Chapter 12 #3
Kit was holding a wad of gauze to the wound, pressing down to encourage the bleeding to stop when he interjected.
“Yesterday, we were poking around at Nova Scotia Power & Lights. We got a lead on a man named Lester Tomlin. What if he had something to do with Ted and Mary-Alice going missing and he thinks you’re getting too close? ”
“Perhaps,” Marchand considered. “We’ll have to track this fellow down and have a chat with him.”
“His contact information’s no good,” I said, shrugging with my uninjured arm. “He skipped out on his apartment. To be honest, I’d be surprised if it was Tomlin. The only thing shooting my house up would do is make us take a harder look.”
There was a clatter as the front door flew open and Wright charged in. “I got something. I think they were trying to get this through the window, but it ended up in the bushes out front.” He dropped a brick on the table with a note tied to it.
Seriously? We all looked at it incredulously for a moment before Marchand reached for it and pulled out the note.
“‘Back off, North. You won’t get another warning.’” His eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “Seems like we’re on the right track that someone wants you to stay out of Ted Lovely’s business. Unless you’ve got another case you’re working in Halifax?”
Shaking my head, I started to speak when Kit stood up and walked over to the kitchen window. His back was to us, his hands on the counter as he stared out into the dark. I’d never seen a person who needed a hug more. I’d never wanted to give one so bad.
“Nah. I took some time off to look for Ted and Mary-Alice. There isn’t anything else.”
They grilled me for a while longer, fumbling their way around an investigation without a clue to go off.
I knew the feeling, so I didn’t fault them.
Tomorrow they’d knock on doors, find out if anyone saw anything.
Probably talk to whoever called them before I’d even had a chance.
But I didn’t expect this to be solved any more than I expected them to find Ted and Mary-Alice.
George would do his best, but even he could only spare so much time and effort these days.
With a weary sigh, Marchand heaved himself out of the chair he’d been occupying. “Well, it seems quiet for now. We’ll set up a patrol nearby to keep an eye on things in case that changes.”
“Thanks,” I replied, shaking his hand. “I appreciate it.”
“Sir,” George said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d like to stay and help secure the window.”
Kit finally turned, pale face flushing with colour. “I’m perfectly capable of helping Gus secure the window, George.”
“Oh, I think you’ve helped Gus plenty,” George bit out, scorn in every word. “You put him smack in the middle of an investigation that’s got people shooting at him, didn’t ya?”
“That’s not fair—”
“First time you’ve been back in what, almost a decade, Kit? And you brought trouble right to his doorstep. Trouble that could’ve got him killed. As if it wasn’t enough that you—”
“Constable Baker!” Marchand barked, embarrassment and confusion colouring his voice.
“That’s enough. You can’t just berate—Mr. Daring, I’d like to apologize for my constable.
We’ll be going now.” He fixed George with a look that forbade him to defy the statement.
Enraged as he was, part of me worried George would do it out of pure spite, but he bit back whatever else he wanted to shout and stormed outside.
Frustration at both Kit and George boiled in my gut. Kit hadn’t needed to snap George’s head off about the window, and George didn’t need to be so combative when Kit was already clearly worked up.
A different part of me was glad George wanted to protect me, even if it was misguided. These days, I was the one who generally did the protecting, for myself and anyone else I needed to. George was a good friend.
I sighed and slumped in my chair, staring at the table, trying to muster up the energy to actually get up, when Kit’s fingers, gentle on my face, tipped my head up.
He didn’t say anything, just moved me, getting a better look at the cut above my eye, I realized.
It wasn’t bleeding anymore, I didn’t think, but I had to look horrifying.
Kit’s mouth pressed flat, and as he carefully wiped away the blood, I almost held my breath, not daring to move.
The sting of pain when he cautiously dabbed the cut with antiseptic was nothing compared to the way it felt to be this close to him, his fingers touching my face.
“I think it’s good,” I said when the moment stretched too long. Kit’s gaze flicked down to mine, then away while he stepped back.
As we silently covered the window with old cotton sheets and nails I’d rustled up in the garage, a headache pulsed at the back of my head.
The sheets wouldn’t keep anyone out if they were hell-bent on coming in, but they’d do for privacy.
I’d work a spell later to alert me if anyone entered the house, and I had a lock on my bedroom door I’d make good use of while I slept.
Slumping against the wall, I closed my eyes. My thigh throbbed from all the quick movements.
“George was right,” Kit muttered, so quietly I barely heard him.
I hummed in question, barely lifting my lashes. He looked gutted. His hair was disheveled, his suit covered in dust from the sidewalk, and drops of my blood stained his white shirtsleeves. But it was his eyes that grabbed hold of my heart. The deep, shadowed green of them haunted, lined with worry.
“I dragged you into this mess. And it’s apparently dangerous. You don’t deserve to be shot at, hang it. It’s my damn fault.” He was so worked up, he kept slipping between covering his swears with polite stand-ins and letting them loose. It shouldn’t be adorable, but it fucking was.
“Nah, it’s the guy who had the gun’s fault I got shot. You’re not responsible for anyone else’s actions, Kit.”
He shook his head, not looking at me, and the line of his shoulders rose defensively. He was silent for a long moment, holding his breath. Then he let it out in a sad gust of air. “You’re fired.”
“Excuse me?” I stepped toward him to argue.
His watery eyes were completely, stubbornly serious when they flicked to meet mine. “I’m firing you. This is way too much to ask. If he wasn’t my brother, I certainly wouldn’t be—and you don’t have to do this. You can step aside and go back to your other cases.”
Cocking my head, I lifted my left eyebrow. “Are you under the false impression I’ve never been shot at before? I investigate dangerous people all the time. Like hell you’re firing me.”
Kit stalked forward. “Damn it, August. I had your blood on my hands tonight. It’s still under my fucking fingernails.
” He was shaking, fists balled up at his sides like he was forcing himself not to reach out for me.
My heart seized, hoping his self-control wasn’t as strong as mine, wanting those hands on me even if I couldn’t be the first to make a move. “This isn’t a game.”
“Damn right it’s not. It’s Ted’s life. Mary-Alice’s life. Your life too, Kit, because I’m not na?ve enough to think you’ll drop this just because someone’s playing dirty.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Kit asked, face twisting with a grim smile.
“I thrive on danger. It’s why I end up too close to the action.
One of these days, it’s going to get me.
And if it’s for Ted, that’s even better.
You don’t have to be part of this. I’ll…
” He trailed off, probably because he had no clue what he’d do next.
“Fire me if you want,” I said, flatly. “If it’ll clear your conscience. But I’m not going anywhere. One way or another we’re in this together until we find them. Someone’s got to keep you from doing something rash.”
Kit’s lips pressed together. A tear he couldn’t blink back traced down one smooth, perfect cheek and dripped from his chin to land on his red tie.
Something in my chest crackled and snapped.
Before I could stop, I closed the distance between us and cupped his cheek in my hand, my fingertips brushing past his earlobe as I thumbed away the wetness.
“Hey, don’t,” I whispered.
Kit let out a choked sound, his hands clutching my hips as he shut those pained eyes.
My gaze darted down to his mouth when he tipped up his chin just slightly.
That sweet mouth I’d known so damn well.
Did he still taste the same? Would his lips part on a sigh when mine brushed them?
Would he press into me like he wanted to occupy the same space, get closer than anyone else ever could, the way he used to?
My whole body pined for him, my heart most of all. Like it’d stopped beating when Kit walked away, and it wanted desperately to pulse and race again. It didn’t matter if it was a bad idea, it didn’t matter if I didn’t want to break my heart. I missed him.
Our mouths met in the softest brush of sensitive skin and breath.
Everything in me shook with awareness of Kit, with the scent of his faded cologne and how his breath hitched before he opened to me.
I felt like crying right along with him when I pressed my tongue inside all that heat, exploring where I hadn’t been in way, way too long.
He kissed back, tentative, and sweet, and so different. Careful in a way he never had been, but still pulling me in like nothing else, making me want to reassure him even though my heart was pounding so hard I thought I really would die.
With a hand on his lower back, I moved him closer, flush against my body so I could feel every part of him straining toward me, aching for me like I ached for him. I was flying apart, overheating, and my body wasn’t strong enough to contain all this emotion.
Everything I ever wanted was back in my arms, and for a moment, the jagged edges of my life without him washed away.
Until everything stuttered to a sudden agonizing stop when Kit reared back, jerking out of my grasp, his eyes wide, two more tears rolling down his cheeks to join the first. “I can’t. Gus, I can’t,” he choked, voice breaking in the middle. “I need to go.”
When he shut the front door behind himself, I was still frozen.