CHAPTER EIGHT
I pour that whiskey for Kane and return to the bathroom, where I find his head resting on the ceramic, his eyes shut. I sit down on the edge of the tub beside Kane and he lifts his head, accepting the glass. “Thanks, beautiful.”
“What happened, Kane?”
He sips the whiskey and sets the glass on the edge of the tub. “What you have probably assumed is exactly what happened. The engine went out. I managed to contact Kit as we were going down.”
“You didn’t trust the coast guard,” I assume.
“I don’t trust anyone but you and maybe my men on a good day. This wasn’t a good day.” He motions to me. “Get in with me.”
“We have a houseful of people. I need to go get rid of them.”
“Kit knew to clear the house. Jay is the only one staying. And in Kit’s defense, he didn’t call you because he didn’t know if I was dead or alive.”
“I didn’t know until the minute you walked in the door.”
His eyes darken. “Get in with me, Lilah.”
I want to press the issue of Kit’s piss-poor communication, but I decide it can wait until tomorrow. I undress and climb into the tub. Kane instantly pulls me on top of him. “What happened to your sore body?”
“Some things are worth a little pain and that means you, Lilah.”
Emotion is not done with me and it rushes over me. “I couldn’t bear the idea of losing you, Kane. I was losing my mind. Now I know how you felt.” And just like that, once again, I’ve taken us to the taboo, to the night I was raped and almost killed. Until he found me, he saved me. “Only I couldn’t do anything to save you. Kane, I was wrong to push you away. It wasn’t about me. It was about me. I didn’t know how to deal with who I am and what I am.”
“And now?” he challenges.
“Now, I know I deal with it with you.”
“Careful, beautiful. You’re sounding like you’re all in.”
“I’m marrying you, Kane. Of course, I’m all in.”
“And yet, you aren’t.”
“I am. I am all in. You have to know that.”
He studies me long and hard and then says, “Let’s get out of the tub.”
I don’t argue. He needs the hot soak, but I need him. I lean back and sit up. He follows, standing and taking me with him, lifting me out of the tub. He grabs towels and it’s not long before we’ve ditched them, and are on the bed, naked, facing each other. Not long before he’s inside me and we’re moving together. And everything that has ever between us is with us now, but none of it divides. In fact, what once divided, pulls us together.
For maybe the first time ever.
When it’s over, when we’ve both shuddered into release, Kane tangles his fingers in my hair and tilts my gaze to his. “I hear you went to kill Pocher.”
It’s not a question, and why would it be? I did.
“We do that together, Lilah,” he says roughly. “Call it a date night.”
And somehow, insane as it is, I know that for me and Kane, that statement is romantic as hell.
The couple that kills together, stays alive together. And stays together. At least where Pocher comes into play.
CHAPTER NINE
I wake the next morning to my phone ringing and Kane wrapped around me. Screw the phone, and whoever is calling. Kane is here. He’s alive and I’m hyper-aware of just how easily he might not have been here this morning, or ever again.
My phone stops ringing, and my lashes lower.
It starts ringing again. Kane groans. Groaning right alone with him, I grab my phone to find Director Murphy calling. Aware that he won’t stop calling until he talks to me, I answer with a murmured, “Director.”
Kane rolls off of me, obviously accepting our morning snuggle is over. I’d really like to hear that man say that word—snuggle.
“Late night, I hear,” Murphy comments.
“Early morning,” I complain.
“It’s noon.”
“And?” I challenge, forcing myself to sit up, glancing at the clock. Damn, he’s right. It’s noon.
“Your brother tells me you lost your shit and tried to kill our friend.”
That’s all it takes for me to snap. I throw off the covers and I don’t give two fucks that I’m naked. “First,” I say, placing him on speaker and walking into the closet where I set the phone on a shelf, “Andrew’s a drama queen.” I pull on a pair of leggings. “We’re talking about me.” I pull on a bra and tank top. “Almost killing someone,” I continue, “would mean I had my gun at his head and my finger was twitching. I never made it beyond his gate and according to Andrew, he wasn’t home.”
“As you say, this is you we’re talking about. You would have found him and killed him. So I think we can both agree that your brother saved our friend’s life.”