to managed to get to Zane’s office over an hour later.
“Where are the kids?” he asked. His fingers flew over his keyboard, his eyes locked on one of three big monitors standing side by side, eating up the space around the far end of his desk.
“Grace took them out to play in the yard,” she said, not recognizing the man standing before her. “What’s happening?”
“Apparently, my sister got involved with a low-level thug who thought he was clever enough to steal money he was supposed to be laundering for a drug lord responsible for about seventy-five percent of the heroin on the streets of Southern California.”
“Oh, Chloe,” she said with a wince.
He shot out of his chair and slammed his palms on a few papers scattered across his desk. His dark eyes flashed as a storm of frustration raged inside him, his chin jutting out in an angry challenge. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got is ‘Oh, Chloe’?”
She sucked in a breath at the venom in his voice. “Well, dammit, what would you have me say?” She curled her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
He pushed away and rounded his desk, approaching her. “My sister has made a series of horrid decisions for years that have put those kids in the line of fire with god knows who,” he ground out. “How about ‘what the fuck is she thinking’ or ‘who the hell does she think she is doing this to her kids,’ anything that puts the blame where it lies, with her?” he said, stopping just inches away from her, looming over her, making her crane her neck to look at him.
If he thought that was going to stop her, he hadn’t been paying attention to who he was dealing with.
She would so look him in the eye. He stomped around like a surly bear when the rush of frustration swept through him. He ranted and raved.
And still, she wouldn’t back down.
“And then what? Yeah, she fucked up. More than once even. But you know what, so have I. I put those kids in danger by not doing my job.” Now that she admitted it to herself, to him, and did what was right by quitting her job, it was a whole lot easier to confess. Her heart didn’t hurt any less, but the words didn’t cause a ball of fear to settle in the pit of her belly.
Now she needed to make it right, no matter what it took. If she had to go home and pack a suitcase instead of the couple outfits she’d tossed in her overnight bag, then so be it.
If she had to take time to personally hold Chloe’s hand through putting her life back together, she’d do it.
If Chloe lived.
If Zane did.
“That’s not the same thing,” he said.
They stood there, locked in a standoff, he, angry, scared, and looking to lay blame, and she, eyes open, ready to accept—no, needing to accept that the direction she’d gone in was not the path for her.
Polar opposites in the way they handled their inner demons, but they both nurtured a secret hope they can one day heal from ugly pasts. He wouldn’t admit it with words, but when he let her in, let her touch him, encouraged and guided her hands to explore just how events out of his control had changed him, shaped him, stolen his peace, he’d shown her that flicker of hope.
She swallowed the bile that threatened to choke her at the thought of him walking into danger. A drug lord—God—they had money, power, and an army of criminals they employed who had no qualms about taking lives.
If this went wrong, they’d snuff out Zane’s life as though he were no more than a spider under their shoe.
And what if they captured him and didn’t kill him? What if they tortured him instead?
“Really? You didn’t think so the other day. I was just as much to blame as your sister,” she reminded him.
He gnashed his teeth, his jaw ticking away. “I know you now. I’ve seen you with them. You’re trying to make it right.”
“And you know your sister. Think about it,” she said, reaching for his arm and running her fingers over the dark hair from his elbow to his wrist, hoping to soothe his rough edges. That moment of connection, of heat and affection slid through her, and she linked her fingers with his. “To the core of who she is, you know her. She’s just let shitty experiences lead her astray, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t the same girl you grew up with. Just like somewhere inside you, you’re more than a man who survived capture and torture. Inside, under all that grit and grime of life’s bullshit, she’s still your best friend.”
“Kinsley,” he muttered and bit out an oath.
She smoothed over the collar of his dress shirt, always a dress shirt, and let the pads of her fingers slide over the buttons, but leaving them firmly fastened. “You let me in yesterday. You let me feel what they did to you. Don’t try to shut me out now and don’t pretend. You’re not just a former SEAL and security expert. You’re more than the wounds they inflicted on you. You’re a worried brother who misses his sister, and you’re frustrated that you can’t fix her.”
“I can’t see that girl inside her anymore,” he said, but the conviction slipped from his voice.
“She’s there. I promise you. But everything you haven’t dealt with, all of that anger won’t let you see it. The day I let Chloe keep those kids—I couldn’t see Brielle clinging to her mother’s leg, clinging to what was familiar despite the situation being dangerous and abusive. I could only see me at six years old.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling. “Will you tell me what happened to you?”
She closed her eyes and memorized the sweet moment, knowing that with such a turbulent man, they’d be rare, secret gifts. “I will, when the time is right,” she whispered.
He cupped her cheek and grazed the rough pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “This mess—her mess cost you your job.”
She took his hand and kissed the center of his palm. “No, it didn’t. I lost my ability to be unbiased the day I couldn’t separate the sight of those kids from my pain. That’s what’s cost me my job. It just took me this long to accept it.” She slid her hand from his and took a step back, not trusting herself. She wanted nothing more than to find safety and comfort in his arms to soothe her admission, but integrity demanded she resist the protection he offered from her own mistakes.
Their experience the night before pushed a whole lot of boundaries for her and revealed inner truths she thought she had buried, exposing just how much her childhood still colored her—still held her in the tight grip of fear and shame.
She wasn’t a great social worker. She was okay, yes, but these families deserved great. That had been her goal, and she had missed the mark. She had to accept the hard truth that she would never be great.
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