Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(17)

He stood there, watching Hawk with a dispassionate gaze, then he shifted and kicked the knife her way.

Hawk lay there panting, glaring at Zane. “You f*ck! My knee.”

“You better count yourself lucky the knee is all I broke.” He pulled his phone out and then scowled.

No. That was her phone.

He held it out and they traded.

Words burned on the tip of her tongue.

Words like thanks.

Words like I didn’t know you could do shit like that.

Words like . . . whoa.

If you’d asked her earlier, she would have said, I don’t like the tough guy act.

But right then, her heart was racing and she was having a hard time seeing anything but Zane.

He punched in a number and lifted up the phone.

“I need to report an attack, please.”

She closed her eyes. Great. He was calling the cops. Of course, this shithead was going to have to go to the hospital, thanks to the busted knee.

“You *! You calling the f*cking cops?”

Hawk went to get up but went down with a screech when he tried to put weight on his leg.

Zane ignored him, still talking into the phone.

A few seconds later, his eyes came back to Keelie’s face and she swallowed.

“I had it under control, you know,” she blurted out.

A shutter fell across his eyes and he inclined his head. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t do anything.

And she felt like an idiot.


*

“I’m fine, Ani.”

“You’re not fine!” Anais all but wailed into the phone.

Keelie fisted a hand in her hair, leaning against her car as she watched the paramedics finish loading that jackass Hawk into the back of an ambulance. His real name was Jethro. That made her smile a little. Jethro Bush.

And Jethro Bush was still cussing and giving everybody in sight the death stare.

Asshole.

“I am fine,” she said once Anais had paused to take a breath. “I had it under control and all, but if it makes you feel any better, Zane is apparently some sort of Superman under those glasses of his and—”

“Zane?” Her tone changed, and Keelie could have groaned. “Zane was there?”

“We ended up getting our phones mixed up and he was just bringing mine to me. Great timing, too. Anyway, Zane was there and it all worked out. Okay?”

There was a pause and then Anais sighed. “Okay. Is . . . is there anything I can do?”

Distracted, she glanced over at the cops and her gaze landed on Zane. He stood there, relaxed and easy, hands hanging loose at his sides, head dipped down as he listened to whatever the female officer was saying—she was petite, her head barely reaching the middle of Zane’s chest.

And she was smiling at Zane.

That smile really pissed Keelie off.

“Keelie!”

She mentally kicked herself and jerked her attention away from Zane. “No, honey. There’s nothing you need to do . . . except . . .” she trailed off, wondering the best way to put this. Blunt. She’d just be blunt and straight-up. Keelie didn’t know any other way. “Look, Ani, I know you mean well, but let’s not try the blind date thing again. I can handle my social life on my own, okay?”

There was a heavy, sad pause and then Anais sighed. “Keelie, I’m sorry . . . I just . . . you stay home all the time. You work on art and stuff and you do tattoos and you read. That’s not a life.”

“Maybe it’s not your kind of life, but it works for me.” She worried her lower lip for a minute. “I’ll figure it all out on my own, okay?”

“Okay. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Nah.”

A few minutes later, they hung up and she was left standing there watching a pretty cop flirt with a quiet, sexy photographer. And that quiet, sexy photographer stood there, smiling in that solemn way of his. Of course, he couldn’t just shut the woman down, could he?

Keelie scowled and forced her gaze away. She had no business getting jealous, not when she’d been out on a date—yeah, it was the date from hell, but she had been out on a date. Not to mention she’d turned him down more than once or twice.

That didn’t matter, though. It still burned to see him turning that slow, serious smile on somebody else.


*

Zane let himself into Zach’s old loft. The place was empty since Zach and Abby had started living together. Collapsing against the door, Zach pulled of his glasses. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he counted to ten. Ten didn’t do it. Neither did twenty.

Fury and frustration and worry warred inside him, a bubbling, burning brew that just wouldn’t go away.

Shoving off the door, he put his suitcase on the floor close to the bedroom and kicked off his shoes. He could still see her, like her face had been captured on one of his f*cking cameras, pale skin, eyes glinting—the blue eye all icy with fury while the brown one was practically glowing and shooting fire. Her pretty mouth had been flattened out to a tight line and she had looked perfectly ready to do whatever in the hell she had to, while that roughneck son of a bitch stood over her, ready to hurt her in so many ways.

Zane knew all about people who liked to hurt.

It was a secret he’d kept to himself for a long time, one he didn’t plan on sharing, ever, but he knew far too much about the kind of mindset that made a person want to hurt.