Nailed Down Page 3

  “Sweetheart, you okay?” Bill asked, interrupting the perfectly good glare I was giving Kane as I debated walking right up to him and demanding he explain this foreign “can’t” word of his. Bill gave me the creeps, was a little too touchy-feely for my taste, and I stepped back, diverting the brush of his hand on my shoulder as he smiled at me. That look was condescending, a little pitying, and it pissed me off. “You look frazzled.”

  “I need to talk to Kane.”

  “You don’t need Kane. Let me help,” Bill said, his voice gentle, utterly annoying as he managed to rest his hand on my shoulder. “I’m a good listener.”

  Kane shot another glance at me, this one landing as he spotted Bill, looking at him, then me. Kane hated Bill more than saying “can’t.” They were oil and water but somehow coexisted for the sake of the show. It was no surprise when Kane pushed the folder in his hand to Gin and stepped toward us

  “Maybe you can help,” I said loud enough that I knew Kane would overhear.

  I repressed a shudder when Bill moved his hand from my shoulder to my neck and started to knead my muscles. “I’m your man, babe.”

  Every time he called me “babe,” “sweetheart,” or some other demeaning nickname, I had to restrain myself from kicking him in the balls. He was only palatable in small doses because Kane was always there to make sure Bill kept his ass in line.

  I peeked over his shoulder, and like clockwork, Kane’s steps got quicker, his features sterner, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

  “Well…” I started to say, stalling because I wanted to wait to see if Kane would take my bait.

  Kane loomed over Bill, standing at his back with his arms crossed. “It’s fine,” he said, voice low, dangerous, and I had to push back the small thrill that shot through my stomach at the sound. “You’re not needed, Bill.”

  Bait taken. Mission accomplished.

  3

  Kane

  Kit made a damn list. On top of the one left to her by her dead cousin. A list of the list and a fucking schedule. I was tempted to crumple “my copy” between my fingers as I glanced down at it.

  “This will keep us on schedule. Every weekend that we don’t film. Without fail until the list is done. Agreed?”

  I’d half expected her to spit in her hand before she offered it to me for a shake. But Kit was funny, not goofy, and though the list was damn redundant, it somehow made her feel better. I had gotten a little freaked when I read that stupid list. Especially when it came to the kiss and the sex part. I couldn’t get my head wrapped around the last item.

  Fall in love.

  Fuck me.

  The low grunt I made must have alerted the waitress, and the tiny redhead turned toward me, a ready grin waiting as she pushed a hip against her tray.

  “You want another one, gorgeous?” She took my nod, offering a wink that made her heavily wrinkled eyelid twitch, and then sashayed away. Crystal. Good lady. The sort of woman who had spent a lifetime slinging beer in the shiftiest looking water holes imaginable. But this place, Lucky’s, had been my home away from home since we got stuck in Ashford for this project. The town was nice enough, but small. Nothing like the life I led in Tacoma or even Seattle, where I grew up. But Lucky’s had a good staff, and the lights were low. Worked wonders when you wanted to keep a low profile.

  “Why are you sulking?”

  Home away from home, but not away from my brother.

  “Don’t start,” I told him, pushing his chair back when he hovered too long. Crystal set a Guinness in front of me, then squinted at my brother. The asshole smiled, standing too close to the old lady, but she didn’t back down.

  “I guess you want that domestic shit? Bud or Miller?”

  “I’m a Blue Moon man, actually.” Kiel laughed at the waitress when she clicked her tongue at him, disgusted, walking behind her a half a step as she headed toward the bar. “Crystal, run away with me. I’ll treat you so good.” He thought a lot of himself, hitting on anything that wiggled just right. But Crystal wasn’t buying it. She shot Kiel the finger, calling him something not many would have the stones to as she disappeared toward the cooler.

  “Leave the old woman alone and sit.” He caught the chair when I pushed it again with my foot, but he sat down, still laughing to himself. “Why are you here?” He never left Seattle if he could help it, and Ashford wasn’t exactly some hopping bedlam for pretty boys like Kiel.

  “What?” my brother said, faking a concerned frown. That asshole wasn’t concerned about anything but landing a story that would put his byline front and center of the Seattle Times. Still don’t know how the hell he’d managed to land that gig. “I can’t check in on my big brother?”

  “Not unless you want something.”

  He waved me off. “On my way to Portland for a story. Thought I’d check up on you.”

  When Crystal appeared again, not bothering to give more than an eye roll to Kiel as she slid the Blue Moon in front of him, I kicked his leg, knowing he was about to fuck with the old lady again.

  She was halfway to the bar before my brother ignored my warning glare and called over his shoulder, “Where’s my orange slice?”

  Crystal didn’t miss a beat, yelling back, “Up your ass, bitch,” before she tended to the group of dockworkers who’d entered.

  “I don’t get why she doesn’t like me,” he said, grumbling a little while he downed his punk beer. “I’m way manlier than you are and not nearly as mean.”

  “Whatever you gotta tell yourself.”

  He watched me closely, leaning over the table as he scratched a line with his thumb into the label. I knew I should have expected the question before it came, but it still took me by surprise that my brother could do the job he did and still have no clue how to read me.

  “Dude, you look like shit.” He moved back against the table, pulling on his beer. “You still moping about Kit being gone?” Kiel shifted in his chair, eyebrows shooting up when I ignored him. “She’s still out?”

  “She’s back,” I said, my gaze shifting around the bar to the dockworkers hassling Crystal for taking too long with their order. My attention was on alert, sharp as the biggest of the workers yelled something rude at Crystal because his beer wasn’t cold enough. “Got back today.”

  Kiel followed my stare, swinging his legs around as though he was ready to pounce if those assholes got to be more than the old waitress could handle, but my kid brother was clueless.

  “Easy,” I told him, shaking my head. “She can handle that shit.”

  And before the words had left my mouth completely, Crystal had an empty bottle in her hand, raising it overhead when the dockworker grabbed her arm. He had enough time for a cool, vicious curl to move her top lip before she knocked the jackass across the face.

  “Out!” she called, clearing the bar top as the guy’s friends helped him to his feet. “Right now, assholes, and don’t come back!” Crystal was little, but loud and scary as hell. I was a big dude, but I still knew better than to mess with her.

  “Told you,” I said, giving the old waitress a nod of approval as she glanced in our direction.

  Kiel went white, and when the old lady stared at him, my brother turned around, suddenly interested in his Blue Moon.

  “So,” he tried, “you look like shit because…”

  I knew I couldn’t divert him for long, but I didn’t want to cry into my beer, blabbering to my kid brother about Kit and the shit she wanted from me. I kept what I thought locked down tight. Kiel was slick, always had some woman on the side because he was a good-looking dude and he could talk a preacher into a porno subscription. But he was nothing like me. We looked alike, had the same wide frame, the same high cheekbones and mouths that stretched across our faces, even the same thick, unruly hair, though Kiel knew how to work his. I just kept mine short. But Kiel was smooth, gave a shit about what he wore, what label was on his clothes, when I was good with Levis and flannels. But how we lived, what we cared about, or what m
attered to us? Nah, that’s where we differed.

  “She’s got a bucket list she wants help with,” I finally told him, ignoring the slow grin that moved across his mouth.

  “And what’s on this list?”

  I waved him off, sighing hard when that grin turned into something ridiculous that made him look like the fucking Joker. “Shit she wants to do.” Kiel went on smiling, that expression fracturing only a little as he shifted his weight against his elbows. He’d do that shit forever—watch, waiting for me to fess up. The jackass had the patience of a priest, and when he went on gawking, expecting, I decided to give up a little of what was bothering me. Shoulders lowering, I downed the last of my Guinness and pushed the glass aside. “Fine. On that list is shit that could make things…complicated.”

  “Ah,” he said, crossing his arms as he watched me. “Like sex things.” I grunted but didn’t confirm a thing. “And no matter how many times you hand me that bullshit about not wanting anything with her, I’m not blind. You get that look anytime she’s around.”

  “What look?” The guy was off his meds or something. Like I said, I kept everything locked down, even how I looked at her.

  “Dude, give me a break.” Kiel shook his head, pulling a mint from the roll in his pocket. He’d stopped smoking five years back but still needed the mints to do something with his hands. “Kit comes around, and that grumpy-ass frown on your face vanishes. You look at her like you’re lost in the desert and she’s just the right amount of wet that will quench your thirst.”

  Another grunt, but this time, I shot a glare at my brother for mentioning shit that shouldn’t be in his mouth. He shrugged when I flipped him off, but he didn’t give me hell about Kit.

  “So you wanna help her out, but you think things will get…iffy?”

  My brother had a way with words, no shit there. But I still didn’t want him knowing what was in my head. I damn well didn’t want anyone to know. “Something like that,” I finally admitted, figuring he’d badger me until I gave up even the smallest detail.

  Kiel nodded, moving his lips together like he needed to smear the words around before he set them loose. Then, he snapped his fingers, like he’d just come up with some grand idea that was the greatest shit any bastard ever thought up. “Distract her.”

  “And how should I go about that shit?”

  “There aren’t any rules about what gets done first, are there?”

  Kit hadn’t mentioned it, though if I knew her, and God help me I did, she’d be a stickler for staying in order. “No, but she’ll probably…”

  Kiel waved his hand, shutting me up. “You can distract anyone, man. You’re a bully when you want to be, when it’s something you want. And if I’m hearing you right, what you want is to keep what you’re thinking about her out of the equation.”

  “Fuck you, I’m not a bully.” It was insulting for him to say shit that wasn’t true. But then Kiel leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he shook his head, and a quick flash of stupid shit I’d done as a kid came back to me. “Locking you in the girls’ bathroom freshman year taught you a lesson.”

  “I got suspended.”

  “Yep, but did you ever try sneaking peeks at the girls’ shower after that?” He didn’t respond, and I took that as denial. “Thought so, asshole. Shit I did was to keep you in line.”

  “Never mind that,” Kiel said, avoiding Crystal as she walked around the tables, cleaning up the mess left over from the afternoon crowd. “Distract her. It’ll buy you some time until you figure out what you wanna do.”

  “Nothing to do,” I told him, moving my hand to the exit to signal Crystal to close out my tab. “What kind of bullshit friend won’t help out when she’s just lost her best friend in the world?”

  “The kind that doesn’t want her to know he’s gone all stupid for her.”

  I stuffed my card into my wallet when Crystal laid the bill on the table and scribbled my name and a hefty tip on the bill. “Not stupid,” I told Kiel, ignoring his low laugh. “Just…a little dumb.” That was the word that best described how Kit made me feel. Dumb. Awkward, a little helpless, and I hated feeling that shit. As my brother nodded at Crystal, this time neglecting to make a smartass comment or flirt with her, I followed him to the door, waving at the old waitress with my head full of stuff that might work as a distraction. I only hoped Kit would be down for avoiding shit I just wasn’t ready to deal with.

  4

  Kane

  “Nope. Nope… Changed my mind.”

  I had a feeling Kit would chicken out. She did that a lot. The woman was full of great intentions but not much on the follow-through. I knew her limits. I knew when to push and when to back away. You couldn’t be friends with someone, work with them as closely as we had for the past five years, and not know how to read them or figure out when their limits were met.

  Her running away from the suspension bridge, that stupid hard hat and the goggles on top of it jostling as she walked back toward the gate, told me Kit’s limit wasn’t quite in the rearview, but it was inching closer.

  “Hang on a second, you crazy woman.” Three long strides and I caught up to her, touching her arm to get her to stop. Her eyes were wide, a little frantic, and for a second I wondered if she’d bother to blink before the tears started to form. “You told me this was okay, remember? You told me you wanted to get this one over with.”

  There was a small crowd and a few stragglers who must have recognized us. But the thing about Ashford was that even local celebrities, for the most part, got left alone. One, maybe two double takes, then Kit and I were on our own, secluded a bit by a large Douglas fir tree with browning leaves and heavy limbs. Overhead, though, there were high-pitched screams releasing, muffling, and turning into shit that sounded like something from a horror flick as the zip-liners took off from the deck at the top of the suspension bridge and shot away going at least thirty-five miles per hour.

  Kit took her wide, scared gaze from my face, finally blinking, lashes moving like a hummingbird’s wings as one particularly loud zip-liner screamed at the top of her lungs, “Holy shit, someone stop!”

  “Oh, hell no!” Kit yelled, stepping back and away from me as she kept her gaze on the screaming woman overhead. “Fuck that!”

  “Calm down,” I told her, blocking her when she tried hightailing it away from the bridge. “Would you listen for a second?” She skirted around me, like a damn ball player readying a lay-up, but I kept up with her, managing to spread my arms to keep her from hitting the narrow trail that led to the parking lot. “Shit, woman, you’re acting ridiculous.”

  “Move, Kane. I changed my mind. I can’t do this. It’s…” She threw another glance up toward the zip line, then took to shaking her head, repeating “Nope, nope, no” under her breath. “No way. I just… I can’t…”

  “Stop right there,” I told her, not moving. I made my features tighten, shot her the frown I knew she hated. That disappointed tension on my face usually showed up when the PAs or interns got on my nerves or when Bill wanted the impossible and my crew couldn’t deliver. Kit had always mentioned how that expression made me look vicious and mean. I didn’t want her to see it, but I’d made her a promise. We shook on it, and I kept my word when I gave it. “You wanted my help. You wanted me to push you, remember?”

  She swallowed, and the smallest line moved between her eyebrows, like she was only just remembering the deal we’d made. “But, Kane…”

  “Your cousin knew you could do it, Kit. She wanted you to.” I stepped closer, not liking the shake in her fingers or how every time a loud shriek sounded overhead, Kit scrunched up her face, wincing like the sound hurt her. “It was her last wish, right?”

  The blink was slow, and when she moved her lids up, I caught the gold flecks that glinted against the sunlight in her big eyes. “Low blow, Kane.”

  I shrugged, not remotely sorry for playing the dead cousin card. “Come on.” I turned her around, resting a hand agains
t the small of her back in case she thought of taking off again. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  The nerves must have kept her silent, because Kit didn’t speak as we navigated the hike toward the bridge, then the thin, swinging rope itself. She made white-knuckle grips against the twisted railing, footsteps heavy and sure as she walked in front of me.

  “Few more feet,” I told her, holding back a laugh when she nodded her head, a quick affirmative motion that made her long hair slap against her face. “You’re okay.”

  Around us, the tall trees seemed to stretch on forever. There were huge clusters of limbs and branches that reminded me of the tree house Kiel and I built when we were fifteen so our little cousin Shawna could have camp-out sleepovers with the other eight-year-olds in the neighborhood. It had taken us a solid month to finish it, and I did most of the work myself, but when it was done, Shawna spent every night that summer sleeping under the stars. Her smile alone was worth the work we put into it.

  Kit, though, was making me doubt the wisdom of agreeing to the bargain. She really was a chickenshit about heights and hadn’t managed to look over the bridge to the forest around us the entire time we navigated it. I leaned forward, peeking around her shoulder, and shook my head. She had her eyes closed and felt her way over the bridge.

  “You gotta check out the view, Kit.”

  “No thank you!”

  I sighed, stepping closer, and I touched her elbow as we walked two more feet, then met the landing. “Step up, drama queen.”

  She went quiet then, and each instruction we received, she obeyed. But she did that with nothing more than head nods and low grunts right until the point that she was strapped to the line with a harness surrounding her. That’s when the waterworks started.

  “No, no! No, I can’t…” She turned, grabbing for the latch to unfasten herself from the harness. I stepped forward, waving off the kid who went to help her out of the contraption that kept her fastened to the line.