Burned Hearts (Burned 3)

Kyle had just kicked my ass.

chapter 11

Home life left much to be desired when you were in the doghouse.

Amano didn’t speak to either of us. Kyle and I exchanged oh, shit looks, and I found myself pacing in the foyer, stealing glances at the front door, waiting for Dane to burst in. I kept Amsel close by. Mostly in my arms, even when he squirmed a little and wanted Rosa. Or his bassinet. Like he could sense my tension and understood I deserved to be in the hot seat. As I’d suspected all along, he was going to turn out to be one intuitive Bax.

I knew that, in addition to the risk I’d taken, Dane would be angry that Kyle had been the one to save me. Ironic, really, because not so long ago it had been Kyle who’d felt bested because Dane had always heroed up whenever it came to me being in tricky situations. Starting from that first night we’d met, when the snake-tat guy had grabbed me. Dane had swooped in without a moment’s hesitation. He literally refused to let anyone hurt me.

Which made my little confession scenario with Wayne an even more challenging endeavor to justify.

Kyle went about his daily routine, monitoring the grounds physically and via the iPads. He chatted it up with Agent Price from time to time, which did not go over well with Amano. Or me. Something we silently had in common.

I worried the FBI was recruiting Kyle. I’d been concerned not too long ago that he might consider the Secret Service, given how into all of this intrigue and danger he’d become. I didn’t like the idea of him being in the line of fire with either agency. But I had to admit, he demonstrated skill and steely resolve in a way I admired.

Still, I didn’t want him continuing the dicey lifestyle we’d all fallen into. We’d had way too many close calls. Even our planned run-in with Wayne Horton had turned precarious.

If Dane found out—

Ugh. What was I talking about?

When Dane found out.

Rosa was under fire, too. She’d unwittedly played along when I’d stashed diapers and other baby paraphernalia. She’d told Amano they needed a grocery run. They’d taken Amsel with them. That was when Kyle and I had slipped out.

Now we all lived under the dark, ominous cloud.

Several days passed. While the rain pelted the windows and beat down on the roof, I settled Amsel in the crib I’d set up in my office, next to my desk. As my son amused himself—he currently found his bootie-covered feet fascinating—I did the only thing I could do. Continue my off-site supervision of the Lux lobby rebuild. I had plenty of photos and updates to wade through. I also kept up with my secret-society puzzle.

I recalled Amano telling Kyle that he’d been shot in the shoulder at a social-economic summit in Mexico one year. The revolutionaries had been particularly riled and, unfortunately, armed. Dane’s father had been at the conference, and Amano had been his bodyguard. He’d taken the bullet for the senior Bax.

I was curious about all of the socio-poli-econ affiliations of Dane’s family. Even more obsessed over the lack of details on the Internet regarding Bax history. I already knew that Googling Dane and his dad would prove futile, so I tried a different tactic, because my curiosity about the family—and their extreme secrecy—never abated.

I researched international economic summits. Captured all the documentation and let the laser printer spit out page after page.

I had no idea what the purpose to that was. But then again, my entire life with Dane had been about finding the needle in the haystack. Like him at times, I never really knew what I searched for—it just alwa

ys hit me when I found it.

So while one hand made funny little gestures at Amsel, distracting him from peeling off his booties, and he let out puffs of air and tiny squeals, I grabbed the sheets of paper, looked at the images, and then tossed them into the recycle bin.

A half hour passed. Kyle joined me.

“Shit, you’re more bored than I am.” He plunked down into a chair, wearing nothing but sweatpants.

“Just a friendly tip,” I told him, “but you’d be better off showering and dressing—like in a parka and ski pants—in the event Dane shows up. He’s going to be in a mood, and seeing you half-naked and hanging out with me and Kid…” I shook my head. “You think Amano worked you over?” My gaze landed on the bruises on Kyle’s midriff. “That’s nothing. And remember that Dane could have gone into professional boxing, he was that good.”

“I gave Amano the shots he was due. I deserved it. He’s pissed and I don’t blame him. But he wasn’t all I-could-kill-King-Kong-with-my-bare-hands like normal. He tried to get me to change up my thinking a little, like he’s forcing me to learn counter-moves. It’s kind of badass.”

I glared at Kyle. “You’re enjoying getting the crap kicked out of you?”

He chuckled. “It’s called training.”

“Well, you still need to be living in fear of Dane finding out about our excursion.”

“You have a point there.”

I discarded another stack of papers. What had I been thinking, printing out all of this? I didn’t know what I searched for and was killing trees for no valid reason.