Page 6

Kai

Lana hasn’t uttered a word since we left the fundraiser.

Rain slashes against the windshield, and turns the road into a river of shifting lights. The wipers scrape out a steady rhythm, underlying the growing tension in the car.

She’s been wearing that look—the one that means she’s deciding whether to skin me or let me off easy.

I’m starting to wonder when she’ll break when she finally turns toward me, eyes burning.

Here we go.

“What the fuck was that, Kai?”

I knew this conversation was coming the second I caught Lana’s slack-jawed glare after that woman darted off like a bat out of hell.

I keep my tone even. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Lana.”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, don’t you dare do that. You pretty much nailed her to the bar—” She breaks off on a sharp exhale. “Geez, Kai. Nic Abbott, of all people?”

That’s her name. Nic. Short for what? Nicole? Nikita?

“Nic.” I test it out, deciding I like the way it sounds. “So, what is it about her?”

Lana scoffs. “Well, that’s what I’d really love to know! You were jet-lagged, bone-tired and had a migraine. You wouldn’t even leave that dark corner or mingle. Next thing, you’re devouring one of my staff like a fucking vampire? What are you on, Kai?”

She’s pushing for a reaction, but I don’t have one to give. I haven’t even processed what happened tonight.

She wasn’t supposed to stand out in a sea of flashing lights and head splitting music. But there was something so contradictory about her.

The way she pretended to be something she wasn’t. The way her hands fisted like she’d rather throttle me than kiss me? It took everything not to break my rule of not chasing women.

Being with me is something of an extreme sport, after all, and I’d have to be the worst kind of monster to drag an innocent woman into my life.

“Nic is engaged, as I’m sure you noticed,” Lana states. “Do you know whom to?”

I roll my shoulders. “Does it matter?”

Lana exhales slowly. “It should matter to you—to us. It’s Jake Aldridge’s son.”

Our father had worked for the Aldridges as their bullied, unpaid foreman, until he was permanently silenced for knowing too much about.

A wry smile replaces the familiar surge of rage. “What now? Next, you’ll tell me she grew up in Valencia too?”

Lana shoots me an unreadable look. “She did, in fact. Her father still lives there.”

Translation: Nic’s father knows who you really are.

“Noted,” I say.

“There’s something else you should know.”

“What is it?”

“Nic applied to join my fundraiser twenty-six times.”

I abandon the road and whirl on her. “Twenty-six?”

“I kid you not.”

What a headstrong little vixen. She’ll be such a delight to break.

I pull my thoughts away from slippery ground and make myself recall three reasons why I shouldn’t pursue that woman.

Sara.

Cass.

Elena.

Three women. Three bodies floating in water weeks after being with me.

As we pull into my sister’s Malibu estate, she yawns. “Do you think Uncle Manny is still up?”

My father’s younger brother, a professor at the Aldridge Business School, flew in today from Auckland, no doubt to ensure that I keep my promise to take his classes this semester. “He’s had a long haul flight. I’m sure he’s exhausted.”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t put it past him to wait up for us. Has he told you why he wants you to teach in his place?”

I chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll let me in on the secret at some point.”

Ten minutes later, we step into a house filled with an overpowering scent of coconut and grilled fish.

Lana chuckles. “Uncle Manny is definitely still up. I think I’ll sneak off to sleep before he says something cryptic enough to give me a nightmare.”

“Good call,” I smirk.

She presses a quick kiss to my jaw. “Don’t let him stay up all night cooking, Kai.”

I watch her disappear upstairs, then head to the kitchen.

Manny stands at the stove, his tall, wiry frame—so much like my father’s—bent over a feast in progress. His curly gray hair is still damp from a shower, and he’s wearing a faded Aldridge Business School sweater.

“Uncle.”

He turns, his unlined face breaking into a smile that crinkles the corners of his dark eyes. “You’re back!”

“It’s past midnight. Why aren’t you in bed?”

He shrugs, gesturing to the breadfruit stew. “Some things can’t be rushed.” He moves to the island and starts dicing fruit, no doubt preparing tomorrow’s perfect smoothie.

I nod toward the three pots bubbling on the stove. “I could make all this food for you, you know.”

“I also know you overcook and under-season everything.” He doesn’t look up from decimating papaya.

“You still haven’t told me why you need me to take your classes this semester.”

Manny continues arranging his ingredients, precise as always. “Now, I was reviewing your speaking schedule for next quarter. It’s quite impressive, Kai. London, Singapore, Dubai . . .”

I lean against the counter, suppressing the urge to shake him. “That’s not an answer.”

“Have you ever considered teaching as a career?”

I grit my teeth. “I already have a career, which I put on hold when I moved back here because you asked me to. Now, are you going to tell me something useful, or do I have to beat it out of you in a sparring ring?”

He says nothing, just keeps methodically placing his ingredients. “We can talk about it when you’re less tense.”

I’m too fucking exhausted for his psychological steeplechase.

“Fine. We’ll catch up at breakfast.” I push off the counter and head for the door.

“Wait.”

I stop. I don’t turn or take the bait.

“I’ve got cancer, alright?”

Ice knives through my spine, and I whirl to face him. “What?”

“Prostate. Stage two. My oncologist—he’s in Auckland—thinks it’s still early, but he doesn’t know jack shit, so . . .”

I stare at him. A dozen thoughts crash into each other—denial, frustration, disbelief. “Fuck. Uncle . . .”

“Do me a favor, don’t tell Lana,” he says. “Let me tell her myself. She’s going to be dealing with a lot soon. I don’t want to add this to her plate.”

I should ask what he means by that. But I’m still stuck on the word ‘cancer.’

“When did you find out?”

“Six months ago. That’s why I’ve been going to Auckland. I wanted to avoid surgery, but my doctor—she’ll fucking hold a gun to my head if I don’t let her operate at this point.”

Typical. There’s no point asking why Auckland, even though he lives in the US. Manny is a lunatic. It’s a miracle his students don’t turn into basket cases by the end of the year.

“So you need time off for surgery,” I say.

He exhales. “I took all my leave already with these trips. Now, with all the budget cuts . . .” He swallows. “They ‘retired’ three tenured professors last semester alone, and Dean Halloran—”

“Is a fucking asshole of a boss.” He’s told me a few thousand times.

“Well, now you know.” He turns back to his cooking.

I step forward and pull him into a hug. He stiffens, then awkwardly pats my back.

“Kai. The only reason Dean Halloran isn’t tossing me out on my ass is because you’re famous and doing this unpaid. Like I said—”

“Asshole. Got it.”

“So, will you stay the whole year?”

I snort, not for one second falling for the guilt trip. Manny would like nothing more than to have my office next to his on campus.

“One semester, Uncle, then we’ll talk, depending on how you feel.”

He beams like I just agreed to move in permanently.

“How much longer do you have here?” I ask. “You should turn in and get some sleep.”

“Half an hour tops.” He replies.

Upstairs, sleep evades me. I see her every time I close my eyes.

Who on earth sends twenty-six fucking applications to the same charity?

A woman who doesn’t take no for an answer is who. Stubborn. Tenacious. Determined. Imagine capturing all that wild strength under me.

Forcing my mind away from dangerous territory, I pull up my laptop to send a few emails. The words blur together, but I push through.

Until the shrill screech of the smoke alarm shatters my concentration.

I launch myself off the bed, and I’m already dialing emergency services as I fly down the stairs. My heart lurches as I see thick smoke billowing from the kitchen.

Manny is slumped over the breakfast bar, face planted into his papaya. The pot on the stove sends black clouds toward the ceiling.

“Uncle!” I shake him awake, already moving to kill the heat and grab the fire extinguisher.

He startles, disoriented, “What is—” He immediately dissolves into long hacking coughs as I help him out of the kitchen, then return to throw open windows.

Then I hear the bone-chilling scream.

Lana.

I rush toward the living room to hear her stumbling down the hallway on the second floor.

“Boys! We have to get out! Now!” Raw terror rips through her voice.

I sprint for the stairs just as she appears at the top of it, a wild-eyed apparition in her silk nightgown. She has the twins by their wrists, dragging them behind her.

“Mom, stop!” Liam struggles, “It’s just Uncle Manny’s cooking—”

She doesn’t hear him. “We’ll burn!” Lana screams, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her grip on them is tight—-too tight—as if she’s trying to keep them from slipping into the flames.

She’s back in that old house eight years ago with Mark and Cass.

“Lana!” I bark, my heart plummeting as she teeters on the edge of the steps

“Get out or we’ll all die—”

“Lana!” I take the stairs three at a time to get to her.

Just then, her foot catches on Lucas’s pajama pants. Time slows as she pitches forward. She throws her hands out for balance, the boys finally wrenching free.

The crack of her head against the bannister echoes like a gunshot a split second before I catch her.

“Lana!”

She crumples into my arms, dark hair spilling across her face. Blood pours from a gash above her temple.

“Mom!” Liam screams.

“Is she okay, Uncle Kai?” Lucas, Liam’s twin sobs.

Lana remains still in my arms.

Fuck.