Now, nothing. I was missing him, and Madeline had called earlier today to say she’d be staying an extra week on top of the time she’d already been away.
She was avoiding me. And as much as I missed my kid, I was kind of glad she was gone. In her absence I didn’t have to put up a front while I was at home.
Until she returned, anyway, and I was forced to deal with the stalemate we were in. Would she want to keep the house? Would I stay in the city permanently, so far away from my son every day? Our family’s firm handled everything for her father. What would happen to those accounts now? The thing about our marriage was it wasn’t just us. There were a lot of people who’d be affected.
I set my briefcase down and unbuttoned my jacket, walking upstairs to change. I threw on some jeans and a T-shirt and came back downstairs to rummage through the refrigerator. Finding a large bowl of chicken salad Maddie had left, I fixed myself a sandwich and took it into my office so I could get right back to work. I wanted my own firm in the next five years, so if I worked hard enough, built up my clientele and my reputation, I’d be able to be my own boss and set my own pace by the time my son was in school and started to remember what kind of father I was. I’d failed Maddie, but I’d make sure that kid was never sad.
I spent the next hour researching a couple of cases as well as answering a few e-mails and finishing my opening remarks for the GM lawsuit. The proceedings would start next week, so I’d be home even less than I was now. I was half tempted to just get an apartment in the city. The commute was starting to take too much of my time.
Rummaging through the papers on my desk, I stopped. Where is the hell was that fax? I’d grabbed it before I’d left work.
“Briefcase,” I mumbled, standing up. I headed back into the foyer and popped open my case, sifting through file folders for the white piece of paper I needed. But then I noticed a flashing red light from inside the dark case. I picked out my cell phone and turned it on, seeing a missed call from twenty minutes ago. It could’ve been any number of people—a client, Maddie, my father . . .
But my heart suddenly skipped a beat. I didn’t recognize the number, and I couldn’t stop myself. I redialed.
“Denton Auto Repair,” an out-of-breath voice answered.
And I closed my eyes, fighting the heat drifting over my body. Shit.
“Hello?” Kat said when I didn’t say anything. She sounded stressed.
I cleared my throat. “You called me?” I forced myself to say, knowing I should hang up.
She was silent for a moment, and I could hear her labored breathing. My guard went up. Was something wrong? It was after ten. The shop closed two hours ago. Why was she still there?
“Look, I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I shouldn’t have called. Forget it.”
“What’s wrong?” I barked before she could hang up.
“Nothing. I’ll be okay—”
“What happened?!”
I heard her suck in a breath, and I immediately picked up my keys and grabbed my wallet out of my briefcase, not even thinking.
“Are you close?” she asked, her voice sounding hesitant. “I’m at the garage. My ride never showed, there’s no one else I can call, and there’s a weird car sitting outside. I just—”
“I can be there in ten minutes,” I said, already walking out the door and not even caring why she’d called me of all people. “Don’t go outside.”
“Thank you.” I heard the relief in her voice.
I hung up and hurried into my car without any hesitation. That repair shop was off a secluded country road. No way in hell was she walking home.
I sped the entire way there, punching the stick shift into fourth and then fifth, my headlights falling against the blacktop highway and no other cars in sight. I wondered who her ride was that didn’t show. Probably the ex. Right now, I wouldn’t mind running into him again.
Finally, I spotted the lights of the repair shop ahead and slowed the car.
I swung into the parking lot and immediately noticed Kat, ripping her arm away from a man who’d grabbed it, another man standing beside him. I slammed on the brakes and yanked up the parking brake, jumping out of the car.
“I don’t have your money!” Kat yelled, trying to walk around them. Why the hell had she come outside?
“Then maybe we’ll have you work it off for him,” one of the guys snarled. “Huh, honey? Now tell us where he is, because one way or another we get paid!”
“Go to hell!” she barked, and I raced up, putting myself in front of her and shoving one of the guys back.
“What do you want?” I demanded, my shoulders squared and rage pouring out of every goddamn pore on my body.
Both guys were dressed like street thugs, ratty clothes and greasy hair, once of them sporting a huge tattoo on his neck.
“Fuck off, man,” the dark-haired one growled. “She owes us money. Our business is with her. Not you.”
“I don’t owe you anyth—”
“How much?” I asked the guy, cutting Kat off.
He stared at me, narrowing his eyes and looking like he was debating whether or not to deal with me.
“Four hundred,” he finally answered, his voice growing calmer.
I held his gaze and reached into my pocket, pulling out my wallet.
“What?” Kat cried behind me. “No!”
But I took out four bills and handed them over to the punk. “You don’t come near her again. You understand?”