Kane closed me in, blocking me from whatever he was doing, though the sounds still found me. Out in the main space, he clattered around, opening drawers and doing some task unseen.
I checked the bed. It was clean and ultra comfortable when I sat down. Tiredness still dogged me. I’d gone to bed early, but Mila’s text about the intruder had woken me with a jolt. ThenKane’s gang takedown had me wired. There was no way I could sleep.
Nor did I want to interrupt whatever he was up to. The front door opened and closed a few times, suggesting he was coming and going, maybe from his car. I imagined the injured men helping each other up and scuttling from his presence. How incredible to be so…dangerous.
My mind tripped back to the need I’d felt. Nope. We weren’t going there.
I got cosy on his bed and switched on my laptop. My father had given me a case to write up for him. I’d already transcribed his notes from the data stick recording but had to check it over and submit it on his log in.
I was almost done when Kane appeared in the doorway once more. “Ye aren’t sleeping.”
I wiggled my fingers at him. “Amazing powers of observation there, Mr—” I paused. “What is your surname?”
“What’s yours? Not the same as the cop’s?”
“No. It’s Wells.”
He repeated it but silently, then pointed at himself. “Ryan. Surprised ye haven’t looked me up.”
“Sorry to disappoint, Kane Ryan. You have a villain’s name, did you know that? Destroyer of gangs. Smasher of faces.”
He leaned on the doorway, neither coming in nor moving me on. A check of the time on the corner of my screen told me it was after six.
I patted the mattress. “If you’re done, why don’t you get some sleep? I’m guessing we aren’t leaving immediately.”
“We’re not. I’ve got an appointment with the estate agent when they open at nine.”
I blinked. “You’re selling the place? I thought you’d just bought it. Most people wait longer than a single beating before flipping property.”
At last, he left his lean and prowled in, kicking the door closed. I was shut in a bedroom with my kidnapper.
“I’ve owned it for two years, bought when I had a long contract in the city. Felt like a good idea. I’m not attached.”
I took another look at the pristine room. “How is it even possible to live in a home for that length of time and not accumulate at least a small corner of clutter?”
“That’s what I was throwing away or moving to my car.”
“What, a single set of cutlery and the junk mail from your countertop?”
He breathed out another cut-off laugh.
It was almost sad how little of his personality there was around. No stray clothes, no random souvenirs from holidays, no quirky gifts. Everything plain and utilitarian as if colour or life might scare someone into understanding him. The only way into knowing him was to pick up the crumbs he dropped. The trail to the heart of the man.
Kane entered the bathroom. “Are ye good if I take a shower?”
My mind was off taking a deeper dive into what he’d revealed. If he was selling, I’d bet any money it wasn’t for a move to Deadwater. His urgent need to get Marchant Haulage back up and operating wasn’t a coincidence. The company had stopped paying out. He needed the cash.
I refocused to find him slanting a look at me.
“Stop,” he ordered.
“Stop what?”
“Thinking.”
I uttered a soft laugh. “No can do. I don’t have to share my thoughts, though.” I jerked my chin at the bathroom. “Take your shower. You’ll have time for a couple of hours of sleep after.”
“You’re in my bed.”
