I’m so lost in the memories, I don’t swerve in time to miss a rock, the car bouncing enough to wake Kat from her nap.
“We’re here,” I tell her, the headlights illuminating the small wood cabin in front of us.
“What?” she asks, sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she stares out the windshield. “Where are we?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Thisis safe?” she asks incredulously.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” Her voice is borderline hysterical and I get it. The sky is dark, the only illumination is from the car, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone for miles.
“Because it’s mine.”
“Yours?” It’s not accusatory, but the way she says it has my hackles rising.
“Yes,” I growl, slamming the Range Rover into park. “Let’s get you settled inside.”
Without waiting for a response, I kill the engine and push open my door, moving to the back seat to grab the duffles and grocery bags before making it around to her side.
“Oh my gosh, let me carry something,” she chides. “You don’t have to be so stubborn.”
Don’t react.
Don’t react.
Don’t fucking react.
The problem is I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. The line between professional and personal has never even been blurred let alone crossed.
The feel of Kat’s body against mine when she jumped into my arms had been pure relief, but now, I want her in my arms for an entirely different reason.
But I can’t.
I shouldn’t.
Because Kat is in very real danger and the clock is ticking.
33
KAT
Tom’s demeanor is hot and cold as we make our way up the porch. He doesn’t pull a set of keys from his pocket when we approach the door. Instead, he slides a tiny piece of wood in the frame to the side and types in a code on the keypad.
A series of clicks and snaps sound before he turns the knob and pushes the door open and nods for me to go first.
I want to protest because he’s carrying the entire contents of the car, but I don’t, silently crossing the threshold so he can follow me in. Lights turn on one by one, illuminating the space in a soft glow as the door closes and locks behind me.
It’s cozy here, the decor more like the mountains of Montana rather than what I’m used to in Illinois. A leather recliner and sofa take up the majority of the living room area that opens into a fairly modern kitchen with concrete counters and stainless steel appliances.
Dropping the duffles by the stairs, Tom sets the bags of groceries on the counter and starts to put them away. I have no idea when he got them or how, but it’s also not something I want to delve into right now. Putting the two bags he allowed me tocarry next to his, I take a step back, twisting my fingers together to stop me from fidgeting more than I already am.
But the silence is killing me.
“Tom.” My voice is quiet and unsure, almost strangled as it leaves my lips.
“I can’t do this with you right now, Kat.”
