With Vengeance (24 page)

Kat reached across the table and took his
hand, fighting back tears for his tangible pain. “I think you’re
wonderful.”

“Thank you.” Something like hope flashed in
his eyes before he squeezed her hand and changed the subject. “And
then there was the time when I worked at a phone sex place…”

By the time the server carried off their
plates and delivered the check, Kat’s stomach hurt from both
laughter and a filling meal. Klement took her hand and led her from
the restaurant, escorting her up the elevator and to a luxurious
suite with its own hot tub.

“The bed is smaller than yours,” Kat
giggled.

Klement’s arms wrapped around her, reaching
for the zipper on the back of her dress. “I think we can still make
it work.”

Indeed he could. In the hot tub
and
in
the bed.

As she drifted off to sleep cradled in his
arms, Kat felt loved even if he hadn’t said the words. But
why
wouldn’t he say them?

Kat chased off the worry. One day at a time,
he’d told her.

It seemed he was serious about trying out a
relationship with her because, after he kissed her awake in the
morning, he suggested they take his car back to the house, which
meant the guys would see them returning together. He told her,
“I’ll pay to have yours parked here for the day, and we can just
get it after we’re done in the studio.”

They didn’t have any bags to pack, so in
minutes they were in Klement’s sleek black 1960 Plymouth Fury,
roaring up the road to Dark Score. Kat wondered if he’d wanted to
spend more time alone with her, or if he was just having her ride
in his fancy classic car to be more like a boyfriend. Maybe it was
a bit of both.

As they walked in Klement’s front door still
dressed in their disheveled finery from the night before, Cliff and
Rod looked up from their breakfasts. The pair’s eyes got big, as it
was obvious that Klement and Kat had spent the night together.

“Hey!” Cliff pinned Klement with an
accusatory glare. “What the hell happened to ‘she’s a colleague,
not a groupie, and should be treated as such’ and
yada-yada-yada?”

Rod gaped. “Wait, Cliff. You mean you
didn’t
know something was going on between them? They’ve
been inseparable since she got here. How did you not notice?”

The singer laughed. “Oh, I did, man. I’ve
just been waiting forever for him to quit hiding it so I could flip
him some shit.” He grinned at Klement. “A least that means there
will be more groupies for me.”

He turned next to Kat and winked. “I’m bummed
that I wasn’t able to show you a good time, but you did pick the
best of us.”

“Speak for yourself, mate,” Rod said before
looking back to Kat and Klement. “You guys better get changed
before we head out to the studio. I’ll get another pot of coffee
going.”

Chapter Twenty

Klement listened to the tracks with a smile.
This was going to be a great album. Maybe even one of their best.
He glanced at the rest of the band, studying their faces as they
listened as well. From their rapt expressions, it seemed they
agreed. No matter what the critics would say about the absence of
Lefty, in the end this would be something to be proud of. Kat’s
playing was revolutionary yet blended seamlessly with Bleeding
Vengeance’s signature sound. Only the most obstinate assholes would
try to argue that.

“What do you think?” Klement asked the
others. “Is it ready to be mixed and mastered?”

“I think it’s bloody great,” Roderick said.
“I can’t wait to hear the final product.”

Cliff nodded. “It’s gonna be perfect. Just be
sure you don’t get into another fight with the mixing engineer. He
makes me sound good. I don’t want to lose him.”

“As long as he doesn’t tune down my bass
tracks or mess with the drums or lead, we’ll be fine.” Klement
still hated the fact that he had to put such crucial work in the
hands of others. He’d mixed their first album, but now the record
company wouldn’t let him control everything anymore, not now that
the band had proven to be a viable product worthy of their
investing their coveted producers and putting more cooks in the
kitchen than were probably needed. With great reluctance, he
admitted that since the band was so successful, he wouldn’t have
the time anyway.

“Kat?” he prodded, when he realized she’d
remained silent.

She looked up with wide dark eyes that
threatened to drown him. “It’s incredible. I can’t believe I was a
part of it.”

He held her gaze and they shared a smile.
“Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

As they left the studio, Klement felt like a
great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He always felt
lighter after finishing an album, but this time the sensation was
multiplied. A lot of it was because they’d managed to pull it off
without Lefty, something they’d all feared would be a disaster. But
he couldn’t help but wonder if a lot of his euphoria was because
he’d gotten everything settled with Kat.

Well, almost everything.

Where do we go from here?
she’d asked
in a heartbreaking, tentative voice.

His one-day-at-a-time suggestion had worked
so far, but it wouldn’t for long. She lived in northern Idaho,
taking care of her mom, and he lived here in Colorado. That
wouldn’t matter when they were touring and recording, but the
months in between worried him. Could a long-distance relationship
work between them? Hell, could he handle being away from her?

He’d shied away from the thought and spent
the last week in bliss with Kat, snatching at every private moment
with her like the priceless treasures they were. To his relief, Rod
and Cliff didn’t seem to be judging him—or, more importantly,
Kat—for the relationship. As the bassist of Viciӧus had been upset
at first for Quinn dating Kinley, Klement had been concerned about
group unity. Thank God his own bandmates were different.

Even better, they didn’t seem to be treating
Kat any differently—well, aside from them no longer hitting on her,
but that was a good thing. Cliff
had
asked how she was in
bed, but mostly to yank his chain, Klement supposed. Either way,
the look on his face had apparently dissuaded the singer from
asking again.

With the album to complete and with the time
to leave for Thrashfest creeping up on them, it seemed there
weren’t enough hours in the day. First the photographer came down
and did a shoot for the inner sleeve; then they consulted with
their artist for the cover image. On top of that, Klement was still
going through the footage of the studio parking lot in his “spare
time,” looking for the mystery car. Although Cliff and Kat hadn’t
had anything happen to them since the dead cat and the sugar, he
wasn’t about to think the psycho had just given up. Even if he had,
he still needed to be caught.

The night before they were due to leave for
Wisconsin, Klement gave a whoop. He’d found the bastard’s car.
After hours of fast-forwarding through jerky images of vehicles
blinking in and out of the lot, he spotted a red Kia. A memory
slapped him in the face a moment later. It looked like the very
same that had made a wrong turn at the base of his driveway behind
Kat when she’d first come to his place.

Duh. It hadn’t been a wrong turn. She’d been
followed.

Freezing the image, Klement made a copy and
uploaded it to his image manipulation software. After another hour
of fiddling with the resolution and lighting, he got the plate
number. Duplicating the image again, he overlaid it on top of the
one he’d been playing with from his own cameras, adjusted the
transparency and made a few more tweaks.

They matched. He
had
the son of a
bitch.

The license plate’s state gave him pause.
Washington? That was far from Colorado. But it was right next to
Idaho.

“Hey, Kat?” he called. “Come here a minute,
would you?”

She came into his office with her Kindle
tucked under her arm. “Yeah?”

“Where did your ex live?”

Her lush lips twisted into a frown of
disgust. “Spokane. Why?”

“The car that delivered the dead cat and also
paid a few visits to our studio parking lot had Washington plates.”
He beckoned her over to see the images on his screen. “Do you think
it might have been him?”

Her frown deepened as she looked at the
picture. “Well, he did get pretty crazy when I broke up with him.
Mom even had to threaten to call the cops because he wouldn’t quit
coming by our house. He sent me threatening text messages, but then
he stopped. Like I told the cops, I haven’t heard from him in
months.”

Klement nearly snapped his pen in half.
Threatening text messages? Stalking her at her house? What kind of
a monster had she dated? Still… “Do you think he followed you to
Denver?”

“I doubt it. I mean, why would he bother? He
didn’t even like me that much when I think about it. He
is
crazy enough, though.” She leaned forward and studied the Kia. “But
that’s not his car. Not unless his income improved since we broke
up. Last I knew, he drove an old Ford pickup.”

Klement tapped the end of his pen on the
license plate frame where a logo was barely discernible. “I’d bet
money that’s a rental.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.” Kat hugged her
arms. “Even then, I don’t think he’d be able to afford it. He only
works construction on and off. Lately, more off than on. Unless…”
She sneered in disgust. “He sold drugs on the side. Not weed,
either, but the hard stuff. That’s another reason I broke up with
him.”

“What’s the first reason?” Klement asked.

She looked down at her feet. “He hit me.”

Immediately Klement flashed back to that
first day in the studio when Kat had dropped her pills and flinched
when he handed them back to her. And when she was curled up in his
lap, shaking from a panic attack from the effects of the pot
cupcake and memories of her abusive father. And, now here she
stood, looking small and vulnerable.

“I’d like to hit
him
,” he growled with
such ferocity that Kat took a step back. “I’m sorry. I’m not really
a violent person, but…” He sighed and shook his head. He might have
been neglected, but at least he’d never gone through anything like
Kat. “Anyway, I’ll let the cops deal with him.” He picked up
Officer Shaw’s card.

“Do you think they’ll catch him?”

The doubt and fear in Kat’s eyes made Klement
want to pull her into his lap. He chuckled, eager to get the son of
a bitch behind bars, whoever he was. “With a plate number and the
records from the rental place? If it is him, most definitely. Not
to mention your testimony.”

“Testimony?” Her face paled.

He scooted back his office chair and pulled
her into his lap. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there with you. And after I
talk to the cops, you should file a restraining order.”

“Okay.” Yet at the mention of cops, she
shivered.

“Don’t worry.” He stroked her back. “That
fuckhead is going down, and I won’t let him near you again.”

“I’m so glad I met you,” she murmured against
his chest.

“Me, too.” His arms tightened around her. His
own life had been bleak before Kat, but he hadn’t realized it.
“Now, let’s get that douche-monkey and concentrate on more
important things.” Like whether she wanted him to come to Coeur
d’Alene for a visit after Thrashfest. Quinn had left his Seattle
condo six months ago to move there to be with Kinley, and he liked
living there, so maybe…

Still cradling her, Klem picked up his phone
and dialed Officer Shaw.

“It’s Klement Burke,” he said when the cop
answered. “The one who reported someone tampering with Katana
James’s car and delivering a dead cat to Cliff Tracey.”

“Hello, Mr. Burke. Has anything else
happened?”

“No, but I identified the car from security
footage from both my house and the studio.”

“Really? Our guys haven’t had any luck with
that.”

“I’m willing to bet I have more experience
than they do with graphics.” Before Shaw could argue, he continued.
“It’s a red Kia, not sure of the year, but I got a plate
number.”

Shaw had him hold while he checked the
read-off number against a database. A moment later the officer was
back and said, “It belongs to Appleway rental cars in Spokane
County, in Washington.”

“That’s what I figured.”

Shaw put him on hold again. When he returned
he said, “They’re closed for the night, so we won’t be able to find
out whose name the rental’s under until tomorrow. But that’ll give
us time to get a warrant.”

“We’re going to be flying out to Wisconsin
for a show tomorrow,” Klement said. “But we already have a prime
suspect for you to look into.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Kat’s ex boyfriend.” Klement cupped the
phone and turned back to her. “What’s his name?”

“Richard Dumascian.”

Klement bit back a laugh. It sounded like
“dumbass,” which fit all too perfectly. And one of the nicknames
for Richard was Dick. That also matched.

“Can she give me his address and physical
description?” Officer Shaw asked after he heard the name. Klement
passed her the phone, and she took it with shaking hands. He kissed
her on the forehead.

This cop isn’t your father
, he wanted
to tell her.

She handled talking to the police much better
over the phone than in person. It helped that Officer Shaw had a
soothing voice, but Klement was sure that most of it had to do with
the fact that she didn’t have to see his uniform.

“Hello. He’s five-ten with brown eyes and
long, curly brown hair.” She paused a moment, fingers moving like
she was twirling an imaginary cord from an old-school land line.
“Oh, he’s white. About a hundred and eighty pounds.”

Klement raised a brow. It was like she was
describing Cliff. Was that why she’d ended up dating the bastard in
the first place? Because they looked alike? Old insecurity rose up.
With his blond hair, blue eyes, pasty skin and freakish height, he
looked nothing like what was probably her preferred type.