All Lost Things

Book 3 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 20

When I came to, my head was pounding. With every rhythmic throb, I felt a wave of sickness wash through me. I'd turned my head at the last second, so I hadn't taken the shovel in the face, but even so the blow had knocked me out cold. I could feel blood trickling down my neck, and I hoped like hell my skull wasn't cracked.

I tried to force my eyes open. It took a few moments and much concentration to focus my vision, but I slowly realized I was staring at the barn wall. I tried to move and for a second, I thought I was paralyzed, until I found I'd been trussed up, hands lashed behind my back and feet tied together. I struggled to roll over, only to fall back to the floor with excruciating pain shooting through my head.

Obviously, I wasn't going to be moving anywhere too quickly, so I needed to work out a plan to make the best of my limited resources. Since I didn't know how long I'd been unconscious, I wasn't sure when the police would arrive — assuming Novak had even called them. I had to act fast to survive.

As I waited for the blackness and nausea to recede before trying to move again, it occurred to me that the barn was deathly silent. Where had Caleb and Finn gone? What about Asher? Was I alone? Maybe I could get to my phone and call for help again. I rocked slightly to one side, and slowly eased my hands around to my pocket. The phone wasn't there. Then I remembered I'd left it in the stall.

I collapsed onto my stomach again and fought the urge to cry. I wasn't defeated yet.

Carefully, so as not to cause my head to ache any more than necessary, I looked around to see what was nearby. Asher was still stretched out where I'd last seen him, although I noticed they'd taken the time to finish tying him up before they left. They'd moved me to the side of the barn opposite the window. There was nothing within reach except for the pile of discarded tires.

I had to get the ropes off, but how?

I recalled seeing some old, rusted tools during one of my previous visits, and I was almost certain one of them was a scythe. If its blade still retained any edge at all, I might be able to use it to cut through the ropes binding my wrists. I scanned the barn and spotted the wooden handles leaning against the far wall.

Just the thought of crawling all the way over there made my head spin, but it was either that or wait for Caleb and Finn to come back. Gritting my teeth, I started worming my way forward, pausing every few scoots whenever the darkness threatened to overwhelm me.

At that pace, I knew I'd never make it in time. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I realized I'd have to do something drastic—pain be damned. Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I rolled toward the wall.

I was not even halfway there when the nausea became too much. I flopped onto my belly and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. That took more out of me than I would have expected, and I suddenly found that it was all I could do to hold my face out of the vomit. I managed to roll myself onto my back and away from the worst of it, but I'd gone as far as I could go.

I'd tried and failed. It was just a matter of waiting for them to come back and finish me off. I would die an ignoble end — lying in a puddle of my own vomit, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey waiting for the oven. I wouldn't get to say goodbye to Adam or Steve, my mom, Kane, Novak, or Micah...not even Asher.

Asher.

He wouldn't have been there if I hadn't told him to meet with Caleb. It was all my fault. I should have listened when everyone told me to back off. It wasn't just my own life I'd put in danger. Asher was going to die because of me. Without even realizing it, I started to cry.

"You can't give up this easily," a voice said suddenly. My whole body spasmed in fear. I tried to blink away the tears, but the form above me appeared only as a blur. "This isn't the Killian I know. He wouldn't just roll over and die. You've been in tougher situations than this. Come on! You have to keep trying."

"Seth?"

"Yes. Come on." He came into focus, standing over me with a concerned expression on his face.

"I can't..." My voice was thick with tears. "It hurts!"

"I know. You have to fight through the pain."

"Help me. Untie me."

"I can't interact with the physical world. You have to do this on your own. Come on, Killer. I know you can do it. You're strong."

"I'm not. I'm not strong." I squeezed my eyes closed and wished he would just leave me alone to die.

"You are! Listen to me, Killian. You can't give up. If you give up, they will kill you. They'll kill Asher. You have to find the strength somewhere inside you."

"I tried. I'm in too much pain."

"Then I'll do what I can, and damn the rules."

With that, I felt a sudden surge of warmth and strength flow into my body. My eyes flew open, but he was gone. I was alone again. The pain in my head had faded enough that I thought maybe, just maybe, I could reach the wall after all — but not by rolling. I'd had enough of that. Still on my back, I used my legs to push myself along, holding my tender head off the floor. It wasn't easy and it hurt like hell, but it was better than rolling.

After what seemed like a lifetime, I reached the tools. There was a shovel lying on the ground, which I realized was probably the one Caleb had used to bash my head. In a distracted sort of way, I noticed something wet on the back of the blade. It occurred to me that it was probably blood — my blood.

I turned my attention back to the other tools — a hoe, a rake, and...yes!

Leaning next to them was the scythe. Despite being rusted and pitted, the blade still had enough of an edge that I thought I could saw through the old, dry rotted rope. I was just lucky that Caleb had grabbed the shovel and not the scythe, or he might have decapitated me.

Using the wall to brace myself, I managed to work my way to a sitting position. Once I was upright, I had to take a few precious seconds to allow the barn to stop spinning and my stomach to stop roiling.

With a stray thought about when I'd had my last tetanus shot, I started sliding the ropes binding my wrists across the edge of the blade. It didn't take long to realize that it was going to be a very slow process. I couldn't get a decent angle or enough pressure. I was sawing away when the handle began to slide along the wall.

"No, damn you," I gasped, but of course the scythe didn't listen. It slid slowly down the rough boards of the wall, almost in slow motion. With a thud, it landed on the floor beside me.

I almost burst into tears again until it occurred to me that I might be able to find a better angle this way. I repositioned myself and started sawing again. It felt as if it was going much faster, but I was sharply aware of precious minutes ticking by before the ropes finally fell loose. As quickly as I could, I spun around and started cutting the ropes that bound my feet, which went much quicker with the use of my hands.

Free at last, I slowly, shakily pulled myself to my feet, leaning heavily against the wall. After the barn stopped going around in circles like one of those carnival rides that always made me want to throw up, I took stock of my situation.

The window was tantalizingly close, but I wasn't sure I could maneuver myself through the opening without falling, which in my current condition was not an option. Besides, if Finn and Caleb were on their way back, they would undoubtedly see me. The door was the obvious choice, but it felt so far away, and I remembered clearly how difficult it had been to open the first time. It hadn't looked any easier when Caleb forced it shut earlier.

The relief I'd felt upon freeing myself was fading, as was the accompanying surge of strength. If the wall hadn't been at my back, I wasn't at all sure I would have been able to remain standing.

I knew I had to make a move. I couldn't stay where I was all day. Maybe I could make it to my phone. I gingerly pushed away from the wall and took a few wobbly steps. I grabbed the tractor and held on for dear life while I waited for the world to stop spinning. My head was throbbing even when I stood still and the slightest movement caused blinding flashes of pain. My stomach felt like it was competing in an Olympic gymnastics floor routine.

I was trying to summon enough energy to cross the rest of the distance to the stall when I heard voices approaching. My heart started racing as I tried to figure out what to do. With a burst of energy that I didn't know I had in reserve, I stumbled across the floor to the stall door and dropped down out of sight. The brief expenditure took its toll as the nausea rose up again. I frantically fought it down to keep from betraying myself by retching.

"What the fuck?" Finn exclaimed moments later. I heard something hit the ground with a heavy, metallic thud.

"Where'd he go?" Caleb's voice cracked in panic. There was some scuffling around. "Here's the rope. Damn it! The fucker cut them off. You look outside. I'll look in here."

"Why would he hang around?" Finn argued. "If he got loose, he took off. The police are probably on their way. We should go."

"We have to find him. He was in pretty bad shape. I hit him really hard. He couldn't have gotten far. We weren't even gone that long."

"I think we should just set the barn on fire like you planned. If he's still in here—"

"We can't take the chance. Go look for him. We're wasting time."

There was no response, but I heard noises indicating that Finn was climbing back out the window. I could tell by the sound of breathing that Caleb was still in the barn.

I knew I didn't have much time. The stalls would be the first place Caleb would search. I looked around for something to use as a weapon but I didn't see anything. Then I noticed the edge of a board mostly buried under a rotting pile of hay. I carefully tugged it out, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The board wasn't very long, only a little more than a foot, but there were a couple of rusty, bent nails in the end. It would have to suffice. I pushed it behind my back so he wouldn't see it right away.

I only had to wait a few seconds before Caleb swung open the door of the stall and spotted me. A small, cruel smile twisted his lips. "Found you."

I forced a smile of my own. "I didn't know we were playing hide-and-seek."

"What did you think we were playing?" He stepped forward and grabbed me roughly by the arm.

I whipped out the board and smashed it across his face. "Tag. And you're it," I gasped.

I half pushed, half pulled myself to my feet and rushed past Caleb's crumpled form. He was holding the side of his head and screaming, but I didn't stop to assess the damage. I was running on pure adrenaline, heading straight for the door. I reached it and started tugging on the handle. It gave a few inches, but not enough for me to squeeze through. I yanked again, but before I could get it open, a pair of arms wrapped around me and started dragging me back.

"Let go!" I struggled, but I was too weak to put up much of a fight.

"Stop," Finn hissed in my ear. "I'm trying to help you, but you have to stop fighting me."

I wasn't at all convinced that he was going to help me, but the brief wrestling match had already consumed my scant remaining energy. The dizziness and nausea were back with a vengeance, and I was fighting just to stay conscious.

He dropped me to the floor next to Asher, who still hadn't moved.

"Just...stay there," Finn panted as he moved towards the stall where Caleb was still screaming and cursing.

Through my haze of pain and sickness, I began to get concerned for Asher. I hadn't seen what they did to him, but I'd been hit pretty hard and had come to. He still hadn't.

I pushed myself up on my elbow and leaned in close to his face. I could feel his breath on my cheek, so at least I knew he was still breathing.

I turned my attention to Finn and Caleb.

Finn was leading Caleb out of the stall. Caleb had one hand pressed to the side of his head as blood dripped freely down the side of his face. The collar of his shirt was already crimson. Finn looked shell shocked. He walked Caleb to the wall by the window, lowered him to the floor, and pulled off his own shirt to press against Caleb's wound. Then he straightened up and looked around helplessly.

"Bit off more than you can chew?" My voice sounded weak and shaky, even to me.

Finn focused on my face. "Oh God. We really fucked up, didn't we?"

"You'd better believe it. You do realize there's no way you can possibly get away with this, right? What was Caleb's plan anyway — to burn the barn down with us in it?"

Finn nodded jerkily. "He said he'd figured it all out. He was going to blame everything on Asher, saying that he was overprotective and jealous, so he killed Caleb's dad and then Marco, too, when he found out Caleb had been cheating with him."

"And me?"

"Asher was killing you to keep you from finding out what he'd done, and he accidentally got caught in the fire."

"Shut up," Caleb snapped suddenly. "Don't talk to him. We have to kill him. Where's the gas can?"

I closed my eyes for a second, which was a mistake. I wasn't sure I could force them back open, but I managed. It took another second to refocus on Finn, who was watching me as if waiting for direction.

"How are you going to explain Caleb's wound?"

Caleb growled, "Don't listen to him. We'll figure it out later. Just get the gas."

Finn started shaking his head. "No."

Caleb looked at him in disbelief. "What do you mean, no?"

"I'm not helping you anymore. This is stupid. We can't keep killing people."

"The killing will stop after these two."

"No. The killing stops now. I'm going to call an ambulance." Finn started for the window, but before he could reach it, Caleb grabbed the scythe I'd left on the ground and swung it at Finn.

I tried to scream out a warning, but Caleb moved too quickly. The scythe connected with Finn's back with a sickeningly wet thud. Finn stumbled forward with a strangled cry to crash against the window frame. He slowly slid down the wall with a whimper.

Caleb pulled himself to his feet, Finn's bloody shirt forgotten in the dirt. "Goddamn it, you fucking idiot," he snarled. "Did you really think I'd just let you walk out of here and call the police? You can die with them now. I guess Asher killed you out of jealousy, too. God! You're so pathetic. I don't know how you ever managed to kill Marco."

While he focused all his attention on Finn, I began to crawl toward him, reaching him just as he finished his tirade. As he started to turn around, I grabbed a piece of rope and threw myself against his legs. He tripped over me and hit the floor. Before he could recover, I wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled as hard as I could.

He clawed at my hands, thrashed around, and kicked with all his might, but I didn't let go. Even when he threw himself back, slamming my head against the wall, I held on as if my life depended on it — because it did. Even when the barn door exploded open and police officers poured in, I refused to let go. Kaplan had to pry my hands off the rope.

I watched distantly as Caleb fell limply to the floor and two burly officers flipped him onto his back and began to give him CPR.

Kaplan squeezed my cheeks and forced me to look him in the face. I realized he'd been asking me a question. "Killian, are you okay?"

I offered him a feeble smile. "I think I'm going to pass out now."

The next time I regained consciousness, I didn't even try to open my eyes. I wasn't sure I wanted to know where or how I was. Had the police rescue been a hallucination? Was I still in the barn, waiting for Caleb to finish me off?

I gradually became aware of two people conversing nearby, one male and one female.

"I don't know. It will depend on how he feels when he wakes up," the woman was saying.

"But he will wake up?" the man clarified. I thought it might be Kaplan.

Maybe I hadn't imagined his timely arrival.

"Oh, yes. We fully expect him to be fine. He has a pretty serious concussion, but that seems to be the extent of his injuries aside from a few minor cuts and bruises."

"Will he be doped up?"

"No, but he will have a monster headache. Does this have to be done right now?"

"I'm afraid that it's very important that I talk to him as soon as he wakes up."

"Would you like us to call you?"

"No, I think I'll wait right here if that's alright with you. Until we know for sure what's going on, I'd like to keep an eye on him."

"Of course, Sergeant. I have my rounds to get to, but I'll check back in shortly."

I guessed the woman was my doctor, so I figured I was in the hospital. I wasn't a private investigator for nothing.

I knew I should open my eyes and get it over with, but it was awfully nice just lying there. I started to doze off.

"Hank, I didn't expect to see you here," a new voice spoke up, suddenly snapping me to alertness.

Novak had arrived.

"Shane, hello," Kaplan responded. "I'm hanging around until Killian wakes up."

"What are the doctors saying?"

"He has a bad concussion, but that seems to be the worst of his injuries."

Novak huffed. "Have his parents been notified?"

"Yeah. His dad is on his way here. Sounded pretty frantic when I called."

"He's lost one son. I think he's a little paranoid that he'll lose another."

"Understandable."

"Is anyone else awake and talking?" Novak asked.

"A couple of them are awake, but nobody's talking. Let's just hope your protégé here wakes up soon and remembers what happened."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about Killian. He's sharp, maybe the sharpest I've ever worked with. The kid's only eighteen and he's better than most rookie officers I worked with when I was on the force. He has a natural talent for detection."

"Not to mention a natural talent for almost getting himself killed. He's been in the hospital a few times. I took a look at his files from the last time he was tangled up in a murder investigation."

I decided that I'd eavesdropped enough. I blinked my eyes open and took in the room. Novak and Kaplan stood near the door. At first, neither of them noticed that I was awake.

"Maybe you can answer some of my questions while we wait," Kaplan was saying. "What was he doing out there to begin with? I thought I told him to back off." His voice held more than a touch of reproach.

Novak sighed. "I warned him to drop it, too, but he's like a bloodhound — once he's on the scent, you can't shake him. He came in this morning with some song and dance about how he was sure the Cohen kid was guilty and he wanted to ask a few more questions. I didn't think there would be any harm in that. I thought he would get it out of his system."

"Well, there was harm, and a lot of it."

"It's not Novak's fault," I spoke up, my voice croaky.

They spun around with twin expressions of surprise that would have made me giggle if my head hadn't hurt so much.

Novak approached my bed with a concerned expression. "Killian, how do you feel?"

"Do you feel up to answering some questions?" Kaplan demanded.

"I feel like I got hit by a tractor trailer," I answered truthfully, "but I can answer some questions. First, though, where's my family?"

"They're on their way," Kaplan told me. "I called them about twenty minutes ago."

"Are you sure you're up for questions now?" Novak asked.

I nodded, which turned out to be a mistake. My head felt as if it could implode at any moment. I squeezed my eyes shut until the pain retreated. "Go ahead."

Kaplan set a mini digital recorder on the tray table and swung it over my bed. "I'm going to record this, if that's okay."

"Fine." The mention of recording reminded me of my phone, so I forced my eyes open. "Wait. Did you find my phone?"

"Your phone?" Kaplan asked.

"Yes. It was in one of the stalls. I started recording and hid it."

Kaplan's eyebrows jumped up, then he pulled out his cell phone and called someone.

"Are you still out at the Cohen barn? Great. Search the stalls for a cell phone. Let me know when you find it."

He ended the call and turned his attention back to me.

"Let's hope your phone has a good microphone. In the meantime, let's get your statement. When I start recording, I'm going to read you your rights, so don't get alarmed. For now, I have to treat you as a suspect. We did find you strangling Caleb Cohen, after all." He pressed the record button, waited several seconds, then read off the date, time, and a few other bits of official information, including my name, before reciting the Miranda rights and asking me if I wanted a lawyer present.

I shook my head gingerly.

"Please answer out loud. The recorder can't hear you shake your head."

"Uh, no, I don't need a lawyer. At least, I don't think so." I looked to Novak for assurance but he just shrugged, which wasn't very comforting.

"Can you tell me what happened at the Cohens' barn?"

I took a deep breath and started recounting my conversation with Paige Haynes. I explained how Caleb's story didn't match Finn's, and how Caleb had called Asher after I left his house. When I got to the part about how I hid in the barn to eavesdrop on Caleb's conversation with Asher, Kaplan's expression darkened but he didn't interrupt. Apparently, he was saving his questions for the end.

I glossed over the way I'd prodded Caleb into his admission by telling him the things I'd seen in my dream, although I supposed that would all be on the recording. I'd deal with that later. By the time I wrapped up my story, I could tell both Kaplan and Novak were itching to start interrogating me.

Kaplan beat him to the punch. "So Caleb Cohen admitted he killed his father, Ira Cohen?"

I started to nod, but remembered the recorder. "Yes."

"He just blurted it out?"

"Pretty much." I felt a little guilty about lying, but I certainly didn't want to discuss the dream with Kaplan and Novak until I had to.

"And he implied that Finnegan Byrnes killed Marco Martino?"

"Yes."

"Then he clearly stated that he intended to kill you, Asher Davis, and Finnegan Byrnes?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. That's all I need to know for now." He reached out and turned off the recorder. "Now that I'm not taping our conversation, if you ever pull something like this again, I'll throw your ass in jail."

I frowned. "I caught the killer."

"The killer caught you. Not to mention that if we hadn't arrived when we did, you would have most likely strangled the Cohen kid to death."

My eyes grew wide as I remembered choking Caleb. "Is he okay?"

"He survived. He's got a pretty nasty gash on the side of his head from your makeshift club, but a few stitches closed it right up. He probably has a sore throat as well. Other than that, he's fine, at least physically. He knows he's in big trouble."

"What about Asher and Finn?"

"Byrnes is still in surgery. The scythe blade went pretty deep, punctured a lung and did some other internal damage. The surgeons say he should survive, but we haven't been able to talk to him yet.

"Davis is conscious, but unfortunately, doesn't remember much. He made out the best of all of you. He has a lump the size of a goose egg on the back of his head and a pretty wicked headache, but other than that, he was uninjured."

"I can sympathize with the headache."

"Your headaches haven't even started." Novak had been stewing silently while Kaplan updated me on the condition of the others, but he couldn't hold it in any longer. "I can't believe you pulled such a stupid stunt!"

"How was I supposed to know it would be so stupid? I called you as soon as I knew it was going bad."

"At least you admit it was stupid. My issue isn't even so much that you were there alone, although we've already had that discussion several times, but that you put yourself in danger. You confronted Caleb after you texted me. If you'd just stayed hidden until the police arrived, you'd be fine."

"If I'd stayed hidden until the police arrived, Asher might be dead. I did what I thought I had to do to protect him."

"If you hadn't told Asher to meet with Caleb, he wouldn't have been there in the first place."

"And maybe we wouldn't know who the killer is!"

"All right, you two. What's done is done," Kaplan interrupted. "It's over now. There's no point arguing about it. I just hope you've learned from your mistakes."

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "I have. Trust me."

"I hope so," Novak muttered.

"I was talking to you, too," Kaplan told Novak.

My eyes snapped open as Novak gave Kaplan a surprised look.

Kaplan continued, "I know you think highly of Killian's investigative skills — and justifiably so — but that doesn't change the fact that he's an eighteen-year-old kid with almost zero training. He shouldn't have been out on a dangerous case by himself."

Novak nodded tersely. "You're right. We were both at fault." He turned to me. "No more solo work for you until you're better trained."

"I still have a job, though?"

Novak arched one brow. "I think it's better to have you where I can at least monitor you."

Kaplan snorted. "Monitor? Hell, I'd say he needs twenty-four-hour supervision."

I frowned. "Can't someone admit I did a good job? I mean, sure I got banged up a little bit, but I did catch a murderer."

"You did," Kaplan admitted. "While I wish you'd been a little more careful — make that a lot more careful — you did manage to get an admission of guilt out of him, even if it is just hearsay at the moment. If your phone managed to pick up any of that, we'll have a pretty ironclad case. And based on what you said, I'm willing to bet that once the Byrne kid wakes up, he'll sing like a canary. Next time, though, try not to put yourself in danger — or almost kill the suspect."

I grinned. "Yes, sir." My smile slipped away as a question suddenly occurred to me. "What took the police so long anyway?"

Kaplan's expression took a dark turn. "We didn't know what the situation was when Novak called in the request for officers to be sent to the Cohen barn, so we radioed for a cruiser to check the premises. He must have shown up while Caleb and the Byrne kid were gone to get the gasoline, because he just peeked in the window and didn't see anything. The idiot didn't even go inside to look around. This is the same officer who also didn't find Caleb's hideaway in the hayloft."

"Wait...I don't understand. If he didn't see anything, where did all the police come from?"

"When he reported back that no one was in the barn, I called Novak and he said he was concerned because you weren't answering your phone, so I came down myself with more officers. We got there just in time to keep you from committing homicide."

"Justifiable! It was in self-defense."

"Maybe. That would have been for the court to decide and, if I'm not mistaken, you've been through that circus before."

Blushing, I quickly changed the subject. "What will happen to that first officer?"

"There will be disciplinary action. Let's just leave it at that."

Just then the door burst open and my family flooded in: Adam, Steve, Kane, and, much to my surprise, Micah. Everyone was talking at once. I couldn't understand a single word anyone was saying. A female nurse came bustling in behind them and tried to bring some order to the chaos, but no one paid her any attention.

"Everyone, please!" she finally shouted over the din, and everyone fell quiet. "We can't allow this many people in the room at once. Two at a time, please."

They all exchanged looks, but no one made any move to leave. Steve stepped forward and made the decision. "Were you done with Killian?" Steve asked Kaplan and Novak.

Kaplan nodded. "For now."

"Then Adam, why don't you and Micah go first? The rest of us will draw straws or something."

Micah spoke up quickly. "No, you stay with Adam." He gave me a big smile. "Now that I see he's okay, I can wait my turn."

I smiled back at him, and everyone but Adam and Steve filed out of the room.

Adam stayed by the door, staring at me reproachfully. He couldn't decide whether to be angry, relieved, or upset.

"If you weren't eighteen, I'd ground you until you were forty," he said at last. "I'm damn well tempted to anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Do you have any idea..." He looked as if he was about to burst into tears.

"Adam, I'm fine, really. It's just a bump on the head, that's all."

"This is what I was afraid of when you told me you wanted to be a private investigator."

"These were unusual circumstances, and I made some bad decisions. It won't happen again."

He shook his head and sighed. "You can't promise that, Killian, and I can't ask you to. It's the job you've chosen, at least for now, so we just have to deal with it. I can hope something like this won't happen again, but there are no guarantees. Why couldn't you have picked something nice and safe, like lion taming or storm chasing?" He gave me a weak smile.

I held out a hand to him, and he finally approached the bed. He gave me a gentle hug, then stepped back to allow Steve to do the same.

Steve gave me a grin. "I really hate seeing you in a hospital bed."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly fond of being in one."

"You'll probably be able to come home with us today," Adam interjected. "In fact, I'll go see what I can find out right now. I'm sure Micah and Kane are itching to get in here, anyway."

He gave me another careful hug and a light kiss on the forehead, then he and Steve left. A few seconds later, Kane came in alone.

"Where's Micah?"

Kane rolled his eyes. "He sent me in by myself. He tried to say I should have some private time with you as your brother, but I think he wants you to himself." I couldn't hide a pleased smile, and Kane snickered. "You know, you probably shouldn't have sex in here. A nurse might walk in."

I glared at him. "Shut up."

He hopped onto the bed next to me and waggled his eyebrows. "So, give me all the gory details."

I laughed, which hurt my head. "You're too much."

He wouldn't be deterred, so I had to give him a quick rundown of what had happened. "I'll give you more details when I get home. For now, get lost. And send Micah in."

He snorted and hopped off the bed. "Yeah, yeah. You just want your hospital handjob."

"Kane!"

He laughed as he darted out the door.

My face was probably still red when Micah came in. "Hey, there," he said softly.

"Hi. I guess you got your story, huh?"

He waved my comment away. "I let Walters have it."

"You what? But that was your big break!"

"I wasn't worried about the story. I was more worried about you."

"But our deal..."

He shook his head, then came closer and took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "I don't care about the deal. You scared the hell out of me."

"How did you even know what was going on?"

"We have a police scanner at work. I heard there was an attempted murder at the Cohens' barn and immediately knew you were involved. I flew out of the office, probably broke several laws driving out to the property. You were already on your way to the hospital by the time I got there, so I came directly here. I was trying to find out what room you were in, but since I'm not related, they wouldn't tell me anything. I was just about to lose my cool and play the journalist card when Adam and your family stormed in, so I just tagged along."

"You really gave up the chance to cover the story to come see me?"

"It was a no-brainer. It...it scared me, Kill. I didn't know what I'd find when I got here."

"As you can see, I'm fine."

"You'd better be! How else am I going to take you dancing again?"

"Just dancing?"

"We'll see." He stared into my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat. We stayed like that for a few moments without saying a word, just gazing into each other's eyes. Suddenly, Micah's face grew serious. "Actually, I have an important question to ask you."

I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach. "You do?"

"Think I can kiss you?"

I pretended to think it over. "I don't know. I have one hell of a headache."

"I'll be gentle."

I smiled. "In that case..."

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