Chapter 33
KAT
Tom’s demeanor is hot and cold as we make our way up the porch. He doesn’t pull a set of keys from his pocket when we approach the door. Instead, he slides a tiny piece of wood in the frame to the side and types in a code on the keypad.
A series of clicks and snaps sound before he turns the knob and pushes the door open and nods for me to go first.
I want to protest because he’s carrying the entire contents of the car, but I don’t, silently crossing the threshold so he can follow me in. Lights turn on one by one, illuminating the space in a soft glow as the door closes and locks behind me.
It’s cozy here, the decor more like the mountains of Montana rather than what I’m used to in Illinois. A leather recliner and sofa take up the majority of the living room area that opens into a fairly modern kitchen with concrete counters and stainless steel appliances.
Dropping the duffles by the stairs, Tom sets the bags of groceries on the counter and starts to put them away.
I have no idea when he got them or how, but it’s also not something I want to delve into right now.
Putting the two bags he allowed me to carry next to his, I take a step back, twisting my fingers together to stop me from fidgeting more than I already am.
But the silence is killing me.
“Tom.” My voice is quiet and unsure, almost strangled as it leaves my lips.
“I can’t do this with you right now, Kat.”
“But—”
“No.” His gaze whips to mine with a fiery intensity. “I’m going to say something I can’t take back and neither of us needs that tonight.” Running his hand over his short hair, he says, “Why don’t you go take a shower? Or a bath? I think there’s still some salts up there.”
“Lots of company?” I try, the joke falling flat as his expression remains stony.
“Never here.”
We wouldn’t be here either if I hadn’t screwed up tonight.
The words hang unspoken in the space between us, regret heavy in my bones as we face each other.
“I’m sorry. I just—”
“I know, and honestly, Kat, I don’t care. I don’t have it in me to pretend right now.” There’s a bite to his words that has me digging my nails into the palm of my hand to keep the tears at bay.
God, I’m so stupid.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, the question sounding more like an item he should check off a to-do list rather than actual concern for me.
So I shake my head and motion toward the stairs. “I think a shower sounds good. I’ll just go.”
“Here, let me—”
“No, it’s fine. I can figure it out.” I wave him off because somehow the idea of him being in the same space as me right now is too much. I’ve been enough of a burden.
I can figure out the shower.
I can find my own towels.
But really, I just want to disappear for a while.
TOM
It takes everything in me to remain rooted in my spot in the kitchen as Kat climbs the stairs like she’s walking toward her execution. My fists are clenched where they grip the edge of the counter.
It’s the only reason I haven’t picked up the glass bowl on the counter and thrown it across the room.
Stalking toward the other side of the room, I grab the landline from the wall and, with more force than necessary, dial Royce’s number.
“Glad you made it safe,” he says in lieu of hello. “Also fuck you very much. I went one round with Ozzy and feel like I got run over by a Mack truck.”
“You gotta keep your hands up.”
He snorts. “Yeah, like that’s going to stop twenty tons of force from barreling into me.”
“Seems like a bit of an exaggeration.”
“Well, I’ll let you deal with Kinsley when I video chat with her later and she sees the black eye I’m sporting.”
I have my own woman problems to deal with.
The thought has me dragging my hand down my face, my whole body fucking exhausted as the weight of the day finally settles over me.
“Pass.”
“Good luck with that,” he mutters, clicking away on his keyboard. “I don’t have any good news.” Fucking perfect. “In the time between Jace leaving the house and the team returning to the house to meet the tow truck, someone graffitied the word sinner in red spray paint on Kat’s garage door.”
“Tell me we have something to go on.” My voice is strained as I wait for his response.
“I have a partial plate that I’m running. What I can tell you is that vehicle is a little red shitbox pickup and the driver is wearing a baseball hat, black sweatshirt, and what look like skater shoes.”
“A kid?”
“Yeah, teenager is my guess.”
“I don’t know if that helps us or hurts us.”
“Once I find who the plate is registered to we’ll have a real lead.” He blows out a breath. “I think our suspect probably found this kid and paid them to do it.”
“But the timeframe is tight. Were they trying to run Kat off the road and making phone calls to coordinate that? How did they know Jace had left? Or that we all went after Kat?”
It’d been a knee-jerk reaction to have all of us converge on Kat’s location. We should have had Ozzy stay at the house.
Fuck.
“I don’t have any answers for that, but there were several comments made during the time of the chase on Kat’s social media along with private messages from the accounts I already flagged and a couple of new ones.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the person leaving the comments isn’t the same person that tried to run Kat off the road.”
Well, hell, we’ve got ourselves somewhere to start.