I stumble around the edge of the couch, mace aimed at the front door.
Kane. I know the name. It’s followed me through life since birth like a plague I can’t shake off.
I drop my bag, but keep my finger ready to shoot a stream of pepper spray if needed. I have no intentions of speaking to any Kane in this lifetime.
Been there, done that. I don’t exactly see the need to give him a third chance of throwing me away.
So, no. Whoever it is thinking he can play linebacker with my front door can take his heavy-handed crap somewhere else.
Dressed in nothing but a skimpy pair of shorts and a top, I yank my robe off the bathroom wall and shove my arms in the sleeves.
Every muscle in my body is tense, making my movements jerky and robotic. I can feel the heat of his eyes on me but
