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Blane led Kade into the kitchen where Anne had obediently stayed where he’d put her. She looked up when he entered.
He smiled. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. There’s someone I want you to meet.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Kade, meet Anne. My fiancée. Anne, this is Kade. My brother.”
It was rare that he could make Kade speechless, but he’d done it this time. Kade’s eyes widened as he looked from Blane, to Anne, and back.
“Fiancée?”
“Yep. I asked and she said yes.” Blane’s smile widened.
Kade finally found his tongue. “Uh, so, congratulations, brother.” He smiled, but it seemed a bit forced. “Same to you…Anne. And nice to meet you.”
Blane glanced down at Anne and was taken aback. She’d turned white as a sheet, her mouth slightly open. Of course. He was making her stand on her bad ankle while he showed her off. She was probably in pain. He was a selfish dick.
“God, Anne, I’m so sorry.” He led her back to a kitchen chair and eased her into it. “The medic will be here soon.” He crouched down in front of her, holding her hand. Behind him, he heard Kade on the walkie talkie, calling in the team. He moved into the other room as he spoke.
“Has it gotten worse?” He’d known he’d pushed her too hard yesterday.
“No, no. It’s fine.” Blane’s obvious concern should have made her feel guilty, but she was too numb to feel anything.
That man—Kade—he was the one. The one in the photos Smithson had given her. The man he said had murdered her brother.
She’d believed Blane. But Blane had also admitted murdering his uncle. If Matt had been onto that story, what lengths would Blane go through to cover that up? He was planning to run for the highest office in the land. And who better to watch his back than his own brother?
Blane was still staring at her.
“Um, can I have some water?”
“Of course.”
That got him out of her face for a few moments. She had to think. Anger was burning in the pit of her stomach and was turning into a boiling rage. He’d lied to her. He was the only one with a motive and means to have murdered Matt.
She realized her hands were clenched into fists and she deliberately relaxed them.
Blane returned with her water and her hand shook slightly as she took the glass from him. He reached for her hand and she avoided the grasp, brushing her hair back from her face and tucking it behind her ear.
The front door opened and the sound of voices and multiple footsteps echoed through the room. A woman entered the kitchen carrying a backpack. She was tall and looked to be of Indonesian descent, with dusky skin and lovely, nearly black hair. Her frame was large but not fat and Anne got the impression she could crush her if she so wanted. Anne leaned back ever slightly as she got close.
“My name is Indah,” she said as she set her bag on the table and opened it. Her accent proved the ancestry that Anne had guessed. “I’m here to help you. May I examine you?”
Anne nodded, still a little trepidatious. Indah had more of a business face than friendly. Bedside manner was obviously not in her repertoire.
With a curt nod, Indah removed a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope and began to take Anne’s vitals. Blane left the room to go talk to his “team”
“Your blood pressure is a little high,” Indah reported.
No kidding. Anne’s anger had not abated, she’d just masked it.
Indah gently probed Anne’s ankle, asking where it was tender, then diagnosed a sprain. Anne fought not to roll her eyes. Duh.
“I’m going to give you a steroid shot in the affected area,” Indah said. “It’ll help with the pain and enable you to walk out of here.” She was readying a syringe and cleaning the injection area with a pad that smelled of antiseptic. Her eyes met Anne’s. “It’s going to hurt like a sonofabitch and it’s not a fast injection.”
Anne nodded. She’d never had a steroid shot before and she wasn’t fond of needles. But then again, who was? And if someonewasfond of needles, they were probably someone she’d steer clear of.
“One…two…” Indah inserted the needle and Anne winced.
“You didn’t get to three,” she ground out through clenched teeth. The burn and pressure brought tears to her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. The area Indah was injecting was particularly sensitive because of the injury, which increased the pain exponentially.
“Less tense if I don’t.” She continued injecting at a pace Anne was sure was intended to last longer than the Second Coming.
