But Kade’s eyes flicked to mine and he seemed to remember himself, tossing one last accusing look at Blane before crouching next to me. I looked up at him.

“It’s not your fault, princess,” Kade said gently. “None of this is. Come on, let’s get some clothes on you.”

He helped me to my feet and I blindly followed him to my bedroom. A few minutes later I had on shorts and a T-shirt over my cami. Kade slipped flip-flops onto my feet and took my hand.

“We’re leaving,” Kade told Blane once we’d returned to the living room. I couldn’t stop looking at the dead guy on the floor, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

“Where are you going?”

“Kathleen’s coming with me,” Kade replied. “Get this shit fixed with Gage, or I’ll take care of it myself.” The threat underlying his words was obvious.

“Kat…,” Blane said.

I tore my gaze from the dead guy.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Are you going… with him?”

I glanced at Kade but couldn’t read anything from his face. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to say yes, no, or didn’t care one way or the other.

But I could feel his hand in mine, and it was warm and strong.

“Yeah.”

And that was the last thing I said to Blane before walking out the door with Kade.

Kade led me to his car and I slid into the passenger seat when he opened the door. My mind was a blank, processing only the physical necessities of putting one foot in front of the other and breathing in and out.

Coincidentally, that hurt like a sonofabitch.

It was the middle of the night and I had no clue where Kade was taking me, not that I cared. If not for Blane, I’d be dead. He’d saved me. Again.

That rankled.

I was grateful for Blane’s extremely timely intervention. But it bothered me that I hadn’t been able to save myself. I’d almost gotten to my gun, but what was it my dad used to say? Oh yeah.

Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

It was just a few minutes later when Kade stopped the car in a parking garage.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around.

“My place.”

Well. That explained how he’d gotten to my apartment so quickly in the middle of the night. He couldn’t live but five miles away. Of course, those five miles traversed the gap between the bad side of town and the nice side.

I got out of the car before he could open the door for me, anxious to show that I was all right. Now that I was snapping out of my panic and terror, I was embarrassed at my meltdown back at my apartment.

Kade again linked our fingers together as we walked to an elevator. Once inside, he punched the button for the top floor. A few moments later, he was unlocking the door to his apartment and I followed him in.

The space looked remarkably similar to his last apartment, prior to when it had gotten blown up. Hardwood floors, comfortable though expensive-looking furniture, all in creams, beiges, and warm ivories. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up one wall and I drifted toward them to look outside.

I heard Kade toss his keys on the countertop in the kitchen, then the more careful sound of him depositing his gun. I turned to watch him. He’d crouched down and lifted the cuffs of his jeans, removing a gun from one leg and a knife from the other.

He looked dangerous and raw. He’d gotten dressed in a hurry, it seemed, pulling on a white tank, dark jeans, and black boots. The muscles in his biceps flexed as he moved, the veins in his forearms—made prominent by pumping iron—stood out in stark relief under his skin. His black hair was tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, which made him look even more appealing.

Kade stood, glancing my way. “You want a drink?” He took a highball glass out from a cabinet and opened his freezer, pulling out a bottle of vodka.

I shook my head. “No, thanks.” I was still turning over that new leaf.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He poured a shot of the clear fluid and tossed it back in one swallow. He eyed me, one brow raised, and I suddenly realized I was staring. I flushed and looked away.

“How’s the ribs?”

“Hurts.”

“I bet.” He set the glass down and disappeared into the bathroom I’d noticed near the entryway. When he came back, he was carrying something. “Come in here,” he said, heading across the living room.

I followed him into an expansive bedroom. A king-size bed took up the center of the space and a leather wingback chair sat by a fireplace in an alcove. The colors were darker in here, the wood of the furniture a deep mahogany.

“Did you decorate this?” I asked.

He snorted. “Right. Please. I hire shit like that.”

Of course he did.

“Lie down,” he ordered, opening the jar he held. “Pull up your shirt.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?” I squeaked.

He rolled his eyes. “This will help with the ache,” he said, holding up the jar.

Oh.

I slipped off my shoes and climbed up onto the bed. The covers were turned back and the pillows askew. Obviously, Kade liked to use the whole bed when he slept. The cotton sheets were of a thread count I’d never be able to afford, their color a deep coffee.

The pillow smelled of Kade and I had to resist the urge to bury my nose in it, instead turning to lie half on my back, half on my side. Kade raised my right arm above my head and I rested it on the pillow. His movements were impersonal as he pushed the fabric of my shirt up, exposing my abdomen and back.

Kade gave a low whistle as he examined the bruises. “Nice. They’re even prettier now.”

The gel was ice-cold and I hissed when it touched me, flinching away from him. But his touch was surprisingly gentle as he rubbed the gel into my skin.

We didn’t speak, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable—and I watched him, his gaze intent on his task. The slow swipes of his hand relaxed me, the gel turning from cold to warm against my skin.

I wondered why he was doing this, bringing me here, defying Blane to do so. Kade wasn’t the type of person to be kind just for the sake of kindness.

“You’re being awfully nice to me,” I said after a while.

“Don’t let that shit get around,” he quipped, his gaze flicking to mine, then away.

A smile tugged at my lips. Kade did that a lot, made me smile no matter the circumstances.

The bruising extended down to my hip and Kade pushed the top of my knit shorts lower, his fingers slipping under the cotton.

And abruptly I went from relaxed to… something else.

I didn’t know what possessed me then. Maybe it was the fact that I was in his bed, or maybe it was the slow heat building inside my skin, or maybe it was just that this was Kade and he was touching me in a soft, slow way that made it seem he wasn’t in any hurry to stop. Whatever it was, I found myself reaching for him, my hand and nails trailing a light path from his shoulder, over his biceps, to his forearm.

Kade froze. His piercing blue eyes lifted to mine and I tried to read what he was thinking, but it was impossible.

The moment became heavy and I was acutely aware of his hand, large enough to span the breadth of my side, as it rested just below my breast.

“Don’t,” he said.

The word was unexpected, as was the stiffly curt way in which it was said.

My face flushed hotly and I yanked my hand back, embarrassed to the marrow of my bones. I wanted to crawl under the covers and hide until he went away.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, yanking my shirt down. I couldn’t look at him. I moved to sit up, to get off his bed, but he pushed me back down into the pillows. In the blink of an eye, he was on top of me, his knees braced on either side of my thighs and his hands pinning my arms over my head.

“Do you have any idea what it’s doing to me, seeing you in my bed?” he hissed.

Kade’s anger both frightened and thrilled me. His face was inches away, his eyes boring into mine. I couldn’t blink, could barely breathe. I gave a tiny shake of my head.