Kane Read online

  You matter.

  This is real.

  It didn’t make a difference how many years had passed or whether his looks had changed. Behind the long hair—beneath the beard and the tiny lines on his face he didn’t have before—she recognized the man who set the bar for every poor bastard who came into her life or her bed after he left it. No one else had ever come close.

  No one else ever would.

  “I’m sorry I accused you.” He squeezed her hand.

  Her small laugh rang hollow as she pulled away. She couldn’t think straight while he was touching her, and she needed to keep her wits. Unwrapping the straw next to the drink in front of her, she used it to stir the ice in the light brown liquid.

  An Arnold Palmer. She hadn’t had one in years. The iced tea-lemonade mix used to be her favorite.

  “You don’t owe me an apology, Kane. We both know it.” She sipped at the sweet and tart drink, then forced her gaze back to his face. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry I was so awful you could believe me capable of keeping a child from you. I’m sorry I hurt you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth then, and I still can’t tell you now.”

  His eyes widened, and she knew instantly she’d said too much.

  She shot to her feet. “You deserved better thirteen years ago, and you deserve better than how you’re living now. It’s not too late to have the life you wanted.” Forcing herself to look away from those soulful brown eyes, she turned and approached the door.

  She was almost through the crowd when his strangled voice carried to her ears. “The only life I ever wanted was one I could live with you.”

  Gritting her teeth, she fought the overwhelming urge to look back and kept moving out of the restaurant into the cold December sunlight. Nothing had changed. Her father’s threat still hung over her like a scythe. Only now, the small flame of hope she’d been nursing inside her was a fire she wasn’t sure she could ever put out.

  ***

  Kane

  Hours after his conversation with Mandy, Kane’s head still reeled. It was crazy stupid to let his attention drift from the job in front of him, but his body still fucking hummed from the touch of her skin and the sincerity of her words. It had been the first real exchange they’d had in more than a decade.

  Cue Ball dug his heel into the top of Kane’s foot.

  The steel-toed boots protected him from most hazards, but Cue was a big man, and his weight was tough to ignore…which was probably the point.

  He forced himself to focus on the exchange at hand. Cue Ball was holding court with two teenaged boys, one with light brown skin, the other slightly darker. Both wore T-shirts and jeans sagging halfway off their asses. They were recruits to help push the club’s new products.

  “Twenty bucks for a rock, boys. I’m giving you a dozen to start out with.” Cue dropped a brown lunch bag into the hand of the taller teenager. He’d rolled down the top, creating a makeshift handle. “I know where you live.” He leaned into the boy’s face. “This is a trial run. Don’t even think about trying to fuck me, got it?”

  Kane had to give the kid credit. He didn’t so much as flinch at Cue Ball’s threat. “Yeah. I got you.” Bag gripped in his hand, the teen led his friend back to the two bicycles leaning against the park bench.

  The pink cast of dusk made the nearly empty field look a little less than the neglected lot it was. By day, it was easier to spot the mountain of cigarette butts next to the overflowing trash can or the rust creeping over the rickety see-saw. But among the warm colors of the diminishing light, the park looked almost inviting.

  If only it were enough to let him forget the reason they were here. It took everything he had not to drag his buddy out of here, to plead again for the club to reconsider. But the MC worked a certain way. After a vote, you were either with them or against them. At best, fighting the tide would mean a beating; at worst, excommunication for life.

  “Well, look here, Cole. It seems we’ve got some race traitors on our hands.”

  Shit.

  He cringed against the unmistakable drawl of David Bennett, VP of the Christian Soldiers MC. The group wasn’t made of any real Christians or soldiers he was aware of. They were basically a bunch of white supremacist bullies who liked to pump themselves up by tearing everyone else down.

  He wasn’t in the mood for their particular brand of bullshit. “What the fuck are you doing here, Benny? Why don’t you hit the mall? I hear JC Penney has some white sheets on sale.”

  The man’s face tightened with the nickname Kane insisted on using. With his sharp features, blond hair and blue eyes, Bennett would have almost been pretty if he didn’t have a perpetual snarl on his face. He was living proof someone could have the face of an angel and still be a cesspool of rot inside.

  “One day you and I are going to have a reckoning over your smart mouth, Hale.” Another blond-haired, blue-eyed goon stepped up behind him.

  Kane rolled his eyes as Cue Ball took a position at his six. “I don’t have time for this. Seriously. What are you doing here?”

  Bennett flexed his jaw. “I heard the Skulls were taking over the wetback’s drug operation out here.”

  Kane shrugged. Even if he hated what he was doing, he couldn’t disrespect the club by making it public.

  The other man lifted his own shoulder in return. “Doesn’t matter to me if these thugs kill themselves with pharmaceuticals.”

  “But?”

  “But you’re working with a black supplier, employing black pushers. My men were ready to work this neighborhood with an Aryan supplier, putting cash in the hands of our own kind.” Bennett’s voice rose like a preacher on a pulpit.

  He waved it off. “You know I don’t care about all your racist shit. The only hands I care about putting cash in are my own. This is business, Benny, plain and simple.”

  “Don’t be naïve. With Sucre gone, this was finally our chance to—”

  “I don’t give a good goddamn about your race war shit. Save your breath. This is about bankrolling my club. No more, no less.”

  Bennett took a step forward, and Cue growled. The Soldiers’ VP froze, then purposely loosened his posture. He may have been trying to look unfazed, but he was failing spectacularly. “We have a very important man in our corner. You don’t want to get on his bad side.”

  This time, Kane stepped forward. He was so close to Bennett’s face, he could smell the stale cigarettes on his breath. “You don’t want to be on my bad side, Benny. Why don’t you take your White Power bullshit and get the fuck out of my business? There are plenty of other places you can sell your product.” He smiled. “Now get off of my lawn.”

  Bennett narrowed his eyes, but he took a step back. Then he turned and walked with his buddy back to the bikes they’d left at the curb.

  Cue Ball ran a hand over his bald head. “You sure that was a good idea, brother? No real reason to make problems with the Soldiers.”

  What? “They came here to make problems with us. You think I should let David Bennett tell us how to do business?”

  “I guess not,” Cue mumbled. He took a breath, then shook off whatever was bothering him. “We’d better get going. Scott’s got a surprise for us cooking over at the clubhouse.”

  He nodded. It was getting dark anyway. But something told him his brother’s surprise was going to be about as fun as the meeting with Benny had been.

  ***

  The prospect greeted Kane at the front door by handing him a surgical mask.

  “What the hell is this?” He held it up between his fingers.

  “Just put it on, KC.” His mother beckoned him inside. “Don’t want you breathing in any of the fumes.” Mama V had her own mask secured tightly at the back of her teased blond head.

  With a suspicious lift of his eyebrow, he did as his mother instructed. “What’s going on?”

  The skin around her eyes crinkled, and she grabbed his arm, pulling him back toward the kitchen. “SP has everybody hard at
work.”

  The kitchen table and counters were crowded with empty Coke bottles, coffee filters, duct tape, and a whole bunch of other shit. None of it registered until he caught sight of the tall stack of Sudafed in front of one of his brothers. Owen was punching the red pills out of the foil into a big plastic bowl.

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  The mask couldn’t hide Scott’s wide grin. “What do you think, brother? We’re really in business now.”

  “What do I think?” A pulse beat at his temple. “You set up a fucking meth lab in our clubhouse? What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”

  Scott scowled. “Hey, what’s your problem?”

  He bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood. “In the chapel.”

  His brother followed him, pulling down his mask as they entered the private space. “You need to pull the stick out of your ass right now, K. Can’t you let me have the win here?”

  He whirled to face Scott, tugging his own mask down. “The win? This isn’t about you getting credit for something. You set up a meth lab in our clubhouse!”

  “It’s not gonna make itself,” his brother huffed. “Why is it you have to shit on every idea I have lately? We’ve been aces together for years, man. Best bros. Now, it’s like we’ve gone back in time. Like before you patched in. You thought you were so fucking special then, too good to do what the rest of us were doing. Fancy girl, fancy job, fancy college. Where did it get you? The exact same place as me. So maybe you should get over yourself.”

  His jaw dropped at the venom in his brother’s voice. Scott had never been a fan of his plan to go white collar, but he’d never lashed out like this before. Except when it concerned Mandy, he was always pretty happy and affable. And yeah, they were best bros. He loved his brother, and Scott proved time and again over the years, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Kane.

  He tried being reasonable. “This has nothing to do with me. It’s common sense, Scott. A meth lab at the clubhouse puts us all in danger. First of all, those chemicals seep into the walls. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wear a mask in here forever. And we’re assuming no one accidentally blows the place up first.” He dropped into one of the chairs. Elbows on the table, he rubbed at his temples. “Even if we don’t all get sick or die, all it takes is one fucking raid, and there is no explaining this shit away. We’re all going to jail.”

  “Stop being such a pussy. We take risks all the time. I don’t see you having a cow over the guns we run. Cops pull us over on one of those deliveries, we’re looking at jail, too. None of our business is legitimate. We’re a motorcycle club, not a Girl Scout troop.” Scott leaned his back against the wall, one thumb in his jeans’ pocket. “We’re in the drug business, brother, whether you like it or not. Meth means cash. The shit is cheap and easy to make, and once we start selling it, we’ll be making money hand over fist.”

  “This is a mistake, Scott.” Why couldn’t he see it?

  “You’ve already made this argument and lost.” Scott stuck a cigarette in his mouth but didn’t light it. “We’re doing this my way, little brother. You better get on board, because this train is leaving with or without you.”

  Scott put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The hardness drained from his face, leaving him with a hopeful expression. “I’d rather have you with me, man.” Letting him go, Scott left the room.

  He rubbed the same ache at his temple again. His brother wanted his approval. That much was obvious. How many times had he felt the same way? But this was a mistake, no matter how he looked at it.

  What would Mandy think if she could see him now? Not only part of the MC. Not only running guns but pushing drugs. Hell, cooking the shit.

  As much as it had killed him to watch her walk away from him at the restaurant, maybe it was better this way. At least now, he wouldn’t know the shame, the look in her eyes, when she saw how far he’d fallen.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Amanda

  Amanda took a few minutes to collect herself before getting out of the car and walking the sidewalk to her father’s front door. She didn’t want to see him. The very idea of looking at his face made her stomach turn.

  I can’t have you upsetting the balance right now, he’d said.

  She hadn’t seen him since he ordered her to keep herself available for Nathan almost two weeks ago. She hadn’t seen Nathan either, which was a blessing since the bodyguard her father had promised never materialized. Technically, she hadn’t turned down any dates with the bastard because she hadn’t taken any of his calls. Maybe he’d lose interest.

  And maybe the earth will open up and swallow my car whole.

  Not likely.

  Nathan Shaw liked to win, and right now she was the prize.

  She cursed her father for what felt like the thousandth time, though the hard truth was it wasn’t only his fault. No one had forced her to accept his deal. No one had forced her to accept Nathan’s attention. Or to leave Kane in his hospital bed years ago.

  No. Those were her sins. The ones she stayed up at night thinking about. Why it was damn hard to look at herself in the mirror. Why she felt so fucking worthless sometimes, the next horrible thing someone asked of her didn’t seem beneath her at all.

  Enough feeling sorry for myself.

  She needed the other twenty-five thousand her father had promised her, and she needed it now. Jared Berringer wasn’t a man to rest on his laurels. She would be ready to start work the minute he made the call.

  Which meant start-up costs had to be in place.

  Steeling herself for whatever her father would throw at her next, she approached the front porch only to run into the groundskeeper, Raul, who was pressure washing the pavement.

  He stopped the spray and tipped his hat. “You may want to go in through the back, ma’am. Don’t want to ruin your nice shoes.”

  Though the advice came too late to keep her pumps completely dry, she turned, then rounded the house to enter through the French doors into the sunroom. There, she slipped her shoes off her feet and carried them into the house, in search of a hand towel to wipe off the patent leather.

  The linen closet was only a few steps down the hall.

  What’re a couple more minutes? It’s not like Dad is expecting me anyway.

  Frankly, she’d been rather surprised when she’d gone to his office, and his assistant had told her he was working from home for the day. Her father was never home during business hours on a Thursday, or any other weekday, come to think of it.

  She padded in her bare feet toward the towels, trying to remember if her dad had ever worked from home in her life.

  “—can’t possibly stand for this.”

  She froze a few steps away from her father’s office. The man’s voice wasn’t familiar, but it was a rare occasion to hear anyone talk to her dad in such a tone. Generally, he surrounded himself with smooth-talking politicians like himself, servants, or sycophants. This man sounded…angry.

  “I know how you feel about the Skulls. It’s a damn cautionary tale about getting on your bad side. Imagine our surprise you would allow this to happen.”

  The Skulls? Why was someone talking to her father about Kane’s biker gang?

  “To be frank, Mr. Bennett, I had no idea this was going on,” her father said. “I pride myself on having my finger on the pulse of what’s happening in this community. Though I was aware of Mr. de la Cruz’s unexplained absence, I didn’t realize someone had stepped in to fill the void so soon.”

  De la Cruz? The drug dealer?

  “The darks are always gonna need their fix. It’s a fact of life. But we should be the ones in charge of distribution; we should be the ones who profit from their weakness.”

  She ground her teeth at the man’s racist rant.

  “Why come to me? What do I get out of your success?” Her father gave words to the questions rioting in her head.

  “Because nothing happens in this city without your blessing. If you don’
t want the Skulls taking over the drug line, you’ve got the connections to take them down. And here’s the thing, Mr. Mayor. Taking them down is win-win for you. Not only do you get to stick it to the Hales, but you guarantee a stake in our business. One percent of our profits will go directly into your campaign fund. A penny of every dollar we’ll make. You get money out of it…and satisfaction.”

  Silence greeted the man’s offer. She let out a wavering breath. The man had underestimated her father. He wouldn’t—

  “Five percent. Direct deposit into the campaign fund.”

  “Done.”

  She braced her hand on the wall, her head swimming as her father wheeled and dealed in the next room.

  “Give me a few days to get everything in place, and Mr. Bennett, don’t call me; I’ll call you. I’m sure you understand why discretion in this matter is vital.”

  She took two steps backward, then whirled and rushed back down the hall to the kitchen. Her thoughts spun out of control. Kane’s club was dealing drugs? Was he? If her father had it out for him, it didn’t really matter. He’d go down one way or another. Unless she warned him.

  Even as her dad kept Kane out of jail all those years ago, in his own way, he’d stolen Kane’s future. Their future. She’d be damned if she let him do any more damage.

  Slipping her shoes back on, she rushed back around the house but froze when she caught a glimpse of Raul lugging the pressure washer back to his pick-up.

  She couldn’t leave without seeing her father. Someone would mention the fact she’d been here; she hadn’t exactly been stealthy.

  Her hand shook as she pulled her phone from her purse and pulled up her father’s contact. He answered on the first ring.

  “Now is not a good time, Amanda.” He didn’t even bother to say hello.

  “I’m here at the house, Dad. Eddie said you’d gone home. Are you sick?” Her voice didn’t shake once. “Raul’s been working on the porch; I’m coming around back, okay?” Slowly, she started retracing her steps.