Those plans had been developed too many years ago. The drunken ramblings of two young men with nothing to hold on to but the future. At the time, Chase had known it was his dream, not Cam’s. Now Cam had a fiancée, and he was dreaming the dream, and here Chase sat, staring into the darkness amid the shit he had collected over the years.

Only in the past months had Cam begun picking from the family pictures Chase had kept when they sold their parents’ home and property to fund the rest of their lives.

Chase had sworn, the day they sold it, that he would never again lose something that belonged to him. Cameron, too, had needed to sell it, to sever all ties with the county, the small town, where he had known nothing but hell. For Chase, it was bittersweet.

He’d taken the collected memories, the quilts their mother had made, the family pictures and albums, the mementos that were priceless to him, and he’d stored them until they bought this warehouse. Until he had built the rooms and brought in the past that created him.

One of the quilts was on his bed and others lay over the back of the couch, as well as the spare bed. His mother’s prized bedroom suite was in the spare room. The antique dining set was carefully polished by the cleaning lady every week and sat peacefully in his dining room.

And here he was alone.

What the hell had he saved these things for? They didn’t fill the hole he had always felt in his life, and didn’t ease the bleak knowledge that there was no one to share them with. A knowledge he had only begun to realize.

I feel sorry for you, Chase. One of these days you’re going to realize just how damned little anyone cares for you!

That accusation drifted through his head. Joannie Lemaster, his first live-in lover, hadn’t exactly stinted on giving her opinion when he had walked out the door that night to return to work. He had been a federal agent, he had a job to do, and that night he had nearly died doing it.

He’d awakened in the hospital days later, and Joannie hadn’t been there. When he came home, she had been gone. He’d walked into an empty apartment, and the loneliness had slammed inside him.

Several years later he remembered waking alone, sitting up in the bed, his chest on fire, a dream of death and blood so vivid in his brain that his first thought had been of his brother. The next day, he’d received the call he’d been dreading since Cam joined the military.

Cam was near death. They hadn’t expected him to survive. He’d flown to Cam’s side, certain he was going to lose the last link to anyone who truly knew him. And it was his fault. When he returned to the States with his brother, his new live-in lover had left, just as Joannie had. That one he had even put effort into. He’d tried not to be distant. He’d called her when he flew out of the country and called her daily until the day before he flew home with Cam. And she hadn’t even told him she was leaving.

The part that had really hit him was that, that time, the abandonment hadn’t even hurt. He’d made certain she was okay; he’d called and told her goodbye and gone on with his life.

He hadn’t let himself get close to anyone; by then, he’d forgotten how to become close. He’d held his lovers at arm’s length, and his friends even more distant. Only his brother was close to him, and Cam had his own shields in place. There was no risk. Chase had made certain there was no risk in his personal life.

Now there was Kia.

He wasn’t letting go of her so easily. He had tried. God knows, he had tried to remain distant from her, but it hadn’t worked.

He pushed her away with one hand and dragged her closer with the other. It was no damned wonder she was ready to throw something at him.

All the old fears rose inside him where Kia was concerned. The darkness inside him, the intensity. Sometimes he demanded too much from his lovers, he thought. He wanted to know them, he wanted to hear their secrets, know their hearts, yet he’d always held his own back. He wanted to know where they were when they left, needed to be confident they were safe.

Women were softer, they were gentler, and they could be taken so easily. Just as his parents had been taken, as Cam had nearly been taken.

And Moriah. If someone had cared enough about her to recognize the sickness eating away at her, perhaps he wouldn’t have had to kill her. He wouldn’t have had to pull the trigger and kill a friend to save his brother.

She had been sick, and no one had wanted to see it. No one had loved her enough to try to stop her.

And Kia didn’t understand that demon of fear inside him because he hadn’t let her see it. He couldn’t blame her for her anger or her own demands. It was his decision to place that distance between them and he didn’t have the right to be angry now.

But he wasn’t angry with Kia. He ached for her. Hungered for her. And he hated himself every second for it. Because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her. He knew he would go to her again, and again, and he would destroy them both in the process, because she didn’t know how to handle a man who couldn’t bear to hold her in the dark and let her go at the sun’s rising.

He turned back to the whiskey, poured another shot, and tossed it back. It wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to let her go. He would have her again, or he just might die from the need.

15

Two days later Kia sat behind the desk she hadn’t occupied in five years and stared at projections she had come up with for several major accounts at her father’s logistics firm.

There was a lot of open space in company warehouses and wasted resources in other areas. She’d been going over two of those accounts since yesterday morning when she walked into her father’s office and negotiated her pay.

Whoever could have suspected she would have to fight her father to get what she thought she was worth? She thrilled inwardly at the thought. She had gotten less than she wanted, but more than he’d thought he would get by with. Never let it be said her father wasn’t a smooth negotiator.

And he was a tough boss. She had been in his office for hours these two days going over the projections. The logistics firm provided service both nationally as well as globally, and some of the larger accounts seemed to be slipping in areas of delivery and efficiency.

Unfortunately, the person who acquired the accounts and provided the less than sterling projections on them was none other than her former friend, Rebecca Harding’s husband, Marion.

Marion was a nice enough guy. Smooth, definitely. Charming and sociable, if a little quiet. He always seemed to fade into the woodwork whenever Rebecca was present. He was an excellent associate with the company, though, and had brought in several major accounts.

Unfortunately, two of those accounts were about to be adjusted. The adjustments would save the company and the client a hefty amount of money. She doubted Marion was going to appreciate it, though, once he found out about the changes that would be made.

Which would have been close to an hour ago.

She glanced at her door at the sound of her secretary’s voice rising and grimaced just before her door jerked open and Marion stalked in.

Kia leaned back in her chair and watched as he stamped to her desk. She couldn’t say she had ever seen Marion angry. Until now.

“Would you like to tell me what the hell you’re doing?” He slapped the files down on her desk, leaned forward, and braced his hands on the desk.

His hazel eyes glared down at her through the lenses of his glasses and his thinning brown hair had a decidedly mussed look. Which wasn’t Marion at all.

“I think the files are self-explanatory,” she said carefully. “As was the message that we could discuss them, Marion. You didn’t have to burst into my office and cause a scene.”