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“Well, it doesn’t.”
Kane didn’t appear to take offense. He gave a stiff nod of agreement. “You’re right. It wasn’t then and isn’t much better now. In fact I grew up humiliated and embarrassed that I lived in that dump. Avoided being there as much as possible.”
Suspicion tightened the corners of Sean’s mouth. He hadn’t expected Kane to see things as he did.
“My old man was a cripple and a mean son of a bitch. I found ways to avoid being around him or hanging out at home, and usually managed to get myself into a mess of trouble. But I didn’t really give a rip. I figured fate had given me a bum deal, and I spent a lot of time being angry at the world and a royal pain in the butt.”
“All I said was that it doesn’t look like much,” Sean mumbled.
“And I agreed with you.” He clapped Sean on the back, and the boy visibly jerked away. “You, now, you’re lucky, living in a great big house like this.”
Sean made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, right,” he grunted as he glanced at his mother, seemed satisfied that there wasn’t any serious trouble brewing, and vaulted over the rail to disappear around the corner of the house.
“What is it you want from me?” she asked when Sean was out of earshot.
“Same thing I’ve always wanted.”
Her pulse jumped a little, and she had to remind herself that she was a grown woman, divorced, mother of two, someone unaffected by long-forgotten emotions. “I think you’d better go.”
His lips clamped together in a hard, thin line. “You’re right. I should. But I thought I’d give you the chance to tell me your side of the story.”
“My side?”
“About the night Harley Taggert died.”
“So we’re back to that.”
“Never left it. Despite everything that happened between us, you never told me the truth.”
“Oh, God, Kane, I can’t.”
He pinned her with a hard glare, then, fleetingly, a hint of regret softened the edge of his jaw. “Look, Claire, I know this will be rough. Okay, so I’m the bad guy, but I’m doing this because it’s time, and I’ve been given the opportunity, okay? Whatever happens, I want you to know that I’m not trying to hurt you or your sisters.”
“Oh, thank God. Now I’m relieved,” she said, unable to hide the sarcasm that crept into her words. “I’ll finally be able to sleep at night.”
“I thought you should know.”
“And I think you should go to hell.”
“Been there.” Scratching his jaw, he eyed her for a long second. “See ya around, Claire. If you decide you want to tell me anything about that night, just give a yell. I’m right across the lake.” Turning on his heel, he jammed his hands into his pockets and sauntered down a path to the boat dock, where tied to one of the bleached moorings was a small motorboat. Kane stepped aboard, cast off, started the engine, and, with a final wave, gunned the motor. The boat made a wide arc, leaving a frothy wake as it curved near the shoreline and headed back to the far side of the lake.
Claire’s insides felt as if they were made of jelly. Why was Kane so insistent to dig up the past, why did he move back into the cabin he’d sworn to hate as a kid, and why, for God’s sake, why did her traitorous heart beat a little faster just at the sight of him?
As it always had.
Because you’re an idiot around men. Always have been, always will be.
Guilt caused her teeth to dig into her lower lip as she watched the wake disappear into the smooth, glassy surface of Lake Arrowhead.
Kane Moran had always been a thorn in her backside, a poor wild kid who’d once had a crush on her, and she’d spent most of her adolescence avoiding him. But it hadn’t always been possible, and there had been times when she’d wondered if her devotion to Harley was the result of fear—a gnawing worry that she should cling to good and decent Harley because the Moran boy with his hang-the-law attitude and air of invincible recklessness had appealed to her on a baser, more primitive, level.
Kane Moran was bound by no rules.
He hated authority and spit in its face.
He was the ultimate rebel.
He was bad with a capital B.
