Obsession (The Plus One Chronicles) (19 page)

Her pulse skittered, and flutters danced in her stomach. She did that to him?

“Every time we make love, it’s fucking intense. But tonight, do you know what kicked the ever-lovin’ shit out of my heart?”

The passion radiating from him created a magnetic force pulling her toward him. “What?”

“When you reached blindly for my hand. You were shattering, coming apart, and you needed to hold on to me.” He lowered his face until she saw only him. “Me, Kat. You knew I’d catch you. I lost all control the instant I had your hand in mine. I held on to you as I came undone for you. That’s how fucking intense it was. And it’s that way every time.”

She couldn’t get her breath. But it didn’t matter, because Sloane kissed her until it felt like they shared a single heartbeat.

He lifted his head. “I love you, Kat. I didn’t know love like this was real until you.”

But was it enough, was Kat enough? She didn’t know. Time was ticking down. Drake was getting sicker, and it was only three weeks until the Pros vs. Amateurs fight.

What would Sloane choose to do?

Could their love survive him killing Foster?

Could their love survive even if Sloane didn’t do it, once he returned to his high-society life?

Kat didn’t know.

Chapter Fourteen

Two Weeks Later

The enticing scent of spicy tomatoes and garlic hit Kat as she headed downstairs fresh from her shower. She was pretty sure Sloane wasn’t home yet from his evening workout.

Going into the kitchen, she smiled. “Ethan, that smells wonderful.” Her stomach rumbled. It had been another incredibly busy day at the bakery.

Throwing a kitchen towel over his shoulder, Ethan dipped a slice of French bread in the simmering sauce and held it out for her. “Taste?”

“Right this second, I’d sign over my car to taste it.” She took the dripping bread and bit into it. “Delicious. I’m starving. But I’m not sure when Sloane will be home.”

“Soon. I texted him and he said he’s leaving the gym in a few minutes. I’ll get the water boiling and put the pasta in when he gets here.”

“Thank you so much for cooking.” He’d started doing it a week ago. Kat worried he’d lift something too heavy or overdo it, but he was regaining more energy each day.

A faint blush stole up his neck. “I like cooking. I research recipes and test them when I can. I have a lot of time to do it now while I’m recovering.”

Kat sat on the barstool. “When did you get interested in cooking?” She thought back on Ethan decorating cookies with the kids before the accident. He’d seemed to really enjoy it.

He stirred the sauce then started grating some parmesan cheese. “Sloane tell you that I lived on the streets?”

Kat wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Not exactly, no. I guessed as much when you were in the hospital.” As far as Kat knew, no relatives came to visit him there.

He kept his head down, focusing on the cheese. “My mom was a druggie and pimped me out to get money or drugs. I was done with that shit. Left home the day before my fifteenth birthday and lived on the streets. I tried to make money in underground fighting. Most of the time, I didn’t make enough to eat. I was hungry a lot.” He shrugged beneath his white T-shirt. “Cooking gives me a feeling of being in control of my hunger.”

It broke her heart to imagine what Ethan must have gone through. Truthfully, she couldn’t really imagine it. Growing up, Kat hadn’t had a freaking clue other kids suffered like this. That he’d share it with her was humbling. She took a careful breath. “I don’t know if I could ever be as brave as you, Ethan.”

He stopped grating, meeting her gaze. “I’m not brave. I used to sell myself to eat.”

Jesus. “Ethan, you’re braver than I could ever hope to be. I’m just glad you had the courage to do what it took to survive.”

Ethan tilted his head. “Sloane really never told you about my background?”

“No. The night of your heart attack I asked him if you were one of his kids. He said yes and that Drake had found you in underground fights around sixteen. That was it. This is your story to tell or not.”

Setting the grater aside, he washed his hands. “You’ve been nice to me, Kat. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Did he think this changed how she felt about him? To her, Ethan was like Sloane’s little brother. “You made my heart hurt for what you endured as a kid. Do you mean that kind of uncomfortable? If so, then yeah. But if you think I look at you any differently than when I first came downstairs, then no.” She hoped she got that right. Kat didn’t have Drake’s innate ability to connect with people who had troubled childhoods. “I appreciate that you trusted me with your story.”

Snatching up another piece of bread, she added, “And to taste your cooking.”

A grin took years off his face. “You really like it?”

She relaxed since he seemed to accept her at her word. “Yep. Sloane better hurry or he’s going to have to eat leftovers.” Kat slipped off the barstool. “If we leave him any.” Popping the bread in her mouth, she started toward the hallway.

“Kat?”

She paused. “Hmm?”

Ethan moved closer. “If you want my ticket to the fight, I’ll be happy to give it to you. Sloane probably doesn’t think you’d want to go. Take mine. You should be there.”

Lead filled her chest, making it hard to swallow the bread. Sloane hadn’t asked her to be there for him. He knew she hated violence, but she would do it for him.

If he wanted her.

But he hadn’t said anything. This was a huge event, with prominent people paying exorbitant ticket prices for the exclusive fight. It was imperative for Sloane to keep his focus on getting into that cage with Foster, not Kat and her issues. The last thing he needed was her tripping or having a full-blown panic attack. Maybe she didn’t embarrass him, but she would get in his way.

But she loved Ethan for offering. “Thanks, but I’m staying here with Drake. As long as you’re sure you’re up to it, then enjoy. Sloane wants you there, that’s why he gave you the ticket.” Not her.

“Kat—”

“Ethan, it’s okay. Don’t bother Sloane about this, he has a lot on his mind. Please, you promised.” She’d made Drake, Sherry and Ethan swear it. “Trust me on this.” Sloane needed to have his head on right.

He nodded, his shoulders dropping.

Relief eased her neck muscles. “Thank you.” It’d been humiliating enough when Sherry had asked Kat what she was wearing to the Pros vs. Amateurs SLAM event. She didn’t need a repeat of that embarrassment with Sloane explaining why it was best that she didn’t go. Yeah…staying home with Drake was good with her.

She headed into the bedroom, but her chest tightened all over again at the sight of Drake’s gaunt figure reclining against the pillows, an oxygen tube in his nose, the steady hiss indicating the tank was on. In the past couple weeks he’d dropped a lot more weight. With his hands folded over his protruding ribs, she could see the blue veins snaking beneath his too-thin skin. His closed computer lay on his legs.

She reached for the machine to move it and let him sleep.

“I heard you talking to Ethan.”

Kat dropped her hand. “You’re awake. And don’t start on the fight.”

“Just resting. Not the fight—Sloane fucked up not asking you to go, but I get why you don’t want to distract him now. I mean the way you handled the boy confiding in you. Ethan has a hard time trusting women.”

She hadn’t known that. “I wasn’t sure what to say except the truth.” Worry for Drake banded painfully around her chest. His voice was hoarse. He’d been coughing more and more. Pain gnawed at him constantly now. Yet here he was caring about Ethan.

“The truth is best.”

Yeah, well, sometimes the truth sucked, like the doctor telling them they were down to days, maybe one or two weeks left with Drake. Damn it, no crying. It tore Drake up when she got teary-eyed. “Doesn’t look like it’s a good day for you.”

“Yeah. Trying to concentrate, but my head hurts too much to read and type.”

Laying her hand on his forehead, she pulled her mouth tight. Another fever. They came and went now, wracking his too-frail body. “Want to try some juice? 7 Up? Popsicle?” Should she call Sloane? Kat glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly seven p.m., and Ethan had said Sloane would be home soon.

“Don’t call him. I know you’re thinking it.”

She eyed him. “You drink some 7 Up, and I won’t.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Absolutely.” Kat went out in the kitchen, got the small bottle of soda from the fridge and a straw. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Ethan, when Sloane comes in, tell him Drake’s running a fever.”

Ethan looked down. “I couldn’t get him to eat today. The nurse told me it’s normal, but I tried.”

Kat touched his arm. “I know. He just can’t.” She’d been down this road with her grandmother.

“I’ll sit with him so you and Sloane can eat. I want to,” he added.

“Thanks.” She went back into the room and helped Drake take a few sips. “Do you want me to move your computer?”

He laid his bony hand on top of the machine. “I want to do this, but between the headache and pain pills I can’t.”

Sitting on the side of the bed, Kat took his other hand. “Working on Evie’s letter?” He had the letters for everyone else done. Kat had them and would give them out after Drake’s service. Thinking about that upset her all over again.

“I’m almost done. Almost.”

This was vitally important to him. Drake was hanging on for two reasons—Sloane’s fight with Foster and finishing this letter. They’d talked about it, but Kat hadn’t read it in full. “How can I help?”

Steely determination flickered in his glassy blue eyes. “Can you type the rest for me?”

No crying. Do not cry.
“You know I will. Now?”

“Later. After you eat, when Sloane holes up to watch Foster’s training video and obsess.”

Kat’s stomach twisted in concern for Sloane. “He’ll make the right decision.” If Kat was there, would she be able to help him walk away and leave Foster alive? Or was it better she wasn’t going to be there to distract him?

“For you.”

She shook her head. “Not for me.” Sloane had taught her the tools to face down fears. And when that moment came, he’d let her make her own decision. Kat had to do the same for him. “For himself.”

“Will you leave him?”

If he kills Foster. Like Evie left Drake.
How did she answer that? But Drake’s earlier words,
The truth is best,
told her the answer. “I love Sloane, all of him. Even the part of him that is capable of killing. I’ve never seen him hurt someone more than necessary.” Kat leaned forward, wanting to alleviate Drake’s worry about Sloane. “Trust me to help him through the next weeks. I won’t add to his pain, I just want to love him.”

Relief eased the worry straining his eyes. He coughed, then closed his eyes. “I trust you.”

Kat leaned down, kissing his head. “Get some sleep.” She left the computer there since Drake still had his hand on it.

* * *

Sloane’s cell rang right on time. Picking it up but not answering, he walked to the French doors overlooking the waves. The moon danced on the ocean as the breeze blew over his chest and shoulders.

Part of him didn’t want to answer the daily call from his investigators. Weariness dampened the flames of vengeance that had burned for so long. He’d been on this path for more than a decade and was closing in on his goal.

Yet, in this second, all he wanted to do was find Kat and pull her into his arms. Soak in her smile, laugh or the feel of her in his arms to drive back the cold pit of rage, hatred and guilt that had been his constant companion since he was sixteen.

Touching Kat eased his heart and settled his soul.

Until he remembered how Olivia had chased her obsession for a Prince Charming and tossed him and Sara aside every damn time. Sara had paid the price with her life.

And the thought of finding Kat like that? Raped, murdered…

The flames rekindled, searing away his doubts about what he had to do. He stopped procrastinating and answered the phone. “Michaels here.”