Turn on a Dime - Blane's Turn (30 page)

When Blane didn’t answer, the light of hope in her eyes slowly faded.

“Thought so,” she said, grabbing her purse. She turned to go.

“Kathleen, wait,” Blane said, grasping her elbow. He didn’t want her to think it had meant nothing to him and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that, but what good would it do besides make her think there could be more than just casual sex between then? It was best to just let it go. Let her go.

Turning her hand palm up, Blane placed the spare set of keys to Kade’s car in her hand. “To get home,” he said.

She glanced down at the keys and when she said, “Thanks,” it sounded as if she were fighting tears. Guilt hit him hard and Blane didn’t try to stop her again as she walked to the door.

“Wait,” she said, turning around. “Aren’t these the keys to Kade’s car?”

Blane grinned. “Yeah. It’ll really piss him off.” Kade deserved it for treating her like shit.

Kathleen laughed and Blane tried to memorize the sound.

“Blane, why were there tonight?” she asked. “Are you a . . . customer?”

Good God. She was probably wondering if she needed to see a doctor after having sex with him. Worrying about STDs wasn’t really the memory Blane wanted her to associate with their one and only time together.

“I know I haven’t given you much reason to trust me,” he said, “but believe me when I tell you that no, I’m not a customer.”

She let out a small sigh of relief. “They why did Gracie tell me that Enigma was the one Sheila was seeing?”

“She lied,” Blane said. “She probably told you whatever they wanted her to say. I’d assume so you wouldn’t trust me.” Not that he’d needed any help getting her not to trust him. He’d done quite well on that on his own.

“Why were you even there?”

Blane decided she didn’t need more information. She’d already proven to be too tenacious for her own health. “It’s safer for you if you don’t know that,” he answered.

Kathleen looked disappointed, but thankfully didn’t ask any more questions.

“Bye, Blane,” she said.

“Bye, Kat.”

She walked out without a backward glance. Blane felt a stab of regret as he watched her leave. He wouldn’t ever see her again, wouldn’t kiss her or make love to her again.

It was for the best, but he stared at that closed door for a long while.

Kade was pissed about his car, as Blane expected. He groused about having to ask Gerard to take him to pick it up, but Blane wasn’t really listening. Kade said he’d be in touch when he got through TecSol’s network and left, his irritation at Blane obvious.

It was late when Blane dropped onto the couch, staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace. He’d spent the last two hours poring through TecSol’s finance records. He’d finally found the method Gage was using to launder the money through a half dozen shelf companies. Gage was putting the firm at risk, so Blane had no qualms about leaving a voice mail for the current D.A., an old law school buddy he’d kept in touch with over the years, detailing what was going on. It shouldn’t take long for the cops to come knocking on Gage’s door.

However, even with that part taken care of, Blane couldn’t shake the bad feeling in his gut. Had he done the right thing with Kat? Sending her away? Logic told him yes, but that didn’t stop thoughts of her replaying in his mind. What if he’d said something different, told her he wanted to see her again. Would she have stayed? Is that what he wanted? Was it too late?

A slight sound in the hallway made Blane turn, his senses going on high alert. Silently, he got to his feet, moving behind his desk. He picked up the Glock that rested on the surface of the desk and tucked it in the back of his pants. Reaching under his desk, Blane hit the button on a tiny remote he’d glued there.

Frank Santini stepped into the room, followed by two men who looked like they didn’t do much thinking for a living, their brutish faces cold, their eyes empty.

“Frank,” Blane said, keeping it genial. “This is an odd time—and place—to see you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“It looks like you had a nice time at the party tonight,” Frank said, moving forward to stand in front of Blane. He had a yellow manila folder in his hand from which he drew a sheaf of thick papers. One by one, he tossed them onto Blane’s desk.

Images of himself and Kathleen making out on the couch at the party tonight stared up at Blane in stark black and white. Not that Blane was surprised. The only thing unexpected was that it had taken Santini this long to get over here.

“Are these for my collection?” he asked Frank. “Normally, I’m not into that, but with these,” he picked up one in particular that showed everything he’d bared of her during their encounter, “I might be persuaded to change my mind.”

Frank laughed softly. “You’re a man’s man, Kirk,” he said. “Nothing better than a glass of aged scotch and lying between a woman’s spread thighs, am I right?” Frank walked over to the sideboard and helped himself to Blane’s scotch, pouring an inch into a crystal highball glass.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Blane said, his voice turning steely. “Why are you here?”

Frank settled himself on the couch with a sigh, the cushions groaning in protest at his bulk. Blane stuffed the photos of him and Kathleen back into the envelope and tossed it onto his desk.

“I may understand something like those photos,” Frank said, “but I doubt voters would. Everybody knows men pay for sex from women like that, but no one likes to talk about it, much less read about it in the Sunday paper over the breakfast table.”

“I don’t know about that,” Blane scoffed, coming around the desk to face Frank. “I bet I could leak those to the paparazzi and I’d win in a landslide. There’s no such thing as bad press, isn’t that what they say?”

“That’s an awfully big risk to take with your career,” Frank warned.

Blane shrugged. “At the moment, we’re the only ones who’ve seen those photos. So unless you’re threatening me, I don’t see the problem.” He paused. “
Are
you threatening me, Frank?”

Frank smiled. “I’m your ally, Kirk. I want to see your career soar as much as you do. Those photos are just my insurance against my investment.”

“So you’re blackmailing me,” Blane said. “What exactly do you want from me, Frank, that I’m not already providing?”

“You think I don’t know you’ve been digging into TecSol?” Frank asked. His smile was gone now, anger creasing the worn lines of his face.

“They’re your client,” Blane said. “Your union people service their voting machines. If they’re dirty, it’s my duty as your lawyer to protect you.”

“Bullshit,” Frank spat. “We have a good thing going, Kirk, and I’m not about to let you fuck it up. Do you know how much money the right people will pay to ensure an election? Millions doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Blane asked.

“I can tell you whatever I want,” Frank said with a wave of his hand. “You can’t repeat it. You think I don’t know about attorney client privilege?”

“That privilege doesn’t extend to TecSol,” Blane said. “They’re not my client.”

“Which is why I have the photographs, Kirk,” Frank said. “Now be a good boy and don’t make me use them.” He rose laboriously to his feet, doing up the button on his strained jacket.

Furious, Blane got in Frank’s face. “You think I give a fuck about those photographs?” he snarled. “Don’t think for a moment that you can waltz in here and threaten me. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

Frank remained unmoved. “It’s you who don’t know who you’re dealing with, Kirk,” he said. “Like the girl. Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

Blane stilled, his expression going blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “The girl was just some whore.”

Frank laughed. “Kathleen Turner, isn’t that her name? Poor thing was just too curious for her own good.”

A cold chill went up Blane’s spine. “What do you mean?”

“We have her, of course,” Frank said. “You didn’t think we’d leave it to chance, did you? I’d hoped the photographs could persuade you, but it’s always a good idea to have a contingency plan.”

Fuck. “What do you want?” Blane asked.

“You come with us until after the election, then you’re free to go.”

“And if I don’t?”

“We’ll kill her, of course,” Frank said with a shrug, as though he were mentioning dinner plans for Friday. He smiled. “I believe Jimmy was tasked with that particular chore, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Kirk? You wouldn’t have bothered saving her and blowing your cover in the process if she was ‘just some whore.’”

Blane had his gun in his hand before Frank even turned away. The men at the door pulled their weapons, pointing them at Blane, and nobody moved.

“If you die,” Frank said, “so does the girl. And with two guns pointing at you, we both know you won’t make it if you try to shoot your way out.” He snapped his fingers and the men approached to flank him. “What’ll it be, Kirk?”

Blane didn’t see another way out, not if he wanted to rescue Kathleen. He released his hold on the gun, letting it dangle from his finger. One of the thugs took it from him.

“Let’s go.” One of the guys gave Blane a shove.

Blane followed Frank to the car waiting outside. He slid into the back, one of the guys sitting next to him while the other drove. Frank sat in the front with the driver. They drove for a while until they pulled up in front of a building.

“What’s this?” Blane asked. “Where are we?” No one answered. The guy got out of the car and motioned for Blane to get out, too.

Stepping onto the pavement, Blane realized they were at TecSol. The parking lot behind the building was deserted. A few scattered lamp poles cast flickering fluorescent pools of light in the darkness. Their buzzing was a low thrum of sound in the silent lot. Blane looked over at Frank and gestured to the building, which looked forbidding at this hour, the glass circling the first floor opaque. “Is Kathleen in there?”

“The girl’s dead, Kirk,” Frank said. “Or at least, she will be by morning.”

Shock went through Blane, followed quickly by rage. He flew at Frank, wrapping his hands around his thick neck.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snarled. “You told me she was alive!”

The two thugs grabbed Blane’s arms, pulling him off Frank. A fist slammed into Blane’s side and he grunted in pain before spinning around to take them on. One had a knife and Blane dove at him first. They grappled as they fought, the knife slicing through Blane’s shirt to his chest. The other guy came at Blane from behind. Blane kicked out, nailing the guy in the knee and he dropped.

A blinding pain in the back of his head made his legs give out. Blane fell to his knees, realizing Frank had hit him with the butt of his own gun. Blackness edged his vision, but he fought it. The guy Blane had nailed in the knee hobbled over and grabbed his arms, wrapping a long cord around his wrists to bind him. Then he hauled back and punched Blane in the face. Once, twice. By the third time, blood filled Blane’s mouth and he spat it out, the concrete lot swimming in his vision.

“What a tough guy,” Blane mocked. “Bet you gotta tie up your women first, too, so they don’t get away, right? Oh wait, I bet girls aren’t your thing.”

Blane braced himself for the guy’s retaliation, which came in the form of more punishing blows to his face and torso. Finally, blessedly, he couldn’t remain conscious and slipped into oblivion.

Seventeen Years Ago

They came in the middle of the night, dragging Kade from his bed kicking and yelling. He fought them, biting and scratching, until one of them got pissed and slammed his fist into Kade’s jaw. Kade went limp, unable to fight as pain ricocheted through his head.

“Grab the kid,” one of them said, and Kade was picked up and tucked under someone’s arm, his feet dragging on the carpeted hallway.

By the time they got to the bottom of the stairs, Kade had shaken off the pain and was fighting again.

“Let me go, you sonofabitch!” His yelling didn’t seem to have an effect on the guy carrying him, though he finally dropped Kade to the ground. Kade scrambled to his feet and froze.

They had Blane.

He was on his knees and blood dripped onto his bare chest from his nose and mouth. One eyebrow was split, more blood streaking down the side of his face. Willie stood behind Blane, a gun pointed to the back of his head.

The sound of shattering wood and glass came from the den and Kade realized they were wrecking the house. A guy emerged from the den, baseball bat in hand. He grinned at Kade, then walked past toward the kitchen. A moment later, a cacophony of ceramic and glass breaking filled the house.

“So you try to threaten me, sugar daddy, you see what I do?” Willie said. “I don’t take shit from nobody.” He nodded at one of the guys standing next to Blane, who hauled back and punched Blane again in the face.