Page 59 of Second Shot

“Kiley,” hemutters.

“What abouther?”

“She’s…” He rakes his fingers over his face. “She’s notgood.”

“Where isshe?”

“My place. But-” He flinches and looks away. “I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she wouldn’t let me. I don’t want to leave her alone for too long, ‘cause I know she’ll try and runagain.”

Fuck.

“I can’t deal with this shit right now. If Brynne finds aboutthis-”

“Kane?” Brynne is standing in the hall, holdingNoah.

Shit. Shit.Shit.

“What’s going on?” The familiar look of suspicion creeps back into hereyes.

“Nothing.” I walk towards her, but she takes a stepback.

I drag my hand through my hair andsigh.

“We need to go,” Blake says behind me,desperately.

Grabbing my keys and slipping on a pair of shoes, I tell her, “I’ll be back later. And I’ll tell you everything.Okay?”

She doesn’t look convinced. In fact, all the old mistrust and wariness that I’ve worked so hard to get rid of is back and brimming with an intensity that makes my gutchurn.

“This better be fucking important,” I growl at Blake as I follow him toward theelevators.

He looks ready to hit me when he turns. “I don’t know, asshole. Depends how much value you put on your sister’s life. So far, it doesn’t seem likemuch.”

I hold my tongue as we step onto the elevator and take the five floors down to his apartment, and I steel myself for whatever it is that awaits me on the other side of the door. Nothing could have prepared me for what Ifind.

Chapter 20

Brynne

He’s hidingsomething.

Like an old friend that was never really gone, wariness creeps into the back of mymind.

Every scenario that goes through my head only makes itworse.

I didn’t hear much of Kane and Blake’s conversation, but the look on both their faces said, whatever they were hiding, wasbad.

Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. It’s what I do. What I’ve always done. Especially with Kane. But I can’t help but play his words over and over again in my head.If Brynne finds out aboutthis.

Whatever is going on, he doesn’t want me toknow.

Noah whimpers in my arms, and I realize that I’ve been standing, staring at the closed door for over a minute. He’s hungry and I’m being an idiot. Kane said he’d tell me everything when he got back, and since I’ve moved in with him, he’s given me no reason not to trusthim.

I try to ignore the cool pinpricks of premonition that tickle the back of my neck as I warm up the bottle Kane had already startedmaking.

But as the minutes and hours pass, the initial knot in the center of my throat turns into a golf ball sizedlump.

After I lay Noah down for his afternoon nap, I go to the room where Kane set up all my art supplies. Multiple finished and unfinished canvases lay scatteredaround.

---