Turning Point (The Kathleen Turner Series) (32 page)

When they saw us coming, they stood, reaching out to slap Blane on the shoulder or back while eyeing me.

“Well, if it isn’t the Captain!” one of the men exclaimed with a grin. “’Bout time you showed up.” Shorter and squatter than Blane, the man carried himself with confidence, grasping Blane’s hand in a firm grip.

“Todd! Good to see you.” Blane’s smile was full-on, his demeanor more relaxed than I usually ever saw him in company. Turning, he greeted the other four men. One was Eric Sanchez, who gave me a nod.

“This is Kathleen,” Blane said, resting his arm across my shoulders. I automatically smiled, even though my insides were twisting nervously at being the center of male attention, especially from these men. “Kathleen, this is Todd, Sammy, Rico, Joe, and Eric.”

I struggled to memorize their names and hoped there wouldn’t be a quiz.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said.

“Nice to meet you, little lady,” the guy I thought Blane had called Joe said. He pulled out a nearby chair. “Don’t let that bumbling idiot keep you standing all night. Have a seat.”

I had never heard anyone call Blane a bumbling idiot, at least no one stupid enough to say it to his face, and I automatically turned to Blane. My surprise must have shown, because he just laughed.

“They’ve never shown me proper respect,” he said, grabbing his own chair and sitting. I followed suit.

“Proper respect, my ass,” Todd said while they all resumed their previous positions. “You’re the one nearly court-martialed for insubordination.” Todd looked at me. “You should make him tell you that story.”

I grinned. “I’d love to hear it.”

The waitress came by, dropping off some more beers. Blane ordered a round for us before replying. “Now, don’t go ruining my excellent reputation with Kathleen by bringing up the indiscretions of my youth.”

This was met by a round of guffaws, the mischief in Blane’s grin making me smile again. I loved seeing him so at ease with his friends.

“So how did you and the Captain meet?” Rico asked.

“Why do you call him Captain?” I countered, not at all anxious to impart the story of my falling headfirst into Blane’s lap.

“You wanna tell her or shall I?” Todd directed at Blane.

Blane turned to me. “We were on a training mission. I was a little too… enthusiastic in pursuing the objective.”

“Took off ahead of his team like he was invincible,” Todd added with a smirk.

Blane laughed. “I learned my lesson, though. Fell into a sand trap and had to be pulled out, then had my ass handed to me by the CO, who had a slightly different take.”

“Yelled at him in front of the whole team, made him stand there covered in mud and sand. ‘Who the fuck you think you are? Captain fucking Kirk?’”

Everyone laughed while Blane grinned good-naturedly.

“As you can see,” he said to me, “the moniker stuck, and I don’t think it’s meant as a compliment.”

I chuckled, the image of an embarrassed, mud-encrusted younger version of Blane taking form in my mind. It contrasted sharply with the picture I usually had of him.

After a few more rounds of beers, everyone was sharing their stories with me, their constant ribbing of each other making me laugh until my cheeks hurt. Blane ordered us a couple of burgers, then grabbed my hand.

“I love this song. Let’s dance.”

The music of 38 Special filled the bar as Blane pulled me onto what perhaps used to be a dance floor but now barely deserved the name. I didn’t have the chance to speak, as he immediately spun me around, then pulled me in, only to spin me away again.

Taken by surprise, I started laughing, his happiness invigorating me. I had no idea he knew how to dance like this, twisting and turning me until I was breathless and he caught me in his arms and pulled me close.

“I didn’t know you could do this,” I managed, trying to catch my breath.

His eyes glittered, a wicked grin on his face as he said, “There’s lots you don’t know about me. I’m rectifying that.” Then I was spun away again, only to have his hand catch mine and pull me back.

The end of the song came too soon and Blane led me back to the table where our food was waiting. I stayed quiet, content to listen to the men talk while I observed Blane.

His usual reserve was nowhere in evidence. His body was relaxed, the lines of worry on his face eased. I’d only ever seen him this relaxed around Mona and Gerard. It occurred to me that it must be difficult to always be on guard. Someone was always watching him, be it the press or the lawyer sitting across from him in the courtroom.

We’d finished eating and Blane had pulled my chair closer to his, slotting his fingers with mine and resting them on his denim-clad thigh. I listened as he and his friends reminisced about past missions, some of the stories making me grip Blane’s hand tighter.

“Shit, that fucker nearly took your head off before Sammy got him,” Rico said.

“If I hadn’t been out of bullets, he wouldn’t have gotten so close,” Blane replied.

“You can’t help it you’re shit at hand-to-hand,” Sammy smirked at Blane.

“Fuck off,” Blane shot back with a grin. “Least I don’t have to try and impress women with my knife skills.”

“Good thing since you have none.”

And so it went, a whole other side of Blane that fascinated me even more than what I already knew of him.

“Time to get to know your girl, Kirk,” Todd said, pulling me up out of my chair. “Let’s dance, sugar.”

Out on the dance floor, Todd did the two-step and I learned it on the fly. “What’s a girl like you doin’ with an old man like Kirk?” he asked with a grin.

“I work… used to work”—I corrected myself—“for him. That’s how we met.”

“Must’ve made quite an impression,” Todd observed. “Blane doesn’t usually date girls with looks and brains.”

“Thanks, I think.”

He laughed. “Since you’re the only one he’s ever bothered to bring ’round, I’d take that as a compliment.”

“Am I here to pass inspection?” I raised an eyebrow, only half-kidding.

“Yep.” His matter-of-fact response took me aback. He noted my surprise. “We don’t bullshit. Not when it comes to our brothers.”

“Brothers?”

“That’s how it is. Our lives were in each other’s hands more often than they were in our own. I’d die for any one of those guys, and them for me. That makes us brothers.”

His remark was sobering. “Blane says he might go back,” I said. “That they offered him a position but that he’d be deployed first.”

“Is that so?” Todd replied, his face hardening. “What do you think about that?”

I looked directly at him. “I don’t want him to go,” I said. “I love him. I don’t want to lose him.”

Todd smiled widely, his white teeth flashing in the semidarkness of the bar. “Now that’s the best damn thing I’ve heard all night.”

Without another word, he spun me around and I found myself dancing with Rico, and before too long, Sammy, Joe, and even Eric took a turn. None of our conversations was as serious as the one with Todd, but I had the distinct feeling I
was being assessed by all of them. I could only hope I passed whatever test or measure they were using to judge me.

When I finally got back to the table, Eric handed me into my seat, where I took a grateful drink of my beer. Blane’s arm curled around my shoulders, dragging me close enough for a kiss that was longer than he usually preferred in public. I had the feeling he’d had enough beers to make this seem like a good idea. Judging from the catcalls and whistles at the table, his friends thought it was, too.

I pulled away, though the look in his eyes made me wish we could suddenly be transported somewhere private with a bed.

Okay, the bed was optional.

A few minutes later, I got up to go to the restroom. I was nearly back to the table when a big guy in a black T-shirt suddenly stepped in front of me, halting my progress. Tall and broad, he had tattoos up and down both arms.

“What’s your hurry, honey?”

The man’s eyes were red, as though he’d already had too much to drink.

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“Um… thanks, but I’m okay,” I stammered.

Another guy, obviously a buddy, sauntered up behind him. “We’ll have a good time, sweet thang,” he slurred.

“No, thanks,” I blurted, sidestepping them both and making a beeline for the table. I was almost there when my arm was caught.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” tattoo guy said, yanking me toward him.

Suddenly Blane was there, Rico and Todd standing with him. The rest of SEALs had gone quiet, watching the scene.

“She said no.” Blane’s voice was calm but implacable.

“Nobody asked you, motherfucker,” retorted tattoo guy.

“Who you calling motherfucker, motherfucker,” Rico drawled. I didn’t mistake his seemingly relaxed pose as anything other than that, a pose.

“A spic like you may not speak English too well,” the second guy snarled. “So let me spell it out for you. Fuck. Off.”

I stiffened, expecting a full-on fight to break out at those words, but to my surprise, the SEALs showed admirable control. When more than one of their glances landed on Blane, I realized, somewhat belatedly, that Blane was the de facto leader.

“I think the lady turned you down, friend,” Blane said. “Let me buy you and your buddies a round.”

“I don’t want a fuckin’ drink from you,” tattoo guy spat. “The whore’s gonna suck all your dicks, I want my turn.”

Well, so much for diplomacy.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, Blane swung, flattening the guy with one punch. Unfortunately, tattoo guy had friends, and soon I found myself in the middle of a fray of men gleefully trading hits with one another.

I was spun from one SEAL to another, always protected even as wood and glass flew about me. Never did I worry about getting hurt, and it was obvious the SEALs were enjoying themselves, beating the shit out of the guys determined to harass them.

Through the melee, I caught the sound of police sirens.

Oh no. That’s all we needed—Blane getting arrested for a bar brawl.

“Beat it, Captain,” Todd said over the noise, holding one guy by the scruff of the neck. “We got this.”

“I don’t know,” Blane said, ducking a punch before landing a blow to the man’s gut. “You might need a lawyer.”

Rico guffawed. “Please. We’ll be long gone by the time the cops get here.”

I was relieved they were telling Blane to go. “This way,” I said to him, again in his arms. I’d spotted the back exit when we’d first entered, courtesy of my training with Kade. I grabbed his hand and bolted, Blane having no choice but to follow me.

We were outside in the cold. The sirens were getting closer.

Blane spun me around, then his mouth was on mine. I tasted the tang of his blood; his lip had been split by a lucky punch. His body was hot under my hands, sweat from the fight leaching through his clothes. I couldn’t see him well—the darkness of the building’s exterior threw him into shadow—but I could feel his heat and smell his scent under his cologne.

His mouth was hard, his tongue twisting with mine. His hands moved purposefully at my waist to unbutton my jeans and shove them down my legs. My panties were a mere inconvenience, shredded and pulled from my body. The hard length of him pushed inside me as he lifted me, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his waist, the wood siding of the building against my back as Blane pressed me against the wall.

My blood pounded in my veins, the beat of his pulse strong against my fingers as I pushed my hands up under his shirt to touch the skin of his chest. I clutched at him, the feel of his cock inside me, his body between my legs
overwhelming me until I couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel him.

My scream as I came was swallowed by his mouth. His hands pressed into the skin of my hips as he took me in a way that was primal, elemental. I could taste his sweat and blood on my tongue before his mouth moved to my neck. His body jerked into mine and I wrapped my arms around him, loving the feel of him losing all control.

My knees were weak when he set me back on my feet, his hand cradling my jaw as he kissed me. He bent to help me with my jeans until I was once again presentable.

Blane bundled me into his car and we headed home, my hand firmly situated in his. Comfortable silence enveloped us as he drove, and my eyes were heavy with post-orgasmic lethargy.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Blane was opening my car door. I roused myself enough to walk with him to his front door. His arm was heavy on my shoulders and his breath warm in my ear as he whispered words that made my heart beat faster and the blood rise in my cheeks.

The house was dark and quiet when we entered. I took Blane’s hand as he led me upstairs. Some sixth sense had me glancing behind me, only to see Kade standing in the doorway to the library. The look on his face as he watched us ascend the stairs made my chest constrict. My last glimpse of Kade before he disappeared from sight was to see him downing the amber fluid in the glass tumbler he held.

T
he next morning dawned early, and the headache I woke with reminded me why it wasn’t a good idea to drink the nights before I had to work. Then I remembered I was currently unemployed.

I turned over in bed with a groan, reaching for Blane, but the bed was empty.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and Blane appeared next to me, clad in full courtroom armor.

“What time is it?” I asked, pushing my hair out of my face.

“Time for me to get going,” he replied, sinking down next to me on the bed.

“When will you be home?” I felt vaguely self-conscious, Blane being dressed to the nines while I was naked under the sheets.

“About six.” He leaned over to press a kiss to my lips. His hand dipped under the sheets and I sucked in my breath. “Think about what I said,” he murmured. “Get online and check out some schools today. Purdue and IU.”

“Okay.” My voice was embarrassingly weak, but I couldn’t think straight with him doing what he was doing, especially not enough to take him on in an argument.

“See you tonight,” he said. “Will you be here?”