Page 18 of Kane (Ghost Ops #4)

Chapter Eleven

The sun was barely up when Kane strapped on a pack with fifty pounds inside and went for a run through the fields and forests surrounding the farm and range.

The terrain was varied with small hills, a creek that switched back a couple of times, and flatland.

It made for a good workout, plus it was similar to being dropped just about anywhere, except a desert, for a mission.

Sometimes he and Ethan went together, but not that morning. Ethan’s door was closed and the coffee hadn’t been started yet. Kane hadn’t heard Ethan come back last night before he fell asleep. He’d thought Ethan had headed home as soon as they were done at Daphne’s, but apparently he’d been wrong.

No telling what his teammate was doing, and Kane wasn’t asking. They were all private men, and though they were brothers and shared stuff with each other, they didn’t share everything. Some shit was too personal.

Kane had told them about Hannah’s death a long time ago, because what’d happened to her wasn’t a secret even if parts of why it’d happened were.

How he dealt with everything, how it had affected his life—that was his alone.

His to ponder, his to bear. Nobody else needed to know how losing her—and why—had stunted his emotions.

That was his shit.

Hannah had kept secrets until she couldn’t anymore, and he often wondered if he could have done something differently. If he could have saved her if he’d recognized the signs. He would never know.

Daphne was a woman with secrets, too. He recognized the signs this time, and it troubled him.

Partly because he hadn’t thought too much about it until two days ago.

Daphne had always been guarded about her past, and he figured it was her right.

But the way she’d reacted to Nathan Fader pinged his radar. Hard.

And last night? Shit, that reaction had been far more than being creeped out. She’d been scared.

Like she’d believed that whoever had broken into her place was looking specifically for her. Like she’d expected she was the target. He’d expected her to be scared, because who wouldn’t be, but her fear was specific and focused.

That’s what wasn’t typical.

He ran through the woods, birds chirping and squirrels scratching around in the leaves that littered the underbrush even in summer, until he was spent. He’d never be able to outrun the demons that haunted him, but at least he could wear their asses out for a while.

When he reached the house, Daphne was sitting on the front porch, mug in hand, one leg thrown over the arm of the chair she’d settled in, the other curled beneath her. His heart gave a painful thump at the sight of her before beating normally again.

She managed a smile as he reached the steps and strode up them.

“Lookie what the cat dragged in,” she said. “A hot, sweaty Kane Fox. Did you seriously go running with a backpack?”

He grinned as he sat on the top step and shrugged out of the pack—and his soaked T-shirt—before leaning back against the porch column. “Sure did. You don’t think I keep my manly figure by eating barbecue and shooting guns all day, do you?”

“Don’t forget working out in the range gym.”

“That too. Still not enough to keep the BBQ from going to my mid-section.”

She let her gaze slide over him. “It would be a shame if the ladies couldn’t ogle your abs anymore.”

A tingle of awareness prickled to life in his groin at the look in her eyes. He shut it down as fast as he could, but damn, why did this slip of a girl affect him like that?

Not a girl. A woman.

Well, fuck, she’d successfully guilted him into a new way of thinking. There was no going back to calling her kid and girl and child, like he had over the past few months.

He put a hand over his slick abdomen and patted it. “These abs are an asset to One Shot Tactical, aren’t they?”

She snorted and sipped her coffee. “Newsflash, Mr. Fox. Your co-owners also have them. I’ve read more than a few testimonials from women quite impressed with the musculature on display at the range.”

He blinked. “Okay, that’s BS. None of us teach with shirts off.”

“No, but you reach for things above your head. You wipe your faces with the hems of your shirts sometimes. Trust me, I’ve seen every set of abs in the place. And so have the ladies of Sutton’s Creek. Which is part of why they keep coming back. Oh, business idea!”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“We rent the event space, like I said, and add sexy men clad in costumes. You know, like from romance novels. But you have to show chests and abs, so we’ll save on shirts and jackets.”

“Uh, how about no?”

Daphne laughed, and the sound went straight to his groin. First, he was happy she was laughing. It sounded free and real. Second, he wanted to bottle it up and listen to it on the darkest days.

“You eat anything yet?” he asked, because he needed to think about something besides her laugh.

She shook her head. “No, just made coffee. I didn’t want to go through your cabinets or raid your fridge.”

“I have to shower, but I’m thinking scrambled eggs with toast and bacon. What about you?”

“Sounds good to me. Are you cooking or suggesting we go to Miss Mary’s?”

“Cooking. Unless you want to go to Miss Mary’s?”

Her smile was mischievous. “Are you kidding? And miss the sight of famous ladykiller Kane slaving over a hot stove? Hell, I might even film it for Instagram. Can you do it shirtless?”

He shook his head. “Fuck no. It’s bacon. I’m not risking these abs with hot grease sizzling and popping everywhere.”

“Oh come on. What’s a little grease burn compared to the delight of womankind? Bet business will be up fifty percent if we try it.”

He got to his feet and stretched. She amused him. He was glad she was in a good mood. Meant she wasn’t focusing on the break-in. “You’re diabolical, Miss Bryant. And shockingly mercenary.”

“No, I just have a mind for business opportunities. It’s not my fault if I can see the dollars rolling in.”

He left her on the porch and hurried to take a shower and dress. By the time he came back down, she was in the kitchen pouring another cup of coffee. Ethan’s door had been open, but he wasn’t there.

“Did you see Ethan?”

“He said he was going up to the range early because he had some things to do.”

“Gotcha.” Kane took eggs from the fridge along with bacon and butter.

When he laid strips of bacon in a dish and put them in the microwave, Daphne gasped. “Cheater!”

“It’ll be perfect, promise.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You put it on for a minute a slice, then you can do thirty seconds at a time if it’s not crispy enough. Works every time. An old friend taught me that trick, and I’ve done it that way since. You should try it next time you cook breakfast.”

Daphne arched an eyebrow. “Actually, I don’t cook.”

“You don’t cook? How do you eat?”

“Um, restaurants? Convenience food? Sandwiches?” She shrugged. “I just never learned.”

“I’m surprised your parents didn’t teach you, being nomads and all. Seems like a survival skill you’d want your kid to have.”

“You’d think. But they weren’t exactly the best parents.” She went about taking bread from the sleeve and putting it into the toaster. “I can handle toast, though.”

“I just taught you bacon, so that’s two things.”

“Toast and bacon. Wow.”

“Yeah, but add mayo, lettuce, and tomato and you’ve got BLTs.”

“Ohhhhh, yeah. I didn’t think of that.”

He scrambled the eggs, explaining the process, and they sat down to eat. Daphne was like a kid tasting new flavors in some ways. He didn’t know if she was exaggerating to make him feel good, or if she really was that amazed at the fact he’d fixed breakfast for her.

Didn’t matter, really, because he’d liked doing it.

When she finished, she sat back and looked around the kitchen.

It was an old farm kitchen with white cabinets, an ancient gas stove that still worked, and formica countertops.

Nothing as impressive as the renovations the Suttons had done on the apartments in their building.

He figured she was comparing and finding it lacking.

Didn’t bother him since he had no real attachment to the place.

“This house has a good feel to it,” she said, surprising him. “Like people loved it for a long time before it fell into decline.”

He looked around. “It’s just an old house to me.”

“It’s more than that. I wish I could buy it and live here, walk to the range for work, plant a garden and grow my own food.” Her tone was wistful. “It’s a fantasy since I wouldn’t know how to cook the food—but maybe I could learn. Anything’s possible, right?”

“I think it is,” he told her, because he believed it was true. “You just need a goal and a plan, then you work your ass off to get to the goal.”

He’d lived his life that way more than not. Being a special operator was all about goals and plans and working so hard you felt it in your bones for long after the mission was complete. There were some things you couldn’t achieve no matter how hard you tried, though.

Making another person be who you wanted them to be. That was fairly impossible.

“Exactly.” She stood and started to gather the dishes. He reached out to stop her, closing his fingers around her wrist. She stilled, their eyes locking.

Electricity snapped in the air between them. He wanted to kiss her, but that was the last thing he needed to do.

He let her go, breaking the conduit, and sanity returned. “You don’t have to clean up,” he said, belatedly remembering why he’d touched her in the first place.

She looked disappointed, or maybe he imagined it.

“It’s the least I can do, Kane. You cooked breakfast, not to mention let me stay here in the first place. I’ll wash dishes.”

He scraped his chair back. “Fine. But I’m drying.”

Her smile arrowed into his soul, made him want things that were impossible. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

He grabbed a dish towel and joined her at the sink, taking the dishes from her and drying them thoroughly before setting them on the counter.

He was careful not to touch her again, not to create that electric connection that would have him wanting to strip her jeans from her long legs and lift her on the counter so he could do all the dirty things he wanted to do.

The things he’d thought about in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep.

“How many places have you lived?”

He felt her stiffen beside him as she handed over a pan. “Why do you want to know?”

“You said your parents were nomads. I thought that meant they moved a lot.”

She seemed to relax a fraction. “We didn’t move as often as you’d think. My dad liked to park somewhere remote and stay until the spirit moved him to go somewhere new.”

“Guess you were probably home schooled, huh?”

“Yes.”

“What kinds of work did your parents do to afford that lifestyle?”

Daphne stilled for the second time, turning to him. “If I said I wasn’t comfortable talking about it, would you stop asking questions?”

He searched her pretty face. “Why does it bother you so much to talk about it, Sunshine? Did they steal things? Con people? What has you so upset?”

Her face paled before red flooded her cheeks.

Her eyes flashed as she tossed the sponge into the sink and dried her hands on a paper towel.

“My dad had an inheritance, okay? And yes, I’m sure they stole things when that ran out.

Shoplifting, check fraud, that kind of thing.

I’m not proud of them, Kane. I’m not proud of who they were or who I am when I think about it.

Talking about it upsets me, but you don’t seem to understand that, so I’m outta here. Thanks for breakfast.”

She tossed the paper towel in the trash and stalked from the room.

Secrets. She definitely had them.

And he intended to find out what they were.