Turn To Me (7 page)

The story fascinated me even as it tugged at my heart.  I felt sorry for Kade, enduring such a childhood, and I was amazed at the strength of character and loyalty Blane had displayed even as a teenager to track down and take in his brother, working with him to gain his trust and affection.

“Who took care of him while you were in the Navy and at school?” I asked.

“Mona and Gerard,” he answered.  “They never were able to have children.  They took him in like he was their own and raised him.  Mona was quite upset that he didn't come home for Thanksgiving.  He usually doesn't miss a major holiday with them.”

I hadn't realized Mona had been upset on Thanksgiving; she'd hid it well.  I asked the question that I'd been wondering about for the past couple of weeks.  “Why didn't he come?”

“He didn't really give much of a reason,” Blane said thoughtfully.  “Just that he was working and couldn't make it.  I didn't press him for details.”

The thought again came to me that perhaps he'd stayed away because of me, then I chastised myself for thinking such a thing.  Kade was tough as nails and twice as hard. 

A memory replayed itself in my head of Kade standing in my bedroom, his hands resting on my hips as he towered over me. 

“You didn't tell him about us,” Kade had said, referring to Blane. 

“There is no ‘us.’” 

“You sure about that, princess?”

The idea that he might feel something for me and want to stay away because I was with Blane was ridiculous and narcissistic.

Blane interrupted my thoughts.  “Do you want to tell me what really happened to Stephen Avery?”

I jerked my head around to look at him, my eyes wide in surprise.  “What…what do you mean?” I stammered, panic flashing through me.  Stephen Avery had been the man who'd intended to rape and kill me.  Only Kade's timely intervention had prevented him from doing exactly that. 

He looked at me, exasperation evident on his face.  “Kathleen, I'm not stupid.  Stephen Avery was a VP at TecSol.  You and Kade went with him to Chicago that night.  Then he ends up with a broken neck in his hotel room, supposedly an accident from slipping in water on the floor?  Please.”

I turned away to gaze out the window.  The palms of my hands were clammy with sweat as I remembered that night, remembered Avery attacking me, hitting me.  I'd been more terrified than I'd ever been in my life.

“Did Kade kill him?”

I didn't look at him as I gave a short nod, staring sightlessly out the window.

Blane cursed and I jumped at the harsh sound.

“Why the fuck would he do something so stupid?” Blane asked angrily.  “He could have just knocked him out, tied him up rather than kill him.  And he had to involve you in it as well!  I swear, the next time I see him, I'm going to hit him just for being stupid.”

I was alarmed now at Blane's anger toward Kade.  Kade didn't deserve that.  He'd had a reason for killing Avery, and it wasn't one I could disagree with.  When it's either you or them in a matter of life and death, you tend to pick yourself.

“Blane, it wasn't like that!”  I protested, wondering how I could get Kade off the hook without revealing too much.  “He had no choice.”

Blane's astute gaze met mine and I realized even that much had tipped him off that there was more to the story. 

“Tell me,” he ordered.

I shook my head in wordless denial, turning to look out the window again.  Unwittingly, the memory came back with a vengeance of Avery's hand wrapped around my throat as he held me pinned against the door, squeezing until I nearly blacked out.  His hands were on me, shoving my face into the mattress as I fought to breathe, knowing my last moments were going to be horrible – dying of suffocation while he raped me.  It was the utter helplessness I’d felt that still woke me up some nights.

Staring out the window, I saw none of the scenery going by.  That night with Avery replayed in my mind, of Kade rescuing me, holding me while I wept.  Avery had been dead on the floor, his sightless eyes staring up at me.

I was abruptly shaken from my distraction by Blane and I realized he'd stopped the car on the shoulder of the road.

“Why are you stopping?” I asked, confused.  I jerked in surprise when Blane grasped my chin, turning my face towards his.

“Kat, I've been talking to you and stopped when you wouldn't answer me.”

“I...I'm fine,” I stammered, alarmed and embarrassed that I'd apparently been so out of it I hadn't even heard him talking to me.  “I'm sorry...I guess I just didn't hear you.”  My excuse was lame and when my eyes met his, I knew I wasn't fooling him for an instant. 

He studied me intently before finally saying, “Just tell me one thing.  Would I have killed Avery, too?”

It was a loaded question.  I remembered the man who’d tried to mug me and how Blane had beat him unconscious.  There was little doubt in my mind that Blane’s response would have echoed Kade’s actions if it had been him there that night. 

“Yes,” I said simply.

Blane studied me for a moment, then pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on top of my head.  “I'm sorry I upset you,” he apologized.  “We won't discuss it again, okay?”

I nodded.  Blane's understanding eased my anxiety, and I was grateful at the concession he'd just given to me. 

After a moment, I pulled out of his arms and self-consciously smoothed my hair.  Clearing my throat nervously, I watched in my peripheral vision as Blane silently studied me before sliding behind the wheel and pulling back onto the highway.

“Do you have decorations somewhere for a tree?”  Blane asked.  It was obvious he was changing the subject and I gratefully latched onto it.

“I have some things of my parents' in storage from when I was a kid,” I said.  “Christmas was a huge deal in our house.”  I smiled, remembering.  “My dad would fight the lights every year when he decorated the outside.  He cussed a lot.” 

“Did you have white lights or colored?”  Blane asked.

“They started out white,” I said, “but my mom told me that when I was five, I insisted he put up multi-colored lights because I thought they were prettier.  Apparently, I was quite persuasive.”

“I can see that,” Blane teased.  The tension from earlier was gone, thank God, and I appreciated his effort to turn the atmosphere around.

“What about you?” I asked.  “Did your dad hang lights?”

Blane shook his head.  “Not himself, no.  We had professional decorators that did the outside lights and the inside.  There was a Christmas tree in nearly every room – each with a different theme.”

“Wow!” I said, impressed.  “That must have been really pretty.”  Professional decorators.  Huh.  Somehow I doubted his decorators would have approved of my homemade construction paper chains that had wrapped around our tree.

“It was,” Blane agreed.  “The house was beautiful and perfect.”  His voice was slightly bitter. 

“I thought you said you came to this place we're going when you were a kid?” I asked, confused.

“Mona and Gerard brought me with them to get their tree,” Blane explained.  “That was the Christmas tree I remember decorating – theirs, not ours.”

I wasn't sure what to say to that; it sounded so sad.  Blane was matter-of-fact about it, the bitterness no longer present in his voice.

“One year we went the day after Thanksgiving to get our tree,” I finally said, “and it was perfect.  The absolutely perfect shape for a Christmas tree.  We brought it home and decorated it, which always took forever because my parents had been collecting ornaments for each other and our family since before they got married.  We finally finished and were so excited to have the perfect tree.  Unfortunately, it was dead less than a week later.”

“Dead?”  Blane asked incredulously.  “That quick?” 

I giggled.  “Yep.  The whole thing had turned brown and needles were falling by the bucketful.  I was crying because our Christmas tree looked horrible and dad was cussing a blue streak about getting ripped off at the tree place.  We had to take the whole thing down and get rid of it.  I think Mom and Dad would have been fine without a tree, but I certainly wasn't.  It was still four weeks until Christmas!  So that was the year we bought an artificial tree.”

Blane laughed with me, reaching across the console and threading his fingers through mine.  We spent the rest of the drive recounting favorite stories from our childhood Christmases.  Well, mostly me telling the stories.  It seemed to me that Blane didn't have a lot of favorite memories from his childhood.  I told him about the time I'd gotten my Barbie Dream House, the best Christmas present ever, and how my mom and I used to sing Christmas carols by the fire.  Sometimes my dad had joined in, but more often than not he had just watched us, a smile on his face.

We arrived at the tree farm about an hour later as it began to snow again.  The place looked like a winter wonderland with Christmas lights peeking out from under their gloss of snow.  Christmas carols drifted through the air as they played over the sound system inside the large barn where Blane led me.  It was warm and cozy inside, the air thickly coated with the scent of pine and balsam.

“May I help you?” a kindly man asked, looking to be in his early sixties.

“We're looking for a tree,” Blane said with a genial smile. 

“Well you came to the right place!  I'm George and I can help you get started.”

He gave Blane a saw to use and pointed us in the direction of the trees.  “Just find one you like, make sure it's not too tall – they all look smaller in the outdoors than they will in your living room – and cut it down.  Bring it back here and we'll finish it up.”

We thanked him and started walking where he'd pointed.  Not many people were there and I figured it was probably the weather keeping them away.  Not that I was complaining.  The further we walked, the more magical it seemed with just Blane and me in the silence of the snow covered woods.

He held my hand, helping me through the drifts, some of which were up to my knees.  We talked quietly, pointing out different trees to each other and inspecting them for flaws.  I laughed at how particular he was – I didn't mind a tree with a bare spot or two. 

Finally, we found one we both could agree on, which was a good thing since it was starting to get dark.  I got down on my knees, helping Blane scoop the snow away from the trunk.  When it was finally clear enough, I watched as he sawed through the trunk and cheered when it fell over.

“Ooh, Blane,” I cooed, batting my eyelashes at him.  “You're so strooong.”  I giggled at the expression on his face, then squealed in surprise when he started to chase me.

I laughed as I ran, scooping up a handful of snow which I quickly packed into a ball and hurled at him.  He ducked and it sailed over his head.

“Ha!  Missed me!” he gloated just as I lobbed another that hit him square in the face.

I erupted in gales of laughter now, but had to take off again as a barrage of snowballs came flying at me.  I ran behind a stand of trees, huffing from the exertion.  Scooping up some snow, I waited, packing it into a tight ball.  When I didn't hear anything, I cautiously peeked from behind my trees.

I screamed, startled as Blane stepped directly in front of me, then started laughing at how he'd gotten the drop on me.  He was grinning, watching me as my giggles gradually subsided.  I noticed his long eyelashes were wet from the snow.

“You're terrible at this game,” I said loftily, nose in the air.  “I think I won.”

“I don't know about that,” Blane said, his voice a husky rasp that made my laughter die in my throat.  Putting his hands on my hips, he tugged me closer to him.  The look in his eyes was one I knew well, and my heart started beating faster.  “I'm pretty sure I won this game.” 

My breath caught in my throat as his gaze lowered to my mouth.  Bending down, his lips settled on mine.  My eyes drifted closed.

A sudden loud noise startled me and I jumped just as the bark on the tree next to us exploded.  The sound came again and I gasped in shock as Blane shoved me to the ground.

“What are you doing?” I gasped.  “What's that noise?”

Gunshots,” Blane replied grimly.  “Someone's shooting at us.”

Chapter Three

Another crack of a gunshot sliced through the air nearby as Blane grabbed hold of the collar of my coat, picked me up bodily and yanked me behind the trees.  I was too stunned to do much more than stumble to where he led me.

The sound of a gunshot was much closer this time and I nearly jumped out of my skin, then I saw it had come from the gun in Blane's hand.

“You brought your gun Christmas tree shopping?” I hissed.  “Seriously?”

He just gave me a look.  I rolled my eyes, then yelped again and covered my head with my arms as a bullet smacked through the branches above us.

“I'll provide cover,” Blane said, “you run as fast as you can back to the barn.”

“What?  No way,” I said, shaking my head firmly.  “I'm not leaving you.”

“We're an easy target out here in the snow,” Blane said, before squeezing off another round and ducking back behind the tree.  “If I can keep him occupied, you can get back and send help.”

I chewed my lip in indecision.  I really didn't want to leave Blane by himself, but there was little I could do to help him.  After all, he was the one with a gun. 

Blane cursed as another shot hit the tree we were standing behind.  “On three,” he commanded, and I reluctantly nodded.  “One...two...go!”

I took off running the best I could back in the direction we'd come, hearing Blane's gun spit bullets as he provided cover.  The snow impeded my progress but I reached more trees and darted in amongst them.  I was breathing hard now and my legs burned from the exertion of running.

I could still hear sporadic gunshots so I kept moving as fast I could.  I had to find help for Blane.  What if he didn't duck behind a tree fast enough?  What if he ran out of bullets?  The what-ifs terrified me and I prayed he would be okay.

After what felt like forever, it started to snow yet again, the fat flakes resting gently on my nose and eyelashes.  I realized I should have been back to the barn by now.  Blane and I had walked a ways, but I'd been running back.  Stopping, I looked around in confusion.  Dusk was fading, the falling snow becoming a thick curtain that was difficult to see through.  Everything looked the same around me - endless rows of Christmas trees.  As I turned around, I realized I couldn't tell which direction I'd just come from, my footprints already disappearing under a new layer of snow.