“I’ll take your silence as a no.” Tyler reached for the remote.

She yanked it out of his hand, then had to laugh at his mock pout.

“I love Edward and Bella. Have you even seen any of the movies?” she challenged.

“Hell no. She looks constipated, and I swear he plays for the other team.”

Kata stifled a laugh. She really shouldn’t encourage him. “It’s called angst. Guess you’ve never felt any.”

Tyler leveled a hard stare on her that told her she was dead wrong. Then he saved her from muttering an awkward reply by starting the movie. She stifled what she’d planned to say, since his life was none of her business and she was in no shape to be giving advice. Instead, Kata focused on the familiar Bella Swan voice-over that began the film.

About halfway through, he shuffled into the kitchen for popcorn, and Kata noticed that while it popped, his stare barely left the screen. Pulling one of the sofa’s throw pillows to her chest, she smiled.

“Oh, come on,” he groused. “Helen Keller and Stevie Wonder could both see this love triangle coming. And this movie made how much money?”

Kata threw the pillow at him. “Shh!”

“Don’t shush me, woman, or I’ll take you over my knee.”

She froze. “You roll that way, too? What am I saying? Of course, you do. You’re friends with Hunter.”

And didn’t she feel stupid for failing to figure it out sooner?

A frown creased Tyler’s face. “Roll what way?” He frowned, then shook his head. “Oh, Hunter is into the BDSM thing. Control freak. No, that’s not my thing. I leave that to him and Jack Cole.”

“The Jack who’s coming to get me tomorrow night?”

“One and the same. He’s one cool customer, man. And his wife is a doll. You’ll like Morgan.”

“Because she’s . . .” Kata searched for the most flattering words so she didn’t insult a woman Tyler obviously admired. “Easy to get along with?”

Had Jack erased Morgan’s personality and replaced it with that of a “yes, Sir” kind of woman?

Tyler howled with laughter. “Morgan, easy to get along with? I made that assumption once. She nearly strung me up by the balls. That’s one scary woman when she’s pissed. Even Jack is smart enough to steer clear of her then.”

Kata wasn’t sure how to interpret Tyler’s words. If her mother tried to assert herself, Gordon found a thousand not-so-subtle ways to tell Mamá that she was wrong and her “tantrum” ridiculous. But when he got mad . . . watch out. But Tyler made it sound like Jack heeded his wife’s moods, rather than belittled them. Was that the norm in a BDSM marriage, or just Jack and Morgan’s?

It didn’t matter. As much as she had feelings for Hunter, as much as they were explosive between the sheets, she didn’t belong married to someone she’d met less than two days ago, who could wring both her body and her heart inside out.

She needed to talk to someone. To Mamá, who always understood her.

“Hey, um . . .” she called to Tyler. “I’m going to take a pee break.”

Thoughts whirling, she headed down the apartment’s lone hallway to the bedroom, which was pure masculine—heavy woods, comforter striped with three shades of brown and a touch of black. Guns everywhere, along with a dizzying array of electronic devices.

Kata found her suitcase in the corner and dug into it. There was her cell phone charger. The damn phone had died early this afternoon, and she’d been unable to fish it out under both Luc and Tyler’s watchful gazes.

“Want me to pause the movie?” he called back.

“No, I’ve seen it, so I won’t be lost if I miss a bit. You go ahead.”

With Tyler occupied, maybe she could sneak in a quick, whispered call. Yeah, Hunter had told her that her phone was traceable, but it seemed far-fetched for most anyone outside of a government agency to have access to that kind of technology.

As soon as she plugged the phone in, she silenced the device. Text messages and voice mails started pouring in. Mari, Chloe, Hallie, Ben. She knew what they had to say before reviewing the messages. Sure enough, Mari wanted to know if she was all right after the shooting and if she’d gone insane, marrying a man she’d only just met. She’d insisted that Kata call immediately and bring Hunter around for dinner on Sunday. Clearly, Chloe and Hallie hadn’t yet heard about the shooting because they only wanted the deets on how hot he was in bed. Ben . . . was hurt and confused and angry. And she didn’t blame him. He’d tried to give her the birthday present of her fantasies, and from his point of view, she’d stabbed him in the back. Definitely, she owed him a return call . . . and some sort of explanation.

Another voice mail popped up from an unfamiliar local number. Kata listened to this latest message. When she first heard the woman’s wheezy, scratchy voice, Kata frowned in confusion—until the caller identified herself as Mamá.

“Mija, I heard that someone shot at you.” Concern laced her voice. “Please let me know that you are all right. Gordon is on a trip and took our phone, so I am calling from my neighbor’s.” She coughed, a long string of hacks resounding from deep in her chest that made Kata wince. “Sorry. Gordon says I suffer from allergies, and he is probably right.”

“If that’s allergies, I’m Bigfoot,” Kata whispered, worry toxic in her veins. Her mother’s chest rattled with every breath.

“He left me some ibuprofen and decongestant, so I will be fine soon.” Mamá paused to cough for another long spell. When she resumed speaking, her voice sounded even weaker. “Come by as soon as you can, Mija. I love you.”

As her mother hung up, she began coughing again. Panic raced through Kata. Her mother had bronchitis—or worse. Damn Gordon for being too blind or self-centered to care that Mamá might truly be ill. He’d left her with no car, no phone, and probably no money. In his mind, if she went nowhere, spoke with no one, and did nothing, why would she need it? The bastard knew well that Mamá’s dependence on him made her weak, and nothing gave him a hard-on faster than bending someone to his mercy.

She clutched her phone and tried to decide what to do. Mamá had no way to call a doctor, and she wouldn’t have lingered at the neighbor’s. It would only piss off Gordon if she made a “scene.” Mamá should call Mari, but since her older sister was now a mother herself, Mamá didn’t want to make Mari’s life any busier.

For now, the only way to truly assess how sick her mother might be was for Kata to see her herself.

Kata dropped the phone and reached for the bedroom door. She didn’t know much about Tyler, but he’d been reasonable so far, friendly. Surely, if she explained the situation, he would help her. That seemed logical . . .

Except that Tyler had already refused to take her anyplace she usually visited, like her apartment. His point that the bad guys could have all her usual haunts staked out was well taken. And Tyler’s first allegiance wasn’t to her but to Hunter.

Gripping the knob, Kata froze. What if Tyler didn’t agree to help her? He wouldn’t simply let her go. And all his banter aside, he was very capable of keeping her both safe and sequestered. She had no doubt that if he refused to take her to Mamá, she’d never be able to escape his watchful eye.

Mamá had no one else to help her. Mari was reluctant to help Mamá, since she didn’t want to “help herself” by leaving Gordon. Besides, on Mondays, her sister would be doing some pro bono work in Baton Rouge with several of her colleagues. Her sister’s husband was home with the boys, up to his eyeballs in homework and soccer practice. If she sent Tyler alone, her mother would refuse to answer the door for fear of Gordon’s reprisals. Mamá needed her.

Kata bit her lip. Yes, she knew running off was dangerous; she wasn’t too stupid to understand that. But Mamá had a history of respiratory problems, and Kata had successfully nursed her back to health every time.

“You okay in there?” Tyler called through the door.

She started. How had he made it all the way up the hall without her hearing the footsteps? Tyler might seem like a nice guy, and he definitely flirted, but under all that charm, Kata suspected that he’d be lethal.

“Fine,” she called before he got suspicious. “I’m . . . looking for something more comfortable to wear. Mind if I take a quick shower?”

He hesitated. “No problem, but, um . . . don’t be long. I paused the movie so we could watch the end together.”

Think, think. How was she going to get out of here?

“You mean you do care about Bella and Edward?” she teased to throw off suspicion—and because he deserved it.

“Fine. It’s not total trash. That’s the most you’re getting out of me. Ten minutes, Kata.”

“Perfect. No problem.”

How the hell was she going to escape him in ten minutes?

An idea hit her. She dashed into the bathroom and turned on the shower to mask the sounds to come. Then, hoping this didn’t put her on the grid and in danger, she sent out a quick text to the one person she trusted implicitly and hoped would never refuse her.

Chapter Twelve

SINCE sneaking out of Tyler’s apartment, Kata had experienced the worst twenty-four hours of her life. She paced her mother’s hospital room as dusk turned to dark, raking a hand through her heavy hair. She needed a shower and a meal—and some way to stop herself from strangling Gordon.

“Control yourself, Katalina,” her stepfather snapped. “You look like an elephant stomping from one side of the room to the other. You have your mother’s grace, which is absolutely none, and I—”

“Shut up!” she whirled on him, fists clenched, menace boiling inside her. “How could you fucking leave her alone with no way to help herself when you knew she was sick? She could have died!”

From her chair in the corner, Marisol gave an imperceptible shake of her head. Kata knew what her sister was saying. This would only make Gordon more angry and defensive, something he’d take out on Mamá. Mari was definitely of the don’t-get-mad-get-even school of thought. But Kata couldn’t keep pressing her anger down. She wanted this asshole to pay.

Gordon rolled his pale eyes in his pale face. “You’re being dramatic. Of course the doctor will say she’s at death’s door. He makes more money that way. But this cold isn’t as serious as you imagine.”

“Cold? It’s full-blown pneumonia. If we’d waited much longer, Mamá’s situation could have been life-threatening. Doctors don’t make this shit up.”

“Katalina, no man wants a woman who yells and curses at him, questions his sanity, or corrects him. Coupled with your weight, it’s no wonder you’re still single.”

She was mad enough to chew nails—and spit them in his face. Then tell him that she was no longer single. But now wasn’t the time to start more family drama. She needed to focus on Mamá.

“Well.” Mari rose between them on long legs to her lean, elegant height. “It’s nearly eight. The cafeteria will stop serving dinner soon. Did you eat, Gordon?”

He shook his head and glanced at her mother. “I’m going home. I’ll eat there.”

“After visiting for ten minutes?” Kata’s jaw dropped.

“CSI is on. Carlotta knows I never miss it.”

Even when his wife lay sick in the hospital? She supposed if he could work late tonight to prep for a meeting that wasn’t until next week, he could leave early to watch some stupid-ass TV show. That was so like Gordon. Self-centered to the core.

Kata swallowed back her fury. “Fine. There’s the door.”

“I don’t like your attitude, Katalina.” He gathered up his suit coat and jangled his car keys in his pocket.

Yeah? She didn’t like him, period. But what good would telling him again do? He already knew exactly how she felt.

“Get the hell out of here.”

He harrumphed, then marched for the door like he was the freaking king of England. Loser. The only thing exalted about Gordon was his opinion of himself.

“Good night, Mari.” He speared Kata with a narrow-eyed glare, then left.

If he thought for one minute that she cared about his snub, he couldn’t be more mistaken.

“God, I hate him,” Kata said to her sister once he was down the hall and out of sight.

“No more than I.”

“But you never say anything to him!”

Mari’s raised brows and somber gaze showed thin patience. “No point in making things worse for Mamá.”

Kata knew that her temper often got the best of her where Gordon was concerned. “Sorry.”

Her older sister shrugged. “You do it to defend Mamá. She knows you love her. I do, too, but I won’t get involved again until she decides to leave him.”