“You didn’t think that was enough in the past,” I say, which is exactly why at one point, he set it up to look like a rival gang kidnapped Pocher’s brother and Kane saved him. In exchange for my safety of course. “What changed?” I ask.
“It changed, Lilah,” is all he says.
“Then I need to know why,” I argue.
“The more you know, the more you’re compromised. Don’t push, Lilah. You won’t like the answer.”
“Don’t push,” I repeat, and it’s not a question. I demand. In other words, he’s telling me I was right earlier. We’re back to secrets. I don’t like it. And so, I do push. I push away from him. “I can’t run in this weather. I’m going downstairs to workout,” I add, referencing the gym and sparring area he had installed years back, even before my attack. I try to move past him to get to the closet where I can get dressed.
He catches me to him and rotates to press his back to the doorframe and hold me in front of him. “We’ll spar together.” His voice is dark, his eyes darker. “I’ll help you change.”
“No,” I say, my hand firmly on his bare chest, and the thunder of his heart beneath my palm defies his cool, calm, fuck-me-into-submission attitude that he knows won’t work. But I guess he has to try. He isn’t tattooed up like his father before him, I think rather randomly, though it’s really not that random at all. Kane doesn’t need ink on his skin to tell the story of who he is and what he does. The world knows when he walks into a room that he’s a leader. But he’s not my leader. He still doesn’t seem to get that.
“Lilah,” he says softly, and in that moment, he’s all kinds of dark and wrong for me. And yet, I’m just as dark and wrong, and I still want him. I still want his ring on my finger. But he promised me no more secrets.
“I need to workout,” I say, pushing out of his arms, and this time, he lets me go.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I hurry into the closet and exchange Kane’s T-shirt for leggings, a sports bra, a tank, and sneakers. When I enter the bedroom again, he’s missing. Of course. He’s got things to do that he needs privacy to get done. Anger burns in my belly, as does the challenge of a murder unsolved, that claws at me with unforgiving insistence.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the mats working on the karate I’ve been mastering for years, since my attack, since my promise to myself I’d never be weak without my weapon again. Kane has pressed me to freshen up as of late, to use it more often, to practice. On that, he’d been right. I’d softened up on my karate, and I feared, become too dependent not on my firearm, but on a blade.
And so, I do practice the best I can on my own.
Another fifteen minutes later, Kane appears on the opposite side of the mat, and I swear the man drips arrogance and confidence no matter if he’s wearing an expensive suit or as he is now, sweats and a snug T-shirt.
“Let’s spar,” he challenges, and I don’t argue an invitation to punch and hit him right now.
And so, we do.
We spar, exchanging blows, kicks, maneuvers, anger, and tension beneath each, a charge of attraction and frustration raging into something far more complicated. We become more intense, and soon, we tumble onto the mat and he rolls on top of me, staring down at me. “You want the truth.”
“Yes, damn it,” I hiss. “I want the truth.”
“You don’t want to feel like you need my protection.”
“I accepted a private guard without a blink.”
“That’s not what I mean. We are stronger together, yet you didn’t even tell Ghost you were my woman to back him off. He could have killed you.”
Ghost being one of the deadliest assassins on the planet, and he’s right. I didn’t. “First, we were barely a couple again then. And second, you underestimate me.”
“You underestimate him.”
“I don’t. I know he’s a killer. But Ghost needs to know who’s in charge and that had to be me or he’d see me as weak.”
“Now he’s obsessed with you, Lilah. That leads no place good.”
“Obsessed? What are you talking about?”
“He shows up too often to sit well with me. You need to consider my opinions.”
“I do,” I say. “I value every opinion you have. What is this, Kane? And what does that have to do with the truth?”
“Everything,” he says tightly.
“Everything?”
“The problem and the solution. You don’t accept my protection.”
“I don’t need to be protected. That’s not why I’m with you. I hope like hell that’s not why you’re with me.”
“The Society isn’t one serial killer you can stab to death, Lilah. They’re a deep, dark underworld. You want to face them? You need protection. And that’s not weak. Recognizing that makes you stronger.”