Midnight Rescue: A Killer Instincts Novel (37 page)

“Liar.” She paused. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can hang around until you’re released.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Hospitals are so boring—I wouldn’t want to force anyone to be here if they didn’t have to.”

“I don’t mind…”

“Go,” Isabel said firmly. “The doctor says I can leave in a week or so, and there’s nothing you can do here anyway.” She grinned. “And I’m sure Kane is eager to get home.”

Abby averted her eyes. “Actually, I’m heading back to the States alone. Noelle sent a plane.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What about Kane?” Isabel demanded.

Abby’s insides coiled into tense, painful knots. Ignoring them, she gave a little shrug. “We’re going our separate ways.”

“Oh, Abs. What did you do?”

Irritation spread through her. “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because I know you,” Isabel said with a sigh. “Jesus, Abby. Do you want to live the rest of your life closed off to people?”

Isabel’s question sent another tornado of pain and sorrow spinning through her body. She wanted to defend herself, to tell Isabel that she was wrong, but she couldn’t muster the words. Fortunately, she didn’t have to, because a tentative knock sounded from the door.

Trevor Callaghan stood in the doorway, clad in the same ratty clothes he’d worn the day he’d shown up at Morgan’s compound. Gone were the sleek Julian Martin business suits. And gone was that flicker of life she’d seen in his eyes only a day ago. His gaze had reverted back to empty. Broken.

Sort of like hers.

“Is this a bad time?” Trevor asked, looking from one woman to the other.

“No, it’s fine,” Abby said quickly. “I was just leaving.”

Disappointment flashed across Isabel’s ashen face. “Abby…” She seemed to have a hundred more things to say, but then her shoulders sagged and she simply said, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“I won’t.” With a half smile, Abby reached down to touch Isabel’s arm, then left the room.

Ten minutes later, she was on her way to the airport. Alone.

Whatever he’d come here to say, it didn’t look good.
He
didn’t look good. Isabel bit back a sigh as Trevor came closer, then paused at the foot of her hospital bed. His
T-shirt had a hole in the sleeve and his wrinkled jeans didn’t hug his legs the way those suit trousers had. Nothing about him seemed inviting. Not his shabby clothing, and especially not his dead eyes.

She remembered the way he’d looked at her right before they’d almost kissed, his face taut with arousal. Sure, there had been grief and uneasiness there too, but any emotion was better than none. It was all gone now.

“You look better,” he began awkwardly. “Color’s coming back to your face.”

“You can’t keep me down for long,” she quipped.

He wrung his hands together as if he couldn’t decide what to do with them. Finally he just let them dangle at his sides. “I’m flying out in an hour.” He halted abruptly.

“I guess you coming to see me in New York isn’t going to be in the cards, is it?”

For a second, she thought she glimpsed a burst of emotion in his eyes, but before she could begin to decode what she’d seen, he went impassive again. “That’s probably not a good idea. I’m heading back to Aspen.”

Right. Back to that condo he’d lived in with his dead fiancée.

She swallowed down her frustration, grounding herself in reality. She’d known from the moment they’d met that nothing could ever happen between them. He was broken beyond repair. She’d
known
that.

So why was disappointment pulsing through her veins?

The silence that descended was thick with tension. He was avoiding her eyes. Discomfort? Self-hatred for allowing himself to open up to her this past week? Both options proved to be false when he finally locked his gaze with hers.

Anger.

Isabel sucked in a breath, shocked by his expression. “Trevor,” she started.

“Damn you,” he interrupted, fury etched into every hard angle of his face. “Why the fuck did you come back for me?”

Isabel’s palms dampened. “Because you were in trouble. That guard had a knife to your—”

“I wanted him to do it!” he roared.

“You don’t mean that.”

A harsh laugh burst out of his mouth. “I didn’t need you to save me—I didn’t
want
you to save me. But no, you had to come back and fuck everything up.” He spoke with sharp, ragged breaths. “And you got
shot
. You got shot because of me, because for some fucked-up reason you thought I actually needed to be saved.”

She swallowed again. “It wasn’t your fault I got shot.”

“Wasn’t it?” His jaw twitched. “You were coming back for me.”

“I couldn’t just let you die,” she snapped. “God, you’re being a total asshole right now. No matter what you say, I know you don’t want to die.”

“You don’t know a fucking thing about me, Isabel.”

She flinched.

He edged away, his entire body vibrating with anger. She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat was too tight to get a single word out. She couldn’t believe how furious he looked. Why? Because she hadn’t let him die back there at the compound? Because she’d seen in him something worth saving?

Without looking at her, Trevor spoke in a raspy voice. “Send word to Morgan when you get back to the States, just so he knows you made it safely.”

Isabel’s gut ached, and it wasn’t due to the bullet that
had gone through it. But what had she really been expecting? For Trevor to throw himself on the ground and kiss her feet for saving his ass? For him to be somehow healed from losing the love of his life?

Not the anger, though. She hadn’t thought he’d be
angry
about it.

She stared at his grungy clothing, the inflexible set of his shoulders, the deep frown creasing his mouth, and his anger rubbed off on her, settling in the pit of her stomach.

“I won’t apologize for coming back for you,” she said in an even tone. “You can be as pissed off about it as you like, but I won’t fucking apologize. I saved your life. Live with it.”

His body went even stiffer. “I have to go,” he said hoarsely, turning toward the door.

“Seriously? You’re just going to walk away, pretend that the past week didn’t happen, that I don’t exist?” Her casual tone was betrayed by the trembling of her hands.

He kept his back to her. “Take care of yourself, Isabel.”

There was a moment of hesitation, a brief sag of his shoulders. He lingered in the doorway. Didn’t utter a word. A second passed, two, three.

Then he was gone.

“Good-bye, Trevor,” she murmured to the empty doorway.

They’d been in the air for an hour before someone had the balls to come near Kane. He’d seen the other men exchanging worried glances since the moment they’d rendezvoused back at the safe house last night. Nobody commented on the fact that Kane had come in alone,
though he’d heard Ethan murmuring to Morgan about Abby’s whereabouts. D, in particular, had been keeping his distance, yet it was he who came over and sat beside Kane now.

The tattoos on his bare forearms flexed as he crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I’m only apologizing because you’re obviously still pissed, but I wholly believe I did the right thing by helping Abby.”

Kane didn’t answer. The mere sound of her name sent agony streaking through his body. He hadn’t felt this ravaged since Emily’s suicide.

What the hell was wrong with him? How did he always manage to fall for emotional headaches?

“Look,” D said, mistaking the silence for anger, “she would’ve tried to do it on her own and gotten herself killed, man. At least with me involved, she had some guns and a fast bike.”

Kane sighed. “Would you shut up already? I’m not pissed about it.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” He ground his teeth together. “So quit apologizing and go away. I want to take a nap.”

D didn’t buy it. “No, you don’t. You want to sulk.” He paused. “So what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Then where’s Abby?”

“Probably on a plane to her next job.”

“And you’re cool with that?”

“Fuck,” Kane burst out. “What the hell do you care? You didn’t like her from the get-go. She’s gone. Bust out a parade or something, and leave me the fuck alone.”

A hush fell over the cabin of the jet.

To Kane’s relief, D slowly got up and moved to the
other side of the cabin. In the background, he heard the others quietly talking about the rescue. Apparently Blanco’s men had scattered after the death of their employer. Morgan said Blanco’s entire empire was in disarray, competitors creeping out of the shadows and fighting to take over.

“The son will probably step up,” Morgan was muttering.

“Blanco has a son?” Luke said, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. Lorenzo. He’s studying abroad, according to Holden, but I suspect he’ll be on the next plane out…”

Kane tuned them out. He turned to the window, staring at the gray-white clouds, listening to the sound of the jet’s engine as it pushed them home.

Home. Morgan’s compound. Shooting the shit with the guys and getting drunk until the next job.

For the first time in his life, none of that sounded very appealing.

“This just came for you.”

Abby lifted her head as Noelle entered the enormous living room, holding a UPS package in her hands. Her boss’s heels clacked against the smooth wood floor as she crossed the room that looked like it belonged in the pages of a design magazine. Abby had never been here before—Noelle usually stayed in her Paris penthouse, which seemed to suit her far more than this lavish Vermont chalet with its endless ceilings and quaint furnishings.

Abby liked this place better. It reminded her of Morgan’s house.

It reminded her of Kane.

She shifted her gaze from the spectacular mountain view offered by the huge picture window and accepted
the package from Noelle’s outstretched hands. Her fingers moved lifelessly to pull at the string that opened the box.

Noelle perched herself at the edge of Abby’s chair, her blond hair falling onto her face as she leaned over Abby to examine the contents that spilled out of the parcel. Abby had asked her lawyer to ship the box, which he’d been holding for safekeeping for the past few years. She flipped through the passport, birth certificate, and other documents, then froze when an item slid onto her lap.

Slowly, she lifted the silver chain. The small cross dangling from the chain sparkled in the sunlight streaming in from the window.

Her throat clogged.

“I never took you for religious,” Noelle said, wrinkling her brow.

“It’s not mine.”

The shadow at the foot of the bed. The gleaming silver chain around a thick, corded neck.

The shadow cast over her, bending down, reaching for her.

She slapped away the hands. “Please… don’t… no… no!” She clawed at him, spat at him, ripped that chain off his neck. She clasped the tiny medal attached to the chain, trying to jam it into the shadow’s eyes. His hands gripped her waist.

He was carrying her away.

She took a breath. “It was Jeremy’s. He was wearing it the night he broke into Ted’s house and saved me.”

“Abby…” Noelle sounded wary, as she often did when a situation bordered on emotional.

“He gave it to me in the hospital, the night before he died,” she murmured. “He told me to give it to…”

My daughter.

Abby fell silent.
Give it to your daughter,
Jeremy had said hoarsely,
so she’ll always be protected
.

But the cross was just insurance, he’d added. Because as long as Abby was around, he knew any kid of hers would be safe.

Tears stung her eyelids. A kid of hers. A kid she’d never have because she was too damn scared to let anyone in.

But she’d let Kane in.

She’d told him about her past, trusted him with her body. For the first time in her life, she’d connected with another human being, and it had felt… good. Really good. Laughing with him, lying beside him. Kissing him.

But in the end… in the end she hadn’t trusted him to help her with Devlin. She hadn’t trusted him, period. He was right. How could they ever have a real relationship when a part of her would always be pushing him away, just a little?

“Don’t you dare cry on me,” came Noelle’s sharp voice. “You know I can’t do tears, Abby.”

Despite the warning, one tear slid out, soaking her cheek. She opened her mouth, not sure what she wanted to say, but what came out was completely unexpected. “I want out.”

Noelle sucked in her breath. “What?”

“I don’t want this life anymore.” Her hands trembling, she shoved the cross back in the box, along with the ID papers. Abby Sinclair’s ID papers. She hadn’t been herself for years. It was easier that way. Pretend to be someone
else, run away from anyone who gets too close. So much easier.

But she hadn’t been pretending this past week. She hadn’t pretended with Kane.

“Are you fucking with me here?” Noelle asked apprehensively.

She set the package on the arm of the chair and stood abruptly. “I’m tired of the solo missions. Tired of becoming a different person for months at a time. I can’t keep living like this. Do you know how closed off from the world I actually am? Do you know how lonely this life is?”

Noelle occupied Abby’s chair, resting her elbows on the armrests. She looked cool and collected, as always. Utterly emotionless. “You’re talking crazy, honey. We both know the world has nothing but pain and heartache to offer. Why would anyone be stupid enough to embrace that?”

“Is that all there is? Is that really all there is?” she challenged. “What about all the other things?”

Noelle looked surprisingly nervous. “What other things?”

Abby started to pace, feeling on edge. “Love, for one. Family. Laughter. Hope. Those exist too, don’t they?”

The other woman let out a hasty laugh. “Maybe in fairy tales. Come on, Abby, when was the last time any of those idealistic things led to something good?”

When I met Kane.

She held back the words. Noelle wouldn’t understand. She only understood power. Danger. Money.