Kitabı oku: «The Complete Red-Hot Collection», sayfa 8
CHAPTER TWELVE
KATE TOOK EXTRA-SPECIAL care getting ready for Play Time on Thursday. Her hair was swinging loose, artfully dishevelled, and she had on her favourite red lipstick—which was fine for today because there would be no kissing.
She was wearing her sexiest underwear. Nude mesh and lace, complete with suspender belt—and she’d gone for ultra-sheer black stockings as a contrast. Achingly high black stilettos. A taupe trench coat, tied but not buttoned.
That was it. Not one thing more. Perfect for the role she was playing.
A role that would not involve any of those pesky deep and meaningful fireside chats.
Scott would be happy about that. And, frankly, she was happy about it too. Having spent two soul-destroying days fighting to get her client’s little boy back, ‘Kate Cleary’ deserved the night off. Tomorrow she would take up the legal cudgels again—but tonight, Kate wanted to be someone else.
When Kate arrived at Scott’s house in East Sydney she had to recheck his business card to make sure she had the right address—because she was standing in front of an old church. She’d already guessed Scott’s house was going to be special, if Silverston was anything to go by. But this was something else. She couldn’t wait to see inside.
No! She caught herself up. She wasn’t a starry-eyed girlfriend, about to get a guided tour of her boyfriend’s architectural wonder of a home. Scott—who hadn’t even invited her here—was probably in there pacing the floor, hating the idea of her invading his private space. So she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being interested.
She noted the intercom in place of a doorbell, which reminded her that his house doubled as a second office. Perfect, since she was here on ‘business’.
She waited outside for seven o’clock to hit, using the time to layer on the persona she’d chosen, mentally steeling herself to resist the first heart-melting look at him, the first touch. And then, on the dot, she pushed the button.
Instant answer.
‘Kate?’ Sounding anxious. ‘There in two seconds.’
‘Oh, Mr Knight, has there been a mistake?’ she asked, all breathy and flustered.
Pause. And then, ‘Kate? It is Kate, right?’
‘It’s Lorelei, Mr Knight. Don’t you remember? You booked a home visit. Are you going to buzz me in?’
Another pause. Longer.
He would be processing that. Kate’s voice giving a name he’d never heard, referring to a job he hadn’t booked.
And then the intercom clicked off. So…was he not going to buzz her in?
But less than ten seconds later the door opened and he was there. He took her arm, drew her in. Tried to kiss her.
‘Oh, sorry, Mr Knight. Miss Kitty doesn’t like her girls to kiss the clients.’
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Despite Kate’s best efforts she couldn’t help giving the space just one sweeping glance. Soaring arched ceilings, like a…well, like a church. Stained-glass windows, stark white walls, honey wood floors, a staircase that provided a pop of colour, with steps painted a vivid red, leading up to a mezzanine.
Enough! Stop!
‘Where do you want me, Mr Knight?’ she asked.
He gestured to the staircase. ‘Go up.’
She walked quickly to the stairs and ascended. She paused at the top, needing direction—and had to close her eyes to stop herself peering over the half-wall. She was not going to look again. Not, not, not.
‘There,’ Scott said from behind her—and she opened her eyes to find him pointing to a long, intricately carved wooden screen at one end of the mezzanine floor.
Her heart started to race as she approached the screen. She was so excited to see what was behind it. And when she stepped around it she gasped. Just couldn’t keep it in.
More stained-glass windows—taking the place of a fancy bedhead—dominated the space. The walls were painted a dull gold. A huge bed of dark wood with a blood-red coverlet sat on a raised stone dais. There were Persian rugs on the wood floor surrounding the dais. Antique chairs—grand and austere—were positioned either side of the stone slab, with candlesticks as tall as Scott beside them. The room was heartbreakingly, unexpectedly beautiful.
Kate schooled her features to show nothing as she turned back to Scott and smiled—a professionally vacant smile.
He was watching her with a hint of disapproval that she forced herself to ignore. Conservative Scott Knight would disapprove of a prostitute—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the experience.
She undid her belt, held the coat wide. ‘Do you like what you see, Mr Knight?’
He swallowed, hard, as his eyes slid down her body and stuck at the tops of her black stockings. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I want to touch you.’
‘You can touch. Just no kissing.’ And with that, she shrugged out of the coat and went to lay it on one of the chairs.
But she didn’t make it that far. Because Scott was after her in a heartbeat.
Kate shivered as he grabbed her, as he spun her to face him, as he yanked her hair back to give him access to her neck, as he licked the pulse beating there.
And then he lowered his head, going straight for her nipple, taking it into his mouth through the mesh of her bra, sucking hard, harder, until she cried out. He didn’t stop, just moved to the other nipple, then back again. Back and forth.
She was a quivering mess of nerves and need by the time he stepped back, took her coat and threw it at the chair.
He swallowed hard again as his eyes dipped to her breasts. Her nipples were dark and distended, the mesh covering them wet. His hands moved to her breasts, fingers pinching where his mouth had been. Pinching, rolling. And then he was digging into the thin cups, tearing them down so that her nipples popped over the tops, and his mouth was back, suckling and nipping and licking her.
Her hands were in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt—but to keep him there, not to drag him away. She could feel the unbearable wetness between her thighs, wanted his hands there, his mouth.
As though he’d divined that, he dropped to his knees, kissed the tops of her stockings—one, then the other—and licked, slooowly, along the top of each, where her thighs were naked. Kate was scared she’d collapse on the spot, it was so erotic.
And then, completely at odds with the languor of that, he yanked her panties down to her knees and shoved his tongue between her legs. Her tangled underwear trapped her and limited Scott’s access, forcing him to concentrate his tongue in one ravaging line. So…damned…good. She heard his ragged breathing, felt his fingers digging into the backs of her thighs, hard enough to bruise.
He growled something, impatient, and next moment was dragging her down onto the rug, ripping at her underwear, manoeuvring her onto her hands and knees. And then he was behind her, his mouth on her again, sucking her, forcing his tongue inside her until she was panting and whimpering with need.
A quick rustling sound, but his mouth didn’t stop. Condom. She heard the packet tear. Zip opening. She imagined him sheathing himself. Knew he would be inside her soon.
She pushed herself back against his mouth, urging him wordlessly to hurry, to fill her.
He moved, covered her, his mouth at her ear. ‘You’re going to have to ask me,’ he breathed.
‘Please…please.’
‘Please what?’
‘I want you inside me. Do it. Inside—now.’
The words weren’t even out of her mouth before he’d shoved himself into her. Holding her hips, screwing into her as though he had to get close, closer, closer still. Up to the hilt. Over and over. Pounding, pounding, pounding. And then he tensed, coming with a loud cry. His hands reached for her waist, yanked her upright, her back against his chest, and he was feeling for her clitoris, fingers forking either side, perfect pressure.
Ah, ahh, ahhhh.
‘Come for me, Kate. Come now…come.’
And, in a blast of almost excruciating pleasure, she exploded into orgasm.
Slowly, Scott withdrew from her. Sat back, turned her, hoisting her onto his lap
He tried again to kiss her, and she drew back. ‘No kissing,’ she said, but was horrified to find her voice wobbling.
Even worse—he’d heard it too.
He looked at her—sharp, concerned. ‘What is it, Kate?’
‘Lorelei. And no kissing.’
‘I’m not kissing Lorelei. I’m kissing Kate,’ Scott said.
He coaxed her to open her mouth, took his leisurely time, letting his tongue move from licking her lips to sliding inside.
After a long, delicious moment he stopped, edged a fraction away, smiled into her eyes. That smile she’d only seen once—that night—but it was even more devastating now, because it was layered with gentleness.
I am in such trouble here.
‘Kate…’ he said, and his voice shook.
Such trouble. And she didn’t need trouble.
Steeling herself, she smiled back. ‘Lorelei,’ she corrected. ‘And that will be two thousand dollars, Mr Knight.’
The shock on Scott’s face had her shrinking inside, but she forced herself to hold his eyes.
And then he smiled again—but it was back to the jukebox, pick a smile and whirl. ‘Your prices are too low. I would have paid five. In fact, I will pay five. Because, as I recall, I booked Lorelei’s services for a full night.’
‘We don’t stay overnight, Scott…you and I.’ Uh-oh, the wobble.
‘Miss Kitty says Lorelei does. And if you want your five thousand dollars that’s what you’re going to have to do.’ He gave her a boost off his lap. ‘So up you go. Whatever you’ve still got on, get it off. Then get into that bed.’
The next morning, after Lorelei had belted herself into her trench coat and left, Scott threw down three cups of coffee. He needed the caffeine to get his brain and his body functioning again.
But it didn’t work.
Something was bothering him. Very deeply.
And it was… Well, it was Play Time.
The whole ‘Lorelei’ thing was eating at him. After that one frenzied bout of lovemaking on the rug, when he’d kissed Kate, he’d felt such an overwhelming burst of joy. Kate…in his arms, in his house, and he’d wanted her so damned much.
And she’d responded by asking him for her fee.
So he’d decided to get his money’s worth. All night long he’d been at her, taking her with lips, tongue, fingers, his never-ending hard-on. And she’d met him move for move, always receptive—as ‘Miss Kitty’ expected—never saying no, opening her arms, her legs.
Everything but her mouth.
Because he’d tried to kiss her many times, and each time she’d pulled away with a coyly admonishing slap on the wrist, the shoulder, the butt, and a reminder of Miss Kitty’s rules.
He’d tried to talk to her in those respite periods while they’d recharged their burnt-out batteries. About the child custody case. Her mother’s art. Maeve and Molly, Shay and Lilith, Gus and Aristotle. Even about Deb. But every time he’d been frozen into crunchable cubes by her vacant ‘Lorelei’ stare.
The end result was that although he could have written his own sex manual after experimenting so comprehensively with Kate’s body during the night, he wasn’t satisfied.
And the flat fact was he didn’t like Play Time.
There. He’d admitted it.
He must be certifiable, but he couldn’t seem to whip up enthusiasm for any more fantasy-land stuff. It was like the sexual version of Brodie’s tattoo—nice in theory, but just not him. He must be more of a Knight than he’d thought. Conservative. Boring, even.
Did Kate find him boring? In bed? Out of it? Both? Because she was suddenly very interested in Play Time. No kissing. No talking. Just role play. Was Play Time the non-nautical equivalent of a yacht heading to the Whitsundays? Taking Kate away from humdrum in the bedroom?
He put his coffee cup down with a clatter.
She’d made him pay for it! He almost hadn’t believed it when Kate had demanded his cheque for five thousand dollars—and then had actually taken it when he’d jokingly written it out, before breezing out of the house.
A house she hadn’t expressed the slightest interest in.
And his house was worth some level of interest from the woman he was exclusively sleeping with, dammit.
Not good enough, Kate.
He wanted to know what she thought about it. And he was going to force her to tell him. Did she like it? Hate it? Want to change it? What?
Scott gave her three hours—time to slough off that annoying Lorelei—then called her mobile. No answer. So he called her office.
Deb picked up the phone—and told him in no uncertain terms he wouldn’t be getting a look-in that day because Kate was in back-to-back meetings.
Well, he wasn’t going to put himself through the embarrassment of having his call go to voicemail, as had been happening with monotonous regularity. He would email her instead. And if she didn’t respond he would… He would… He would do something as yet undetermined! But something, at any rate.
Calmly, rationally, unemotionally, he tapped out a message suggesting they catch up for dinner that night and fired it off, knowing she’d pick up the email on her smartphone whether she was in a meeting or not.
And then he waited, refreshing his emails every thirty seconds, working himself into a lather over the fifty-fifty rule she’d probably insist on when the bill came tonight. Well, screw her stupid fifty-fifty rule—he would be picking up the tab. Like a normal guy who wasn’t a complete arsehole would do when he took a woman out for dinner.
Refresh, refresh, refresh…
Come on—respond!
Fifteen minutes later his phone buzzed.
Text message.
His stomach clenched as he reached for his phone. Because he just knew.
And, yep, there it was.
Play Time. Sunday. Noon. My apartment.
Scott hurled the phone across the room.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KATE SAW THE Whitsundays girls in their usual corner table at Fox on Friday night, cocktails already in hand, and thought, Thank heaven. A rowdy, uncomplicated girls’ night out was exactly what she needed.
Jessica, who was facing the entrance, was the first to notice her across the crowded floor of the bar area, and she waved enthusiastically as Kate squeezed her way across the floor.
Willa slid a Manhattan—Kate’s favourite cocktail—to her as she collapsed into her seat.
Kate, surprised and touched by Willa’s prescience, kissed her.
‘I knew you’d need it.’ Willa’s smile was full of sympathy. ‘How did the case end up?’
Kate eased the elastic from her hair and ran a tired hand through the strands. ‘Victory for Team Cleary.’
‘Fantastic!’
‘But it was harrowing, even for a jaded cynic of a lawyer.’
‘You’re not a jaded cynic,’ Willa said. ‘Or you wouldn’t care so deeply.’
Kate felt a little prickle of tears—and that just underscored how wrung-out she was, because she never let her emotions show in public. She blinked the tears away, smiling determinedly.
‘Whatever I am, I sure need this!’ she said, picking up her glass and half draining it. ‘And now—a fun topic of conversation, please.’
Amy laughed. ‘Well, you’re just in time to hear Willa tell us about her most romantic moment with Rob. Will that do?’
‘That will do very, very nicely!’ Kate said. ‘But first…’ She drained the rest of her Manhattan and signalled to a passing server for another round of drinks for all four of them. ‘Better! Okay, Willa darling, spill it!’
‘I’m not sure you guys will think it’s romantic, but…oh, God, it is!’
‘Don’t make us beg!’ Amy said.
‘Well… Rob recommended me to a chief financial officer…’
‘And…?’ Amy urged.
‘For a vitamin distribution company.’
‘And…?’ Jessica prompted.
Willa sucked her mojito through a straw. ‘Rob told him I was super-bright!’
‘And so you are, my darling,’ Kate said.
‘And…and brilliant!’
‘Nice,’ Jessica added.
‘And that I knew about foreign-owned entities, so maybe I could help find a creative solution to a problem the company was having.’
Kate laughed. ‘Okaaaay… That’s not exactly floating my boat just yet, but I’m hoping something juicy is coming up.’
Willa beamed around at them, glowing with love. ‘The CFO said they’d had a dozen accountants try to find a solution and fail. He said Rob had assured him I would be able to help. And I did! And I got paid!’ She sighed, all satisfaction, and sucked up another mouthful of mojito. ‘Isn’t that romantic?’
Kate, Amy and Jessica stared at her, and then Amy burst out laughing.
One by one the others started laughing too.
‘Hey, it’s not funny,’ Willa protested, but she had a smile lurking too.
Jessica said, ‘Well, it’s not exactly rose petals strewn over the bedcovers.’
Amy looked at Jessica. ‘Seriously? That’s your romantic fantasy? I would never have picked it, Miss I-can-play-basketball-and-change-a-car-tyre-when-the-game’s-over.’
‘Well, I can change a car tyre,’ Jessica said. ‘But I’d like a rose-petal-strewn-bed for afterwards. With candlelight. And being hand-fed ripe strawberries in the midst of it all. Lovely.’ She raised her eyebrows at Amy. ‘Why? What’s yours, Miss Personality-plus?’
‘Easy. A defender,’ Amy said definitely. ‘Someone who will ride in like a medieval knight on a destrier, catch me up and save me from…from…’ She stopped, smiled a little sheepishly. ‘Well, from danger,’ she finished, then sighed. ‘That’s romance.’
All three looked expectantly at Kate.
‘Oh, no,’ she said.
‘Come on,’ Amy begged.
Jessica sniggered. ‘I’ll bet it has something to do with Big Burt the handy vibrator.’
Kate felt herself blush—and then blushed harder when three jaws dropped simultaneously as the girls took in her colour change.
‘No way!’ Amy said.
‘Not…not exactly,’ Kate said, and then she threw in the metaphorical towel. ‘Okay, you asked for it. It does happen to involve Burt. Not Big Burt, but his namesake. Burt Lancaster. And Deborah Kerr. And, no, Jessica, that does not mean I want to be in a three-way with Burt and Deborah, who are, in fact, both deceased. And, no, I never wanted to have sex with Burt Lancaster when he was alive either.’
‘So what does it mean?’
‘It means—Oh, dear, this is kind of embarrassing! Okay, it’s all about my obsession with From Here to Eternity, which I really need to outgrow. And you have got to watch that movie, Jessica! It should be mandatory viewing for all women.’
‘Okay—it’s on the download list!’ Jessica said promptly.
Kate ran a finger around the rim of her empty glass. ‘When you get to the scene at the beach their passion is just so…so strong… And there’s nothing they can do about it except acknowledge it and know that it’s going to happen. They’ve been swimming, and they’re at the shore, and she’s lying on the sand, and then he’s there with her, and she’s in his arms. And he’s kissing her like he can’t help himself, with the waves breaking over them… And when she runs for drier ground he follows her, and drops to his knees, and basically…basically falls on her—like he’s so damned hungry for everything about her… Well, whew!’ She waved a hand in front of her heated face. ‘That is some scene.’
Jessica was, likewise, fanning herself. ‘It beats Willa’s chief financial officer and my rose petals, that’s for sure. And it gives Amy’s destrier a nudge too.’
Kate laughed. ‘Well, suffice to say if a man kisses me like that in the surf I’m his. From here to eternity.’
There was a moment of respectful silence.
And then Willa smiled. ‘There’s one thing I need to add to my own account,’ she said, all smug. ‘When Rob spoke to that vitamin-company CFO he said…’ Pause. Blink. ‘He said…’ She paused again, went all dreamy-eyed. ‘He said he’d trust me with his life.’
‘Oh…’ said Amy.
‘Oh…’ said Jessica.
‘Oh,’ said Kate. Deep breath. ‘In that case, you win.’
Willa was glowing. ‘Yes, I do, don’t I?’ she asked, delighted.
‘I wonder what Chantal would say?’ Amy mused. ‘About her most romantic moment, I mean.’
Willa pondered that, eyes half closed. ‘It would be something to do with dancing. The romance of swaying against a man, having him hold you close, showing you just by the way he looked at you that you were his…’
Four sighs as their fresh round of drinks was deposited—and then four dreamy sips.
‘So Chantal’s in your camp, Willa. She’s already had her moment,’ Amy said. ‘With Brodie, I mean, at Weeping Reef. Because that’s what happened, right? The dance, the look that everyone could see?’
‘It was sizzling,’ Willa said.
Amy drained her glass. ‘No wonder poor Scott got bent out of shape.’
Kate felt the blood drain from her face. What? What? ‘Scott?’ she said, and thanked all the saints in heaven that her voice had come out halfway normal.
‘Oh, yeah—you don’t know the story,’ Willa said, sounding sad. ‘Scott and Chantal were an item at Weeping Reef. The item. Until Brodie came on the scene. Actually, they were an item even after Brodie arrived. Chantal and Brodie didn’t seem to like each other—except that they did, if you know what I mean, and just didn’t recognise it. I think I was the only one who saw what was happening. Scott certainly didn’t, and he was blindsided. Chantal was dancing with Brodie—which was no big deal. She loves dancing. Lives for it. But she could never get Scott onto the dance floor, and he never had a problem with her dancing with other men. But that night it was…more. Like a…a flash. The way they moved together…the way they looked at each other. Everyone knew in that one moment that Chantal and Brodie belonged together.’
Kate remembered asking Scott to dance at that dinner. Him telling her he didn’t. Ever. Remembered him insisting on absolute fidelity in their contract.
‘So what happened?’ she asked through her aching throat.
‘A huge argument—which ended with Scott slugging Brodie. Brodie took off, leaving Scott and Chantal at the resort together…but not together. Not at all together. Looking back, it all seems so needlessly dramatic, given nothing actually happened between Chantal and Brodie. But Scott and Brodie haven’t spoken since.’
Uh-oh. Awkward. ‘Actually, they…they have spoken,’ Kate said, and took a quick silent breath to steady her nerves for the inquisition.
The three girls stared at her, waiting.
Kate took a slow sip of her Manhattan. ‘I was having coffee with Scott, at the marina across the road from my place, on Sunday morning. And Brodie walked past. His boat’s moored there.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Amy squealed. ‘I don’t know what part to ask about first. Coffee with Scott? How did that come about?’
‘We’ve seen each other a couple of times since Willa’s party.’
There was a long pregnant pause.
‘It’s nothing,’ Kate said.
More silence.
‘Really nothing,’ she insisted. ‘There was an…an attraction there, and we wanted to see if there was anything worth exploring. That’s all.’
‘And is there?’ Jessica asked.
Kate took another sip. ‘No. There really isn’t,’ she said, and felt the truth of that, the pang of it, pierce right through her heart. It took her a moment to recover from that certainty, to find her voice again. ‘Anyway, Sunday morning he was in the area, so—’
Amy choked on her drink. ‘In the area? Are you sure there’s nothing worth exploring?’
‘Yes, in the area, and, no, there’s nothing worth exploring,’ Kate insisted, but she could feel the heat slash across her cheekbones. ‘He buzzed my apartment and I went down to meet him.’
Very important to get the message out that he hadn’t stayed the night at her place. She was a little embarrassed about hiding what was a straightforward arrangement from her friends, but she couldn’t seem to up and confess. And it wasn’t only the confidentiality clause stopping her. It just felt too…painful, somehow, to share.
‘And what happened?’ Amy asked.
‘While we were sitting there drinking our coffee along came Brodie.’
‘And then…? Come on, Kate,’ Amy urged. ‘The suspense is killing me.’
‘All right. I’m just trying to remember it.’ As if she didn’t! ‘There was some…tension. Yes, now that I think back there was definitely tension between them to start with. But I left them talking while I went to order, and by the time I returned, it was all quite amicable between them.’
‘Thank God,’ Willa said. ‘They were so close, back in the day. Closer than brothers. It hasn’t felt right, their estrangement.’
‘So what happened next?’ Amy asked. ‘Is Brodie still here? I’d love to see him. And did they talk about Chantal?’
Chantal. The name whipped through Kate’s bloodstream, breath-stealing.
Jealous. She was jealous—of something that had happened eight years ago. Because one woman had sneaked past Scott’s defences, where she couldn’t go. Where she was resolutely blocked from going. She picked up her glass to take another sip of her cocktail, realised it was empty but had no recollection of drinking it. Too much, too fast.
‘I don’t know what happened then because I left them to it,’ she said. ‘I knew they hadn’t seen each other in a while, and I… I had work to finish. I haven’t spoken to Scott since.’
Which wasn’t strictly correct…but was still true. Officer Cleary and Lorelei had spoken to Scott—not Kate.
‘Nobody was throwing punches, if that’s any comfort to you,’ Kate added. ‘And one thing I do know is that Brodie is still in Sydney, because he’s giving me a sailing lesson tomorrow.’
‘Oh! You are so lucky!’ Jessica said. ‘I’d love to learn to sail.’
‘Well, it’s only one lesson,’ Kate said. ‘All I can really expect is to find out if I’ve got what it takes or if it will be like the time I tried Tai Chi—nice idea, but not going to happen. Why don’t you come too, Jessica?’
Jessica sighed. ‘Nah—I’ve got kickboxing tomorrow.’
‘Why don’t you ask Scott to teach you if you’re really interested, Jess?’ Amy suggested. ‘He’s the absolute best. Better than Brodie—even though Brodie’s the one who’s made it his career.’ She turned to Kate, looking quizzical. ‘In fact, Kate, I don’t know why you don’t ask Scott to teach you. At least he lives in Sydney, so you’ll get more than one lesson out of him.’
Kate busied herself snagging a server and ordering more drinks. By the time she’d done that, she had her poker face on. ‘From what I’ve gathered, Scott doesn’t sail any more.’
‘That’s true,’ Willa said. ‘You know, Weeping Reef was so beautiful, and we were all so excited to be there, but a lot of things went wrong. Things that…that changed us, I guess.’
‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Amy murmured. And then she took a deep breath, seeming to shake off a thought. She smiled—very brightly. ‘But that was then and this is now, so let’s drink to moving on. Onwards and upwards, ladies. Onwards and upwards.’
The girls clinked glasses, although Kate wondered if her empty glass actually counted.
‘The music is starting and they’re opening the bar off the dance floor,’ Jessica said. ‘The crowd should spread out soon.’ She looked at the packed bar area. ‘I wonder if there’s a rose-petal-sprinkler in amongst that lot who might be persuaded to ask me to dance.’
And then Jessica gasped, her eyes wide as saucers.
‘Well, bite me!’ she said. ‘Maybe I will come along tomorrow, Kate. Because Brodie looks mighty hot.’
‘Huh?’ Amy swivelled in her seat and squealed.
Willa was the next to look. ‘Oh, my God. I told Rob to join us here, but…but…how…?’
Kate turned very, very slowly as a cold finger of dread trailed its nail down her back.
Rob, Brodie…and Scott. Heading across the floor towards them.
