Kit

by S. M. West

  “Try me.” Gloves off, my hands hover over a vent, soaking in the hot air.

  “At the Phoenix, the restoration side of the business is solid. Maggie’s rep is so good that business is constant.”

  He pauses again, as if struggling with his tongue to get the words out, and more to rescue him than anything else, I say, “I’m sensing a but.”

  “Yeah, we aren’t proactive. We wait for the customers to come to us.”

  “Okay.”

  Maggie’s told me the family history and how she’s gotten to where she is, but what it takes to succeed and the ins and outs of restoring cars is a foreign language to me.

  “It could be so much more, and Maggie’s done a lot—” His mouth clamps shut and he shakes his head. “You know, forget about it. It’s just something I had to do for my job. That’s it.”

  He’s defensive, almost angry, and the weight crushes my chest. His aversion on this topic has everything to do with me and not the garage. I’m not sure why, but everything within me screams to fix this.

  “Hey, talk to me.” I rest my hand on his over the gearshift. “Please.”

  “It isn’t a big deal. I asked Maggie if we could expand the restoration part of the business, be proactive in our approach. She supports it, so it’s mine to make something of. Her hands are already full.”

  He’s playing this off as nothing, looking straight ahead at the road, shoulders tense, arms locked, hands gripping the wheel and not willing to spare me a glance.

  Yeah, it’s me. I’m making him this uncomfortable, but why? I should back down but I want to get to the bottom of this, show him he has my support.

  “That’s great. Maggie trusts you. She must fully support this and love the idea of you fully partnering with her.”

  We’re drowning in his reluctance to talk about this, and I’m wary about pushing for too many details but I can’t help myself. “And the restoration end of things, this is what you want to do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Pinter, the Ford, is a big deal?”

  “Yeah, hopefully the first of many.” His tone is more open, even confident, and I’m optimistic that he’s coming around. “When we put that baby on the market, we’ll be getting our name out there as a business that can not only help source a car but also restore it.”

  “So if I was looking for a certain older car and model, you’d help do the legwork?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s great, and this means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  “Can we drop it?” He veers into the left lane of highway 401 westbound, back to the city.

  “Why? This is a big deal and important to you, so it’s important to me.”

  “Really?” He gifts me with a look, but it’s brief and scrutinizing, as if waiting for a caveat or pitfall.

  “Yes. You’re important to me.” Everything I feel for him stirs and rises in my chest like a tsunami. “Tell me more. I want to understand.”

  “I owe Maggie. She’s done a lot for me. When Nick decided to go legit, I had a choice to make. Stay in that life and align myself with another group or get out. Going it alone wasn’t a smart option because Nick and I were a team, no one touched us. But if one of us was in it alone, we’d have become vulnerable.”

  My heart aches and soars at the same time. I’d never looked at his situation like this before, and what he did, leaving that life, took courage. I nod and keep my expression open, surprised he’s said as much to me given I’ve never wanted to talk about that life. I want to change that, make him see he can tell me anything without concern of criticism.

  “Nick wasn’t the only one. I was tired of always watching my back, and more and more it felt like we were pushing our luck. Maggie and I kind of fell into this working arrangement.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She didn’t offer me a job and I didn’t ask. It just kind of happened. And I love it…”

  “But?”

  “Pulling my own weight is important to me. This is her business, already established and successful. I want to contribute, help it grow, rather than just collect a paycheck.”

  Of course he does. This is who Kit is at his core, always has been. That’s one of the reasons I was drawn to him. His strong sense of decency and drive to help people. How could I have overlooked that all those years ago?

  “I get it. And she’s lucky to have you. This proactive approach to growing the restoration side of things is smart. I can tell you’ll make it work. No, you’ll succeed beyond your wildest dreams.”

  He scoffs, disbelieving, and my chest squeezes, realizing I have my work cut out for me. Once more, my hand covers his. “You don’t need to hear this because I hope you know it, but I’m really proud of you. You should be proud of yourself.”

  Kit

  I swallow hard and my eyes burn. Are those tiny pricks at the back of my eyes tears? Fuck, no.

  Blinking, my head turns away from her, scanning busy Avenue Road, a major north-south street through Toronto. I need to get ahold of myself, steady my breathing.

  She’s got it all wrong. Her views about me do count and I want to hear them even if I shouldn’t. Caro matters to me and her pride in me means a lot, yet it’s the last thing I expect.

  “Well, uh, thanks.” Clearing my throat, I slow the car to a crawl as we pass the apartment building where Flora Brown lives.

  I turn onto the side street, and a white Dodge Caravan pulls out in front of me, freeing up a parking spot right out in front of the building.

  “It’s apartment fifteen ten, right?” I parallel park and she nods.

  “Kit, don’t go just yet.” She snags my hand, pulling me back from opening the door. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, and while this doesn’t seem like the right place and time, it feels like it is. And truthfully, I doubt there ever is a right time.”

  Do I want to talk? Could I handle another ripping out of my heart? Uh, no. Although she’s right, we should talk as much as I’d rather not. Last night was amazing, just the two of us…but she was drunk.

  “Caro, let’s keep the talk until later. We’re here.” I jut out my chin toward the apartments behind her. “We’ve got to get some answers from Flora and then we’ll go back to my place. We can talk then.”

  “All right.” Shutters slide into place, and her face is a mask of indifference.

  With her profession, she’s perfected the unaffected, neutral expression and as much as I’d like to rail on her for using it on me, I can’t. I’m the one pushing her away.

  Is it out of spite? I don’t think so. Now isn’t the time nor the place for this kind of conversation. And I’m not even convinced there’s a conversation to be had. But we both declared our love. That has to count for something.

  I’m no longer a career criminal, but I’m still the guy she met in high school. And there’s no denying that while I haven’t killed someone with my own hands or supplied young kids with pills, molly, or H, my actions have aided both. Worse, of that I’ve no doubt.

  Sure, I’m older and wiser. I may have grown, learned some, and developed a taste for new things, but underneath it all, I’m the same person.

  And she is who she is. She doesn’t need a brute like me. A high school graduate with a rap sheet. So what if I’m out of that life and fix cars for a living? My hands are stained crimson, and no amount of atoning for my sins will wash off the blood. And no matter what I want or long for, she shouldn’t be saddled with the likes of me. She deserves better.

  The visit to the building is a bust. Flora Brown no longer lives at this address, and the new tenant doesn’t know where she is, nor does the landlord. She moved out five months ago.

  “Now what?” I slip the key into the ignition and secure my seat belt, fresh out of ideas and full of the dread of our time coming to an end looming over us. Neither of us have spoken about it but we’re going to have to soon.

  “Let me see if Willow has anything new. She said she’d ask around.”
Caro taps a text out on her phone, head down even after she’s already sent it.

  Tired and hungry, it’s time to head home. Maybe Logan’s had better luck. The car squeezes into the bumper-to-bumper traffic and I settle into the seat, preparing for a longer than usual drive home.

  “Willow says an old college friend told her that Flora is working at another clinic. This one’s in Deer Park.” Her demeanor’s jubilant. We have another lead.

  “Deer Park?” It’s an affluent neighborhood in North Toronto, close to here, and a far cry from Jane and Finch. “That’s great. We should—”

  I pause to check the clock on the dashboard and Caro does the same. It’s six o’clock. “It’s too late now. We’ll have to do it tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, tomorrow.” Some of her elation deflates.

  “Hey, look on the bright side. Since it’s walk-in, they’re open on Sundays. We’re not losing a day.”

  “Yeah, but today is the deadline and there’ve been no texts from that unknown number.” She nibbles on her lip and my body tenses. “What do you think that means?”

  “Not sure. We’ll figure something out.” I force a grin and switch our focus. There’s no point fixating on something we can’t control, although we’re going to have to plan for an attack. “You know, Deer Park is close to Elliot’s home.” In fact, the neighborhoods are side by side.

  “You think it’s more than a coincidence?”

  Nodding, I turn left onto a not so busy east-west street. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “You think Flora is working with Elliot, don’t you?” It’s beginning to sound that way to me too.

  “It looks like it, but I don’t know for sure. Judging from what Willow said, there’s something going on there. Flora moved jobs and living arrangements around the same time they both left the clinic. It’s too convenient.”

  “Willow says she works Sunday to Thursday at the clinic, on the front desk, and she breaks for lunch at eleven thirty.” She’s texting on her phone when I glance over.

  “Wow, Willow’s hired.” I chuckle at this new information, impressed with how invaluable her intel has been to moving things along, even if we haven’t hit pay dirt yet. “How was she able to find this out so quickly?” I have a sinking thought and ask, “Willow isn’t friends with Flora, is she?”

  “No way. They don’t like each other. Come to think of it, not many people like Flora. But Willow has many connections, not only in the hospitals and clinics. She reached out to a bunch of people who have worked with Flora and finally, someone responded today about her new job.”

  “Well, now we know what we’re doing tomorrow.”

  We get in a little after seven and order pizza. While Caro makes a call to fill in Nick, I call Logan. It goes straight to voicemail and I leave a message wanting an update. My next call is Maggie, and she’s freaking thrilled to hear the news about Pinter.

  Caro’s on the couch and she ends the call with her brother, staring up at me in frustration. “He thinks things aren’t moving fast enough.”

  “Of course he does. Let me guess, if he was running this, it would all be wrapped up by now.” It’s unrealistic but I get it. Nick isn’t one to sit around and do nothing.

  “Pretty much. We talked about the forty-eight hours being up, and he thinks we should text them back and ask for more time. He wanted me to talk it over with you.”

  “And then what? I think it’s best if we don’t respond and see what happens. There’s nothing to suggest they know you’re with me unless they’re connected to Holman, but so far nothing indicates that either.”

  “True.” She bites at the inside of her cheek in contemplation. There really isn’t a right answer here because we’re on the defensive, any way you look at it.

  The intercom buzzes. “That’s our pizza. I’ll go get it.”

  When I return, she has the table set and she’s popping open two Steam Whistle beers.

  “I’m starving.” She takes the box from me and pulls out a slice of Terroni’s Pizza Cosí.

  Our favorite, both the restaurant and the pizza. She slides into her chair, biting into the steaming slice of tomato, porcini mushrooms, mozzarella, fontina, and prosciutto di Parma.

  With each chew, her whimpering summons a growl from deep in my throat and a blistering jolt of arousal shoots straight to my balls. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Her eyes snap open and a naughtiness flashes in her simmering gaze. She takes another bite, eliciting another deep, throaty moan, and now she’s being just plain devilish.

  “Can you stop?” I rip a slice from the box, ruthlessly chewing, as if that will demolish my desire. We should talk first.

  “What can I say? I love this pizza, and it’s been way too long since I’ve last had it.” Her tongue licks at her lips and I fight the feeling that she’s talking about a lot more than pizza.

  “Fine, but eat it in silence.” My gaze begs for mercy.

  “Fine. I’ll do it for you.” Even her agreement tumbles out like a tease.

  Despite the delicious food and easy banter, my single-minded focus is on her so much that I’m dumbstruck when she climbs onto my lap and straddles me.

  “What are you doing?” My voice is gravelly, almost pained as I try to shut down the wicked sensations of her hot heat nestled over my crotch.

  “We need to talk.”

  Dang. Talk is the last thing I have in mind, but this is a good thing. Talk will kill my raging need to claim her, among other raging body parts.

  “I don’t—” Her fingers rest against my mouth, silencing me.

  “Shhh. I’ll talk. You listen.” Dark soulful eyes fix on me and I stop breathing. “It really meant a lot to me when you told me about Pinter and the Phoenix today. I hope you know this and I need to say this…”

  She shifts in my lap and it takes everything in me to ignore the intense heat coiling around the base of my spine and not give in to my base desire. My dick is so hard it might snap in two.

  “I’m sorry I ever made you feel less than. Even when things weren’t working out between us, I never thought of you as anything but the best man I’ve ever known.”

  My chest spasms and I’m at a loss for what to do with her words. I’m not sure I got it right, or if I’m dreaming.

  Her hand grazes the side of my stubbled jaw. “You’re my equal. I’d even say better than me.”

  A huff slips past my clenched jaw, barely keeping a grasp on my control, and I shake away her touch. Both hands drop to her thighs and I immediately regret the move, what she’s perceived as a rebuff.

  “Not possible. You’re a doctor, for crying out loud. You help people and do what’s right. We’re nothing alike and I’m certainly not better than you.”

  When she ended our relationship, she didn’t act superior and she wasn’t cruel. Hell no. She may think she was—I see the regret and self-loathing in the way her body sags and features dim when she talks about that time. But no, never cruel. Never.

  She was only being honest and brave. In some ways, she did us both a favor. I was a thug and she was so close to becoming a doctor. Our worlds didn’t mesh. We’d never talked about it but I understood her internal conflict.

  I had the same doubts storming my mind, every day. How could I be so lucky to have a woman like her when I was what I was? And how could she turn a blind eye to our differences? Differences that were as large and as wide as the Atlantic Ocean.

  There’s no way I could fault her for wanting better, even if it shredded my heart.

  And if we’d stayed together, all the amazing memories, those magical moments we’d created…where would they be now? We would have destroyed them with animosity and doubt.

  “We don’t have to be alike to be together.” Her warm delicate fingers trail one of my eyebrows, sending an electric pulse skittering down my spine, bringing me back to the here and now. “And you aren’t a bad person, or evil. God, no. And being on the right side of things isn’t always an option. I know
that now.”

  She pauses, nibbling on her bottom lip, and her eyes swell with an intimacy I’ve only ever seen directed at me. Or maybe that’s what I tell myself. Either way, I’m losing this battle—the temptation to take her.

  “What I’m trying to say is, I never should have left you. Especially for the reason I gave. It was ignorant and insensitive of me.” She’s so close, her sweet breath bathes my face.

  “You had to make difficult choices when you were young and so did Léa and Nick. I was spared all of that. We had no parents or money and neither did you. If I’d been in your shoes, I’m not so sure I would have made different choices.”

  A knot lodges in my throat and I push past it, not willing to let her excuse the past, my dirty deeds. “But I did—”

  She kisses me, really kisses me, swallowing my protest. Her fingers thread my hair and she arches into me.

  This part was always easy. We never had any difficulty being close, kissing, holding each other and so much more.

  Unable to pass up a chance to touch her, taste her, my hands race along the curve of her back, gripping at her waist. The sensation of her body in my hands is…exhilarating.

  She creeps closer. Every inch of her from core to chest presses into me and she deepens the kiss. I lose myself in the sweep of her tongue delving into my mouth, her sexy little sighs tickling at my throat, and the hard points of her tits scraping along my chest.

  Then it’s over. She pulls away, yet her eagerness and impatience vibrate in her bunched muscles.

  “Life isn’t neat and tidy, even when I tried to make it so. When we broke up, I was so fixed on this unrealistic ideal of what my life should be that I was so blind to reality. Life isn’t easy and we all have to make difficult decisions, and sometimes they aren’t what others would see as right. You were doing what was needed to survive. And I—”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” I curl her hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting a good life even if it didn’t fit with my choices. We don’t need to rehash the past.”

  My heart is about to tear out of my chest, not wanting to relive our history. I’m a selfish bastard and so close to just taking what she’s so willing to give.