He took a step toward her, his tone now menacing and desperate. “I’m just asking for a loan. Raise the money. Ask your friends. Maybe they can help you. I’ll take anything. These guys…that whole busted kneecap thing isn’t just a cliché to them, you understand? Think you can get off your frickin high horse long enough to help me?” He raised a hand as if to strike her.
A lightning-hot wound lanced through her already scarred heart. Without a word she knocked on the door to the meeting room. Rod was there in an instant.
“I’m done out here.” Her friend put an arm around her shoulder and led her back inside.
Her father called out as the door was shut. “They’ll hurt me, Katie! It’ll be on your head!”
Kate let Rod handle the rest of the meeting while she sat by the refreshments table and held the same cup of coffee for an hour.
As she listened to the droning sounds of the meeting around her, she feared she was finally plummeting toward rock bottom.
And it scared the crap out of her.
Chapter Five
Rod took her back to her apartment that evening. She normally would have taken the bus, but tonight she didn’t want to set out on her own. She didn’t put it past her dad to try again.
Rod stopped in front of her white stucco building on West Flamingo. “You sure you don’t want to talk about your visitor? You keep telling us we shouldn’t keep things bottled inside.”
She looked around. There was no one in sight. “No, I’m okay. Thanks. You go. I know your shift at the hospital already started.” With a hug, she got out of the car and waved as he drove off.
Her unit was a cozy walk-up on the second floor and she couldn’t wait to get inside and have a long bath. When she reached her landing, she looked around, feeling a prickle of unease. She looked around but the street was quiet. In her cul-de-sac, one could almost forget the Vegas Strip was a short drive away. She fumbled for her keys, only to drop them. Cursing, she bent over to retrieve them, thinking that this was usually the point in a movie where the serial killer leaped out.
She stuck her key in the lock and breathed a sigh of relief, glad not to have had another confrontation with her father.
Once inside, she flicked on the living room light, illuminating the coral painted walls. Home.
Now she could lose her shit big time.
“No,” she told herself. “Hold it together. You’re better than this.”
She dropped her purse and picked up the TV remote, hoping she’d find a trashy program featuring characters more messed up than she was. After a few minutes of scrolling through the guide, she turned it off, disappointed. She put down the remote, remembered her father’s words, and tried not to cry.
Just as her hands began to shake, there was a loud knock on her door. She jumped, steadied herself and shuffled to the door. Pulling aside the little flap from the peephole, she looked outside.
Liam Doyle stood at her door.
“What the…?”
Her hands shook even harder now. She fumbled with the lock as if she’d forgotten how it worked before she managed to open it.
The pair stared at each other, neither one speaking. No sign of designer suits today. Instead, he wore faded jeans that hugged his lower half, a black T-shirt that emphasized his cut frame and scuffed cowboy boots.
She’d considered him devastating in a custom-made suit, but this outfit made him look like a bad boy gone country. She struggled to find her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you, too, sugar. Can I come in?”
“Okay.” She stepped aside to let him in, noting how he seemed to fill the doorway as he passed. Still clinging to the door, she stared at his figure, entranced. He looked like another man altogether today, but still dead sexy. She blinked and tried to clear her head. “How did you find me?”
“Your number is listed, you know.”
She shut the door and leaned on it, hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her tremble. “Why are you here, Liam?”
“I get questions instead of a ‘Hello, how are you?’”
“Hello, how are you? Why the fuck are you here?”
He stood very still, and his gaze rested on her strand of pearls. He moved his hand as if to reach out for her, but let it fall to his side. “I haven’t seen you at Vice. I was…concerned.”
