“Get over here, Davis.” Kane says this with a mixture of command and humor.
With a huff, I stand and face him, only to be pulled into his embrace, pressed against his hard chest while his thick arms wrap around me. And that’s when it happens. That’s when the tears break free.
“Damn it,” I mumble against his shirt, realizing he’s going to have a damp spot if I don’t move. But when I try to lean back, his arms tighten.
“If you think a woman’s tears on my shirt are going to make me upset, then you’ve got another thing coming.” There’s a brief pause. “No one should ever make you cry, Noelle. Least of all a man. And I’ll be honest with you,” his voice is gentle, “if it were any other guy, I’d be the first in line to beat his ass for making you cry.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sniffle before continuing. “But it’s Foster so you can’t. I get it.”
“No. That’s not it. At all.” His response surprises me, so much I raise my head to look up at him. He appears sad and very un-Kane-like; not his usual jovial self. He raises his hands, using his thumbs to swipe at the tears on my cheeks. “It’s not that I don’t plan on beating his ass. It’s the fact that I know Fos, and I think he needs a reality check first before his ass kicking happens.”
My confusion at his words must be evident because he goes on to elaborate. “He’s needed to take the necessary steps to move past what happened on his last mission for quite a while, now. While I don’t worry about him making a snap decision to eat a bullet one day like I’ve worried about a few other guys I’ve served with, I know he still needs to deal with his demons. He’s not going to be able to do anything until that happens.
“But, make no mistake, he’s feeling your absence. He’s noticed what he’s lost. I can tell. And you’d best understand he’s going to catch some serious hell from me for making you cry, darlin’.” The corners of his lips curve up ever so slightly.
Before I can respond, I hear the door to the office open and heavy footsteps draw to a halt.
“Am I interrupting?”
Freaking fantastic. Speak of the devil himself.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Foster
Ever since Noelle left me standing in my bedroom two weeks ago, it feels like the air got sucked out of my life. In the blink of an eye, she was gone. No calls, no text messages, no visits to my place. And certainly no banter with her at work. Hell, she’s been scheduling me so hard I barely have time to breathe. Even though I know it’s smart for us to have as little interaction as possible, it doesn’t ease that damn nagging ache in my chest.
And to add to that ache in my chest, I now want to fucking rip Kane Windham’s arms and legs from his body. Just for touching Noelle.
“Am I interrupting?” My biting sarcasm can’t be missed. Stepping forward, I’m ready to lay into Kane but the moment Noelle turns her head to look at me, I falter, instantly feeling like there’s a thousand-pound weight on my chest, recognizing the signs of tear tracks on her face.
“Got a moment to head to lunch, boss?” Kane asks. “I have a question about one of these new safety implementations.”
As long as you fucking remove your hands from her, I internally yell. Instead, my lips barely move as I speak, clenching my jaw hard. “Sure thing.” Walking over to set my files down on my desk, I hear him say softly, “Chin up, gorgeous.”
My spine stiffens and upon finding I don’t—for once—have any voicemails waiting for me, I slide my sunglasses back down over my eyes before I turn back toward them. Heading to the door, I call out, “Ready, Windham?”
“Ready as ever.” And, hell, if his answer doesn’t sound ominous as hell. “Want me to bring you something back, darlin’?” he offers Noelle and it pisses me off because:
I should be the one to make that offer.
I can’t offer it because she and I aren’t on good terms any more.
Kane had better not be getting any thoughts about pursuing her.
When she declines, I let out an internal sigh of relief. As twisted as it might be, I don’t want him—or any other guy—helping her, getting her food, or being there for her. I want it to be me, damn it.
God, I’m so fucked up, it isn’t even funny.
*
“You’re awfully quiet over there, Fos.” Kane eyes me with a smirk that makes my fingers itch to slap it off his face. “Been staring at that burger for a while.”
I look down at the burger in question to avoid his gaze. I’ve been distracted, lost in my own head thinking about the last time I was here for lunch. With Noelle.
“Don’t start,” I warn.
“Sorry ’bout your luck, darlin’, but I’m starting now.” He leans his thick, muscled forearms on the table, lowering his voice so as to not be overheard by other patrons. “You need to get your shit in gear—before it’s too late.”