Inescapable (Men of Mercy Novel, A) (22 page)

“We’ve had sex since,” Kai said, pushing his plate away and reaching for his beer.

Jeez, he couldn’t even say “make love.” Was that a big hint or what?

“
What. Happened
.”

Kai stared at a point past her shoulder. “This past week or nearly twenty-five years ago?”

Flick frowned, not understanding. “Would you like to explain that?”

Kai stood up so abruptly that his chair flew backward. He kicked it out of the way and walked out of the kitchen to stand on the back porch. Flick watched him go and thought she’d give him a moment alone. After carrying their mostly full plates to the sink, she topped up her wine, grabbed another beer from the fridge, and joined Kai. She handed him the beer bottle, leaned her butt on the railing, and looked at his tortured face.

“Want to explain that cryptic comment?”

“Not really.”

“Do it anyway.”

Kai twisted off the beer top and shoved the cap into the pocket of his jeans. His white button-down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and he looked hot and frazzled and oh so sexy. And miserable.

“When I first came to Mercy six weeks ago, I had just finished an assignment to train the bodyguards of a Saudi sheikh who deals in oil.”

“Don’t all Saudi sheikhs deal in oil?” Flick quipped, trying to break the tension between them.

Unfortunately Kai’s sense of humor was AWOL. “He was a big player and he needed protection.” Kai snapped the words out. “I wanted him to employ Cas’s bodyguards, but he wanted me to train his own people. I did that but I had to do a crash course. I told him that they hadn’t had enough training but he insisted that they were ready.”

Flick bit her bottom lip. She wanted to offer Kai reassurance, but judging from his stiff posture, he wouldn’t welcome her touch.

“The sheikh and his guards were killed in Nigeria this past week. That’s where I was.”

Wooden words, choppy delivery. He sounded cold but she knew he was anything but. He was just dealing with a hell of a blow.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

When she looked into Kai’s eyes, she shivered. They were a cold, pale champagne color and filled with rage. She’d never seen him so angry. “It was my fault. And it’s not the first time I’ve been directly responsible for someone’s death.”

Ah, the rage was directed at himself. Good to know. “That’s a hell of a statement to make, and even more of a cross to carry.” Flick kept her voice non-judgmental. “Want to explain to me why you’re responsible for a man’s death when he made the choice to employ his own guards and put himself in what I presume was a dangerous situation?”

“I should have insisted.”

“I’m pretty sure that you did. If I know you at all then you did, often and loudly.”

Kai didn’t reply but she could tell, by the stubborn lift of his chin, that her argument didn’t make a difference. She waited for him to speak again and knew that if she wanted anymore information she’d have to carry on with her teeth-pulling exercise. She had to know—she had to get to the heart of this man. Even if she had no future with him—and she knew that she didn’t—she would always regret not understanding the monsters in his head. She would love him whatever he said—she knew that like she knew her own heartbeat. There was nothing he could say that would stop her loving him, but he would never understand that.

Kai had no concept of unconditional love.

“What happened twenty-five years ago?”

Kai flinched and Flick closed her eyes, imagining the emotional whip across his back. She winced internally but didn’t drop her eyes from his. She needed to know. Until she did, she couldn’t tell him that she would love him despite it.

“I killed my mother.”

No, he didn’t. It was inconceivable that an eight-year-old Kai would kill his mother. It hadn’t happened. Something had happened but not that. “No, you didn’t.”

Surprise flashed in his eyes at her firm statement. I will always believe the best of you, Kai, even if you don’t believe it yourself
,
she silently told him.

“It wasn’t a gun or a knife but I bought and handed her the instrument of her death.” Before Flick could absorb those words, he spoke again and his voice was cold and hard. And desolate. “I’m not good for you, Flick. I’m not what you want, and I’m definitely not what you need. I’m not one of your strays that can be rehabilitated or nurtured back to health.”

“Uh—”

Kai stepped off the porch and turned to look back at her. “I’m leaving Mercy for a while. When I get back, if I ever come back, this—whatever this was—will just be a distant memory.”

Flick felt the verbal slap and jerked backward. She’d expected the end but hadn’t expected it to be this brutal. This clinical. “Jesus, Kai, seriously? Take a step back and let’s talk about this.”

Kai jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about. We had a fling, it’s done. Be happy, Flick. You deserve it.”

You make me happy, you moron!
Flick wanted to scream the words but pride and stubbornness and sheer astonishment kept them behind her teeth.

She managed to get out another sentence. “Are you going to just walk away?”

“Quick and clean, Felicity.” He gave her a humorless smile. “It’s better this way.”

Better for whom?
she thought as he walked away. Not, in any galaxy or in any way, for her.

***

“Y
ou’re running?”

Kai looked up to see Sawyer standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Ignoring him, he lifted a pile of shirts and dumped them into his suitcase. He wasn’t even going to reply, wasn’t going to dignify that stupid statement with a response.

“I am not running. I’m leaving Mercy to go back to doing what I do best.”

“Being a grumpy, lonely, reticent asshole?”

Kai tossed him a fuck-you look. “I stayed and ran this place while you were away. I did what you asked. Now you’re back and it’s time for me to go.”

Kai picked up his running shoes and tossed them on top of a white dress shirt, not noticing the streak of dirt that appeared on the white fabric. Why was everyone overreacting to his leaving? He’d never lied, hadn’t made any promises to stay. Mercy, helping Sawyer out, his thing with Flick—all of that had always been a temporary gig.

“Kai, you’re being a dick,” Sawyer said, his tone conversational.

“Noted,” Kai responded through gritted teeth. He felt like his skin was too small for his body, like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, and he didn’t need Sawyer on his case. He didn’t need him to tell him why he should stay, because God knew he could be easily persuaded.

“Talk to me, Manning.”

“I can’t do this.” Kai sat on the side of the bed and looked at the floor.

“Do what?”

“The town, the friends, the staying in one place,” Kai said. “It’s not me.”

“Or maybe it is you and you’re too damn stubborn to admit it.”

“This isn’t my town, this isn’t my home.”

“You don’t have a town and you don’t have a home,” Sawyer pointed out.

“Exactly!” Kai snapped. “Small-town America is not where I want to be.”

“Why not?” Sawyer folded his arms. He lifted an eyebrow. “The air is clean and it’s a fairly pretty place. You have friends here and a girl who seems to be—stupidly, in my opinion—crazy about you. So, what’s the problem?”

“My work takes me all over the world,” Kai snapped back.

“Sure, but they have these amazing things called planes that transport people over long distances in the quickest time possible.”

Kai scowled at the sarcasm.

“Your reasons are crap and you’re looking for a reason to run, to stop yourself from liking Mercy, from loving Flick, and from being happy.”

Sawyer’s words felt like a punch to his throat, but he couldn’t back down. He couldn’t admit that Sawyer might be onto something. That he was scared. Because he was. Scared of loving and of being loved, scared that he’d tumble into a life in this cute town with that spectacular woman. If he did, he would always be waiting for the sky to fall down, for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t think he could survive that. He didn’t think he could go on if he loved and lost Flick, in any shape or form. It would be one blow too many, a step too far.

It hurt now—God, it stung like a bullet to the heart, but he could still walk away and function. This one time, this only time, he would run from this fight. He didn’t need to compete, didn’t need to try.

Because, in this battle called love, he’d always been destined to fail.

Kai stood up and straightened his spine. He looked his friend in the eye, his jaw tight and his eyes bleak. “Conversation over, Lawson. Let it go.”

“Then get the hell out of town, because if Flick is upset then you’re going to have Jack to deal with.” Sawyer narrowed his eyes in response. “And me. And Axl.”

Kai scowled, stung at Sawyer’s lack of loyalty. “Because I had an affair with a woman who I never, not once, led on? Who always knew the score? I never lied to her. I never promised her a damn thing.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Sawyer agreed.

“So you all want to punch me because you think that Flick is going to be hurt?” Kai retorted. “Have any of you considered that she might be happy to get rid of me?”

“Try not to be any more of an asshole than you’re currently being. Flick adores you, any moron can see that, and we know that she’s going to be hurt. And that’s not why we want to punch you.”

Kai lifted his eyebrow, a silent command to tell Sawyer to get the hell on with it. “We want to punch you because you’re a dick.”

Fair enough
, Kai thought as Sawyer walked way.

***

Yo
ur heart isn’t actually breaking
, Flick thought, waking up to an overcast day and a chilly fog in her heart.
Yes, you miss him and you will for a while, but in a couple of days, weeks, months, you’ll forget about him, forget about his hard body and his crooked smile, his gentle sarcasm and the glint in his eye. You’ll forget the taste of his skin, his smell, how complete you felt when he slid into you.

Her world, the one she’d thought she had such a handle on, had caved in. Without Kai, Mercy and the Artsy Tartsy made no sense at all. It was like he’d removed the heart of her world, the puzzle piece that made the picture clearer, the one that gave meaning to the picture.

Flick rolled over and placed her wrist over her eyes, hating her tears. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to cry over a man again, that she wasn’t going to do this, but here she was. She’d wasted her tears so many times before, but she couldn’t help thinking that Kai, more than any other man, was worth her tears.

Oh, he wasn’t perfect—she’d have hated it if he were. He was surly and annoying and reticent, but he was also loyal, kind, and funny. He was a real man, with a murky history, someone who was trying to be better, to shake off the shackles of his past. He’d succeeded in every way he could, except where it mattered most.

He couldn’t love, he couldn’t trust, he couldn’t believe in happiness.

He couldn’t give her everything that she craved: security, commitment, love.

Flick knew that she couldn’t demand his love; that love and trust that weren’t freely given weren’t worth anything at all. She couldn’t force him to believe in her, to believe in them, to take that risk. She wished she could, but his hang-ups and emotions were out of her control. Below the heartbreak and the constant throbbing pain, she was angry at him, angry that he was tossing away something that could be so damn wonderful.

She loved him. But she wished she didn’t.

Flick used her sheet to wipe away her tears and rolled out of bed. It was nearly four and if she didn’t get to the bakery, the good folk of Mercy would not get their breakfast muffins and she’d have a riot on her hands. But she couldn’t help stopping for a moment, wondering what her life would look like if Kai was in it. Would she stay in Mercy, constantly waiting for his return? Or would she join him on his travels? Maybe a little of both?

It didn’t matter. It would never be a question that she needed to find answers for, because Kai had left her behind. And it hurt to wonder.

***

Flick walked into the bakery via the back door and was surprised to see Pippa sitting on the stainless steel table, hands tucked under her thighs and her eyes wary. Oh, yeah,
exactly
what she needed—an early-morning fight with her ex-best friend.

Flick hung her bag and jacket on a hook and reached for an apron. It would be better to head this argument off at the pass, to beg Pippa to postpone whatever she had to say. She couldn’t handle it this morning. She was emotional and psychically exhausted.

“Pippa, not today, please,” Flick asked quietly as she wrapped the apron around her waist and tied the strings. “I can’t argue with you today.”

Pippa nodded, her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m not here to fight with you, Fee.”

Flick raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re not? Then why would you get up at the crack of dawn?”

“Sawyer called me late last night. He told me that Kai left. Probably for good.” Pippa’s eyes radiated sympathy. “No matter how mad I am at you, you’re still my best friend, and Kai leaving has got to hurt.”

God, the empathy in her voice pulled tears to Flick’s eyes. Not wanting Pippa to see them fall, she turned away to reach for her biggest mixing bowl. Bran muffins this morning, she decided. She could make them with her eyes closed. “I appreciate the gesture and the sentiment but, in all honesty, I shouldn’t be crying. He made me no promises. I knew going in that he was a temporary gig.”

“That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.” Pippa jumped off the table and walked into the pantry, bringing back a sack of flour. “Do you love him?”

Despite the barriers between them, the misunderstandings, Flick couldn’t lie to Pippa. “Yes.” She saw doubt cross Pippa’s face and held up her hand. “It’s not like before. What I feel for him has nothing on that. This is real and ugly and tangible and . . . God, Pips, it hurts so much.”

Pippa pulled the mixing bowl from her hands, slapped it onto the table, and wrapped her arms around Flick, her temple resting in her hair. Flick dropped her forehead onto Pippa’s shoulder and let the tears fall. “I have no right to cry, and you can’t tell Jack. He’ll take it out on Kai.”