Page 54 of Kane
If she wanted a clean slate, she needed to break up with him now and for good.
Idling in front of Nathan’s building, tendrils of doubt crept in. Maybe she should have met him in a public place. He’d never lay a finger on her in front of an audience. It was too late to change the plan now, but she wouldn’t be a sitting duck. Leaning to the side, she unlatched the glove compartment and slipped the contents into her purse.
With a deep breath, she surrendered her car to the valet and forged on into the elegant lobby. Each step towards the elevator felt like walking through molasses, but she forced one foot in front of the other. The fingers on her left hand gripped her purse, while she lifted the right to knock.
Nathan swung the door open before her knuckles met the wood. His normally perfect blond hair was slightly askew, one gelled lock falling over his forehead. His mouth twisted, and the dim light from the single lamp in the corner cast shadows across his face. As he tugged her into the room, the unmistakable whiskey scent of Chivas Regal came off him in waves.
“Do you have any idea how many times I have called you over the past few days?” he snarled.
At least fifty. “I’m sorry, Nathan.” She willed herself to sound contrite, but his grip on her arm didn’t ease. “I’ve been working on a deal for Cooper, and it’s kept me very busy.”
“I don’t give a damn about your silly little company. You have an obligation to me, Amanda. Ignoring me is very disrespectful.” Even in the low light, his eyes gleamed with malice.
Rip off the Band-Aid. “You’re right. You deserve someone who can give you the time and attention you deserve.” She cleared her throat. “Right now, I don’t think I can.”
Nathan released her arm with a dark chuckle and gave her his back. He moved to the kitchen and flipped on the light to refill his highball glass. “You don’t think you can,” he echoed, knocking back his drink, then pouring another. He murmured something unintelligible as he refilled the glass.
She stepped closer. “I appreciate the time we’ve spent together, but I think we’d be better off as friends.”
He was smirking when he turned back to respond, but in seconds, his eyes bulged, and his cheeks mottled. The thick crystal glass cracked as he slammed it on the countertop and amber liquid pooled around it. “Friends?” he thundered. “As if I would lower myself to be friends with a two-bit whore like you.”
She took an involuntary step back, expecting him to advance.
Instead, he bellowed, “Lights. Full.” His smart-home features followed his command, triggering the can lights in the ceiling. He dropped his voice. “Who is he?”
She shook her head. There was no way he could know about Kane.
Nathan slammed his hand on the counter next to his abandoned glass. “You barely let me touch you. All your pretty words about waiting for the right time, and you were out fucking some guy tonight. Don’t you dare deny it. The evidence is all over your goddamn face.”
Her fingers flew to her lips.
“I should’ve realized you’d like it rough, baby. Maybe I should grow a beard and see what I can do to your delicate skin. Or maybe I’ll take it out on your ass. See how much your sidepiece wants you after I’m done with you tonight.” With a sweep of his arm, he sent the glass crashing to the floor. He unbuckled his belt as he moved toward her.
He stopped when she pulled the Colt out of her purse and pointed it at his chest.
“No.” The steadiness of her own voice shocked her. “You won’t touch my ass or any other part of me. Not tonight. Not ever again.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to believe you would shoot me?”
“You expect me to let you abuse me?” She scoffed. “I was a fool to take it for as long as I did. I promise you, it’s over. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. And for damn sure, don’t touch me. Or I will do whatever is necessary to protect myself.”
“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.
“Not as much as I regret ever taking your shit to begin with.” She edged backward toward the exit and kept the gun trained on Nathan as she used her other hand to open the door.
Then she was free.
***
Amanda eyed her brother.
Mike Cooper excelled at celebrating good news. Generally, because he loved any excuse for a celebration and predictably partied with beer, fried food, or both.
His medications had ruled out any alcohol for weeks now, but he could still put away French fries like nobody’s business. One after another, he shoved the ketchup-laden potatoes into his mouth, barely taking a moment to chew.
“Stop staring at me, and eat your own damn food,” he grumbled, but he didn’t seem terribly bothered. He got to pick the restaurant, and Zaxby’s topped the list of his favorites.
Conversations overlapped across the room. A variety of people enjoying their lunch breaks filled the seats, from the corporate-type guy next to them in a suit and tie, to the table full of utility workers in their Georgia Power Company uniforms. Fried chicken, it seemed, was the great equalizer.