Chapter 4 #2
He was still devastatingly handsome. Still radiated that quiet authority that had drawn me to him from the first moment I’d seen him at The Players Club.
Back then, being with him had felt like stepping into calm after a lifetime of chaos.
With Kane, I’d felt safe and protected in a way I never had with any man.
For one reckless, hopeful week after our first night together, I’d let myself believe I might have found a man who I could finally let down my guard with and trust.
We’d made plans for dinner that following weekend.
I’d floated out of the club that night, giddy in a way I hadn’t been since I was a teenager.
I’d actually allowed myself to hope, to imagine dinners and conversations and getting to know this man outside the charged atmosphere of the club.
I’d imagined introducing him to Angelica, imagined telling him about my work, imagined a future where the kind of steady, honest happiness other people seemed to find might exist for me too.
Three days later my world shattered when I’d walked into the newsroom and pulled up my research files on the Las Vegas Metro evidence locker scandal I’d been investigating and saw his name at the top of the list of officers with access to the compromised evidence.
It had been the story that made my career—several police officers and detectives involved in systematically stealing drugs and money from the evidence locker, swapping cash for counterfeits and narcotics for flour and powdered sugar.
It had gone on for years, only discovered by sheer accident when a rookie knocked over a shelf and a bag burst open, covering him not with cocaine, but baking flour.
The rookie had reported it to his superior and the story eventually leaked to the press, which was how I’d gotten wind of it.
A ring of five officers had been involved, and what had infuriated me was how the department had handled the scandal, pushing the officers to quietly “resign” to keep the whole thing out of the public eye, no charges filed.
When I went to the DA’s office demanding to know why no one was being prosecuted, I’d been told they didn’t want to erode the public’s confidence in law enforcement, and that the “bad apples” had been removed from the barrel so everything had been handled internally.
So I’d broken the story myself. Front page, above the fold, with every damning detail I could verify.
And one of those damning details was that Kane Adair had signed out every piece of evidence that had been tampered with.
His name was on every form, his handwriting on every log.
Multiple officers had testified in internal interviews that the signatures matched.
I’d wanted so badly for it not to be true.
My instincts had rebelled. My heart had screamed that this couldn’t be right—that the man who’d held me so carefully, who’d checked in constantly to make sure I was okay during our scenes, who’d looked at me like I was precious and worthy of protection—couldn’t possibly be a thief and a liar.
I’d been devastated, but I’d learned long ago not to trust my heart. My heart had wanted my father to be a good man, too. My heart had believed every excuse he’d given me for his criminal behavior, every justification for his schemes and lies, until the evidence became too overwhelming to ignore.
I had to go where the evidence led me. I always had. It was the only way to survive in a world full of people who would smile to your face while they destroyed everything you loved behind your back.
So I’d published the story and the truth. And I’d tried—God, how I’d tried—to put Kane Adair out of my mind.
For two years, I’d almost succeeded.
And now here he was, standing in the doorway of this conference room, looking at me with an expression that could have frozen the Nevada desert in the summertime.
The Kane I remembered had been warm. Charming.
He’d had this way of commanding a room while still putting everyone at ease, a calm confidence that had been intoxicating.
He’d chatted easily with other members at the club, laughed at jokes, radiated a contentment that had made me feel safe just being near him.
This man looked like a stranger wearing Kane’s face.
There was a hardness to him now, a weight that pulled at his features and darkened his eyes.
The easy smile I remembered was nowhere to be seen.
In its place was a jaw clenched tight and a gaze that could have cut glass.
He looked like a man who’d been through hell and hadn’t quite made it back, like someone had taken everything soft in him and burned it away, leaving only sharp edges and barely contained fury.
And all of that underlying anger and resentment seemed to be directed at me.
Sutton had created a case file on me, including my information and driver’s license, which meant he’d known I’d be in this conference room.
Of course he had. Kane had to have seen those details before walking in here and he’d clearly chosen to take the assignment anyway. The question was, why ?
“Ms. Massey,” Sutton said, stepping forward with professional ease despite the atmospheric pressure shift in the room. “I’d like to introduce you to Kane Adair. He’ll be handling your protection detail.”
Kane stepped forward and extended his hand, his expression smoothing into a professionally neutral mask. But his eyes... his eyes still burned.
“Ms. Massey,” he said, and his voice was exactly as I remembered—deep and commanding—but now it was stripped of any warmth. “It appears I’ll be your bodyguard for this assignment.”
Doing my best to remain steady and confident, I reached out and took the hand he’d offered, almost like a deliberate dare.
The contact sent a jolt through me. His palm was warm and calloused, his grip firm but controlled.
For just a moment, I was back in that club, his hand stroking my skin, his voice in my ear telling me what a good girl I was.
I pulled away too quickly, and I saw something flicker in his gaze. Satisfaction, maybe, that he could still affect me so damn easily.
“Mr. Adair.” I lifted my chin, refusing to let him see how unsettled I was at seeing him. “I have to say, I’m surprised to find you here. I thought Noble and Associates had rigorous vetting standards for its employees.”
The words came out sharper than I’d intended, like a defensive strike, my armor slamming into place. Kane’s jaw tightened, and I saw something dangerous flash in his eyes.
“Kane isn’t an employee,” Sutton interjected, clearly sensing the undercurrents but not understanding their source. “He’s an independent contractor we bring in for specialized cases, and the most qualified man for this job.” He paused, glancing between us. “Do you two know each other?”
It was a charged question with an equally loaded answer, and for a moment a weighted silence hung in the air.
“We’re acquainted,” Kane said finally, his voice flat. “From a few years back.”
“Old friends,” I added, and couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from my tone.
Sutton’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was clearly a man who didn’t miss much, and the tension between Kane and me was about as subtle as a neon sign.
“Is there going to be a problem here?” Sutton asked. “Because if there’s a conflict of interest—”
“Not a problem for me,” Kane said, cutting him off. His gaze locked onto mine, challenging me to refute that claim. “I’m a professional. I can separate personal history from the job.”
The implication was clear: Can you?
I lifted my chin higher, meeting his stare head-on. I wasn’t someone who backed down from anything. Whatever game Kane was playing, I wasn’t going to be the one who flinched first.
“No issue whatsoever,” I said in an equally cool tone. “I’m sure Mr. Adair and I can maintain a professional working relationship.”
Beside me, Angelica’s eyes had gone wide as saucers.
I could practically feel the questions vibrating off her, the urge to pull me aside and demand to know what the hell was going on.
I’m certain she’d recognized the name immediately.
She’d listened to me talk about Kane for months after everything had fallen apart, had seen me cycle through anger and hurt and confusion and the desperate wish that things had been different.
And now here he was. In the flesh. About to become my shadow.
This was going to be a disaster.
“I’m just surprised you’d take this job,” I said, unable to help myself. “All things considered.”
Kane’s expression didn’t change, but a cold and sharp emotion shifted behind his eyes. “I go where I’m needed, Ms. Massey. And all things considered , I’d think you’d want the best. Or have your standards changed?”
The dig landed exactly where he’d intended it to. I felt heat rise in my cheeks—anger, not embarrassment—and had to physically stop myself from snapping back.
Sutton cleared his throat, clearly deciding it was time to take control of the conversation. “Ms. Massey, based on everything you’ve shown me, I need you to truly understand the severity of your situation. If your allegations about Vincent Calloway are accurate—”
“They are.”
“—then your life is in immediate danger,” he finished. “This isn’t the kind of threat that goes away if you ignore it, and he’s not the kind of man who’ll back down just because you’re being careful. I would again strongly urge you to leave the city until this blows over.”
“I can’t do that.” My voice came out steady, certain. “I need this man’s criminal activities exposed and him brought to justice. Ruth died trying to put an end to what he’s doing. I’m not going to let her death be in vain.”