CHAPTER 11
Kane was hanging on to his temper by a thread. The thought of someone running her off the damn road pissed him off, but seeing that flash of fear in her eyes tonight—when her own father almost hit her—yeah, that had shoved him straight into full-throttle protective mode. And he hadn’t come down from it since.
“Did you get the make and color of the car?” Kane asked, voice low, controlled, but his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. He wasn’t just asking. He was hunting the bastards.
“It was a black Honda Civic,” Monica answered without hesitation. “It had tinted windows, so I couldn’t see how many were inside, but it had a blue under glow. Hard to miss.”
Kane nodded once, filing it away with the same intensity other people reserved for nuclear codes. “This is your brother’s house, right?”
“Yeah,” Monica said with a small shrug. “We all decided to stay here and leave for the funeral together.”
“Do you have security at your place?” He honestly hadn’t expected her to be this open with him. The first time they met, she would’ve rather chewed glass than talk to him. This calm, exhausted, trusting him without realizing she was doing it version of her threw him a little bit, but in a good way.
“Yeah,” Monica said, glancing toward the hallway before looking back at him.
“What system?” Kane asked, following her line of sight before locking back onto her.
“Knox.”
“Knox?” Kane frowned. “Never heard o?—”
He stopped when he noticed the little girl peeking at them from the dark hallway.
“Is Knox here?” Dena hurried forward, eyes wide as she looked around.
“No, sweetie,” Monica said gently. “He’s at Mr. Cooper’s house. Remember? My neighbor?”
Dena nodded slowly. “The old guy?”
Monica laughed with a wince. “Yeah, the old guy. But maybe… don’t call him that to his face.”
Kane chuckled. So, Knox, her dog, was her security system. He grinned, then focused on the little girl who was watching him closely.
“Okay.” Dena accepted that, then zeroed in on Kane. “Who is he?”
“That’s Kane.”
“I like your eyes,” Dena announced, staring up at him like she was inspecting a new species of man. “Yellow is my favorite color.”
Kane actually smiled—soft and real, the kind he didn’t let many see. “I like your eyes,” he said, winking. “Green is my favorite color.”
“Really?” Her eyes grew even bigger. “My mommy had green eyes too. Did you know my mommy?”
“No,” Kane said quietly, his smile fading slightly. “I didn’t.”
“She died,” Dena whispered, the weight of it far too big for her tiny shoulders. “But Aunt Monnie said I can still talk to her. And I do… but she doesn’t talk back.”
Kane felt something inside him crack. For a man who’d seen more darkness than most, he didn’t think anything was left inside him to break. But this little girl’s pain shattered him anyway.
“Hey, girlie.” Monica swooped in fast, clearly steering the conversation. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“Daddy’s snoring again.” Dena frowned, as if his snoring totally offended her, then rubbed her stomach. “And I’m hungry.”
“Hungry?” Monica gasped dramatically. “Did I—or did I not—watch you inhale an entire plate of French fries?”
Dena giggled when Monica tickled her. “Noooo.”
“Okay, well, what is your tummy saying?” Monica leaned down, staring intently at Dena’s stomach.