Chapter 40
TOM
One week in, and we’re still no closer to putting this case to rest than we were when we got here. The stress is eating me alive, and the only thing that helps is losing myself in Kat every night.
And during the day when we can sneak something in.
I’ve tried to keep my time with her separate from the team, but it’s impossible when she’s the center of our case and my newly aligned world. No one has said anything yet aside from Royce, but that’s probably because they all figure he can get away with it because he’s my nephew.
And maybe that’s partially true.
But I’m proud of the team I’ve built. Proud of the men I get to work with each day and the family we’ve built inside Andrews International.
I snort as my feet pound against the belt of the treadmill.
Maybe I’m getting sappy in my old age or maybe I’ve just seen too much over the years to not appreciate what’s in front of me.
It’s why I thought it would be harder to reconcile my decision to be with her, to cross every professional line I’ve held in my career.
But it’s not.
Kat Harrington is the one I didn’t know I was waiting for.
And I’m smart enough to know you don’t pass up the chance of a lifetime, and that’s what she is. She’s gorgeous and infuriating, brilliant and sweet, and I’ve never been so enamored with anyone like I am with her.
But I can’t tell her that—and not because I don’t want to.
But because she threw the notebook I gave her to write in at me this morning and stomped out of my office. Apparently she’s forgotten how to spell since she only writes on her computer and spell check knows her better than she knows herself.
I rub my hand over my mouth to cover my smile as I remember the way she slammed her hands down on her hips and stomped for emphasis. I’d managed to keep my composure, but it wasn’t easy.
All that sass ignited a raging inferno in me, the need to fuck that attitude out of her almost more than I could bear.
But I was in the middle of a call with Grimm and Ozzy, the two of them chasing down leads, and while it helps to eliminate things, it hasn’t made the picture any clearer.
Which is how, instead of bending Kat over the counter again, I ended up on the treadmill in the garage. Usually I can tune everything out, disconnect and just go, my feet pounding down one after the other as steps turn into miles.
Except everything in my life seems to be shifting.
Priorities.
Motivations.
Goals for the future.
I’m not afraid of change, but I am wary of everything happening all at once, and more importantly I don’t want to scare Kat.
Because she’s part of it—a big part.
Funny how a couple of weeks ago, I couldn’t wait to be back to work, and now all I want to do is be on vacation.
Once this is over I’ll take her anywhere she wants to go.
It’s that thought that plays on a loop in my head as the miles tick by, and now, all I need is a plan to get us there.
KAT
I’m practically crawling out of my skin the moment Tom kisses my forehead and tells me he’s going to go work out in the garage. His presence is the only thing keeping me sane right now, and even though I know he’s not far, the loneliness comes back with a vengeance the moment he’s out of sight.
Being secluded and cut off from the world like this isn’t for the faint of heart. There’d been no time to prepare. Well, I hadn’t had time.
Tom packed all the essentials for us—clothes and toiletries that were supposed to be ready just in case. But that became a reality in the blink of an eye, and I didn’t even have a chance to tell my brother or Bailey I’m all right.
Do I really only have a couple of people that would care I’m gone?
My parents would probably just think I was busy and call Colt to get an update. They might be worried, but it’s unlikely they’d send out a search party.
Hazel might be the only other person that would notice I’m not responding but maybe not. It’s not like we talk every day. Not now at least.
I feel like I’m wearing a path into the wood floor as I pace back and forth in the kitchen, restlessness making it impossible to sit and write in the notebook Tom gave me or plot anything.
It’s on what feels like my hundredth time passing the fridge when a small Post-it note catches my eye with Royce’s name and a phone number next to it.
And because desperation has overridden all rational thought, I grab the landline and dial, an unhealthy amount of relief flooding through me when he picks up on the second ring.
“Royce?” My voice has a frantic kind of hope I’m sure makes me sound as frazzled as I feel.
“Kat?” he asks, surprised, “how did you get this number?”
“It’s on the fridge.”
He chuckles. “Of course it is. What can I do for you?”
“I have nothing. No phone, no internet. Royce, he gave me a pen and a notepad to write my story in. A notebook. Do you know how chaotic that is? So many arrows and cross outs and do you know how humbling it is when you don’t have autocorrect? Apparently, I have no idea how to spell anymore.”
“I miss the cabin,” he says wistfully and I gasp, pulling the phone away from my face to stare at it accusingly as if Royce was there and not just the receiver.
“Royce.”
“What do you need, Kat?”
“A way out?”
“No can do.”
I knew he couldn’t but I needed to ask—not that I have anywhere to go right now. And I know I should be thankful to be safe and…whatever this is, but I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin right now.
Because I’m bored.
And anxious.
And scared out of my mind.
But I don’t say any of that.
“I made a list.”
“A list…” he repeats skeptically.
“A list of things to do.”
“Oh, I can’t wait, whatcha got…” He doesn’t bother hiding his amusement, and I already hear his fingers tapping on his keyboard. Is it weird that I’m jealous of his keyboard?
Tom is buying me a keyboard after this.
One of those pink ones that looks like a typewriter but can sync with a tablet or whatever.
I scribble a note with a couple of stars for emphasis on the top of my paper, so I don’t forget.
I am losing it.
“Sourdough starter. I need one of those guides. I don’t have a scale so you’ll have to find instructions that just uses cups.”
“What else?”
“Any other recipe—bread, bagels, cake, brownies—anything and I’ll make it work. I hate cooking but I can learn to bake. People do this all the time, so it should be easy, right?”
Royce laughs. “I think you need to wait several days until the starter is ready before you can actually use it.”
“Great, I love projects.”
“I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”
“Your confidence is astounding.”
“My uncle doesn’t bake because he hates a mess. He makes bread sometimes, but he’s quick to make sure to clean up all the flour as he goes.”
“And you think because I’m basically manic right now that I’m going to destroy this kitchen and his pristine space.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’re not wrong. And conveniently, I’m not really worried about his feelings right now.”
“This is definitely going to be great,” he ruminates. “I’ll fax these over.”
“Fax? Are you serious? There’s a fax machine here? I didn’t know anyone still used them.”
“And that’s why we have it.”
“Whatever, just send it all over.”
“You got it, and Kat?”
“What?” I snap. “Sorry, I’m just—”
“I know. Just hang in there, okay?”
“Okay.” I swallow hard, squeezing my eyelids shut to stop the tears that want to fall. “Thanks, Royce.”