Unbearable Guilt

Unbearable

Guilt

Breathe Again Book 2

Emma Grayson

Copyright © 2014 Emma Grayson

Smashwords Edition

Unbearable Guilt

Copyright © 2014 Emma Grayson

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design: Meredith Blair of Author’s Angels.

Cover Image: © Emma Grayson 2014.

Cover Image photographed by Shem from studioEPIC.

Cover Model: Adam Robinson.

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, (electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author 0f this book. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and incidents either are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked owners of products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

More from Emma Grayson

Breathe Again Series

Unbeautifully Loved

Unbearable Guilt

Blinded by Love

Take it All

Promise it All—coming soon

Breaking the Rules

(Spin off from Blinded by Love)

Coming late 2014/early 2015

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my dear friend Brandi—for everything you have done for me, for all the encouraging pep talks, and your constant belief in me.

I don’t know where I’d be without you.

&

To all the ladies who have been waiting for Kane Archer:

I hope he was worth the wait and that you love him as much as I do.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

More from Emma Grayson

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Nothing is more wretched than the mind of a man conscious of guilt.

—Titus Maccius Plautus

PROLOGUE

May 26th, 2011

Mr. O’Conner, cooperate, or she sees the bottom of the lake; a bullet between her eyes, the man on the phone said in a low harsh whisper.

The moment the words echoed through the room, I heard her choke out a small cry. I turned and found her terrified and pleading eyes expecting me to do something. I looked at the man behind her; his hands were tightly wrapped around the tops of her arms, holding her in place.

"Mr. O’Conner," the man’s voice snapped.

My eyes darted from Aimee and back to the phone. "Already fuckin’ told you," I growled.

And I’m asking you once more, he said loudly through the phone, his voice echoing through the warehouse, before my associate, Mr. Hayes, happily escorts Miss Davidson away.

Fuckin’ hell.

Listen you fuckin’ piece of shit. I don’t know who this bitch is, so whatever you seem to think you know, you’re wrong, I said through clenched teeth, glaring at the speaker in front of me.

I hated myself even more as I felt Aimee’s eyes burning into me. Fuck. I hoped she knew what I was doing. Her safety was all that mattered; it was all that ever mattered.

And just this once, I wished she could hear what I was saying.

His laugh. It shot right through me like a kick to the gut. It was etched into the back of my mind, marking its spot in my memory forever. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I gave you your chance… Mr. Archer."

Fuck.

Shit!

I don’t—

"You think you can just kill my son and get away with it?" he said, his voice full of malice.

I don’t even fuckin’ know who the hell your son is, you son of a bitch—or you, for that matter, I said tightly as my hands clenched into fists.

I know all about you, Kane Archer. I know where you live, what you drive, where you shit… I know your girlfriend, Aimee Elizabeth Davidson, he paused, taking a breath before he continued, "oh, my mistake. I mean… fiancée. Well, my deepest condolences, he bit out sharply. Mr. Hayes!"

No.

Aimee.

I took a step, wanting to get to her, but the backs of my knees were kicked out and I collapsed to the ground. My eyes were glued on the sight of Aimee struggling from Mr. Hayes’ grasp as he pulled her towards the door.

Let me go, she screamed as his arm wrapped around her waist. Her legs kicked, but his grip only tightened as she scratched and clawed at his grasp. Kane!

I knew I had to do something—anything to get her out of the mess I had created. It was my fucking fault she was here in the first place. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this; but she stood by and supported me. I knew if something happened to her I’d never be able to fucking live with it.

I knew I wouldn’t recover.

You son of a bitch, I roared out. Let her go. Let her live and I’ll tell you everything you want to know! I struggled to stand, but three pairs of hands held me down.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but what I did know was I had to stall somehow and hope I could get Aimee the fuck out alive.

Everyone froze. Nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing filled the room as everyone grew with anticipation as to what he would say.

My eyes locked on her and I knew she could see how much I loved her, and that I’d do anything for her, even if it meant giving up my own fucked up life so she could live, ‘cause she was worth it. She’d always be worth it; her life was worth everything over my own.

Mr. Archer, I don’t think you understood what—

"No, you don’t understand, asshole. Let her go, and you get what you want, I said roughly, you get me?"

Kane, no! Aimee cried.

Surely you get it, Mr. Archer, the man said through the speaker, ever so casually.

I did.

I got it loud and clear.

I’d known it the moment I walked in the warehouse and found her tied to the chair with blood dried to her forehead.

I struggled under their grasp. I needed to get to her. I knew I could take the assholes that were using all their strength to hold me down, but I waited too long. One of them pistol-whipped me from behind, causing pain to explode in my head.

I already have everything I need, he informed me. "Mr. Hayes, portarla via."

No! I roared as I thrashed, trying to shake the guys off me so I could get to her. "I’ll find you, and when I do I’ll fuckin’ kill you, you son of a bitch," I bit out. She struggled as she was dragged away.

I heard her scream. Hayes quickly turned her and pulled his arm back, his fist connecting with her stomach. She collapsed, gasping into his arms as he pulled her out of the warehouse.

I grunted as a heavy foot slammed into my ribs. They cracked as discomfort rolled through me. It was nothing; I’d felt worse.

I grabbed the foot before it slammed into my ribs again; I twisted it quickly. A snap vibrated through my hands as the guy shouted in pain and fell to the ground. I rolled, grabbed the next foot and twisted it just like the last; another snap sounded, and the guy fell just as fast.

I pushed myself up and a fist connected against my cracked ribs. I ignored the pain and wound back my arm; my fist connected with his face.

One.

Two.

Three.

He was down on the ground with the others.

I heard the gunshot echo from outside, followed quickly by Aimee’s scream.

Aimee, I shouted as I grabbed one of the guns that had fallen to the floor.

I ran toward the door he had pulled her through and threw it open. A cloud of dust blew up in my face as I made it out the door; I saw the back of two cars racing down the dirt road, spitting gravel from behind.

The second I stepped outside and the door slammed behind me, the sound of a gunshot rang in the air, paralyzing me in my place.

Oh, fuck.

Ignoring the agonizing pain, I watched as the two cars made it to the end of the gravel road then turned onto the street, tires squealing as they slid across the pavement, the last car gaining on the other. I tried to move, but only made it two steps before I was on my knees in the gravel.

I knew this kind of pain. It was familiar—very familiar.

The hurt burned through my chest as my head dropped and I saw the source, the bright red spot growing and spreading through my white shirt.

I knew that smell. Blood and flesh.

My blood and flesh.

Fuck.

My left hand pushed against the gunshot wound as I heard metal crunching and tires screeching.

Motherfuckin’ hell.

I squinted to see Aimee driving in the front car with Hayes close behind. The front of his car banged into the back of hers once before they disappeared down and around the bend.

I didn’t know how she’d done it, how she’d gotten away from him and into a car, but she had. I was useless to her. All I could do was pray. I prayed harder than I ever had in my whole pathetic fuckin’ life that she could make it somewhere safe and—

I didn’t finish the thought as another shot fired and I fell backwards, my body flattening against the gravel as pain shot through me. It was dusk and the sun had already set. The moon was barely visible, and I knew darkness was near. I cringed in pain as a cough rocked my chest. Fuck, don’t let anything happen to—

I didn’t finish as a loud bang sounded, followed by silence, before a loud explosion.

No.

God.

I knew what I heard, but I didn’t want to believe it. Even with every fiber of my fuckin’ being telling me.

I didn’t want to believe it when the sky grew darker and the air snapped with a chill as it grazed over me. My eyes were starting to flutter shut when I saw the clouds of smoke billowing in the sky in the distance.

Fuck. No.

My heart squeezed painfully.

My stomach churned.

Aimee.

"Aimee!"

No!

At that moment I knew my prayers weren’t heard by God, and Aimee was gone; I only hoped I was soon to follow.

*     *     *

I found Archer, he’s been hit twice—shoulder and rib area. Weak pulse and extensive blood loss, sir.

My eyes fluttered open then closed. His voice sounded far away and I couldn’t see him, but I knew who it was. My mouth moved as I tried to speak, but nothing came out and my heavy eyes tried to focus on his blurry frame.

I knew it was Kessel.

He’s in and out of consciousness— He was cut off by loud shots that rang out in the dead silence.

The fuck?

My eyes snapped at the sound as my head began to work overtime, trying to absorb what was going on. I couldn’t remember where I was. I couldn’t remember how I ended up in the gravel rocks. I couldn’t remember much; everything in my mind was too foggy.

Arch, it’s me, Kess. Can you hear me, man—Holder’s got a chopper close by, we’re gonna get you outta here.

Yeah.

Kessel nodded then radioed in, Thaddeus—talk to me, what’s going on in there?

I could hear commotion around me, and then the door behind me creaking open, followed by gravel crunching under someone’s footsteps.

Three guys, taken care of—Rave and Stone are gettin’ rid of ‘em. How’s Archer?

Alive—what about Aimee, she in there?

Aimee!

My eyes flew open. Aimee, my voice croaked as I tried to pull myself up, but Kessel wouldn’t have it.

Arch, calm down man—

I have to get to her, something happened, I growled, ignoring the agonizing pain I felt as I tried, but failed, to fight him.

I want all eyes out for her, you get me? We’ll deal with the goddamn bodies later, Kessel ordered.

She took off, I started, as I stopped fighting Kessel, in a car.

Find her, Kessel said through clenched teeth.

I listened as the crunching became further away. Then three doors slammed and an engine started, and shortly after they took off down the gravel road that Aimee had taken.

Hold tight, Kessel told me.

It was dark out. The sky was starless. And I had no idea how long I had been lying there before my team showed up.

I felt the air around me pick up as the noise of a chopper sounded close by. Dust started to move around me.

And I let go.

*     *     *

I woke to the sound of beeping.

Fuckin’ annoying beeping. I wished I had my gun; I could’ve used it to shut it the hell up.

The room I was in was dim and smelled like ass and death. Hospital? No, the hospital was the last place I would be. This was like a hospital—only one for people in my line of work. It wasn’t the first time I was acquainted with the place.

The good ol’ infirmary, how we meet again, I muttered, then cleared my throat. I know you’re here, no sense in fuckin’ hiding’, I said. I looked over to my right, where I knew he would be.

I see you haven’t lost your touch, he said, stepping into view.

Don’t spare me any of the details, Holder, just give it to me straight, I said, not wanting to look at him.

There were two people responsible for what happened.

Both were in the room.

I’m sorry, Archer, but . . . He paused, and I knew he didn’t want to say it.

She’s gone, I finished.

He nodded.

Holder No Holds Jones approached me shortly after I decided to leave the Canadian Army and my position overseas with the JFT 2. Since that day more than six years ago, I’d been under Holder’s guidance and been his worthy right-hand man.

I looked at him. His white hair was shorter than it had been the last time I saw him. He was tall, lean, and in great shape for a man in his late fifties.

Details, I said through a clenched jaw.

Kane, son, I don’t know—

Fuckin’ tell me, Holder.

He took a breath. From what the guys found, her car slammed into a cement block and exploded—she died instantly, Archer, Holder said, his usually loud scratchy voice was soft—careful.

That wasn’t anything I didn’t already know.

I remembered everything. And I knew I would never be rid of the memory—no matter how hard I tried. But I needed to hear it from someone, so I knew for sure I wasn’t just trapped inside one hell of a nightmare.

How long have I been here?

Two days, Holder said, as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Bullet in the shoulder was a through and through. There’s no permanent damage, but it’ll be sore for a bit—but that’s nothing you haven’t already experienced. You have a few cracked ribs and the bullet in your side—you were lucky with that one, any closer to the right and—

I’d be dead.

I’d be with Aimee right now. I turned to face Holder, unsure of what I felt more of.

Rage.

Hatred.

Disgust.

Guilt.

Or just pure and utter… heartbreak.

Every time I settled on one, another emotion would take over and become even more unbearable, until the next feeling came, a continuous cycle beginning.

Kane—

Don’t. I need to get back to Camden, there’s a funeral I need to be at.

I don’t think that’s such a great idea.

The words had barely left his mouth as my eyes sliced into him. My jaw was tight, and I could feel the muscle on the side twitch rapidly.

Why the fuck not? I demanded, ignoring the pain as I sat up.

Holder tilted his head forward and looked down at his scuffed boots. Town thinks you had something to do with it, son, he said, finally looking up and making eye contact.

I don’t give a flying fuck if I show up and they arrest me. I’m not missing her fuckin’ funeral, Holder! I barked.

I know what you’re feeling—

"Fuck that and fuck… you, don’t compare her to what happened to Randy—hell, if it wasn’t for that, this wouldn’t have even happened," I snapped, and looked at him with narrowed eyes full of disgust.

"If you go, your friend the detective will arrest you—and then you can’t find the asshole who did this. He looked at me closely. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To do what you do best. Find and kill the fucker."

I knew he was right, it was what I wanted—more than anything, but I didn’t want to hear it.

I wanted Aimee. I wanted to hear her voice, taste her honey-sweet lips on my lips, and feel her always warm body next to mine. I wanted to hear her laugh, feel her grab my hand and entwine our fingers tightly. I wanted it all to be a mistake and for her to walk through the door and tell me everything was going to be okay—just like she always did. I already missed her, more than I’d ever thought you could miss someone. I wanted Aimee.

And I couldn’t fuckin’ have her.

Everything in me exploded in anger. "Get the fuck out! I mean it, Holder. You don’t leave this fuckin’ room now, I’ll have no fuckin’ trouble coming over there and ripping your fuckin’ head off."

Holder nodded, and then he left without a word.

Shit.

Fuckin’ motherfucking hell.

Life was never, ever going to be the same.

I was ripped from heaven with an angel, and tossed into the fiery pit of hell by myself with no way out. I wouldn’t ever allow myself to be released from its relentless grip.

I knew the decision was wrong, and I didn’t give it fair thought, but I wasn’t going to. My mind was made up and there was no changing it.

Just as there was no changing the fact that the love of my life was dead, and I would carry the guilt of her death for as long as I lived.

ONE

28 months later.

Whitney

I was standing behind the counter with my eyes glued on him.

He looked as if he were holding back from smashing his fist into Lukas’ face and pounding the ever-loving shit out of him, only to stop when his arm tired.

It was hard not to look at him.

Kane.

He was gorgeous.

He was hot.

No—blazing hot.

Like—make your Popsicle melt instantly with just one look—hot. Walk around buck-naked because you’re so hot, hot. Yeah, he was melt-your-clothes-off-with-just-one-look, hot.

And all I could do was stare as he stood there on the other side of the window of Grind my Beans, in the middle of the sidewalk; blocking the way for people to pass him with his tall, intimidating body.

My eyes fell to his arms that were crossed across his wide chest. His extremely defined muscles twitched, moving the black and white ink that covered both arms.

I wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but it seemed intense—like a conversation neither of them wanted to have. I couldn’t see Lukas’ face too well, as his back was almost facing me, but going by how taut that back looked, it wasn’t hard to guess that Lukas’ expression matched that of Kane’s.

It was evident there was something going on with the two of them. Something definitely unresolved, and whatever it was, it was far from good.

I looked back up to Kane’s stony face and hard dark eyes that were glaring back at Lukas as he talked. As I watched and waited for his expression to flicker or change, the muscle in his tightly clenched jaw twitched.

Kane’s face partially washed clean as Lexie approached them, gaining their attention.

Lexie Todd. She sure went through her share of hell a few months ago. She had been stalked and attacked by that crazy asshole Erik, who had been sent to find her and her son, Finn, for her debatably less sick, but violent and abusive ex-boyfriend, Dex.

Erik wormed his way into her life by dating her best friend, Mollie. Then, once he was part of her life—despite the warning signs—he snagged her when she least expected it, then he did a number on her. If it hadn’t had been for Kane, no one knew what would have happened. Luckily, she was here, alive, and extremely happy—expecting her and Lukas’ first child together.

And I couldn’t be happier for her—she deserved it after everything she went through with those two sons of bitches.

I watched as she looked at Kane and said something that made him run his large hand over his short hair. It had been much longer when I first saw him. It had been pulled back into a pony at the back of his head, and his face had been full of scruff; he’d looked like he had been living in the bush or mountains for years, and I still found him undeniably gorgeous.

When he had come into Beans the first time he’d just walked right up to the counter, snapped out his order, tossed down a bill, then grabbed his cup and left.

He did that every couple of days for the first three weeks.

Each time he came in, I found myself becoming more and more curious about why he was so angry—you could just see it in his eyes and feel it vibrating off his body as he waited for his coffee.

It was a few weeks ago, as he waited for his coffee, his cell rang and he answered it with his deep, raspy voice. Kane, he ground out, as he shoved his free hand into his front jeans pocket.

Kane.

There was just something about his name, saying it over and over in my head, the way it rolled off my tongue when I said it with him in mind.

It wasn’t a name I would have guessed, nothing like the normal John or James. It was different, and it fit him. Kane was a badass name, the name of the hero in an action movie, the name a woman would call out in pure ecstasy over and over again as he fucked her until she came undone around him.

Kane was a man’s name and he was definitely that: a man—all man.

No haircut or shave was going to take that away from him. In a way it made him look rougher—jagged—as the scruff wasn’t there for him to hide behind anymore. It made him hotter, if that were even possible, and you knew the man had a background from the small scars that faintly grazed his skin.

He was a quarter mystery, half strong and masculine, and the rest sexy.

As I continued to watch, Lexie looked back and forth between the two, and I could feel the tension radiating off them; it was thick, and I was sure Jason Voorhees’ machete wasn’t large enough, or strong enough, to cut through it all.

Scowls, glares, and narrowed eyes were being thrown back and forth between Lukas and Kane as Lexie’s mouth moved. I watched as Kane’s face flashed with surprise then quickly clouded over as his lips moved. He slid his aviators over his eyes, and then walked around them both, headed for the entrance to Beans.

Oh, my God.

Every time he came around I suddenly forgot myself. In the blink of an eye, I went from Whitney Jareau, confident twenty-six-year-old single woman, to some sixteen-year-old teenage girl who couldn’t keep their cool around a hot guy.

Shit.

Why did he have to come in right this second? I thought, hoping I looked alright.

The things I’d do to him would make my parents roll over in their graves. Though, in my defense, you can’t be that hot and not have women admire the hell out of you or your body—especially when that body wears the shit out of a pair of jeans and a Slipknot shirt, and looked like Kane.

He wasn’t just tall—his height was intimidating. He was lean, with broad shoulders, a strong chest, and a torso fit with power and muscles that his jeans hung from perfectly.

The muscles in his arms flexed with every movement, making his tattoos seem as if they were alive. They started at his wrists and worked their way up and under his sleeves to the tops of his shoulders, where a tribal piece made its way around the side of his neck. His ink varied between tribal pieces, script, skulls, and even some flowers—flowing and connecting like a vine on his perfect, tanned body.

The regular, please.

His voice cut me, and snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up at him with a smile and nod before I moved to the coffee pot and made his usual order.

Oh, to hear my name roll off his tongue.

As I filled the large to-go cup three-quarters of the way with regular black coffee, then placed it under the espresso machine, I could feel his eyes on me—watching my every move, just as he did every time he came in. It made my hands tremble even more and caused my heart to stutter in my chest.

Nope. Eyes on the cup, Whitney.

I wanted to look, just take a small peek at him as he watched me, but I knew it would be a bad idea. I could see myself giving him that deer-in-the-headlights kind of look, and making myself appear to be an idiot when that was the furthest thing from the real me.

Again.

Eyes on the fucking cup!

It was annoying—I was annoyed with myself. I had no idea where the nerves came from when he was around. I had never once been this way around a guy before. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to that type of guy; I grew up around men my whole damn life—domineering, persistent and strong-headed men.

I hardly knew him, but Kane seemed no different; he was smoking hot, rough, tough, and had a domineering way about him. He came into Beans multiple times a week for his usual, but I never saw him out and around town—which I didn’t mind, though if I ran into him on the street it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. However, even though I didn’t know him very well, or at all, there was something about him, and that something made the nerves completely take over my body.

I may not have known Kane, but I knew exactly what kind of man he was. It was easy to figure out, since he had no problem being exactly who he was, with no filter or mask. It was evident in the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he held himself, and the confidence that rolled off him in waves.

He wasn’t just a man’s man or the kind of man who would do just about anything he could for someone he cared about. No, he was the take no-shit kind of man. The type you didn’t question, the type you didn’t want to cross, make angry or disobey, the kind who would tell you where to go and how to get there. Kane was in the same category as the men I grew up with my whole life, having been raised by my Godfather, my Uncle Santo, when both my mom and dad were killed in a car accident.

I was only twelve and my brother, Zane, was fourteen when it happened. One minute we’re kissing our mom and dad goodbye as they made their way out for date night, then the next, Santo is showing up at the house, telling us about the horrible accident that took both my parents.

It didn’t take long for shit to get figured out, and before we knew what was going on, Zane and I were moving in with Santo and his two boys—Raphael and Benito.

Dad met Santo in college, and stayed not only friends, but also business partners with him, until he died. We were always around him and the boys—holidays, birthdays, graduations, and even a few anniversary parties. So when we moved in with them, it wasn’t like we were moving in with strangers or family we never saw or got along with. Santo and the boys were family.

Nevertheless, growing up without my mom and my dad was extremely hard—especially not having a female to turn to during those awkward teen years. Growing up around all men wasn’t easy. Everyone—friends, mostly—thought I had it easy, thinking I was the princess in a house of boys. But that wasn’t the case.

Not for me.

Santo didn’t treat me any differently from the boys, his way of being… fair.

"Equality for all, sweetheart, he informed me. It wouldn’t be fair to show favoritism, would it?"

I would just nod my head and agree.

Whatever was expected from the boys was expected from me as well. It wasn’t always a walk in the park, being the baby of the four of us.

Eventually it just became who he was, and I took it as him being my over-protective uncle who didn’t want to see me get hurt. I’d been hurt enough with losing my parents.

But that wasn’t it at all.

If there was one thing I learned being raised by my uncle Santo, it was how to be tough and take care of myself. And did it ever come in handy growing up with three older brothers and the men that came around in my uncle’s line of work.

It also came in handy when, after Benito suddenly died, I decided to leave home because I couldn’t take Santo and Raphael anymore, or give in to them and what they expected from me.

I chanced a look over at Kane and my heart stopped as I saw his eyes roam over my body, lingering on my chest longer than expected, like he’d read my mind.

The espresso machine beeped and my body jerked.

Crap.

I shook everything aside as I grabbed Kane’s hot to-go cup, carried it back to the counter and set it down. I slid it across to him with my trembling hands, causing coffee to splash over the edge and onto the counter.

Right then, I couldn’t help but think of Zane. If he had been there, the palm of his hand would have smacked me against my forehead as he told me to Calm. It was something he had done since we were kids, always when I was freaking out about something he found ridiculous, and always when I least expected.

Not only did it never work, it also gave me a headache. But, because he found it amusing and it was a brother and sister thing, I never told him to cut it out.

Sorry, here you go—one large black coffee with two shots of espresso, I said. Or what I like to call ‘No Sleep,’ I mumbled, as I looked up to meet his amused expression, my reflection looking back at me through his aviators.

Damn.

He always wore them. And every time, I couldn’t help but think of Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

Only the frames on Kane’s were silver—not gold.

And—believe it or not—Kane wore them better than Tom Cruise.

You alright? he asked, sliding his aviators off and revealing his piercing emerald eyes.

They were perfect. The size, shape, color, even his lashes were perfect—not too long or too short. They were the right length for a man like Kane.

Yep.

Nope, I am not, I blatantly come unnerved by your extreme hotness. What is wrong with me?

Just, too much caffeine today, I lied, waving my hand in the air like it was no big deal.

Calm!

As he nodded and searched my face, looking as though he wasn’t buying what I was selling, I tried not to get lost in his eyes. They reminded of me of the depths of a rainforest.

Kane grabbed his coffee and took a long sip, not affected by the hotness of it at all. What about you? I blurted out quickly, almost too quickly.

Crap.

I took a breath as I grabbed the cloth off the counter next to me and started to wipe up the mess.

What about me? he asked, his deep, smooth voice sounding confused.

I motioned towards the window, clearing my throat. Saw you talking to Lukas. It looked intense—everything okay? Lexie told me he’s stressing over finding that rapist, you helping with that?

Kane looked at me with his head slightly tilted to the side, and his brows rose in question.

I shrugged, then something switched as I started to not feel like a teenage