White Collared Part Three: Revenge (7 page)

He rubbed his temples. “She hasn’t woken up yet. They repaired her lung, but they couldn’t save her spleen.”

She noticed that he’d failed to say she’d make it. “Who called you?”

“Her mother. You just missed her and Hannah’s father. They went home to catch some rest. I told them I’d stay until they get back.” He stood and dragged over a chair from the corner. “I’m used to running on no sleep. You know, doctor’s hours and all.”

She settled in the chair beside him. “So they know about you?”

“Yeah, Hannah brought me over a few days ago to meet the folks.”

“Wow. That was fast.” She watched the tears well in his eyes. “Or maybe . . . not.”

He kissed Hannah’s hand. “I love her. I thought I loved you, and I’ll always care for you, but with Hannah, it’s different. I don’t have to pretend to be perfect.”

“You didn’t need to pretend with me.”

“Of course I did. You’re so good. So innocent. You needed a boyfriend like you. Someone who doesn’t make mistakes.”

His words drove home how little he’d known her. God, what would he think if he saw Jaxon’s teeth marks on her thighs or the bruises left by the flogger? “That’s not true. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“The day I finally got the nerve to talk to you, you said something I’ve never forgotten. You said you didn’t have time to date because relationships took work. So I decided the way to convince you to date me would be by not causing any waves. If I didn’t complain or ask for anything, you’d see how good we could be together.”

Her heart ached for what she’d stolen from him. “All this time you kept that inside?”

“Until Hannah. You have to believe me—we didn’t intend to fall in love. What I told you before was true. It started when we ran into each other at the bar. We both missed you. As it turned out, she felt the same as me. That in order to be your friend, she had to be perfect.”

Hannah perfect?

“She really looks up to you,” he added.

To keep her voice from rising, she took a deep breath and pressed her hand to one of the bruises covered by her jeans. “Really? Then why did she sleep with my boyfriend? Why did she make a point of bragging about the secret man she was banging? Why did she call me frigid?”

He flinched. “I know you don’t understand it, but it’s not easy being your friend. You’re beautiful, intelligent, confident . . . it made it difficult for her to compete with you.”

“We didn’t compete.” How had she ended up on the defensive?

“Didn’t you?”

“No. I mean, we were in the same prelaw program in undergrad and went to law school together—”

“And you both interned for Nicholas Trenton and wanted a junior associate position at Joseph and Long after graduation. Can you imagine what that must be like for her? To know Trenton will likely recommend only one of you?” He smoothed his hand over Hannah’s arm. “Then he picks you as his second chair on the murder case of the decade.”

“Don’t blame that on me. She’d already started sleeping with you by then,” she said in a voice louder than she would’ve preferred.

He sighed. “I know you hate her right now, but—”

“I’m angry at her for lying to me and I’m hurt by her actions, but I don’t hate her.” She shifted her gaze between Tom and Hannah, observing firsthand how much he loved her friend. He’d never looked at her that way. She’d never get over how they’d deceived her, but she couldn’t deny they belonged together. She stood and held her purse against her chest. “Will you tell her that when she wakes up?”

He rose from his chair. “Maybe you could tell her yourself.”

“Maybe.” She gave into her urge and hugged him. “You know, Tom, I’m far from perfect. Both you and I spent so much time trying to hide our real selves that we never gave each other a shot. I’m sorry I kept you from finding someone who would love you for you. Someone like Hannah.”

He pulled back, looking sheepish. “Shit, you shouldn’t apologize to me. I cheated on you. I should’ve done the decent thing and broken up with you before anything happened with Hannah.”

“No argument there.” She glanced over at the door to make sure no one was near. “Tom? Do you know why Hannah came by to see me?”

He peered over at Hannah. “I don’t. I was on-shift the last time I spoke to her. She said she was going into the firm to catch up on her files. Like I told the police, I figured she needed to talk to you.”

She held her purse a little bit tighter. “You spoke to the police?”

“Yeah, they came by to ask me and Hannah’s parents some questions.”

“Did you tell them . . .?”

“About the fact Hannah and I cheated on you?” He squeezed her shoulder. “Nah. I figured it was none of their business, and I knew you didn’t do it. You aren’t capable of hurting anyone. Besides, while they were here, they got a call that told them they’d caught the man who’d done it. Said he’d probably followed her and got in because she hadn’t locked the door.”

She hoped he was right. It was easier than believing the perp was still loose and that she was a target.

Tom scratched his head. “That guy? The one who punched me the other night? That was Jaxon Deveroux, wasn’t it?”

She paused, debating whether to tell him the truth. “Yes.”

“Does he treat you right?”

“Tom, I’m not comfortable discussing my client with you.”

His eyebrows arched. “Your client? In my experience a guy doesn’t react the way he did unless he’s got some real feelings for a girl. Just be careful, Kate. You’re an innocent. It would be easy for a slick man like him to take advantage of you.”

The man who’d cheated on her was giving her advice on men? If she weren’t in the hospital, she’d laugh. Of course, Tom also believed that she’d never hurt anyone and that she was innocent.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” She ambled to the door alongside Tom. “Would you call me and let me know how she’s doing?”

“Yeah. But Kate? She almost died because she wanted to speak with you. Don’t you think you could at least listen to what she’s got to say?”

Could she? Last night she’d felt guilty for indirectly leading Hannah to her apartment. “Honestly, I—” Her cell buzzed in her pocket.

“Go on. Take it.” Tom gave her a sad smile and then returned to Hannah’s bedside.

She pulled out the phone on her way to the elevator. “Hello?”

“Kate Martin?”

The caller was male, but she didn’t recognize the voice. Her pulse skyrocketed. “Yes, who’s this?”

“Master Cole gave me your number. He said you were looking for a session with me.”

Anthony Rinaldi.

“Yes, that’s right, sir.”

“You are a virgin, yes?”

“A virgin? I’m afraid if you’re looking for that, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I meant to electrical play. I’ve grown bored with my usual girls. Cole said you’d be perfect for me, and if he says you’re perfect, I believe him. Come tonight. Ten o’clock in the dungeon. You won’t be disappointed.”

The call disconnected and a shiver ran down her arms, the mafia boss’s taunting promise laid out for her like Pandora’s Box with a big, shiny, red bow.

She didn’t worry that she’d be disappointed.

She worried about the ramifications of her opening that damned box.

Chapter Eight

S
HE WALKED OUT
of the hospital and was not surprised to see a light dusting of snow coating the ground. That was southeastern Michigan in the fall. It could go from seventy degrees one day to below freezing the next. Of course, it beat the extreme cold and piles of snow they’d have right now in the Upper Peninsula.

She turned off the main roads and onto one of the side streets of the city. As usual, it was empty of both cars and of people. There were no businesses except for the occasional liquor store. Otherwise the buildings were abandoned, stripped of anything valuable, from the fixtures to the copper wiring. Still, this was her city and the place she called home.

As she turned down a street of half-burnt houses, her thoughts strayed to Tom. After spending two years with him, she would’ve expected to feel his loss, but they never really had a connection. It was comfortable and easy. Nothing like the passion that blazed with Jaxon. Nothing like she’d experienced last night when she’d crumbled in his arms and cried tears she’d thought long dried.

He’d been right. She’d trusted him with her body and even her life, but it had been so much harder to trust him with her secrets. And now that she had, she’d panicked and run away again. How many chances would he give her before giving up on her?

She didn’t want to push him away, but there were pieces of herself she’d never be able to relinquish, even to Jaxon. He didn’t understand why she needed space today or how much she had to prove. While she acknowledged being a sexual submissive, there was no way she’d ever let it translate into any other area of her life. There was a difference between him trying to protect her and being overprotective.

Would Jaxon be waiting for her at her apartment? Last night had been . . . intense. She didn’t regret it, but she didn’t know how to deal with him knowing her secrets.

A dark car pulled off the curb and into her lane, almost sideswiping her, and her breath caught in her chest as she veered to the left to avoid an accident.

What an asshole.

She hit the gas to put some space between her and the car. The car picked up speed and tailed her dangerously close.

Her pulse took off like a dog chasing a rabbit, and a sense of foreboding sat heavy in her gut. She gunned the gas and glanced in her mirror at her pursuer. She could make out only the shadow of the driver, but there was no mistaking that the car was a BMW.

Was it possible it was the same one from outside Mrs. Webber’s house?

He was gaining on her.

She hit an icy patch of road, losing control of her bike. Gripping the handlebars, she swerved into the other lane and into the path of an oncoming Jeep. With no other choice and seconds to spare, she jumped the curb and hit the brakes, stopping only inches from the wall of an old brick office building.

She jumped off the bike and quickly pulled out the gun from her purse. Her hands shook as she aimed in front of her. The Jeep had parked by the side of the road, but she didn’t see any sign of the BMW.

Sunlight reflected off her mirror and blinded her. She heard the slam of a car door and then the steps of someone walking toward her.

The figure approached, blocking the sun. Rachel Dawson’s face came into view.

Kate kept the gun trained on her. She didn’t trust the nosy reporter.

Rachel frowned as she eyed the gun but held out her hand anyway. “Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

As much as it burned Kate to take help from the woman, she accepted her offer to help her to her feet and then removed her helmet. “I’m good. Mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

Rachel swallowed. “As soon as you lower the gun, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Kate dropped it to her side. “I take it your being here is not a coincidence?”

Rachel shrugged. “I waited for you outside your apartment. Saw Jaxon bring you home this morning and then I followed you to the hospital. Sorry about your friend.”

The reporter spoke matter-of-factly with no real emotion behind her condolences.

Kate scanned the street. “Why were you coming from the other direction?”

“The BMW also tailed you from the hospital. I was curious, and so I stayed with him until he parked. Then I thought maybe I was wrong and turned around. Good thing too, don’t you think?”

Rachel’s explanation made sense, but Kate still didn’t trust her. “Did you get the license plate?”

“The plate was so muddy, I couldn’t make it out. Which I found odd since the car was perfectly clean.”

Had Rachel collaborated with the driver of the BMW? This could be a plot to get Kate comfortable so she’d lower her guard and spill all the juicy details about Jaxon’s case. But it would’ve been one hell of a risk for Rachel to take. Suppose Kate had gotten hurt?

Somehow Kate got the impression that Rachel was being sincere. Well, at least as sincere as a member of the press could get.

Kate stuck her gun back into her purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder.

A rusty nail was stuck into the front tire of her bike. She sighed and wiped her hair off her face. It could’ve been worse, but the tire alone would mean thirty-nine-cent mac and cheese for dinner for the next month.

Rachel waved her manicured hand. “Leave the bike here. I’ll take you home.”

Abandon her baby on the streets of Detroit? What if someone stole it? But it wasn’t as if she could afford a tow. She needed help getting it back to her apartment.

Taking a chance, she tried the front door of the building, not surprised to find it locked. She wandered to the side and found another door. Bingo.

“Hey, Rachel. Do you have a couple bobby pins?”

“Of course,” Rachel said, rounding the corner of the building. “But why? It’s not as if you ever cared about what your hair looked like before.” She pulled a couple from her own head and handed them to Kate.

“Unlike you, I don’t have to rely on my looks to get ahead,” she shot back, oddly enjoying bantering with the woman. She stuck the two pins in the lock of the doorknob and jiggled it.

“That’s good since you have the perfect face for radio,” Rachel quipped, standing over Kate and watching her manipulate the lock.

She laughed. The woman had a wicked streak, but it didn’t bother Kate. She actually admired the reporter for it. At least she was honest.

When she heard the click, she turned the knob, opening the door to the old, vacant office building.

Rachel put her hands on her hips. “You learn that in the Upper Peninsula?”

Kate’s heart danced into triple time.

And that’s when she realized the mention of her past had scared her more than the attempt on her life. What was wrong with her? Her father wouldn’t want her living in fear. Why was she giving so much power to the past?

Not wanting to give the reporter the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten such a strong reaction from her, she schooled her face to indifference. “How much do you know about me?”