Chapter 12
Charlotte
“ I diot,” I muttered to myself as I washed the dishes.
Of course Kane was angry. Whether he’d actually done what I’d accused him of or not, telling him I believed he would “do the right thing” was a slap in the face and a contradiction to the story I’d published about him.
I wanted to bang my head against the counter.
The problem was... I’d always trusted my instincts about people. My gut had never told me something was off about Kane. Not when we’d met, not during our two nights together at the club, not even when I’d been writing that article before learning his name was involved.
And then, I’d been forced to override my initial instincts about Kane with cold, hard evidence.
But what if the evidence had been wrong?
I finished the dishes and left them to dry, my mind churning.
Kane had every reason to hate me, yet he was devoted to keeping me safe.
If he was a bad guy, he could have made a fortune selling me out to Calloway—a man like that would pay handsomely for the journalist threatening to expose him and his illicit operation.
If Kane was really the kind of person who’d helped steal drugs and money, why wouldn’t he take that deal?
Unless he wasn’t that person at all.
For two years, I’d told myself my doubts were romantic wishful thinking. I’d refused to let fantastic sex cloud my professional judgment. But now, watching Kane risk his safety for mine, I wondered if my gut had been right all along.
Despite the analysis, someone could have forged his handwriting , a voice whispered. It would be clever—frame a colleague so when the theft was discovered, someone else took the fall.
I paced the living room, arguing with myself like a lunatic. “But it was his handwriting. Multiple experts confirmed it.”
Another circuit around the couch. Another counterargument. “Many forensic experts have debunked bite analysis and blood splatter evidence. Handwriting analysis isn’t an exact science either.”
The real question I couldn’t answer: how would I ever know the truth? It was either a conspiracy to frame an innocent man, or Kane was simply a convincing liar. My instincts said one thing. The evidence said another.
I needed to do something to burn off this restless energy before it consumed me, and unfortunately having sex with Kane again was off the table.
My workout clothes were in the bag he’d packed. I changed and found a clear space in the living room. No yoga mat, so the hardwood floor would have to do.
I flowed through Sun Salutations, forcing my attention to my breathing, my form, the familiar sequence of poses. Yoga looked deceptively easy until you were sweating and shaking, muscles burning in that satisfying way that meant you were doing it right.
The garage door opened and closed. Kane’s footsteps moved through the house—light but deliberate, the walk of someone trained to be aware of his surroundings. I tracked his movement by sound alone, refusing to break my flow.
He stopped somewhere behind me.
I moved into downward dog, hyper-aware of exactly what that position did to my body. My hips lifted, my spine lengthened, and I could feel his gaze on me.
He’s not checking out your ass , I told myself firmly. Get over yourself.
We’d worked out our tension at the club last night. There was no reason to think he wanted more.
But my body didn’t seem to care about reason. Heat crept up my neck and pooled low in my belly. The thin fabric of my leggings suddenly felt like nothing at all. I was acutely conscious of every curve, every line, everything he might be seeing.
I held the pose longer than necessary, breath coming faster than the sequence demanded.
I transitioned to plank, then pressed up into cobra—one fluid motion that had taken months of instruction to perfect.
My chest lifted toward the ceiling, back arched, and I wondered if he was still watching.
Wondered what his expression looked like. Wondered why I cared so damn much.
I finished the flow and stood, turning to face him.
Kane looked completely, annoyingly composed. Not flushed, not affected, just... waiting. My stomach sank with something that felt humiliatingly like disappointment.
Of course he’s not interested , I reminded myself harshly. Whether guilty or innocent, I’d helped destroy his life. The angry sex had been catharsis, nothing more. How stupid could I be, hoping he’d want more?
“Can we talk?” The words came out before I could second guess them.
Kane’s mouth curved slightly. “Does this mean you’re willing to consider leaving the state?”
“Absolutely not.” I brushed past him to the kitchen, grabbing a chilled water bottle and taking a long drink. Buying time. Gathering courage before I turned around to face him again. “I wanted to ask about—about the scandal, and my article.”
Kane’s expression shuttered completely. Stone where there had been something almost warm. “Oh, now you want an interview?”
That was fair. I exhaled a deep breath.
“I was compromised when I wrote that piece.” I set down the water bottle, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
“We’d slept together. I was scared that interviewing you back then would muddle things further and make me second-guess the evidence.
My career is everything to me. I didn’t want to jeopardize my professional integrity. ”
Even though I already had, just by getting involved with him in the first place.
Kane’s jaw tightened. “And now?”
“Now you’re responsible for keeping me alive. I deserve to know the truth about the man protecting me.”
“The truth is suddenly important to you?” The sarcasm in his voice was harsh.
“It’s the most important thing in the world.” I lifted my chin and held his gaze, letting him see that I meant it. “It always has been.”
Kane leaned against the counter and folded his arms, quiet for a moment.
When he finally spoke, his voice had softened somewhat.
“How would you know I wasn’t lying? I can answer your questions and promise you it’s the truth.
But you can’t verify any of it. So would you believe me anyway, given our history? ”
I turned that over in my mind. He was right. I had no way to fact-check whatever he told me. No corroborating evidence, no witnesses. Just his word against the official record.
“You’re right,” I admitted. “I can’t know for certain.”
“So we’re back where we started. You either decide to trust me or you don’t.”
“Maybe talking to you directly will help me make that decision.”
Kane studied me for a long moment, and I didn’t miss the guarded emotions shifting in his eyes. Then he sighed and dropped his arms. “All right. What the hell. It’s not like we have anywhere else to be. Ask away.”
I mimed pulling out a notepad and clicking on a recorder. Kane snorted—an actual laugh, quickly suppressed—and glanced away. The small moment of levity loosened the tension in my chest.
“So.” I leaned back against the opposite counter, giving us both space. “Did you do it?”
“Right to the chase.” He met my eyes again. “No. I had no idea any of that was happening. I wasn’t even connected to vice. I never handled drug evidence or confiscated money.”
“Some would argue that made you the perfect patsy,” I said, playing devil’s advocate. “No obvious connection, so less suspicion.”
“Others would say the opposite—that it made more sense to use someone who had legitimate reasons to access the evidence locker regularly,” he argued. “If you ask me, picking someone with no connection just makes the frame-up more obvious.”
“Why would anyone frame you? Had you made enemies?”
Kane’s mouth twisted. “Well, I did keep beating Morrison at poker. And I might have replaced Carter’s protein powder with powdered sugar once. But other than that...”
I blinked at him. “Are you joking?”
“I have to.” But there was no real humor in his voice. “How else am I supposed to deal with losing everything?”
When he spoke, I saw it—the raw, deep pain he’d been hiding beneath the anger and sarcasm—definitely not the reaction of a guilty man, but one who’d been unfairly condemned. It was there and gone in a flash, but I caught it. My stomach twisted with a sharp, uncomfortable ache of doubt.
I did that to him. Me and whoever had set him up…and for the sake of this conversation, I was going to let myself believe he was telling the truth, because I owed him that much after everything that had happened.
“You were funny when we first met,” I said quietly. “You haven’t been since.”
“My current personality is not part of this...” He made air quotes. “‘Interview.’”
No, but this new attitude made me sad for the man he’d been. “Just an observation.”
“It’s hard to maintain a sense of humor when everyone you trusted either believed you were corrupt or lied to make it look that way.”
“What do you mean, lied?”
“You read the internal depositions. You saw that my colleagues testified against me. People I’d worked alongside for years, people I would have trusted with my life. They threw me under the bus without hesitation.”
“So much for the brotherhood of the force,” I said wryly.
“Oh, they were loyal to a brotherhood.” His voice went bitter.
“I just wasn’t part of it. These were people I would have called good.
One had just had a baby. Another was supporting sick parents.
The only explanation I can come up with is that their jobs were threatened if they didn’t let me take the fall—or they were involved in the theft themselves and used me as a deflection.
” Kane shrugged, but the gesture was anything but casual.
“You probably think that sounds like paranoid conspiracy thinking.”
“No.” I shook my head slowly. “I don’t. The people you mentioned had families relying on them, on their jobs. They were easy to threaten, if that were the case.”