Page 98 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

“Are you… Who else…” I’m floundering. “Did Mac… What?”

She scoffs. “You’re the worst secret keeper ever. We all knew you were banging.” She pauses. “I mean, was it good? I bet he’s secretly filthy.”

“Yes.” I turn away and fight the whimper on my breath. “I swear, that man knows what’s up. But it couldn’t go on,” I rush out. “It ended, so now it’s done.”

“I don’t really blame you. I mean, it’s a little messed up that you ran because ofthat, but I can’t say I entirely blame you. Shit is scary, and you have a kid to take care of.”

“What…” I pause. “What are you talking about? He left me. He walked away and acted like we don’t exist. He’s the jerk who doesn’t want a family.”

“Huh? No.” Her brows knit. “He didn’t not want them, Katrina. He lost them. They were taken from him.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Who did he want? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

“His family.” She turns and crosses her legs so her knees touch my thighs. In the shadowed storeroom, her light eyes flicker between mine. “What the hell areyoutalking about?”

“I’m talking about me! I’m talking about the fact he swore he was in love and that I didn’t have to be scared anymore. He said he wanted us to be together. And when I finally said yes, he ran… What do you mean…” I pause. “His family? What family?”

“His wife and daughter.” She grabs my hand when she finally realizes what she’s done. “You don’t know about Gemma and Callie? Oh my God, you don’t know?”

Tattoos flash through my mind. Gemma. Callie. Gemma. Callie. Gemma. Callie.Gemma. Callie.A sinking ship. Fire. Storms. Clouds. So much devastation.“He has a wife and child?”

“Had.” Her voice cracks. “He had a wife and child. Wait! Stop.” She tries to grab my hand as I shoot to my feet. “Where are you going?”

I swing the door open and make her slide along the floor so I can get through. Into the hall, through the kitchen, I toss my apron into Stefan’s hands when he turns, then into the dining area, I point at a now alert Mac as he plays with Chance. “Do not leave this booth, Macallistar. Do not move out of Stefan’s sight.”

I race out the front door and into the street. It’s not yet six o’clock, but the snow clouds are heavy and dumping on top of my head, reminding me I’ve run outside with nothing more than jeans and a shirt. The cold digs into my bones, but I run toward the garage and let my adrenaline warm me.

Don’t be home. Don’t be home. Don’t be home. Please don’t be home.

In all of our time together, we never hung around his apartment. We had sex; the lights were out; the lightsstayedout, then he walked me to the door when we were done. I never wandered alone, and I was never there during daylight hours. So I run the two blocks now and pray he’s not home.

The garage is still open despite the fact it’s past five. Three roller doors are open, and the sounds of a clicking wrench echo along with the soft strains of rock music. I don’t stop and chat. I violate a billion rules, most of which center around trust, sprint into the office and snatch up a set of keys just as the sound of the wrench stops, then I sprint out again and around the side of the building.

“Hello?” Angelo’s voice follows me. “Katrina?”

Tears spill onto my cheeks, stupid, horrible, angry tears I wish more than anything I could stop. They blind me as I run, so I trip up the metal stairs, slamming my shins onto the edge of the steps. I cry out but clutch the keys like they are a floatation device and I’m drowning in stormy seas.

It kind of feels like I am.

I shiver from head to toe as I shakily work through the two dozen or so keys on the chain. I push them into the lock, no luck, try the next. Angelo stops at the bottom of the stairs and watches me. He has grease on his nose, blackened hands from work, and stained jeans. He’s rugged and handsome,and why the hell can’t I find a decent guy?

A family? Eric has a whole fucking family?

I find the right key, and cry out when the lock snicks and the door cracks open. I shouldn’t go in here. There are laws against it, for starters, not to mention a complete invasion of privacy that, if the roles were reversed, I’d go ballistic about. But rules don’t apply to me here.

I turn and toss the keys into Ang’s hands. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Call the cops if you have to. Call Eric. Do whatever, but I’m going in there.”

“Let me come in with you.” He moves up a single stair. “You won’t get any trouble from me, I swear. But I’d like to stand with you.”

“You know what I’m gonna find in there. Don’t you?”

He pauses for a long minute. His silver eyes flicker between mine. Then he nods.

I turn back to the door and step inside the freezing apartment. My arms ache, and my fingertips fumble with the light switch. But I step in and close the door, then I go to the thermostat and pump it right up. I’ll toss my tips onto the counter to pay for the heating bill I’m about to accumulate.

The kitchen remains as I’d expect. Clean table. Four chairs. A newspaper tossed into the center, and a coffee mug beside that. He doesn’t come into the diner anymore, so he needs to get his coffee and paper hit elsewhere. I guess he does it at home.

Nobody runs along the metal stairs outside. No police sirens wail in the distance… yet. I have just a matter of minutes to find what I need to find, then to make peace with my world.

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