Kit

by S. M. West

  But that’s tomorrow.

  I’ve already got a lot going on. We’re closed for the day, but a couple of the guys are still working, trying to finish a job or get a head start on tomorrow’s work. I’m almost done with an El Camino; tonight’s work puts me ahead of schedule. Then, well, I have a date.

  Tightening the last of the screws on the back tire, I pause, popping my head up to listen. Did someone call my name?

  “Yo, Kit. Call for you.” Manny saunters toward me with an outstretched hand, fingers blackened with oil and grit from the day. He’s holding out the office cell phone.

  “What?” I step from the 1979 El Camino.

  “Nick’s on the phone. Wants to talk to you.” He hands it to me and walks back the way he came.

  “Damn. Miss me already?” An easy chuckle tumbles from my mouth.

  “You wish.” Nick’s laugh is tight and not at all sincere. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “What’s up?” I try to ignore the tension riding its way up my back.

  “Need you to check in on Caro.”

  Like a kid just hit while playing freeze tag, my body immediately stiffens. At the mention of his sister, my ex, a white-hot knot forms between my shoulder blades. Throbbing and growing.

  I prop the phone between my ear and shoulder, grabbing a rag from a worktable to wipe the grease off my hands, and really, to give me something to do.

  “What? Why?”

  Caro hates me, and he knows better than to ask me, of all people, to go anywhere near her.

  “She went to the clinic to check something out, but I don’t have a good feeling about it. I don’t want her alone.”

  He explains the events of the day and how his sister had a run-in with two intimidating muscle men and then got some threatening texts. And of course, how her asshole ex is ignoring her.

  Finally he pauses, and this is where I should alleviate his concerns and accept the task.

  My chest constricts. A heavy, cloying sense of guilt blends with the never-ending desire to protect Caro. There was a time, not too long ago, when no questions asked, without hesitation, I would have done whatever Nick asked, especially where his sister was concerned.

  Despite our differences, Caro was the one person I cared about the most in the world. If I’m being honest, she still is, even more than Nick, and that’s saying a lot because the guy’s my best friend. The brother I never had.

  But none of that matters. I promised her I’d stay out of her life. Something tells me she won’t understand if I just show up because Nick asked me to.

  “She doesn’t want to see me.” I sound like a pussy, too scared to face her, and that isn’t it at all. “It’ll be bad.”

  I drop the greasy rag and lean my ass against the table, concentrating on easing my now shallow breaths.

  “Shit, I wouldn’t ask…” His voice peters out, and shame eats at my gut.

  Why am I fighting this? Fuck. Self-preservation. But Nick isn’t one to overreact, and his instincts are generally on the money. If he has a feeling something isn’t right, he’s got reason.

  “If I had someone else to do it…” Nick starts again, and there’s only one other person he’d trust with his sister’s safety.

  Logan, and he isn’t here. He’s on the road once again and not due back in town for another week. That’s if he shows up.

  No, I’m the only one he can ask, and if something ever happened to her… fuck, I can’t not help.

  “Fine. I’ll do it. She’s at the clinic?” It isn’t exactly around the corner, so I’m going to have to get a move on. It will take me about half an hour to get to that shitty part of the city.

  “Yeah. Thanks. I owe you.”

  “Shut up. I’ll call or text once I’ve checked it out.” Ending the call, I trek through the garage toward the office.

  And now Caro is back, front and center in my thoughts, where she’s been for most of my adult life. I don’t do drugs or alcohol—I can take them or leave them—but she isn’t someone I can kick. No matter how I try.

  Shit, I’ll have to cancel the date. Or maybe I can still make it work? It’s close to eight, and Sally will be at my place in thirty minutes for dinner. It was my big idea to grill steaks. A big step for me and one I’m not so sure I’m ready for.

  I haven’t been on a date since Caro.

  Shit.

  Nope, I’m not cancelling. At thirty-six, I have to move on and get a life. Sally is a nice woman, a friend, and maybe that’s all we’ll ever be, but I want to give it a try. If I don’t, I’ll stay stuck like I have been for years. Hung up on a woman with no chance of a future together.

  * * *

  I pull up my texts with Sally.

  Me: I’m running behind. How’s 9:30?

  Worst case, if dropping in on Caro takes longer than expected, I’ll order dinner. She replies almost immediately, and my lips curve upward at the corners. Was she waiting and hoping I’d text her?

  Even if I don’t take this any further, Sally is good for my ego, for reminding me I could have more with someone else. Again, another reason to have tonight’s date.

  Sally: You getting cold feet? Afraid I won’t like your cooking?

  I snicker, shaking my head. We always have fun, poking at each other. That’s how this dating thing started.

  Me: Not a chance.

  Three dots dance on the screen, and while waiting for her response, the urgency of making sure Caro is fine flies at me full force. Yup, she’s always on my mind, even when I’m doing something else and especially when she shouldn’t be.

  As much as I want to volley back and forth with Sally, the sooner I go to the clinic, the sooner it’ll be over.

  Sally: 930 is good.

  Me: See you then.

  “Guys, quittin’ time.” I trudge to the back room to wash up. “Five until I lock up.”

  They murmur agreement, and as I clean up, Caro continues to mess with my mind, edging out any other thoughts.

  Memories of the two of us back in high school, inseparable and complete, war with more recent ones where our interactions were stilted and brief. My need to get this over with forms a tangle of knots in my belly.

  The guys amble out of the Phoenix, muttering their goodbyes. With my hand on the keypad, I enter the code to lock up, just standing there for who knows how long.

  After the breakup when she was in med school, we only saw each other occasionally and that was because of Nick. Her brother pulled back, not wanting to put her in danger, and we practically never saw each other.

  But recently, two years ago, once Maggie came into our lives at the same time Nick and I went legit, Caro was once again in the picture. Then one day, she told me to stay out of her life. She didn’t want to be friends.

  Foolishly, I’d hoped getting out of the illegal shit might have changed things, but nothing did.

  Shit. I stare down at the keypad. Did I lock up? I double-check all entry points—the main, side, and bay doors, to make sure things are secure. Get a grip.

  I hustle to the warmth of my restored 1967 Aston Healy, tempted to call Caro instead of going over there. That’s if she’d even answer. And then what? She’d tell me she was fine, and it isn’t like I’d argue with her. Nah, a call isn’t what Nick wanted.

  Before I talk myself out of this, here I am, in front of Caro’s parked car. My heart skips a beat. In only a few minutes, we’ll be face to face. This isn’t going to end well for me.

  I pull in a few rows back, surveying the dark, desolate parking lot. Most of the businesses, like the bank, dry cleaners, and dentist in the strip plaza are closed for the night. The only place hopping is the pizza joint in the far corner, and cars fill the spots in and around the restaurant.

  Across the street, teenagers hang around the gas station lot, and on the other corner of the intersection, a small group of men—or maybe they’re teenagers too—conspicuously gather in the shadow of the apartment building. They’re looking to score.

&nb
sp; Satisfied with the harsh realities of this area, nothing out of the ordinary, I give the clinic another once-over before going in.

  I don’t like her working in this neighborhood but it isn’t like I have a say. This is why Nick asked me to check things out. Despite our differences, I’m always going to want Caro happy, healthy, and safe.

  If it were up to me, she wouldn’t work in this area. But Caro’s not in the least bit fazed by the sketchy neighborhood or the thankless hours. She jumped at the chance to work here. She loves a challenge.

  I flip open the glove compartment and grab my gun just in case, although I don’t want to use it. Sprinting from the car, I head to the clinic, desperate to get this over with. I’m anxious to see her, more like yearning to, and even if it is in my best interest to turn around and walk away, I can’t.

  But I need to focus and bury any emotion. Yeah, right. Not possible. And for some reason, I don’t see tonight ending well for me where Caro is concerned.

  Kit

  Hand curled and ready to knock on the door, I try the knob and it opens. Shit, why is the door unlocked? Caro knows better than this. Frustrated, I slam the door shut, shattering the silence.

  The walls reverberate, and I rush in like a mad bull, giving in to my emotions, which get the better of me. If Caro is inside and in danger, I’ve just announced my arrival. Talk about knowing better. What if my loud entrance leads to something disastrous for Caro? Nick would kill me. I might even help him.

  Chest heaving, shoulders tight, and gun at the ready, I force myself to slow down, steady my breath before I do something rash. Focus.

  Careful not to draw any attention, I turn on my phone flashlight. Nothing is disturbed in the empty waiting room, and there’s no sign of Caro, yet I sense I’m not alone.

  Not ready to announce my arrival any more than I already have, I won’t call out her name. Let’s find out who’s here.

  Flashlight in one hand and gun in the other, my steps are measured as I move through the doorway into the corridor at the back of the clinic. Another beam of light flickers from inside a room at the end of the hall.

  It’s fleeting, and the light goes out. Someone is here. Is it Caro? I’m not close enough to do anything if she’s in danger. And I need to know what I’m dealing with if I’m to help her.

  “Show yourself.” My order is a boom and my steps quick, rushing toward the room.

  “Who’s there?” Caro’s shaky voice, coming from within the dark room, triggers both a wash of relief and a chill of dread.

  Is she okay? Hurt? Held at gunpoint? Who the fuck knows what I’m walking into?

  “Caro, it’s Kit.” I edge into the room, noting the broken glass on the floor and jagged edges to the insert of the door. “Are you hurt? Alone? What happened?”

  “Kit.” She shines a brilliant white light in my face. “I’m okay.”

  I wince, bringing a hand up to shield my eyes. “Can you point that somewhere else?”

  “Sorry.” She lowers her phone. “You can put away the gun.” The prickly edges of her tone sting, and I tamp down my need to defend the use of a weapon.

  She’s in the dark and there must be a reason. I turn toward the hallway and take one more look, making sure no one has jumped from the shadows. All is quiet, no sound or movement.

  Then I face her and shove my gun into my waistband. I’m here to make sure she’s safe and then I’ll leave. That’s it. In and out. Piece of cake.

  “Did you cut yourself?” My light shines in her direction, making sure not to hit her face. “And any reason why the lights are out?”

  “Did Nick send you?” Her wild, dazzling array of lush brown curls causes my breath to still.

  It’s been a year since I’ve occupied the same room as her. Staying away was nothing short of torture, not only because of our history, but also because her brother is my best friend. This rift, or whatever it is between us, is a strain on everyone.

  Shit. I can’t do this. It’s one thing to be consumed with thoughts of her when there’s no chance of coming face to face. And it’s another kind of hell to be this close to her. I can’t get lost in Caro. It’s a slippery slope.

  “Yeah, he was worried about you and asked me to come by. Why’d you leave the front door open?”

  Her brows pinch, lips mashing into a thin line. “I told Nick I was fine and that I’d call or text once I’d checked things out.” She huffs, pushing away from a corner of the room. “And I didn’t leave the door open.”

  “Yeah, you did.” I try to keep my tone neutral, not accusatory. “How else do you think I got in?”

  “Sorry.” Her tone is softer now. “I must have forgot with all that was going on.”

  “What happened?” I flick the light on since she hasn’t answered my question and blink, gaze roaming her body for any injuries, but I quickly get lost in her tall, slender form.

  I was once the lucky bastard who got to worship every inch of her. Shit.

  “I found it like that.” She’s tense. “I’m sorry Nick called you. I’ve called the police and—”

  “You called the police?”

  “Yes, you can leave.” Her voice is flat and she comes toward me, nudging me to the door. “They’re on their way.”

  Her touch still does all kinds of things to me, and my pulse spikes, skin heating as a want I’ve tried to kill and bury starts to unfurl inside me.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I don’t budge. “Let’s not do this.”

  She drops her hands, looking up at me. “Do what?”

  “You’re pissed, frustrated, or both, and you want to take it out on me. Fine, but now isn’t the time or place. Save it for later.” I brush past her, scanning what looks to be a storage room. “Tell me what happened.”

  She sags against the wall, head down, and I wonder if I’m going to have to ask again. But I don’t have to.

  Starting with why she came to the clinic in the first place, she goes over everything from her arrival, when she found the front door unlocked but alarm set, to now.

  I bend to further inspect the broken windowpane, then down to the scattered pieces of glass on the floor. Mixed in with the debris are drops of blood, splattered in no discernable pattern.

  “They stemmed the bleeding at about there.” She points to where the blood splotches end and then the unraveled bandage roll and scissors on the counter.

  Was the person careless in getting cut or clueless? Either way, they figured they had time to bandage themselves up before leaving.

  “And you found no one inside the clinic?” Even as the question leaves my mouth, her reluctant gaze sends my gut into a flip.

  “I haven’t looked into any other rooms but this one. You arrived at the same time I came into this room.” Her awkward whisper matches her regretful regard for the dark corridor just outside.

  All is quiet, but that’s no comfort. We can’t assume we’re alone, and depending on what we find, I may have to use my gun after all. If so, that’ll be another strike against me in Caro’s mind but I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.

  “We need to check this place out. You have security cameras, right?”

  She turns to me, and a few more strands of her wavy hair fly loose. “Yes, the recording system is in the lunchroom.”

  “Good, we’ll find out who was in here.” I stride into the hallway, feeling the heat of her at my back and my strong desire to keep her there, safe. “You stay here.”

  She grabs my bicep, attempting to stop me. Caro is strong, but I’ve got more than half a foot and about eighty pounds on her. And while she used to, and most probably still does, take self-defense classes, if I don’t want her to, she can’t stop me.

  “Let me help you.” She forces a thin smile.

  “It’s safer if you stay here.”

  She tenses, face twisting in irritation. “I can help. It’ll go faster.”

  I never liked fighting with her and more times than not, being at odds wasn’t worth it
. I never had a burning need to be right, and as the saying goes, I pick my battles. “Fine, but we do it together. You stay behind.”

  She bites at her lip, likely forcing the urge to not argue with me, and nods as I say, “Okay, we’ll check the rooms along the hall, but let’s clear these two rooms first.” I point to the doors adjacent to the storage room. “What’s in there?”

  “That’s the lunchroom and the washroom.”

  We work our way through the clinic quietly and efficiently, and like I figured, we come up empty. We’re alone, but there’s still the matter of the broken glass and the storage closet. Someone was here, and they came with purpose.

  “The police should be here soon.” She frowns at her phone. “Or not.”

  I step back into the medical supply room, not commenting on the cops. We need to find something before they arrive, because once they do, we’ll be shut out of the intel.

  Getting involved isn’t what I intended, but something bigger is going on and I can’t leave her to deal with this on her own. And when Nick comes back, he’s going to want details so we can get to the bottom of this.

  “Someone wanted something in this room. What could it be?”

  “Maybe whatever is in the box of Elliot’s things?”

  “Where is that?” I scan the room and she grabs a small box on the floor in a corner.

  Placing it on the counter, she opens the flaps and removes each item: a small stack of medical journals, a navy blue hoodie, a pair of glasses, a stress ball, and a ratty copy of Elmore Leonard’s The Hunted.

  “That’s it.” Her tone is dejected. “Nothing that would make someone go to the trouble of breaking in.”

  “Okay, let’s assume whatever they wanted isn’t in the box but it’s in this room. Any ideas?”

  “The only thing I can think of are the pain meds.” She looks to a locked glass cabinet against the far wall.

  Shelves are lined with rows upon rows of bottles. Drugs. Some liquid, some pills. Moving closer, I inspect the unit, and there’s no signs of damage or an attempt to break the lock or glass.