Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Kane
Now
I t had been the week of all weeks, the year of all years. Not that I was ever going to say that out loud—that was just asking for more trouble. I wasn’t usually one to believe in fate or luck, especially not with the year I’d been having, however maybe there was a way to get through the next few weeks. And forget that things kept getting in my way and making things even more difficult.
I still couldn’t believe everything that had happened. Or that we still didn’t have answers. I’d almost lost one of my best friends all because of someone’s ego.
That was rich coming from me, because yes, we Montgomerys had egos. Though I wasn’t a Montgomery by last name.
I had my dad’s last name, and a big family without even adding in the Montgomerys. My aunts all had huge families, and my dad just happened to marry a Montgomery, so I had Montgomery as my middle name, just like many other cousins. I wasn’t sure which of my aunts and uncles had decided to make that a thing, but apparently the Montgomery name would not die.
“What’s going on?” Kingston asked from where he stood next to me, a frown on his face.
I shook my head.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“That sounds like a lie,” Kingston said with a laugh. We were the closest cousins in our business. Kingston and I were close in age, and though technically we were second cousins, two offshoots of the family tree, we acted more like brothers than anything. Which meant Kingston could read my mind when I didn’t want him to. The damn man.
“So, you’re not going to talk about it.” Kingston paused. “Her?”
I whirled on him, narrowing my gaze. “No, we’re not. You know we’re not. You know why we’re not.”
“The thing is, I don’t actually. I don’t know why you’re acting this way. I don’t know why you won’t talk about her. Or that some really huge fucking things happened and you’re not talking about them, either.”
“What am I supposed to talk about? It didn’t work out. Daisy’s safe. Our family’s safe. Our work is good. Business is up. What else is there? I don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”
“If you didn’t sound so defensive about it, maybe I would believe you.”
“Maybe it’s not for you to believe me. Just go. I’m going to close up shop and head out.”
“You can talk to me, you know. You can talk to any of us. You don’t have to keep it inside anymore.”
I glared at him. “That’s pretty rich coming from you.”
Kingston shut up, his eyes going cold.
“You’re an asshole sometimes, you know.”
“Right back at you.”
He huffed and grabbed his phone from his desk.
“Come to the bar with us. We should stop hiding shit.”
“I’m fine. I promise.”
Kingston gave me one last look before he headed out, locking the front door behind him. I’d go out the back way, ensuring everything was locked up tight, the security cameras were going, and set the alarm. We were all set to go.
So why did I have a tingle on the back of my neck?
Maybe because we still hadn’t found one last guy. The cops were looking for him, but he was long gone. He’d taken his money and run off. We all knew that. But I still had an uneasy feeling.
I grabbed my things, did one last check around the building, and made my way out to the back parking lot where the employees parked. It was dark outside, but we had enough lights going so there were no shadows to hide in. Considering we not only owned the building, but each of the businesses inside were owned by our family, why the hell would we risk their safety? After all, we’d had enough happen to us recently, enough horror and terror, that we amped up our own security. It was our job to protect our family. And we had failed more often than not. But never again.
“Montgomery.”
I froze at the familiar voice, even though it wasn’t my name, and turned.
I knew that face, knew that voice, but hadn’t expected to see it here.
“What do you think you’re going to accomplish here?” I asked, my hands still in my pockets. I did my best to try to dial my phone without making it look like I was, but the man’s gaze narrowed, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Fuck.
“Hands out of your fucking pockets.”
I slowly did as he asked, cursing under my breath for letting Kingston go by himself. But at least he wasn’t here for this. I’d talk my way out of this, just like I talked my way out of everything. But why hadn’t we seen him coming? I looked up and saw the knocked-out security camera. Fuck. Well, the man was fast. And good.
But I was better.
“Let’s just talk this out.”
“Fuck you, Montgomery.”
“Kane?” a soft voice asked and the blood in my veins froze, my entire body going on alert.
“Phoebe, get out of here!” I called.
The man turned towards her, whirling with the gun in his hand. I didn’t think twice, I just moved, throwing myself towards Phoebe as her eyes widened at the sight of the man behind the dumpster, gun raised, and I knew fate was laughing at me for thinking it didn’t exist.
Because it did. It always did.
She looked at me and I saw the confusion and terror in her gaze. I saw everything I hadn’t been able to before.
Because she was the woman I loved. The woman that wasn’t mine. I threw myself on top of her, and when the gun went off, she screamed.
* * *
By the time I pulled myself off her and looked up, the man with the gun was gone. The man we had been chasing for months. Months where we didn’t realize that he was the one trying to sabotage the company. With bad calls, sabotaging our infrastructure, and doing what he could online and off to try to break us. And yet, all that went out the window. I’d find that man. That bastard. I didn’t have another choice. But first I had to deal with the woman currently underneath me, eyes wide and hands shaking as she placed them on my chest.
“Kane? Oh my God. That man just shot at us. Are you okay?”
I loved this woman. And I hated that I did. Because every time I reminded myself that I loved her, I was also reminded about the fact that she wasn’t mine. And she was never going to be mine. In that moment that didn’t matter. All that did was the searing pain in my upper arm, and that I had no idea if the woman I loved was hurt or not.
“Are you okay?”
Her hands came away with blood and I cursed, sitting up as I ignored the fire scorching down my arm. Rage poured through me and my hands nearly shook. It took all of my training to calm myself and focus on the woman in my arms.
“Fuck. You’re bleeding. You’re hurt. Where are you hurt?”
There were pounding footsteps running towards us, and my head shot up, past her, on alert. But it was only Kingston, coming back.
“I’m not hurt. I mean, probably a little scraped from hitting the ground, but you’re the one bleeding, Kane. You’re shot.”
Her hand went up to my arm and hovered over it, before she pulled her hands back.
“Am I supposed to put pressure on this? Oh my God. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Your cousin’s coming. He’ll know what to do.” She looked over her shoulder as Kingston came running, and I felt her stiffen when she realized that Kingston’s gun was in his hand.
“I didn’t see who ran off. Fuck. You’re shot?” Kingston’s gaze slid over mine, then down to Phoebe. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?”
“I…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Kane’s hurt. Should I put pressure on it? I mean, you guys know what to do in these situations. And I literally do not. Should I move him? Wait. Should we call the cops? We need to call the authorities.”
She was rambling now.
Pushing away the pain in my arm, and from the scrapes and bruises from falling on the asphalt, I cupped her face, ignoring the sight of my own blood on her porcelain skin.
My blood was on her. Just like every fucking dream I had leading to our breakup. She was hurt, I could see the scrapes on her hands, the fear in her eyes. That was because she had come to me at my place of business and gotten hurt because of a man I couldn’t fucking catch.
The blood on her skin was just a way too visual reminder of that.
“I’ll be okay. I’m fine.”
“Put pressure on it,” Kingston said as he handed Phoebe a bandage.
I scowled up at him, but I saw the anger in his gaze over the fact that there were going to be questions. Kingston was fucking pissed. Just like I was, yet on a different spectrum. Because I was furious that Phoebe was hurt, while Kingston was pissed off because I was hurt. And we were both pissed over the fact that somebody had done this on our property. Again.
“Security’s all up, Noah’s on it. Cops are on the way, I’m sliding the gun away, but I have all my paperwork, so it’s not going to be an issue.”
I let out a string of curses as Phoebe pressed the bandage to my shoulder, her face paling.
“I’m hurting you. Damn it. I’m not good at this. I’m an interior decorator. Not a doctor.”
“Nice Star Trek reference,” Kingston said with a twitch of his lips, though the humor didn’t reach his eyes. He was trying to calm her down—and probably me as well. I was ready to rip the door off the place and hide Phoebe inside before I chased down the asshole who dared hurt her.
I ignored the voice in my head telling me that I’d been the one to hurt her while trying to protect her. Yet another reason we weren’t together.
Phoebe scowled at him. “Shouldn’t we move him? What if the guy comes back?” Somehow she paled even further, and I cursed.
“You’re going to be okay. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
“But they hurt you.”
I wanted to hold her close, to reach out and press my lips to her forehead, but that wasn’t my place. I didn’t even know why she was here. Maybe to bring back my toothbrush, though I was sure we were well past that in our breakup. But she was here, and she had blood on her skin because of me.
By the time the authorities were there, and our cousins showed up, we thankfully weren’t taken away and handcuffed over the fact that Kingston was armed. Instead we handed over our security footage as the authorities prowled the parking lot and building, and once again our family, teams, and everyone else that worked near us were inconvenienced because we had fucked up. Because we couldn’t catch this damn man.
The owner of Sherman Priority Security. The one man we hadn’t been able to get after the whole fucking fiasco.
Now I was sitting in a hospital bed in the ER, getting stitched up by a pretty doctor who kept scowling at me every time I moved.
“Mr. Carr, if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to scar.”
I shrugged, making her scowl again even as the pain ricocheted through my shoulder. “I have more than a few scars.”
“As I can see, since you’re shirtless, and your line of work is congruent with this. However, you don’t need a roadmap of your work history on your skin. So why don’t you sit still while I do what I do best. Because I’m really damn good at this. But not if you keep moving.”
Both of her nurses snorted, and I smiled. “That’s good to know.”
“I know one of your cousins, and an aunt, I think. And they taught me how to deal with you Montgomerys and your ilk.”
I scowled, and then it all clicked. She had to be talking about one of my aunts. Not my actual aunt by blood, but a cousin of a cousin in our family counted.
“The Gallaghers are worse.”
“That’s what you Montgomerys and Carrs say. Then again, you are the one currently in my place of business while I stitch you up.”
I couldn’t fault her there. I needed to get out. I needed to check on her. On Phoebe. Why had she shown up? And why couldn’t I get her out of my head?
The doctor finished up and gave me home-care instructions. I nodded. “I’ve got it, I know the drill.” All too well—and not something I’d let Phoebe hear.
“You’re lucky it was an actual flesh wound. It didn’t cut through any arteries or bone, but you did end up with quite a few stitches. I want you in that sling for at least two weeks.”
“No way. I don’t do slings.”
“He’ll wear the damn sling,” Kingston said as he stormed into the room. “He’ll wear it, and he will be happy about it. I’ll even take a photo of it while he’s smiling and send it to you.”
The doctor just raised a brow. “Well, if that keeps him in a crappy mood, maybe he won’t get shot again, so I’ll take it.”
“That requires me to get your number,” Kingston said, and the doctor just rolled her eyes before she left the room, one of her nurses laughing beside her.
“Did you seriously just hit on the woman that stitched me up?”
“Maybe. I’ll get her number. It’s always good to have them on call since our family keeps getting fucking hurt.”
I nearly reached up to scrub my hand over my face and then realized that I was in the damn sling and everything hurt.
“Phoebe?”
“She’s in a room a couple of doors down.”
I tried to get off the bed, but Kingston put his hand on my good shoulder and glared. “Sit here while the rest show up so we can debrief. She’s fine. A few scrapes from the asphalt, but you shielded her. Not only from the bullet, but from everything else. The only reason that she is still here is that all of her family is making sure she doesn’t need anything else. If you thought we were overprotective, her family is trying to outdo us.”
“Don’t remind me,” I grumbled.
Phoebe’s siblings hadn’t hated me, they just hadn’t known what to do with me. Phoebe was the baby of their family, the youngest of four daughters and a son. Of course they hadn’t wanted their baby sister to be with a “rough-and-tumble guy,” in their words. They hadn’t been mean about it, but they had been protective. And while I honored that, and agreed somewhat, I had resented it. Now though? They had been right. Phoebe had been in danger because of me. She had my blood on her hands and face because of me. Her family should have taken me out back and shot me or buried me in a deep hole so I couldn’t ever hurt their precious baby sister. They had treated me with respect, made me feel welcome, but had always been protective. So I deserved any lashing that came my way once Isabella, Phoebe’s oldest sister, figured out where I was.
“But she’s okay?”
“Yes, she is,” Ford said as he walked in, scowl in place. His partner in more ways than one, and my cousin, Noah, walked in, with a similar scowl.
And then Daisy, her boyfriend and coworker and our partner, Hugh, walked in as well.
“So it’s the whole family,” I grumbled.
“Pretty much,” Daisy said, as she moved toward me, cupped my face, and pressed my forehead to hers. “Never do that again. That scared me.”
“You’re the one who got hurt recently. Why are you even here?”
“Like I can keep her away,” Hugh grumbled, his familiar British accent not so calm like he usually was.
“You guys don’t need to be here. You should be with your kid.”
Hugh shook his head. “She’s with Daisy’s parents. And we’re here because we want to know what the hell happened.”
“Tim Sherman. He’s the one who shot me.”
“You saw his face?” Ford asked.
I scowled. “Yes. I saw his face, the shape of his body, and I saw him run away when he realized he didn’t get his target.”
“Hmm,” Ford said, looking down at his phone.
“What? Don’t you have the security footage?”
“We do. But his face wasn’t on it.”
“I saw him.” I hadn’t imagined the man who hated my family more than anything.
“You also had Phoebe there, and you had to make sure she was safe. Are you sure you saw him and not someone that maybe looked similar to him?” Daisy asked slowly, and I reeled back before I cursed under my breath.
“The cops have been looking for this guy for what he did to us and Daisy. Why do you think I’m seeing things?”
“Because the cops don’t believe it was him. It could have been anyone that doesn’t like what we do for a living. We’ve angered quite a few people by protecting those in need. And why was Phoebe there?” Noah asked, his voice steady—too steady.
I tried to bolt out of my bed, but Daisy pushed me back on my good shoulder.
“Rest for a minute. We’re going to go talk with Phoebe.”
“The fuck you are. I’m going to talk with Phoebe. I’m the one that got hurt.”
“Don’t put that on yourself,” Kingston growled. “If anything, it’s all of our faults.”
“Or how about we blame the guy who actually shot you,” Hugh said, ever the voice of reason. If he was going to join our family like I figured he would at any minute, he was going to have to panic with us. It helped.
“I need to talk to Phoebe. But we all know what that man wanted.”
“To take out the Montgomerys,” Noah said succinctly.
And it was true. Just because I didn’t carry Montgomery as my last name, didn’t make me not a Montgomery. It was my middle name, just like it was the middle name of all of my first cousins that happened to come from my dad’s side of the family. I didn’t know why they had done it, but I liked it. It gave me that sense of family. I had cousins and aunts and uncles and other family members that I loved on the Carr side, as well as everyone connected with them. But I also loved the crazy Montgomerys that I happened to be part of. So it didn’t matter to me that I had a different last name because my mother was the Montgomery. She still held the Montgomery name as a middle name, just like I did. And we Montgomerys stood together, in the face of adversity, terror, and apparently, a shooter.
“I need to talk with Phoebe.”
“Okay. But let’s go through it again. I know you already did this with the cops, and I do believe you, you know,” Ford said, and I scowled at Kingston.
“You’re the only one that doesn’t believe me?”
My cousin sighed. “I didn’t see his face. And I really want it to be anyone else.”
“Why do you want the man who shot at me to be someone in addition to the person that already wants to kill us?” I asked.
“Because if it was anyone else, we could easily find him and this would be over. Now I just have a feeling it’s going to get worse.”
And on that, the floor fell out from under me and I just sat there, going over everything again, and knew this wasn’t going to end well.
The authorities would find him—they had to. Because if they didn’t? I was going to find him first. Because nobody was going to scare Phoebe. Not even me. I might not be able to claim her as mine, but part of me would always know she was my woman. And I would do anything to protect her. Even burn down the world and my reputation along the way.