Luke stared out the small exam room window, waiting for his X-ray results. Outside, several law enforcement vehicles dotted the parking lot, along with a couple of news vans. He let his gaze blur over the scene, now fading in the early evening light. Keira kept creeping into his mind. The woman pushed his damned buttons. Always had. After today, it looked like she always would. The hurt in her eyes when he’d accused her of abandoning Kat . . . Pain pulsed deep in his gut, but this discomfort didn’t stem from his injuries. At least not those inflicted by Rostov. These injuries were self-inflicted. He dug his phone from his jeans and dialed Teague’s number. “Hello?” Teague’s daughter, Kat, answered, her voice drifting over Luke’s exposed nerves and soothing him. A smile turned his mouth. “Hey, princess. What are you up to?” “Playing with my Barbies.” “Mmm.” Luke rubbed his eyes, wincing at the memory of those tiny high heels spiking into his bare instep in the middle of the night more times than he could count during the years he’d parented Kat while his brother-in-law had been in prison.
