Chapter Three
It wasn’t Alex.
Stephen silently repeated the words as he pulled Kat from the club, forcing himself to loosen his hold so he wasn’t crushing her hand. But no matter how many times he told himself the man with his throat sliced hadn’t been Alex, his panic was still all-consuming. The constant images flashing, leaving him reeling.
“What the hell, Chandler?” Kat snapped as soon as they were through the doors, shaken out of her stupor by the sudden reduction in noise. She jerked her hand out of his grip, her beautiful green eyes blazing fire. “Are you purposely being an ass? Or is this just the new you?”
“Not tonight, Kat,” he warned again, her words hitting a little too close to home. He raised his hand, as much to silence her as flag down a cab, desperately trying not to compound tonight’s fuckups. Coming after her had been a colossal mistake, one he wished he realized he was making before begging her grandmother to give him her location.
He’d spent the past few hours with the DEA, specifically with Alex’s captain, who was none too happy with him, to put it mildly. He’d narrowly escaped arrest, Alessandro’s threats to throw his ass in jail for interfering in an investigation, along with a bunch of other trumped up charges. As if he needed more shit to deal with, Stephen thought. He blew out a breath, a desperate attempt to get himself under control, so very close to losing his shit. Because even though the dead man hadn’t been Alex, he still had no idea where the fuck Alex was.
Or if he was even alive.
Because Alessandro finally admitted Alex was missing.
He was off the grid and Stephen had no answers. No idea who the dead man was. No idea if Alex had been the target, though it seemed likely, given the guy’s appearance.
“I’m just supposed to let you kidnap me?” Kat hissed as she tried to back up a step, but he quickly caught her hand again. “I’m not that drunk.”
He begged to differ, but kept his mouth firmly shut. Protecting Alex, ensuring his safety, was out of his hands. But Kat, he could sure as hell protect her. Would protect her, no matter how hard she fought against him. “Please.”
And something in his tone, possibly desperation, must have resonated. Kat’s entire body seemed to relax, easing some of the tension between them. When a taxi pulled up a few seconds later, Kat climbed in without another word as Stephen followed.
“Your apartment have a back entrance?” he asked as he shut the door.
Kat recited her address for the driver before turning away from him, looking out the window, her back to him. Not that he blamed her. He’d behaved like an ass, just as she’d said. Regret infused every cell in his body. Seeing that damned fear in her eyes again reminded him exactly why he’d left her alone. Because by the looks of things, she had moved on, picking up the pieces of her life. Living for the first time in six years.
Unfortunately, he was here to destroy that.
Minutes later, the cab stopped at the underground entrance to Kat’s garage. “Go all the way down,” Stephen ordered the driver. “Please.”
Kat glanced over at him but said nothing as she fished her license out of her bag and lowered her window, showing it to the guard, who raised the arm. Stephen tossed the driver some money, relieved Kat waited for him to pay and hadn’t tried to run as soon as she was out of the taxi. Still, he reached for her again, gripping her hand in his as they made their way toward the elevator, the sound of Kat’s heels echoing through the concrete walls. He didn’t feel safe until they were locked in her apartment.
Nicer than he’d expected, the apartment had an open floor plan, the living, dining room, and kitchen blended into one open space. But what drew his attention were the large arched windows that took up most of the wall, the curtains pulled back, offering a view of the street. It was worlds apart from the apartment he’d left just a few hours earlier.
Behind him, he watched Kat’s reflection as she kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag, reminding him how small she was, how she felt wrapped in his arms. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, her green eyes glowing in the dim light that filtered in from the streetlamps below. Part of him couldn’t believe he was here, couldn’t believe she was so close. Close enough that he could reach out and pull her body against his, something he’d been denied far too long.
“You look stunning, Kat.” Perhaps that’s how he should have begun, but even as the words fell from his lips, he wasn’t sure he could pull this off tonight. Not with fear for Alex still clawing his insides. But Jesus, he refused to leave it like this between them without trying to make it right.
He’d let every negative emotion add fuel to the fire already burning inside him earlier. Anger, nearly uncontrollable before he’d stepped foot into the club, exploded out of control as soon as he’d spotted her, a brutal reminder that he had lost her. Jealousy, instant and overpowering, seeing another man’s hands on her, his mouth on hers as if he had the fucking right to touch her. Relief, imperceptible at first, growing by slow degrees as he tried to pull his shit together and fully comprehend who she wasn’t dancing with.
Turning to face her, he absorbed every detail of the dress she wore, replacing the horrific images of Alex that were still haunting him. She was so incredibly sexy. Just as breathtakingly beautiful as he remembered, leaving him as captivated as the first time he’d seen her. More so, if that were possible. Again, he longed for the right to lift her in his arms, back her against the glass and bury himself inside her.
You’re too late.
Jesus, he hoped that was another one of her lies.
“Don’t,” Kat whispered when he stepped closer. There wasn’t much force behind the word, more of a desperate plea. She shivered as if he’d touched her, the desire in her eyes impossible to miss, the throbbing of her pulse in her neck giving her away.
“Don’t what? Look at you?” he asked, letting her hear the slight laugh in his voice, sounding foreign to his own ears because it had been so damn long. “Isn’t that the point of your dress?”
“Don’t,” she warned again, stumbling a little in her haste as she backed up. Or drunkenness, he thought. He hadn’t realized he’d lifted his hand, reaching for her, couldn’t tell whether she was relieved or disappointed when his hand stopped in midair, just before he would’ve touched the exposed skin of her neck. And how easy it would have been for him to move his hand down from there, slip it under her dress to cover her breast. Even though he dropped his hand, it didn’t stop him from taking in the rest of her body, his gaze soon lingering on her stomach. A mistake, he realized a second too late.
“I told you I wasn’t,” she snapped.
When their gazes met, Stephen could only hope his expression was unreadable, none of his turmoil evident. “Yeah, I know.” But he’d hoped. Hell, he’d prayed she was pregnant, tying them together. And then had immediately felt guilty. She was still so young, eleven years separating them. She had a life she was just beginning to live. And his life…a living hell was the best way to describe it. And it was about to get so much worse.
“Nice threat by the way,” she hissed, throwing every ounce of venom she could muster in those few words, though he refused to rise to the bait.
She was referring to the voicemail he’d left. The one that went something like: “Goddammit, Kat, you have fifteen fucking minutes to answer me or I will hunt your ass down and make you pee on that fucking stick right in front of me!”
Admittedly, not his finest moment.
Ten minutes later, she’d sent a text.
Test is negative.
And he’d very nearly wanted to drown in despair. He’d held the phone, staring at the words, knowing they were better off, yet wanting a child that didn’t exist with an intensity that had shocked him. It was a long five minutes before he’d been able to respond.
Truth, Kat?
Truth, Stephen.
And with those words, he’d wondered if he’d ever see her again. Ever hold her again. Ever feel like he had the right to go after her when he got his life back together.
“Three days, Kat. It took you three days and countless phone calls to respond,” Stephen said, his voice amazingly calm, none of the fury in his voice that he’d felt then.
“I was too scared to take the test.”
Her admission surprised him. Kat never gave up anything unless it was tortured out of her. She shouldn’t have had to go through that alone, not without him reassuring her that everything would be okay, one way or another.
All those weeks ago, he’d done what he thought was right, what was best for her. But the doubt creeping in told him he may have been so very wrong, especially when she crossed her arms around herself, seeming so lost and alone. “Sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me that.” Apparently, the moment was over. “Just tell me why you’re here.”
So he did, hating that he had to tell her this. “The story is about to break.”
***
Kat sucked in a breath, closing her eyes. Which only made her head spin. Too much alcohol, not enough sleep. Seeing Stephen again when she’d never really expected to. Along with the bomb he’d just dropped. Kat leaned against the counter, wondering if she’d ever be free of this nightmare that had taken up far too much of her life? “Let me guess. Emma Anderson.”
Stephen’s terse nod confirmed her suspicions. The woman he wanted to kill. She couldn’t say she blamed him.
She’d known the story would break. And soon. She’d been dodging Emma’s phone calls for weeks now. But she wasn’t yet prepared to deal with the fallout. With being hounded by the press, evading questions she didn’t want to answer. Having to relive everything when she was still trying to bury it herself. Last time she’d been pursued by the press, Ethan had changed her name. She’d been able to disappear into anonymity.
This time she wouldn’t be so lucky.
Sneaking another glance at Stephen, she felt a heartbreaking sadness that it all came down to this. Whatever negative side effects this would have on her life, it would affect his much, much worse. Possibly destroy it. The tension emanating from him was thick, the silence pressing in on her after the noise from the nightclub.
Guilt slammed down on her with the force of a tsunami. She’d started these chains of events, never imagining the repercussions of her actions would be this wide. This strong and proud man she’d been half in love with, destroyed.
God, how he must hate her.
“I didn’t want you caught off guard.”
She tore her gaze from the wall. Stephen’s piercing blue eyes seeming to glow in the dark as they pinned her with laser-like focus. She wanted to ask him where the hell he was six weeks ago if he was so worried, when he shoved her into another man’s arms and walked away. But she was too upset, too exhausted. Emotions raged inside her…too many words to describe them. Regret. Pain. Anger.
But it was easier to hang on to the anger than to feel the pain.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Like hell you will, sweetheart.”
The words, spoken softly, had her gut twisting. She wanted to yell at him to not call her that again, but that would let him know how much she still hurt, how much heartbreak she still felt even as she tried to tell herself it was anger. But she knew the truth. Losing him gutted her, had shattered what was left of her heart. He went on about her lies, but Stephen, well he’d told the worst lie there was, didn’t he?
We’ll work this out…
“We should talk.”
No way in hell. “You should go.” She turned from the counter, glanced briefly at Stephen as she scooted closer to the hall, toward her bedroom, needing to escape. Then she ran, closing the door softly behind her before going into her miniscule bathroom, sucking in deep gulps of air, praying he’d be gone by the time she came out.
No such luck.
Stephen stood in the middle of her bedroom as if had every right to be there. And as much as she tried, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the bed, imagining all sorts of things she shouldn’t be imagining. Because she knew what that led to, didn’t she?
A broken heart.
A weekend fling that would still be haunting her dreams weeks later.
As if reading her thoughts, she felt Stephen’s body going on alert. And that quickly, the atmosphere changed, as if all the air had been sucked out of the apartment, leaving only tension and awareness in its wake.
“Look at me, Kat.”
She didn’t dare. She knew what she’d see, knew she’d be powerless against it. Crazy that she could feel this way considering everything. The rough command in his voice wrapped around her, his need as obvious to her as her own. She was afraid to move, even to take a breath, fear that he’d pounce freezing her in place. This hold he had over her, the deep, all-consuming sexual pull between them, undiminished even as she told herself she hated him.
A lie.
Her body still craved his with an intensity that shocked her. It pissed her off. Or would have if she wasn’t strung so tight, if her body wasn’t suddenly aching for him, vibrating with need so powerful in its intensity, overwhelming in its completeness.
It was the alcohol, she told herself.
“I don’t know if the story Emma’s about to run exposes Alex’s identity.”
“Oh no,” she whispered, sucking in a breath as she glanced at him. Nausea hit her full force, replacing her desire with the need to comfort as she finally understood the hell he was going through tonight, the barely controlled rage that emanated from him at the club. He sat on the edge of her bed, his head in his hands, looking just as tortured as she felt. Fighting the urge to go to him, wrap her arms around his body, she said, “Please don’t tell me he’s still undercover.”
She’d done the right thing, she told herself. Had cleared her father of murdering her mother. And learning the truth gave her peace. Or should have. Yet, she’d never felt as alone as she did in that moment, a reminder of everything she’d lost.
Stephen met her gaze, but didn’t give her the answer she’d hoped to hear. “He is.”
“But he was here,” she blurted.
“When?” Stephen asked, the urgency in his tone impossible to miss.
“After the funeral.”
And she could see by the look on his face that that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear either. “What’s going on, Stephen?” she asked carefully, walking closer to him, dread forming in the pit of her stomach. “You haven’t talked to him?”
He didn’t answer her, instead asked, “What did he want? When he came to see you?”
“Alex was…” Devastated. A ball of rage and anger so powerful he’d been unable to hide it. He’d wanted to know what happened, every tiny little detail and the guilt that Kat had felt exploded in an instant and she’d fully begun to understand why Stephen had walked away. She’d ruined them all. Their family, their integrity…
“Just to talk.”
“About?”
She stifled her sigh. “Everything.”
Stephen seemed to accept that with a nod. “Do you know where he went after?”
“He was gone when I woke up the next morning.”
Silence. Not that it had been particularly loud. “It wasn’t like that,” she hissed. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him? “When was the last time you talked to him?”
“Since before then.”
And Kat knew instantly it had been since the night his grandfather—the judge—had tried to kill her. And her heart broke all over again for Stephen, knowing how close him and Alex were. She’d had an inkling the night Alex had shown up, but she’d thought for sure he’d be with his family by now.
What other damage had she caused? Or would she cause? Alex was still undercover and now that cover was about to be blown. If he didn’t survive…
Don’t go there.
But it was too late. She already had.
“Did you to talk to his captain? Are they getting him out?” The words sounded hollow, as if uttered from a distance instead of from her own lips. Her hands started to shake and there was nothing in front her to hold onto. Or to hide it.
“They can’t find him.”
Stephen’s words seemed to come from as far away, echoing in her head. She thought she whispered, “Oh God,” but wasn’t sure if the words ever made it past her lips.