Out of Turn (2 page)

Once I reached my car, I leaned against it, my arms cushioning my head.

Just breathe.

I drove on autopilot, replaying the images of Blane in my head. It made my chest hurt and my stomach turn into knots. I regretted even the small bite of French fry I’d eaten as nausea clawed my throat.

I thought by now it would have been easier to see him with someone else.

It wasn’t.

Tigger met me at the door. My two-story apartment building was in a section of Indy where police sirens were a nightly occurrence, but I hadn’t had any problems as long as I’d lived there. At least, no problems that were because of the neighborhood.

I changed into shorts and a tank, opening the windows to give my AC, and my electric bill, a break. Light filtered in from the streetlamps, so I didn’t bother turning on any lights in the apartment. After pouring myself a vodka tonic, I curled up on the couch, absently petting Tigger as I stared into space.

It was late, but I knew that if I went to bed I wouldn’t sleep. And even if I did, nightmares plagued me more often than not. The ordeal I’d endured a few months ago at the hands of human traffickers had left mental scars, though physically I was fine. So I didn’t sleep a whole lot.

My stomach churned and I resolutely took another drink. I did not want to puke, I hated throwing up, but I needed the numbness the vodka was so adept at providing. I needed not to feel anymore.

I thought about what Tish had said and wondered when, if ever, I’d feel like myself again. Normal. When I’d look forward to waking up every morning rather than dreading each new day as something to get through. When the ice inside me would melt.

I was angry with Blane, that much was true. He had believed his uncle’s lies instead of me, his fiancée. He hadn’t trusted me.

But I was devastated, too. Blane had devastated me, and part of me hated him for that, even as I ached to see him, talk to him. The newscast tonight had been bittersweet to watch.

I finished my drink in one long gulp, pushing Tigger aside as I got on the floor and started doing sit-ups. When the liquor didn’t work to quiet my brain, I exercised, trying
to get as exhausted as I possibly could. Sit-ups and push-ups when it was dark outside, running for miles when it wasn’t.

I was in great shape. I wish I cared.

Running always made me think of Kade. Kade Dennon. Ex-FBI agent. Assassin-for-hire. Blane’s half brother. I hadn’t heard from him in months, not since the night he’d kissed me and told me I should be with him, not Blane.

I hadn’t counted on how much I’d miss him no longer being in my life.

I glanced at my cell phone as I lay panting on the floor, my abdominal muscles screaming at me. I hadn’t been able to make myself delete their numbers, so Blane and Kade were still listed in my contacts. I should get rid of them, and I would. Just not tonight.

A warm breeze flowed through the open window, bringing with it the familiar scent of a summer’s night. At the moment, no sirens wailed and I could hear the occasional car pass by. I wondered what Blane was doing, and if it included Charlotte.

Sunlight streaming through the window and a marmalade lump of feline woke me up Saturday morning. I’d fallen asleep on the floor and now my back ached. Tigger used my stomach as a pillow, his clawless paws kneading my flesh.

“Give it a rest,” I grumbled at him as I sat up. He meowed a complaint about his loss of pillow and followed me into the kitchen, where I started the coffeemaker. I went for a run and showered before bolting down some caffeine. I had
homework to do and had agreed to meet Clarice for lunch today.

A few hours later, I was winding my way behind a hostess as she led me through a local restaurant to the patio tables. I was glad about that. I’d be able to leave my sunglasses on. Lack of sleep left a toll that makeup couldn’t always cover.

Clarice was waiting for me. She stood to give me a hug.

“So good to see you!” she said.

“You, too.” My smile was genuine. I’d missed seeing and talking to her every day.

“You look great,” she added as we sat down.

“Thanks, so do you.” And she did look fantastic. Being in love agreed with her. She wore a long, flowing skirt with a sleeveless top and sandals. She’d been divorced for some years and had two kids. Right before Valentine’s Day, the high-school science teacher she’d been dating had proposed.

“So how is Jack?” I asked, scooting my chair into the shade from the umbrella. I’d worn a spaghetti-strap sundress and didn’t want my arms or shoulders to get burned.

“Jack’s great—kids are good, too,” she replied. “They’re so excited for the wedding.”

“Just them?” I teased.

She grinned. “Okay, me, too.”

We laughed. “Two weeks,” I said, “and you’ll be Mrs. Jack Bryant.”

“I know. I can’t wait.”

Clarice looked so happy, it practically radiated from her. It was wonderful to see and I was so glad she’d found someone who made her feel that way. She certainly deserved it.

The waitress came by and we paused to order. Clarice joined me, indulging in a glass of cold chardonnay.

“Your dress fitting is Thursday afternoon,” she told me. “Can you make it?”

I was also one of her bridesmaids. “Sure,” I said.

We chatted for a while about the wedding plans and where she and Jack were going on their honeymoon—Hawaii. It sounded wonderful. The waitress brought our salads, and it felt nice and normal to be having lunch with a girlfriend.

“So, how are you doing really?” Clarice asked after we’d exhausted the topic of her impending nuptials.

I stiffened. Clarice and I always refrained from talking about Blane or the breakup. I refused to let her. Since she was his secretary, I didn’t want to put her in a bad position, and I didn’t want to be tempted to quiz her about Blane. I’d told her he’d broken off the engagement and that was all.

My smile was forced. “I’m fine. Just takes some time, you know?”

“I know, but I worry about you,” she said. “You’ve lost weight—it seems you hardly eat anymore. I mean don’t get me wrong, you don’t look bad, but I can tell you’re unhappy. It’s written all over you.”

“Well, I can’t say I recommend the breakup diet,” I admitted. “But I’ll be fine. I just… want to move on.” I paused. “It certainly seems he has.” I could hear the bitterness in my voice and knew I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear about Blane. But I also really did, and after seeing him on TV last night, I couldn’t help hoping Clarice would tell me something, even though I knew it would hurt and I’d regret hearing it.

She hesitated, then carefully said, “I don’t know about that.”

My breath seemed to freeze in my lungs. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not the same at all. I mean, yeah, he’s dating other women, but it’s like it was before. Blane’s always been real professional at the office, but he was happy with you. I could see it. Now, I never see him crack a smile or a joke. He’s just constantly on the move, pushing himself. He never slows down.”

I swallowed and readjusted my sunglasses while I digested this. I knew what Clarice meant about it being “like it was before.” Blane had been a playboy for years, always a different woman on his arm. I think the time he’d spent with me was the longest he’d been with someone in quite a while.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I said stiffly. “So he and Charlotte…?” I left the question dangling.

Clarice’s lips thinned. “Yeah, she’s managed to weasel her way in.”

I frowned. “I thought you liked her.”

“I did, when she wasn’t trying to be Blane’s shadow.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s always there, always wanting to help him or something. Like last night. His uncle insisted he take a date to that fund-raiser. Well, wouldn’t you know Charlotte just happened to be available, so he didn’t have to show up without one.” Clarice’s disdain was clear. “I mean, she couldn’t be more obvious if she tried, but I think Blane is completely oblivious.”

Clarice’s mention of Blane’s uncle had me clenching my fists in anger. I hated the man. A powerful senator from Massachusetts, Senator Robert Keaston had been reelected so many times, going to the polls was now a mere formality. He was also Blane’s great-uncle.

Keaston had wanted me to break up with Blane, had tried to bribe me to do so. When that hadn’t worked and Blane and I had gotten engaged, Keaston had lied to Blane about Kade and me having an affair. It made me furious not only that Blane was still listening to his uncle but also that Keaston was apparently being as meddlesome as ever and Blane was just letting him.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you seeing anyone?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want that right now. I’m not ready.” The idea was ludicrous to me. I was still in love with Blane, no matter how much he’d hurt me. I couldn’t just turn that off like a light switch.

Clarice studied the remaining wine in her glass as she asked with deliberate casualness, “Have you talked to Kade lately?” She knew that Kade and Blane were half brothers, though most people did not. It was a little-known fact that both Blane and Kade chose to keep that way.

“No. Why?”

She looked up at me. “Because neither has Blane. I mean, I know they used to talk several times a week. Kade would call the office or Blane would have me get him on the phone, but as far as I know, they haven’t spoken since you and Blane broke up.”

My stomach twisted into knots as guilt rose like nausea. It was my fault they weren’t speaking. I had come between them. Even after Blane had accused me of sleeping with
Kade, I’d hoped Kade could talk some sense into him. If Blane didn’t believe Kade’s denials, I thought that at the very least he’d forgive him. They were brothers, after all, and history had proven them to be extremely loyal to each other. I was just the girlfriend, and as Blane had proven time and time again, girlfriends were replaceable. Brothers were not.

I couldn’t eat another bite of my salad and just sipped my wine as Clarice changed the subject, sensing my distress, I think. I nodded and smiled but didn’t hear ten percent of what she said, my thoughts in a jumble.

Should I try to call Kade? Figure out what was going on between him and Blane? My heart leapt at the thought of talking to him again, wanting it so bad it was like a physical need. God, I missed him.

But no, I shouldn’t get involved. I was the cause of their estrangement. I certainly wasn’t going to be the one who could fix it.

I was getting into my car after promising Clarice I’d be at the fitting on Thursday when I noticed him, a man was loitering near one of the storefronts lining the street.

He appeared to be window-shopping, but every few seconds, he’d glance my way. Before my training with Kade, I probably would never have noticed. But Kade had made me work until I reflexively took stock of my surroundings as though it was second nature to me.

Pretending I didn’t see him, I got in my car and started the engine. I fiddled with my hair while I watched him in the rearview mirror as he hurried to get into a blue sedan.

I drove a circuitous route home, always keeping an eye on the sedan that stayed at least three or four cars behind
me at all times. I had no idea who he was or why he was following me, and I certainly didn’t want to lead him to my apartment. I mulled over what to do until an opportunity presented itself.

The stoplight ahead was green, so I slowed down. It turned yellow as I drew near, then red just as I hit the line. I gunned it, stomping on the accelerator and shooting through the intersection, barely missing colliding with traffic crossing the opposite direction. Tires squealed and I heard someone honk, then I was through. A glance in the mirror showed the sedan was stuck behind three cars at the light. I drove quickly to leave him behind, glad to have lost him.

Weird.

I spent the afternoon studying and doing homework before heading in to work. I tried not to dwell on the things Clarice had said, but it was futile. Blane with other women. Blane becoming close with Charlotte. Blane and Kade not speaking.

I was even more despondent than usual. But I didn’t cry. I hadn’t cried since the night Alisha had come over and I’d told her everything. Since then I’d carried on. I worked, I signed up for classes and started attending once the summer session began. I did my laundry, cleaned my apartment, and did all the things one did that said I was living my life.

And I tried to pretend it wasn’t a lie.

I was nearly at The Drop when I saw the blue sedan.

He was trailing me like he had earlier, three cars behind. How the hell had he found me?

He must know where I live.

The thought sent a shiver of fear through me, which I quickly shrugged off. How dare he follow me? Try to scare me? The bastard.

I parked a couple of blocks from The Drop and grabbed my purse. Locking the car door, I started walking, taking the back way in between the buildings. It was light—the sun wouldn’t set for a few hours—but the shadows were thick in the alleyways.

Pausing, I opened my purse and took out a compact. As I powdered my nose, I watched in the mirror. Sure enough, the same guy had gotten out of the sedan and was following me. I took quick measure of him. He was about five eleven, maybe 180 pounds. Not huge, but not small, either.