Chapter 20
Kane sat in the dark, staring down at the stack of identification cards Steve had dropped off.
He had to hand it to Duncan; the guy was ridiculously good at this shit.
Kane couldn’t even remember ever posing for a picture, and he sure as hell didn’t own a blue fucking shirt.
Yet there he was in one. Creepy and impressive all at once.
He leaned back in the chair, eyes drifting toward the stairs before he could stop himself.
Monica had seemed better, even teasing him a little, right up until she’d whispered goodnight and slipped into her bedroom.
He’d watched her whole emotional world shift right in front of him, the way her face tightened as the light dimmed in her eyes.
She’d tried hiding it, but he wasn’t blind.
And he hated that he couldn’t fix it. Kane frowned. Okay, that was new. When in the fuck had he ever wanted to fix anything for anybody?
When he’d held her earlier, the way she trembled in his arms…
hell, it took everything in him not to lower his mouth to hers and kiss her until she forgot every painful thing in her life.
It was what he did with women, at least. Kiss them, fuck them until they were smiling and forgetting everything other than him between their legs.
But with Monica? There was something different, something that tugged at him harder than he wanted to admit.
His need to protect her was louder than the part of him that wanted to lay her down and bury himself inside her.
And yeah, that fucking part still existed as far as she was concerned.
He wasn’t dead...well, he was technically dead, but his dick still worked.
If she gave him even a hint, he’d take her up on it without hesitation.
But not like this. Not when she was raw, unless she came to him first.
“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Since when did he start worrying about the emotional side of sex? What the hell was she doing to him?
He’d tried to distract himself earlier, keep focused, make some damn phone calls, but the second she turned the shower on upstairs?
Done. His brain and cock were one and the same.
All he could think about was her naked, wet, with soap sliding over every soft curve.
Charger had to call his name twice over the phone before Kane actually remembered he was on the damn phone.
Then, when Kane couldn’t form a coherent sentence, Charger laughed his ass off and hung up like the asshole he was.
Kane cursed again and tossed the IDs onto the table.
He leaned back in the chair, lacing his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.
If he was being honest, Monica wasn’t the only one a little messed up right now.
He couldn’t focus the way he usually did.
Couldn’t lock into the job with the clean, cold precision he’d mastered over the years.
And that was bad. Really bad.
He’d done undercover work longer than most people had been alive—faced things far uglier than Griffen—but this felt…
off. Wrong. His instincts were poking at him, whispering that maybe he should step back, find another way in, and not walk straight into a setup his gut didn’t like.
It seemed too easy, and in his kind of work, if it was too easy, you'd best be worried.
But then he pictured Monica again with the stubborn tilt of her chin, the way she tensed whenever someone mentioned Griffen, and the fierce fire in her eyes when she talked about Joey or Beverly.
She wasn’t going to stop. She wouldn’t rest until she got justice for her sister.
She’d walk straight into hell alone if she had to.
And he couldn’t let her. Wouldn’t let her.
Charger had nailed it earlier. Kane had walked into that bar dead-set on using Monica as an easy in, as a resource.
And then, when he watched as her father lifted his hand toward her, everything he thought he had under control went to shit.
Attraction was one thing. He’d had that a million times.
But whatever this was? This was different.
Kane knew he wasn’t on his game, and emotions had a way of getting a man killed.
But it didn’t matter. He knew damn well he wasn’t walking away from this woman. She deserved someone in her corner, someone who wouldn’t back down. And even if it ruined him… he was already in too deep to pull out now.
Hearing a noise on the steps, he turned his head, glancing that way.
Monica, wearing a t-shirt, walked down the steps.
She paused at the bottom, looking around, but her eyes passed right over him.
It was dark, sure, but there was a little light coming in from the kitchen window.
Frowning, he slowly sat up and was getting ready to say something when she started walking again.
Kane couldn’t help but let his eyes roam down her body to long legs with thick thighs that could definitely hold a man while he was between them. His gaze rose, noticing she was braless as her tits swayed provocatively as she walked. Fuck, she was a gorgeous woman.
Her long hair was loose and wild, hanging down her back. His gaze went to her face; her eyes looked vacant. Was she sleepwalking? Kane was getting ready to say something when Knox quietly appeared, watching Monica closely.
She walked into the kitchen, and his gaze locked straight onto her perfect, rounded ass.
That black silky underwear she wore barely qualified as clothing, teasing him with a damn peek-a-boo show every time she moved.
When he heard the water running, he lifted his eyes only to watch her tilt her head and drink from a glass.
Her place had an open floor plan, which meant he could see everything, and if he leaned just a little to the left—and, of course, he did—he had a perfect view of her gorgeous body.
Knox padded quietly across the tile floor, silent as a damn shadow. Not even a nail clicked on the tile floor. It was like the dog understood precisely what was happening. Without ever taking his eyes off Monica, Knox went to the door, turned, and sat like he was on guard duty.
Kane dragged his attention back to Monica just in time to see her lean across the counter as if reaching for something. Her shirt lifted, and suddenly there was no more peek-a-boo. Her ass was fully on display with the kind of sight that could bring a grown man to his knees.
“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath right before the shatter of glass snapped him back to reality.
Monica spun toward the sound, her expression twisting into pure terror as she stared into the dark. “Monica, it’s me,” he said quickly.
Knox growled at him like he was the idiot here. Maybe he was. He’d only seen sleepwalking in movies, but hell, he wasn’t even sure that’s what was happening. Kane had no clue what the fuck to do, but seeing that terrified look on her face gutted him. He needed to take it away immediately.
He took a step toward her, and Knox growled louder in warning.
“Dammit, Knox. Chill the fuck out,” he hissed, keeping his voice low. He felt useless. She was barefoot, surrounded by glass, and he didn’t know if waking her was safe or if he was about to make everything worse. Knox clearly thought he would.
He reached for his phone, ready to text Slade because he needed someone who knew what to fucking do in this situation, but froze when she shifted and lifted her foot.
“Shit! Don’t move,” he snapped, lunging toward her. He caught her gently, lifting her off her feet before she could step into the mess.
She struggled in his arms, soft sounds rumbling in her throat, her body trembling like she was freezing, but she wasn’t. She was hot against him. Too hot. And he felt every sweet inch of her.
“Monica, it’s Kane,” he said quietly, hoping it would calm her somehow.
Slowly—thank fuck—she calmed. Her heavy, sleepy gaze met his, not completely awake but no longer empty either. Sleepy on her was sexy as fuck. The broken glass crunched under his boots as he carried her out of the kitchen.
She blinked up at him, still trying to make sense of it all. “Shit,” she whispered just as realization flashed in her eyes.
He couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face. “Shit is right. You almost walked through broken glass.”
“I should’ve warned you,” she murmured, sounding drowsy, and damn… he liked that sound a lot. “I’ve been sleepwalking again. Stress, I guess.”
“I didn’t know what the hell was going on or what I was supposed to do,” Kane said, narrowing his eyes but keeping any frustration out of his voice.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking away, embarrassed.
“Hey.” He gave her a gentle jostle, so she’d look at him again. “Don’t apologize for something you can’t control. But you gotta tell me what to do if it happens again. Is it even safe for you to live alone?”
“Knox knows what to do,” she said, and she didn’t even try to hide the way she curled a little closer to him. She fit perfectly in his arms, soft and warm, and he wasn’t even thinking about putting her down. Not yet.
She tilted her head toward the door. Knox was still sitting guard, intense as ever. “Good boy, Knox. I’m okay now. Go to bed.”
Kane watched the transformation, the fierce guardian dog suddenly turning into a wagging, happy idiot as he trotted over to sniff her and make sure she was alright. After Monica patted his massive head, he bolted upstairs.
“Knox guards the door, so I can’t go outside. Usually, he watches to make sure I don’t grab a knife, turn on the stove, or do anything with fire. If I do, he barks and wakes me up, which I hate because it’s terrifying to wake up in a place when you have no clue how you got there.”
“He’s trained for this.” It wasn’t even a question.
“Yeah, my ex trained him when he was a puppy,” Monica said, shifting in Kane’s arms. “You can put me down now.”
He totally ignored the put me now part of what she was saying.
“Your ex?” The word tasted wrong coming out of his mouth. Worse was the growl hiding behind it.
“He got tired of getting up in the middle of the night,” Monica said with a shrug.
“He trained Knox instead. He was a dog trainer for people with disabilities. My brother got me Knox for my birthday, and my ex offered to train him to help keep me safe. I accepted because I hate to be a burden to anyone. It happens more when I’m stressed or sleep deprived. ”
“Your man should take care of you. Not your dog.” Kane said instead of saying what he really wanted to say about a man who relied on a dog to keep his woman safe. Yeah, that pissed him off to the point he wouldn’t mind running into the jackass. “What happened with your ex?”
Her surprised expression told him she didn’t expect him to ask. Hell, he didn’t expect to ask the question either, but there it was.
“It just didn’t work,” she finally said.
“That’s obvious,” Kane muttered. “Why?”
“After Beverly disappeared, he accused me of caring more about her than him,” she said softly.
Kane’s jaw went tight. “What an asshole.”
“Not really. He was right.” Monica smiled a little at his reaction. “We were drifting apart anyway. And I did love my sister more. If I even loved him at all.”
“A strong man would never compare himself to your sister,” Kane said, his gaze drifting to her lips—just in time to watch her tongue slide across her bottom one. Jesus.
“You can put me down now, Kane,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. If he were a gambling man, which he was, he’d bet his last dollar that she didn’t want to be set down.
“What if I don’t want to put you down?” he said roughly, lifting his eyes to hers.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Then don’t,” she whispered, cupping his cheek.
And that—fuck, that was all the permission he needed to claim her mouth.