But Blane had disappeared, leaving Kade suspecting the Santinis of taking matters into their own hands.

She’d been wearing a little T-shirt then, the fabric riding up to her waist as she slept, teasing Kade with a view of the tiny pair of satin panties she wore. The virginal white fabric had nearly screamed “off limits” but that hadn’t stopped him from wanting her. He’d briefly wondered what she’d do if she woke with his mouth on the paradise between her thighs . . .

Luckily, Kathleen had woken before Kade had done something stupid, her eyes frightened when she saw him, then filling with terror when she realized he was there to kill her.

In the end, he hadn’t been able to do either of the two actions he’d considered—he couldn’t kill her and he couldn’t fuck her. Maybe it had been the innocence etched into every word she said, every move she made. Or perhaps it was the purity of her soul that shone in her clear blue eyes.

Kathleen was good, and even after all the darkness and evil that surrounded him and lived inside him, Kade had recognized it—and been unable to destroy something so precious and rare.

Of course, it hadn’t hurt that she looked like a goddamn fairy-tale princess, her long hair lying in tousled waves over her shoulders and down her back. The shade of gold had a rose hue, as though the locks had been kissed by the sunrise. Her cheeks were ivory porcelain, a flush blooming in them when Kade had touched her, his hands slipping under her T-shirt because he hadn’t been able to go a moment longer not knowing how the curve of her hip felt in his hand, or the exact dip of her waist.

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, had held his gaze captive. The scent of her perfume drifted between them, reminding Kade of a time long ago—a time when he’d thought fate would be kind, that he’d paid enough in blood and tears for a lifetime.

He’d been wrong.

Holding the T-shirt to his face, Kade inhaled deeply. The fabric was drenched in Kathleen’s scent. Not her perfume, but the scent of her skin and hair.

A wave of pure agony washed over him and Kade stumbled to the bed, sitting down heavily. Kathleen had only fitfully made the bed, her pillow still dented from the impression of her head, and he found himself resting his fingers on the hollow.

How quickly would she forget about him? Would she tell his baby about him, or would Blane’s name only be spoken as the father?

Kade abruptly stood. Time to go.

Everything was blurred as he walked through the kitchen, and it wasn’t until he was sitting inside his car that he realized he still clutched Kathleen’s T-shirt in his hand.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It had been a fourteen-hour drive from Indy to Boston. Kade would have driven it without stopping, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He’d pulled off somewhere near Allentown, finding a dive of a motel and paying cash for a room.

After showering, he’d lain on the bed in his jeans, unable to sleep. He picked up his cell, a new burner phone he’d bought. His old phone lay at the bottom of the White River outside Indy, where he’d stopped to toss it after leaving Kathleen’s apartment.

His fingers traced the numbers for Kathleen’s cell, but he didn’t dial. Kade had made it impossible for either Blane or Kathleen to reach him, which was best for them all. A clean break.

The T-shirt he’d taken from Kathleen’s apartment lay on the bed beside him. Absently, Kade picked it up. The fabric was worn, soft, and still smelled of her. He wondered if she was with Blane, waking up in his arms this morning.

He fell asleep with her image behind his closed eyes. His dreams were filled with Kathleen in his bed, her eyes warm and soft as he kissed her, the feel of her nails digging into his back as he pushed deep inside her, her gasps and sighs echoing in his ears.

Waking to the reality he now faced from the peace and contentment of his dreams was like dying from a thousand cuts.

Kade arrived in Boston the next night. He drove straight to his office, pulling into the garage and parking. The garage was actually part of the space, his “office” being an old self-storage building. It was made of thick red brick, with a chain-link fence surrounding it to discourage any curiosity. If someone did get too close, the grounds were wired with numerous ways to scare them off.

Climbing a wrought-iron spiral staircase, Kade stepped into a loft that he’d converted to a living space. Unlike his apartment in Indy, it wasn’t luxurious or even that comfortable. But it was functional, and that was all he really required.

The stark white, windowless walls were bare, and Kade pulled off his shirt, tossing it onto the bed as he headed to the kitchen area. Pulling open the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and drank half the bottle in one long gulp. A moment later, he was heading back down the stairs to where he’d set up his computers.

Various green and blue lights glowed in the dark as Kade flipped on the overhead lights. A server rack was on his right, the computers it contained humming. The noise was familiar and comforting to Kade. At least he had control over this part of his life, considering the rest had gone to complete and utter shit.

Six computer monitors, stacked two tall, sat on a large table. Kade sank into the chair in front of the monitors, toggling a key on the lone keyboard. The screens flickered to life. Two of the monitors showed the black-and-white footage of surveillance cameras—some for here, others for his apartment in Indy. Glancing over the ones in Indy, he saw the housekeeper hadn’t yet taken care of the place as he’d directed.

Kade’s need to know about Kathleen ate at him, and it was only because of an iron grip on his self-control that he didn’t try and call her. He briefly considered calling Blane, but knew he couldn’t do that, either.

It was clear he should get to work. There were jobs waiting to be done, just sitting there on his desk. Jobs he’d taken when he’d thought going legit would solve all his problems. Now, he didn’t give a shit.

The next night he sat in a bar, drink in hand. He’d lost track of how many he’d had. But still, no matter how much he drank, it didn’t seem to numb the pain eating him from the inside out.

He’d been a fool to think somebody like him could have a happily-ever-after.

The joy and peace he’d felt when Kathleen had said she loved him, wanted to be with him, told him she was carrying their child—all of it had faded to ash. It had been so close . . .

Kade tipped the glass back, emptying the clear liquid in one swallow. He set it back down on the bar, caught the bartender’s eye, and tapped it to signal a refill. Obligingly, the man came over, grabbing a bottle on the way, and poured another double for him.

“Everything all right there, buddy?” the bartender asked. “You wanna talk about it?”

Kade glanced up and frowned, pulled from his thoughts by the questions. The man was watching him with some concern, which just pissed Kade off. “What are you, a fucking bartender or a shrink? Fuck off.”

Immediately dismissing the man from his attention, Kade returned to his thoughts. The bartender went away. He might’ve been pissed. Kade didn’t care.

He left when the bar closed and the now not-so-friendly bartender kicked him out. Kade was unlocking his car when he heard the scuff of a shoe behind him and a voice say, “Give me your wallet, dickhead.”

Kade sighed. He really didn’t feel like this shit tonight. Turning around, he leaned back against the car, surveying the guy who was stupid enough to try and mug him.

He was about Kade’s height, with a slightly heavier build. It was hard to tell his age in the dark, though there was no mistaking the knife in his hand.

“Listen,” Kade said, his lips twisting into something resembling a smile, “you seem like a real nice guy, so I’m going to give you some advice. Go find someone else to play with tonight. I’m in a shitty mood.”

“Shut up and give it to me, or I’ll hand you your fucking spleen,” the guy threatened.

Kade gave a mock frown. “Do you even know where the spleen is?” he asked. “Not that I’m doubting your sincerity, just your capability.” This guy was starting to piss him off, the anger burning away both the alcohol and the pain.

Apparently, the guy didn’t know where the spleen was located, because when he lunged, he was miles off. Kade reacted quickly, twisting to the side to avoid the clumsy knife thrust, then grabbing the guy’s wrist.

Now they were in close quarters. Anger spiked hard in Kade. He jabbed his bent elbow up, catching the mugger on the soft spot underneath his chin. The guy faltered at the blow, his teeth clacking hard together. Kade bent the guy’s wrist down and shoved, a crack letting him know he’d broken the joint. The guy cried out in pain, the knife dropping from his fingers, but Kade was too far gone to let things go with that.

His fist shot out in a crushing blow to the man’s esophagus, then Kade’s elbow caught him in the solar plexus. The guy went down, his good hand flying to his neck as he tried in vain to suck down air.

Kade watched for the one hundred and eighty seconds, thereabouts, it took for a man to suffocate. When the guy was still, Kade reached down and picked up the dropped knife. It wasn’t a bad piece. Flipping the blade closed, he pocketed it and got in his car.

As he drove away, the anger and rage ebbed, replaced by the familiar tide of despair. It was an odd realization to come to and it only took Kade as long as the drive back to his office to figure it out. So long as he was inflicting pain and death, he didn’t feel the pain of missing her. And it had felt good to not feel so fucking bad for even a little while.