31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
The entire way to Finn’s safe house, Kathleen’s eyes were glued to his back. He walked with deliberation, an unconscious movement that made others give him a wide berth. His careful movements disguised his injury so effectively that she wouldn't have been able to tell he was hurt if she hadn't seen the impact herself. The blood was nearly invisible against the black material, but it was clear his uniform hadn’t absorbed every bullet.
Kathleen was rattled. Seeing Finn Kingsley, in the flesh, had her off balance. And it was him, not the Hound. She had seen emotion in his eyes as he’d covered her body, a calmness that hadn’t shifted as the had bullets struck his body, and he jerked.
She wasn’t sure if her inability to speak now was because of the rush of relief that he was here or the fury that he was alive and him… and he had abandoned her.
The safe house was a small apartment on the fourth floor of a complex entered via a keypad entry. Finn led the way up, climbing the stairs. She almost protested, given his wounds, but a dusty ‘out of order’ sign on the elevator had been there a while. Rather than producing a key, Finn pulled out a set of lock picks and bent for an impressive two seconds before the door clicked open, and he pushed inside.
It was dark, and he strode into the room like he could see clearly. Given what he’d told her about his enhancements, he absolutely could. Kathleen fumbled for a light switch near the door, then shut and locked it behind her. Finn was across the room, pacing the length of the apartment to reassure himself everything was where it should be.
Or, she realized, checking for threats.
Kathleen refrained from doing the same, trusting that he knew better. She headed for the tiny white-tiled bathroom, and as she passed him peering out the bedroom window and drawing the curtain, she said, “Strip.”
The look Finn gave her was blank at first. Then, a familiar heat darkened his blue eyes.
Kathleen scowled at him. “Not like that. I’m still angry with you. I’m going to tend to your wounds.” She pointed to the hideous floral bedspread on the queen-sized bed and turned quickly before she could see anything more than the way he swayed toward her. She knew that temptation—she felt it. But she needed answers first.
After she patched him up.
As expected, there was a first-aid kit in the bathroom. Kathleen washed her hands and brought everything out, setting it on the edge of the iron-framed bed.
Finn had kicked off his heavy boots and was easing out of his pants, letting them drop to the floor. He was still wearing his bulky jacket.
“Jacket too,” Kathleen said.
He shook his head. “Bruised, but nothing penetrated.”
Kathleen narrowed her eyes at him, then glanced down. The wound she had noticed earlier was in his left thigh. It was bleeding sluggishly, likely because of his rapid healing, but the bullet was still inside. It wasn’t the only one. She could see a second wound on the back of his thigh.
“Lie down,” she prodded.
Finn’s regard felt weighted, but Kathleen avoided his gaze, finding the tweezers and some gauze as he lay down. When she was sure she didn’t have to look into his blue eyes, she kneeled on the bed next to him.
“Just pull them out,” Finn said.
He wasn’t exactly a typical patient. Kathleen used the gauze to dab away some of the blood and gripped the bullet with the tweezers—or tried to. The metal was slick with blood and shifted far more than last time. She braced the bullet with her finger to keep from pushing it in further and extracted it on the second try. She got some clean gauze and placed it over the wound to soak the blood that welled up. It wasn’t as messy as she expected, but that likely had to do with his fast healing.
The second bullet was easier. By the time she applied antiseptic and an adhesive bandage to both entry wounds, the bleeding had slowed considerably.
Kathleen collected the bloodied gauze and disposed of the wad in the bathroom, washing her hands again before she returned.
“We should get you out of that jacket,” she said.
No response.
“Finn?”
He didn’t stir, and her heart leaped into her throat as she surged forward, her fingers grasping for his neck. It took a moment to find his pulse because it was slow and steady despite the minor surgery she’d done. She didn’t think he was the sort to slump into unconsciousness just from the pain, so… he was asleep?
She let out a low breath, torn between relief and anger. The former won out, and with it came a rush of exhaustion as the adrenalin wore off. She grasped the blanket folded at the end of the bed and draped it over Finn’s legs, reaching to brush his long hair out of his face. As if by instinct, her fingers traced his smooth jaw. She wanted to lie down next to him, curl into his side, and feel his warmth, a desire so acute that she felt herself sway forward.
No. If he was serious about the danger, she had to be smart.
Kathleen dug through his pants and located his phone. She removed the SIM card and battery, then did the same with hers, throwing them both into the microwave. Then, having avoided the necessary, she returned to Finn’s side, easing the large Ka-Bar knife from one of the holsters on his jacket. She remembered where he’d cut into his hip, removing the silver cylinder. She could feel it just under his skin, and it took barely any effort to remove. She flushed it down the toilet, wondering if its trip through the sewer system would alarm Command.
As tempted as she was to pick up her noodles, she knew that was a bad idea. She dragged an uncomfortable white sofa chair from the tiny living room into the bedroom, positioning it next to the door. When Finn woke, he would see her there and, she hoped, not panic. She had her gun ready in case that turned out to be too optimistic.
She settled down to wait.
When she’d first made detective, Kathleen thought the work would become far more interesting—that she’d go from long, dull patrols to interesting, engaging cases. In reality, the job required just as much waiting around, waiting for a witness, a suspect, or the right clue to drop.
Waiting for something to happen was familiar, if unwelcome. She didn’t have her phone for the time, but it had darkened outside. She knew Gibson must have realized she had disappeared by now—chances were he’d checked the noodle shop, realized she never collected the food, and investigated. He would have pulled local camera footage, though she suspected Command covered their tracks much like Finn did.
Kathleen needed to let her partner know she was okay, but she couldn’t risk it while Finn was still unconscious, while there was even a slim chance they would trace any phone call back to their location.
For a time, she watched the rise and fall of Finn’s back as he slept. She couldn’t clock the moment when she began to relax in his company. It wasn’t the sex—she’d had plenty of longer-term sexual partners and never felt the ease she felt in Finn’s presence. It was like some part of her recognized him and felt safe in his presence.
Given what he did and who he worked for, it was highly illogical. Then again, emotions weren’t logical at all. She didn’t believe in the fanciful notion of soul mates, yet there was an undeniable draw between them.
A movement brought her from her introspection. Kathleen realized Finn was twitching, his fingers slowly curling into a ball. He was still asleep, eyes moving underneath closed lids. A soft, guttural noise escaped him. It sounded so heartbreakingly anguished that it immediately pulled her to her feet. Two strides took her to the bed. Another second had her kneeling next to him, her hand reaching to soothe over his hair.
“I’m here,” Kathleen murmured as she stroked his hair. “Sleep, Finn. Everything is well. You’re safe.” She paused. “I’m safe. Just sleep.”
As if the sound of her voice stirred him, Finn twitched again, and he moved, turning onto his side, curling his body up, his head resting on her thighs.
Leaning forward, Kathleen wrapped one arm around him, hoping he’d feel the tight half-hug, while her other hand continued to trail over his hair. Finn settled into a relaxed ease, and for a while, things were quiet.
It wasn’t a comfortable position, but she didn’t dare move to ease the pressure on her legs. Maybe he wouldn’t wake, but she didn’t risk it. Finn’s face, in complete relaxation during sleep, held a heartbreakingly beautiful quality, and she worried any movement might disrupt it.
Kathleen wasn’t sure how long Finn had been awake when she noticed his eyes were open. He was staring sightlessly across the room, and only when her hand, which had continued to stroke his hair, stopped… did he look at her.
It was hard, in retrospect, to remember the blank coldness she had seen in his eyes when she first met him. Here and now, there was such a wealth of emotion, a multitude of it, like he couldn’t settle. Even for her, good at reading people’s expressions, it was overwhelming. There was a tinge of fear, though she couldn’t say of what, along with gratitude and wonder. Overlaid over all of that was a warmth that made her insides flutter.
Kathleen knew that warmth was directed entirely at her. “Finn,” she said.
Finn levered himself into a seated position with his hand and leaned close. The gentle touch of his lips against hers made her eyes flutter closed, breathing out a breath that he inhaled as his mouth sealed against hers, then parted to deepen the kiss. Like the opening of the floodgates, desire rushed over her in a heat that pooled between her legs.
Without Finn’s weight on her, Kathleen shifted to move her legs, and pain shot through them at the sudden flow of blood. She gasped, and Finn drew back, blue eyes alert for danger. With her legs prickling painfully with pins and needles, she couldn’t help but laugh at his expression: ready for danger when the only danger was her temporary inability to control her legs.
“Pins and needles,” she gasped.
His brow creased, so she hastily added, “You were sleeping on my legs, and they—ow!—fell asleep. They’re unhappy about it right now.”
Finn’s head tipped for a second, and then he brought his large hands down, one on each thigh, and began to massage.
Kathleen wasn’t afraid to admit a groan escaped her when he did that.
The grin Finn gave her—full of absolute pleasure and full of a hint of promise, too—did nothing to abate the coiling desire in her. “Keep that up,” she said throatily, “And you might well get lucky.”
The knowing look of arousal Finn gave her nearly undid her in the spot. If her legs were working, she would have pushed him back onto the bed right then and there. As it was, she let him work his hands over her legs, encouraging the blood flow.
Did she need her legs, though, if he was on top?
“Come here,” she demanded, grabbing for the collar of his jacket, tugging as she leaned back—urging him on top of her. There was no way she could have moved him if he hadn’t let her; the way he settled between her legs, his weight pressing her down, felt… safe.
Kathleen’s hand touched his neck, sliding over his skin and feathering into his hair as he leaned forward over her. This time, when his lips met hers, it wasn’t the soft, comforting gesture of before. It was hard and demanding, and she parted her mouth to welcome him in. His tongue danced with hers even as his fingers tangled into her hair, pulling more strands free. She made an approving sound at the back of her throat as she pushed her hips into his. He wasn’t wearing his pants, and she could feel his growing hardness pressing into her thigh.
Finn broke the kiss, and as she drew in a deep breath, his lips found their way to the sensitive spot on her neck. Tingles raced through her as he kissed and sucked. He shifted his body just enough to position himself between her legs, rubbing his cock along the seam of her jeans, causing another wave of tingling heat and aching want deep in her pussy.
“Finn,” Kathleen gasped. “Shit, how do you do that to me? You’re perfect.”
She felt his movement cease. At first, she thought he might have heard something with his sharp hearing, and she stilled, too, listening in vain.
“Finn?” she whispered.
He pushed himself away from her. She caught a fleeting glimpse of his conflicted expression: his mouth a thin line, brows furrowed deeply.
“What’s wrong? Please, talk to me,” Kathleen said. “Whatever it is, I can help.”
The mattress shifted as Finn stood, stalking to his pants. He yanked them on, one leg at a time, the movements jerky.
“You can’t,” he rumbled, sounding almost angry at her. “I can’t be helped. I’m not worth helping.”
“You are. You might not see it, but I do. You are worth it, and I will fight for you.”
The tightness of Finn’s shoulders indicated anger, but his voice was cold when he said, “I don’t want your help.” He reached down and snatched up his boot, bending to tug it on and tie it. “You have no idea how much blood there is on my hands. I am a broken tool. I am a mirror shattered into a thousand pieces. Most of those pieces have been wiped from me, and I’ll never get them back. I can’t be helped, and you can’t fix me.”
“I’m not trying to fix—”
“And I can’t lose you. If you were to die, I would have nothing left that was good. I have to protect you. There’s only one way I can do that.”
Anger surged through Kathleen. All her life, she had been told she would be safe, that her new foster family would protect her, and then they had failed her. She slid off the bed, folding her arms across her chest.
“I don’t need protection, Finn. I told you that before. I protect me.”
“Not from Command, you don’t,” Finn said in a maddeningly cold, implacable tone as he pulled on his second boot, tying it with military precision.
“They got to you, didn’t they?”
Finn said nothing, just straightened and stared somewhere over her head.
If anything, it made her even more frustrated. “I’ll kill them,” Kathleen declared.
Finn’s jaw ticked as it tightened, and he swallowed. “You have to leave this alone, or it won’t just be you they come after. They will burn down everything and everyone around you to prove a point. Gibson. Your boss. Probably the entire branch, just to make sure no information leaked.”
Kathleen longed to say she didn’t care, that it didn’t matter, but the idea of turning her back on her fellow law enforcement—bringing Command down on all of them—felt like a betrayal.
It must have shown in her face because Finn nodded once. “Good. You understand. You were a mission and nothing more.”
He was lying. Kathleen could always tell. The tightness of his posture was an attempt to contain his reaction too carefully. He wouldn’t look her directly in the eye. And yet the words stung almost as much as if they were true because regardless of the reality of it, it was clear to her he had made a decision.
A decision to leave her. And there was no changing his mind. Command had reached out and pulled his strings, and he went, willingly or otherwise. Yet she shouldn’t let the moment pass—even if it changed nothing. She had to tell Finn how she felt about him.
Kathleen’s tongue felt stuck, and opening her mouth felt impossible. Now it was she who couldn’t find the words to express herself. She couldn’t bare herself to him—not when he was leaving her. She couldn’t make herself vulnerable.
The silence stretched. Finn took her lack of verbal response as a cue to depart, turning on his heel and walking from the room. Kathleen’s eyes tracked him as cold disbelief washed over her.
The door clicked closed behind him.
Kathleen refused to cry. The burning sting in her eyes and the lump in her throat said otherwise, but she held fast to the idea that had bubbled up.
There was still a chance to get at Command. One more shot to expose them.
Kathleen needed to bait Wyatt Wilson.