Chapter 8
Kat
I walk into the kitchen at 7:30 am in a state reminiscent of a zombie, and I feel like throwing up.
“What will you have, Kat?” Connor asks, cradling a bowl of eggs in the crook of his arm.
I pull out a stool from the breakfast bar. Sitting down, I watch in fascination as he beats the hell out of them. I was always jealous of people who knew how to cook. Me, I can burn a pot of water.
As he pours the mixture onto the grill set in the granite countertop, it sizzles and the smell of it has me swallowing the bile that stings my throat. He tosses green peppers, onions and crispy bacon onto the mixture, and I look away.
After going to bed, I tossed for a good hour before I finally caved and called Derek in Nevada. The bar was hopping with the usual breaking of the glass, and I wished I was there instead.
After giving him the rundown of my current situation, he was tickled pink that I was challenging the spot as Captain. We talked a few minutes more before he had to let me go but made sure to tell me to kick Rory’s ass if the need arose.
I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning until the witching hour of 3 am when I finally fell asleep. But it was a fitful one because I ended up having a nightmare about spending time with Rory.
“Kat?”
I yawn into my hand. “Just coffee for me, Connor.”
“Nonsense, you barely ate any supper last night, and you have a big day ahead of you. You need the fuel,” he smiled, setting a steaming mug down in front of me.
I took a sip of the strong brew as I looked at the grill and said, “Whatever that is, is fine.”
I stared blankly, lost in my thoughts as I sipped my coffee only to snap out of it when he set a plate piled high with scrambled eggs down in front of me.
“Eat,” he ordered as he folded his arms across his chest. “Eat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
I looked at him as I picked up the fork off the napkin beside my plate and said, “What makes you think something is on my mind?”
“Intuition.” He smiled, topping off my coffee. “No, not really. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that your life has taken a turn since coming here.”
I nod. “It sure has.” That’s all I was willing to divulge of my life. “Tell me what kind of person Rory is.”
“Rory?” He grabbed his coffee cup and took a sip as he sat down beside me. “Well, he’s funny as hell, reliable and dependable. If you’re ever in a bind, he’s the man that you want to have your back.”
I wondered for a minute if he was deliberately trying to make Rory sound better than the man I saw or if he meant every word. “Is he actually related to the family?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Declan met him years ago. Almost killed him, but he didn’t. Thick as thieves after that first meeting, they were… well they still are,” he chuckled. He stood up abruptly as if he had said too much. “You want anything else to eat? Some fruit maybe?”
I heard the footsteps of someone coming from the dining room and knew instantly that it was Rory. Connor must have too, because he had quickly changed the subject by asking if I wanted anything else.
“Is she in there Connor?” He barked before he entered the room.
Ignoring him as he stepped into the kitchen, I looked at the cook and said, “No thanks Connor, the eggs were enough.” Surprised that I finished it all, I picked up my plate and asked, “Is there a dishwasher?” I was fully prepared to wash it if there wasn’t.
“Right here.” Connor opened the door to it and took the plate from me.
Rory stalked over to the coffee machine and filled a Yeti with the brew. He snapped the lid on and turned to look at me. “Let’s go.”
With a wave to Connor, I followed him out the kitchen into the mud room where he was rifling through a cupboard.
“Take these.” He shoved a beach umbrella into my hands followed by sunscreen and a picnic basket.
“What exactly do we need all this stuff for?” I ask, juggling everything in my arms as he put the strap of a pair of binoculars over my head.
“Surveillance.” He tossed a blanket onto the top of the pile and opened the door going into the garage. Clearly, I was the one that was going to be doing the grunt jobs, and with a sigh, I followed him as he grabbed his coffee from the shelf he’d set it on and headed out the door.
He looks over the cars parked in the garage then looks at me. “Declan thought you should be eased into your first day. I don’t fucking know why, but I’m not the boss either, so we do what he says. Where is your hunk of junk?”
“My what?”
“The piece of crap you drove here with.” He raised his brows at me.
I could forgive a lot of things. I’m mostly a forgiving person, but not when they refer to my vehicle as a hunk of junk.
“Oh, you mean Nellie.”
He stands there looking confused. “Who the hell is Nellie?”
“My SUV, the Chevy Blazer that I backed into your tin can with, that never got a dent it it? That hunk of junk? It’s parked out front. Why?”
His one eyelid starts jumping, and for some stupid reason I feel the need to stop it with my finger. Perhaps poking him in the eye will give him a reason to be perpetually pissed off whenever he’s around me.
“Because we are taking it,” he said, walking over to a set of buttons on the wall. Pressing one, the garage door opened behind a black Caddy, and he stepped outside.
“Why?”
He spun around, and I nearly collided with him. “Is that all you do is ask why?”
“When it concerns my belongings and the possibility of it being shot at, you’re damn right I do!”
“We are going to the beach, no one will be shooting at us.”
“Fine.” I shove everything I was carrying into his arms and dig out the keys from my front pocket. Unlocking it, I open the back door, and he drops everything inside. “Here.” I toss the keys to him. “You’re driving.”
Rory
She shocked me when she threw them at me. Normally my reflexes are cat-like, they need to be to outrun my mother’s dog all the time. But I never dreamed she would hand over the keys to drive her precious car, and that’s why they smacked me in the head when she whipped them at me.
Stooping down I hear her soft giggle as I picked them up where they fell then looked at her and sneered. Not intentionally, it just happens every time I’m around her.
I walked around to the driver’s side and pulled open the door. “Good God, how much does this door weigh?”
She laughed at me and for some asinine reason it sounded like music to my ears.
“Believe it or not, it’s around 90 pounds,” she said with a smile. As if she realized what she was doing, that smile quickly fell from her face.
I turn away and look at the instrument panel, familiarizing myself with everything when she points and says, “The keyhole is right there.”
I look and see that it’s on the steering wheel column. “I knew that.”
I really didn’t, but she didn’t need to know it.
I stuck the key into the ignition and started it up and was momentarily stunned when it rumbled to life. “What the hell size engine is under the hood?”
“A 427 big block. It was a gift to my mother from Tomas err… my father.”
A sudden admiration for Tomas flashed through me. “No shit?”
She shook her head as I put it into drive and steered it down the laneway. “When he gave it to her, he said it was souped up to outrun the bad guys. She outran him all right. Pregnant with me, she left him in the dust and never looked back.”
“Why though? Why did she leave?”
“My grandfather, her father, hated Tomas. He was a rival apparently and only said that Tomas wanted her to get back at him.”
“Hmm interesting. Who was her father?”
She folded her arms across her chest. An action that I was soon learning that meant she was done talking, but it niggled at me, and I had to know.
“Who was her father Kat?”
“Knox Lachlan.”
I could feel the color drain from my face. It was a name Declan, and I knew all too well.