Kane Page 11

  He shuddered as he pulled up to the massive apartment complex. It was the same place where Scott had dragged him all those years ago. The place where a wannabe gangbanger carved a fucking ravine across one side of his face. The place where life as he knew it came to a screeching halt.

  He parked next to his brother’s Dyna Low Rider and tried to ignore the burned-out shell of Building D as he walked past. After all these years, no one had touched a thing; it was left like a macabre monument to the families who died inside. Or maybe no one had the money or the motivation to fix it.

  Rubbing over the scar on his cheek, he ambled to Building E, projecting a nonchalance as real as a three-dollar bill. The last thing he needed was for anyone to smell blood in the water.

  The door opened before he had the chance to knock. He didn’t recognize the guy who waved him in, but he looked young enough to be in high school, dark skin, hair cropped close to his scalp, jeans, and a T-shirt. But his eyes were older, and the handle of a handgun peeked from his waistband.

  He pushed down his misgivings and followed the sound of his brother’s voice.

  “—won’t be any problem at all. We have the men to keep the business running and a reputation guaranteed to give anyone second thoughts before they try to fuck us out of our money.” Scott wore his cockiest smile as he talked up the club to a black guy in his mid-fifties wearing an impeccable gray three-piece suit over an open-collared black dress shirt.

  The man traced the thin beard along his jaw with the back of his fingers. “Very good, Mr. Hale, because if we go into business together, your money is our money.” He turned to a small entourage of three men behind him. “Jay, what do you think?”

  The guy who scowled had on black jeans and a white shirt with a leather jacket that had to be stifling in the warm apartment. “You know what I think, Ace. Our focus needs to be on what happened to Sucre.”

  The guys around him nodded in agreement.

  Ace, obviously the boss, shook his head. “We talked about this.”

  “You asked me my opinion and this is it.” Jay broke away from the group and paced the room. There wasn’t a lot of space, but it looked way nicer than Kane would have ever expected from the outside. A black leather sofa and chair in the living area to their left. A big flat screen on the wall. And a long glass table to the far right of the room. It had probably been moved to create the empty space where they were standing. In most apartments, it would be the eat-in kitchen.

  Something told him no one cooked here; no one shared this space for a family meal.

  No. This place was for business, and their visits couldn’t happen often. No dishes anywhere. No garbage cans. And a light sheen of dust reflected off the face of the television.

  Jay’s lips pinched. “Sucre didn’t just walk away from us.”

  Kane’s stomach turned. They couldn’t know the club took Sucre out. He and Scott were out-numbered. If this went bad, neither one of them would walk out of here alive.

  Thankfully, Jay seemed oblivious to his discomfort. “The guy was creepy as fuck, but he never gave us reason to doubt his loyalty. He paid on time. He met his obligations.” Jay got more animated as he went on. “He was our associate, and whatever happened to him is a reflection on us.”

  Ace shook his head with the sufferance of a father explaining something to his wayward son. “We have no reason to believe he didn’t take his money and move to the Bahamas.” It echoed of an argument made many times before.

  “Bullshit, man, and you know it.” The men who had been standing with Jay nodded with his words. “Someone knocked him off, and whoever did it took out his whole crew. Unless you think they all went to the Bahamas.”

  “Enough.” Ace’s hand sliced through the air. “I told you this already. If we find out someone killed de la Cruz, we’ll handle it. In the meantime, we have a business to run. To make money, we need a distributor. My only question to you now is who it’s going to be.” He turned back to Scott. “Obviously, we’ve had a lot of interest in what’s only been a short period of time. In my opinion, however, your club seems to be one of the most suited for possible success.”

  Scott smiled. “We wouldn’t ask for the job if we weren’t up for it.”

  The man waved away Scott’s reassurance. “Obviously, your club has made a name for itself in weapons. I understand you work on the up and up, and you know how to be discreet. My only concern is the impact of your plan to diversify.”

  There was a reason this guy was in charge. He asked the right question, and it was the one Scott seemed determined to ignore.

  His brother tilted his head to the side like he didn’t understand what Ace was saying. Maybe he didn’t.

  Kane cleared his throat. “We’re still committed to our original business partners. Loyalty is important to us too.” He gave what was supposed to be a reassuring nod to Jay, who was still pacing in front of the flat screen. “We’ve worked with those partners for over a decade. Our club has grown over the years, and we have enough men to run both operations.”

  One of the guys who had been standing by Jay spoke for the first time. His arms were folded tightly in front of him. “Sucre had more than twice as many men.”

  No one was looking at Scott anymore. Kane liked it better when he’d been invisible. “Like us, Sucre had diverse interests. But unlike us, he had no other partners. He needed more enforcers to collect on the loans he fronted.” He shrugged and held up his empty palms. “We have no interest in becoming loan sharks. The startup costs are way too high, and policing the returns requires additional manpower and yields unreliable results.”

  Ace raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.” He shooed Jay out of the room, and his lieutenant returned a moment later with two big black duffel bags, which he dropped at Kane’s feet.

  “H in one bag, coca products in the other.” Ace stepped closer to him, Scott all but forgotten. “You want meth, make your own. Weed and pills, you’ll have to get somewhere else. But I will be your only supplier for the products I carry.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway. “My brother has your guns.”

  Two of the men sat with Scott at the table to sort out the weapons.

  Ace stood two feet from Kane. He spoke softly. “One last thing. No matter how unsavory all this is, it is a business. And I am a businessman.”

  There was no doubt in his mind.

  “Your brother is not.”

  No doubt of that either.

  “Before you spoke up, I was prepared to walk away from his proposition. However, you strike me as someone I could work with. This…association between my people and yours is contingent upon your continuing involvement. I assume my caveat is amenable to you.”

  He glanced at his brother whose jaw was now clenched shut. Ace had spoken softly, but Scott had clearly heard it all.

  It didn’t matter, though. This was the deal; take it or leave it.

  “It’s fine,” he agreed gruffly.

  “The guns check out.” Jay hoisted Scott’s heavy backpack onto his shoulder.

  Ace smiled and offered Kane his hand. “Then it looks like we have a deal.”

  ***

  Scott didn’t say a word as they walked back to their bikes, each with a duffel bag in hand. His face was unreadable—at least to anyone who didn’t know him—but Kane knew there was emotion simmering beneath his skin.

  It only took a few minutes to get back to the clubhouse, and even then, Scott said nothing as he stomped in the door, heading directly to the chapel.

  It wasn’t until Kane stepped in behind him and closed the door, his brother dropped the duffel and whirled around with an expression on his face loaded with hurt and betrayal. “How could you do that? You knew this was my deal.”

  Sighing, he set down his burden on the table. “I didn’t even want to go at all, Scott. But you and Malcolm made damn sure it happened anyway.”

  “This is how you get back at me?” Scott raked his fingers through his hair. “Yo
u try to undermine me? Make this your deal? We’re brothers. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

  Kane balled his hands into fists. “The last thing I wanted was for this to be my deal. I think it’s a terrible idea, which you know damn good and well. It should have been more obvious than ever when those guys started making noise about avenging Sucre. They find out it was us, they’re coming for every brother wearing a cut.”

  Scott rolled his eyes. “If they were really worried about what happened, they would be looking for us regardless.”

  “But by approaching them, we drew a big fucking bullseye on our backs.” Scott could not be this fucking dumb.

  “Nobody forced you to come.” Scott grabbed the pack of Camels on the table and stuck a cigarette between his lips. He marched outside the back door, and Kane followed on his heels. “I could’ve brought Cue Ball with me.”

  Funny. Scott never mentioned Cue Ball when he told him about the meet. “You think I would have ever chosen to go back there?”

  Scott lit his cigarette, then took a long drag. He blew the smoke out defiantly.

  It took everything he had not to close the distance between them and knock the cigarette out of his fucking mouth. “The last time you dragged me there, I almost died. Twenty other people actually did.”

  Scott’s eyes darkened, his hurt feelings giving way to something harder. “Who took care of you when you got out of the hospital, huh? This club did. I did. Your precious old lady kicked you to the curb, and your family stayed with you to pick up the pieces.”

  He stepped into Scott’s face. “There would have been no pieces to pick up if you hadn’t manipulated me into going in the first place.” He poked his brother in the chest. “You want me to thank you? For almost getting me killed? For ruining my fucking life? Fuck you, brother. You’ll go to your grave waiting for any thanks from me.”

  Pain bloomed across his cheekbone before he even realized his brother had taken a swing. But it was fine. It gave him permission to finally let go.

  He hit back with a hard punch to Scott’s gut. Then, as his brother doubled over, he grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him down until Scott’s head connected with his knee. But instead of assuaging the ember of rage inside him, the violence only fed the flame.

  It was almost a relief when Scott threw another punch.

  He knocked it away with his forearm and with a howl, used his shoulder as a battering ram to knock his brother to the dead grass at his feet. It would be so easy to kick him while he was down. Or to climb on top of him and whale on his face until it was beaten to nothing short of raw hamburger.

  But Malcolm grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him back.

  He hadn’t even heard him come out.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  For a moment, he was tempted to land his next punch across his father’s weathered face, but he forced his anger under control. It was a skill he’d damn-near perfected over the years. “Scott’s pissed the supplier wants me to take the lead as the liaison for the club.”

  “He’s pissed, huh?” Malcolm looked meaningfully at Scott as he pulled himself to his feet.

  He shrugged. “He threw the first punch. I threw the last.”

  The explanation seemed to satisfy his father. He turned away from Scott to give Kane his full attention. “Do we have a deal?”

  “The product’s right there.” He used his thumb to gesture toward the door behind him, the duffel bag on the table inside. “We’ve got to be careful, though. They’re real squirrely about Sucre.” He and Scott followed their father back in the house.

  Malcolm laughed as he unzipped the bag and rifled through the small baggies inside. “Heh. Let ‘em wonder.” He held up one small baggie and shook it. “No one ever figured out we put the ungrateful prick in power. They’ll never know we took him down. But we will reap the benefits, boys.”

  He refused to let the disgust show on his face. The memory of a young Sucre at the table the night of the fire was as fresh in his mind as if it happened yesterday.

  “Call everyone in, Scott,” his father said as he returned the heroin to the black duffel. “It’s time to talk distribution.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Amanda

  Amanda itched to smooth her hands over the fabric of her black slacks, but her fingers were clutched around the copy of Joshua’s birth certificate Mike had given her the day before. Her palms were damp; God, she hated how her body betrayed her anxiety. Maybe Kane wouldn’t be able to tell.

  Yeah right. The man had always been able to see right through her. Well, almost always.

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady her pounding heart as she walked through the front door of the worksite.

  Clipboard in hand, Xander’s assistant, Robby, made a beeline straight for her. “Miss Griffin, I didn’t realize you would be here today. Xander’s not on site.” His voice hardly wavered at all.

  She steeled her expression, trying to mask her own nerves. “It’s not a scheduled visit. I have some papers for Kane Hale. Where can I find him?”

  The hammering around her came to a stop, and suddenly the eyes of every man in the room were on her. The big guy, Kane’s friend Brick, one of the men who got shot, walked toward her. His eyes swept over her with the kind of judgment she saw from the nuns at her Catholic high school.

  She returned his frank stare with a look fashioned to turn water into ice.

  He seemed unimpressed. “Follow me.”

  Brick led her out back where Kane was cutting a two-by-four with an electric saw. He turned back and left her there without a word.

  Kane glanced up as if sensing her presence. He turned off the machine and removed the glasses he’d had on to protect his eyes. “I wasn’t sure you were going to come.”

  “You didn’t give me much choice.” Her eyes darted around the back porch as she grasped for a calm she couldn’t quite reach. “I don’t want to do this here. Can you step out for lunch?”

  He grunted. “You’re the boss.” He took off his hard hat, then ran his hand over his beard, knocking off the tiny bits of wood settled there.

  Leave it to Kane to make it sound like an insult. “I assume you don’t want to share our personal history with the crew any more than I do.” Though judging by the way Brick looked at her, he already had some idea. “I passed a Panera on the way here.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Would you rather the Waffle House?” she huffed. “It doesn’t matter where we go, Kane.”

  “Panera’s fine,” he growled. Giving her his back, he stalked around the side of the house. By the time she made it back out front, he and his bike were gone.

  I guess I’m meeting him there.

  It was probably for the best they weren’t riding together anyway. Kane would no doubt take up all the air in the car—and she absolutely was not riding on the back of his motorcycle.

  It was a moot point anyway. The Panera was only a few miles away, and his bike was outside when she arrived. The packed lot and the fight for a parking spot only added to her growing tension. She tried to shake it off as she strode inside.

  The Ice Queen mask wouldn’t work for this, but maybe something like it. Something brisk, but honest. He deserved whatever honesty she could give. She simply needed to control her rioting emotions.

  Kane waited at a corner booth, his jaw clenched and fingers drumming on the table. There were two drinks in front of him.

  She took the opposite seat and slid Joshua’s birth certificate toward his hand.

  He picked it up and scanned it quickly, gripping the paper tightly enough to wrinkle the sides before he put it back down. “This could be doctored.”

  She reached into her satchel and dug out a packet of family photos. Christmas pictures showing Mike and Charlie, smiling next to Mom with her growing belly. Then Mom by herself in her last trimester. One of Charlie on his knees, kissing her stomach. There were about a dozen in all.

  Kane
flipped through them, dispassionately at first, his face slowly morphing into a sad acceptance. “You’re not in any of these pictures.”

  “No. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to visit her.” She rubbed at the tension in her forehead. “Too wrapped up in my own misery to let myself be around anyone happy.” She squeezed her eyes shut to block out his stunned expression. “I wasted so much time.”

  His hand touched hers on the table, and her eyes flew open. Just as quickly, his touch disappeared, but her skin tingled where the rough pads of his fingers had been.

  She swallowed. “There was ice on the pavement. Crazy for February around here, but there it was. Charlie and Mom spun off the road and hit a tree.” She reached for the numbness, the dead emptiness that kept her going when the hurt threatened to consume her. “They had to cut Josh out of her body. He was the only one who survived.”

  This time when Kane took her hand, he held it with both of his. It stole her breath.

  She forced in a gulp of air and kept talking. “It made sense for Mike and Cindy to take him. They were getting married anyway, and I was such a fucking disaster, I could barely dress myself, much less take care of a baby.” Her chest knotted with his hands around hers. So much for staying numb.

  Such a small thing, his touch, but it shook her to the foundation.

  With her other hand, she pushed forward her final piece of evidence. A laminated clipping of her mother’s obituary. She couldn’t remember who gave it to her, but she’d never had the heart to get rid of it. “It says right there, survived by her three children, Michael, Amanda, and Joshua. I’m sure you could find another copy somewhere if you still don’t believe me.”

  His slow blink and barely there nod projected patience. Comfort. It almost hurt more than the hate he’d radiated when she walked through the door. Hate was easier. In hate, there was no hope, and hope was the cruelest lie that ever existed.

  “I believe you.” With his gravelly voice and simple words, everyone else in the restaurant fell away. Kane was the center of the universe. His warm hands and the look on his face she hadn’t seen in years. The look that said I see you.