Kane Page 8

  “No. I don’t.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to unsnarl the knots from the road. “What I meant is, we all have someone who makes us embarrass ourselves. For you, it’s Matt. For Brick, it’s Olivia. For me—”

  “For you, it’s Ms. Griffin,” Robby finished.

  Now it was his turn to scowl, though he doubted there was anything cub-like about it. Most people would’ve taken a step back, but Robby stayed cool as a cucumber.

  “That won’t work on me now.” The kid had the nerve to smirk. “We’re family.”

  “It’s not the protection you think it is. My brother Scott kicked my ass growing up more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  Robby ignored the warning. “Everyone heard the two of you the day she came and yelled at Xander. And you were fit to be tied the whole rest of the day. So, what’s the story? Did you break her heart? Did she break yours?” His words sped up with each question. “How long were you together? Did you love her?”

  “Enough!” he roared, and this time Robby did take a small step back. “Stop. Please.” He rubbed circles into his temples.

  “I’m sorry.” Robby’s voice was small, and he hated himself a little for making it happen.

  He took a deep breath. “No. I’m sorry. Obviously, I’m still kind of fucked up about it. But I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  Robby nodded, but he kept his distance.

  He leaned against the wall and slid down to rest on the concrete slab. The kid needed to feel safe. Maybe he’d be less threatening on his ass. “Yes, I loved her.” He gently banged the back of his head twice against the drywall behind him. “I’ll probably always love her.”

  Cautiously, Robby lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged a few feet away.

  “We dated in college.”

  The kid’s jaw dropped, but he quickly closed his mouth.

  “Yes, Robby, I went to college. But I dropped out after we broke up. Not because of her, or at least, not entirely.” He sighed. “We were together about six months, and I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her, get married, have kids, the whole bit.”

  Robby squinted his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. The poor guy was probably afraid to speak.

  “If you’ve got a question, it’s okay. I won’t bite your head off this time.”

  “I thought bikers didn’t get married.”

  He laughed, but there was no joy in it this time. “They don’t. I wasn’t in the club back then; I wasn’t gonna join. I never wanted my dad’s life.”

  Robby inched closer. “Why not?”

  To really answer his question would take hours…and several beers. His hand flexed, trying to conjure a longneck. “A hundred reasons.” None he should be discussing with an outsider, but he owed Robby some kind of answer. “It’s very insular. It’s got its own code, which isn’t always very evolved. Plus, as you said, it’s not much of a life for women and families.”

  “But you grew up there,” Robby pressed.

  “Exactly, kid.” He closed his eyes. “Exactly.”

  ***

  15 years ago

  December

  The shelves at Wal-Mart were stocked haphazardly as shoppers pawed through the After-Christmas Sale items. Strings of lights spilled out of torn cardboard boxes next to footie-pajamas and tins of fruitcake, which apparently had no expiration date. Kane’s mom dug through the unsteady piles of almost-garbage, searching for bits of treasure beneath.

  This trip was an annual event designed to find the perfect sale-priced gift for his dad. Malcolm’s birthday was December 26th, and Mama V prided herself on spoiling her man while keeping to a razor-sharp budget. They had no money for the family to exchange gifts, but she pulled five dollars from her budget every month to put in her man’s birthday fund. She didn’t do it for her sons, but they never knew any different.

  She inspected a grooming kit, then put it back on the shelf. The same treatment followed for a three-pack of DVDs and a bundle of barbeque supplies that would have really made Kane’s attempts to cook for himself much easier. He knew better than to argue, though. It’s not like his father ever cooked a meal in his life.

  Malcolm was a simple man. He liked beer, cigarettes, sex, and his bike. The problem was, there was nothing on an After-Christmas rack likely to support his hobbies. He would have been happiest with a carton of Marlboros and a case of Bud, but those things weren’t special enough for his old lady.

  In the end, she settled for an American flag with slightly battered packaging and an insulated cup with a label promising to keep hot things hot and cold things cold. She used her remaining three dollars to buy a fancy cupcake at the store bakery because God forbid there be enough of a treat for everyone to share.

  She intended this celebration for Malcolm and Malcolm alone.

  When they got back to the clubhouse, which doubled as their home, she carefully wrapped the presents in the ninety-nine cent, shiny red paper with silver bells. Then, she sat down at the kitchen table and waited. And waited.

  He made two grilled cheese sandwiches and set one down in front of her. As he scarfed down his dinner, hers grew cold on her plate. She was sitting vigil for her man. Of course, she wouldn’t eat.

  Shortly after eight o’clock, the rumble of engines sounded outside. A handful of brothers trickled in. Case, Bender, Scott…but no sign of Malcolm.

  “You gonna eat that, Mama?” Scott didn’t wait for an answer; he scooped the cold sandwich off her plate and stuffed it in his mouth.

  Fifteen minutes later, a crash sounded from the carport out back. Mama V jumped to her feet to investigate, Kane trailing at her heels. He almost ran her over when she stopped short a few feet outside the door.

  He craned his neck to see what caused her strangled cry.

  Malcolm’s body draped over the back of a woman Kane had never seen before. Or maybe girl would be more accurate. She couldn’t have been much older than he was. Her thin arms gripped the metal column supporting the structure, her exposed breasts bouncing over the top of her skin-tight tank-top.

  His first thought was she must be cold, so close to nude on a winter night. Then, his father’s loud grunt shook him back to the bigger picture. Malcolm’s hand on her back forced her to bend over further as he drove into her from behind. The wet slap of his body against hers echoed into the awful silence.

  Mama stood frozen, watching him fuck the girl, his eyes closed and his features slack.

  Kane couldn’t think of anything more awful until his father opened his eyes and met her gaze. He didn’t even break his rhythm. “Get back in the house, Viv. You can join in later tonight.”

  His mother didn’t hesitate. She turned on her heel and went back into the house as instructed.

  The next morning, he spied the dark-haired girl leaving his parents’ bedroom. Her eye makeup smudged and smeared, she looked like a raccoon or a heroin addict. She walked slowly out of the house, gaze locked on the ground, carrying her chunky heels in her hand.

  Mama left the bedroom moments later, her long, silky red robe cinched around her waist, an unlit cigarette between her fingers. Face drawn. Eyes empty. She, too, moved slowly.

  He assumed she didn’t see him, but she spoke before stepping into the backyard. “Start the coffee, baby, would you?” She didn’t wait for his answer, and within seconds, he heard the snick of her lighter right outside the door.

  In a small blessing, Malcolm didn’t show his face. He wasn’t ready to face his father after the spectacle he’d made last night. Sadly, it wasn’t anything new. The man did what he wanted when he wanted. Always had. The twenty-something years his mother had devoted to him meant little to nothing. She was expected to be faithful, of course, but Malcolm could stick his dick anywhere wet and warm.

  With a sigh, he pulled the filters out of the cabinet and got the pot ready to brew. Despite its age, the 1970s Mr. Coffee model worked fast. The kitchen filled with the aroma of coffee right as t
he ding of the toaster announced his Pop Tart was ready to burn the tips of his fingers.

  He had his cup of caffeine in one hand and his breakfast in the other when something red and shiny caught the corner of his eye. His father’s birthday presents still sat untouched on the kitchen table. He paused, thinking about the effort his mom had put in to select the right gifts, and dollars to donuts, Malcolm wouldn’t give a shit one way or another.

  This was club life. And he wanted no part of it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amanda

  Nerves fluttered in Amanda’s stomach as she ran her hands over the darts of her Dior business dress. It was the best she owned, and still, she had to remind herself she wasn’t a little girl playing dress up.

  Her gaze swept over the building in front of her. The outside of the Berringer Group’s main office resembled a scaled down version of an old-money mansion. It stood two stories high, with thick white columns on either side of the dark oak front door. The entrance was decorated with a tasteful evergreen holiday wreath. Wide red ribbons wrapped the cylinders all the way to the top. Tasteful Southern Christmas elegance.

  She had an appointment with Jared Berringer, the biggest name in Atlanta development—one of the biggest in the Southeast region—but he was still only a person. She knew how to handle people, and she knew how to handle her business.

  She refused to be felled by her own insecurities.

  Lifting her chin, she opened the door and walked confidently to the front desk. “Amanda Griffin for Mr. Berringer, please.”

  The slight man behind the counter glanced up from his computer and tapped the side of his headset. “Yes, ma’am. He’s expecting you. Please come this way.”

  The inside of the building looked even more impressive than the façade. Her heels clicked on the high-grade marble floors, polished to a near-blinding shine, as they headed toward a wrought-iron double staircase that curled up around either side of the reception desk—a desk which, if she was not mistaken, featured her favorite sarsaparilla stain and a white Silestone countertop veined in black.

  She followed the young man up the stairs, down a deserted hall to the corner office. He opened the door and gestured her through before nodding his farewell.

  The photos she’d seen of Berringer hadn’t done him justice. Even a casual observer wouldn’t miss those George Clooney good looks. But anyone paying close attention would realize, in him, they’d found the whole package. He broadcasted it subtly. In the quality of his suit, the shine of his shoes. In the way he held himself, poised, serene and with nothing to prove. This was a man at the top of his game.

  He greeted her with a congenial smile and a handshake just firm enough to tell her he wouldn’t judge her worth on the fact she was a woman.

  “Ms. Griffin.” He gestured for her to sit in one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Surprisingly, he took the seat next to her, rather than the position of power behind the heavy furniture.

  She liked him already. “Amanda, please.”

  “And you’ll call me Jared. I understand you’re here with a proposal from Cooper Construction. I’m intrigued.”

  “I’ve heard you’ve lost your builder in the Decatur development.”

  His eyebrows shot up. GeorgiaSouth’s bankruptcy was very hush-hush. She only knew about it because Mike was good friends with the owner.

  “We’d like to step in and take over for them. Cooper isn’t the biggest outfit in town, but we have a good reputation and do quality work.”

  Jared crossed his leg at the knee and relaxed into the soft leather chair. “I met Charlie a few times over the years. He struck me as a good man.”

  She swallowed. “The best,” she murmured.

  “You were his…”

  “Daughter.” She shook her head ruefully. “Stepdaughter, actually, but he never made the distinction.”

  “And you run the company with his son, correct?”

  Jared knew the answer to every one of these questions before he ever accepted this meeting. The man was known for his research. She played along, giving him a patient smile. “Yes. Mike and I are very close. He would be here with me if he weren’t recovering from a car accident.” She paused, taking a chance by dropping the pretense. “Tell me, Jared, what is it you really want to know? Ask me, and I’ll give you a straight answer.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “If I do business with you, will I be working with Charlie Cooper’s daughter or Beau Griffin’s?”

  No wonder he was working up to that one. She considered her words. “My father—the mayor—has taught me a lot about business. About making connections, managing money, persistence, and perseverance. Those lessons have made me more successful, and I use them every day. But everything else about the way I do business, I learned from Charlie. Honesty, honor, integrity. Those are my core values, and they shape all the decisions I make for the company he built.”

  “Mayor Griffin is not someone who values honesty and integrity.”

  It wasn’t a question, so she let the remark stand in the space between them. Either Jared could see past her family ties, or he couldn’t. Arguing about the merits of his decision would get her nowhere.

  “What about Nathan Shaw?”

  She tried to keep the challenge out of her gaze. “What about Alexa Bell?”

  His eyes widened when she mentioned the name of his paramour. Berringer was largely a private man, but even a discreet affair traveled along the grapevine. “Touché,” he murmured.

  “I don’t mean to be coarse, Jared, but the people who escort us to parties or warm our beds have nothing to do with the deal at hand. I wonder if you would have asked me the same question if I were a man.”

  Dammit.

  She didn’t mean to say exactly what she was thinking.

  Temper had no place in a business meeting. It was a hallmark of immaturity. How many times had her father drilled it into her head? His lesson had been the catalyst for her Ice Queen persona.

  She cringed, waiting for Jared to show her the door. There would be half a dozen other companies he could secure to do the job with a snap of his fingers.

  Instead, he laughed. “Oh, you’re Charlie’s girl all right. Beau Griffin would never let me know I’d gotten under his skin. And for the record, yes, I would have asked a man the same question, though it would have been equally as rude. I simply want to be sure there’s no hidden agenda when someone wants to go into business with me.”

  She held her palms up. “No hidden agenda.”

  “Okay then. Cooper’s financials are good. No outstanding debts for the company or for you.” He stood when she nodded and offered his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Standing, she shook with her new partner.

  “Now let’s talk terms.”

  ***

  Kane

  Kane hesitated with his hand poised to knock on Mike Cooper’s door. He’d seen the man a handful of times over the years, but always with the buffer of work between them. Even when he was so desperate for a paycheck that he’d sought his old friend out for a job, he’d approached him through the company.

  No telling how Mike would feel about him showing up on his front porch at dinnertime.

  Clamping down on the fluttering nerves in his stomach, he clenched his jaw and rapped on the door.

  There was a time in his life he considered Mike to be family, as much his brother as Scott ever was. After things went south with Mandy, though, it was too hard to maintain the friendship. Mike and his sister were inexorably linked, and Kane needed the distance to heal.

  He held up his hand, poised to knock again, then thought better of it. Maybe Mike wasn’t home, or maybe he wasn’t interested in a blast from his past. Shoving his fist into the pocket of his faded denim jacket, he turned toward his bike at the curb.

  The door creaked open behind him.

  “Kane?”

  He froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Damn, it brought him back. To barbeques an
d baseball games. To late night conversations over beers in the Cooper backyard.

  How many nights had he stayed up until dawn, talking and laughing with Mandy, Mike, and Cindy? Those memories were as clear as if they’d happened yesterday. It was like nothing had changed.

  Until he turned around and got his first look at his old buddy. The curly blond hair had darkened with age; the brown eyes he remembered always sparkling with laughter were now tired and dull. But those weren’t the biggest changes.

  Mike had always been a big man with an easy smile. Now his broad shoulders hunched in his wheelchair. His skin sagged on his bones, and though he smiled, it seemed forced.

  It hurt to look at him. He tried not to flinch.

  And Mike had to know it because the smile on his face faded when their eyes met. “Yeah. I look like shit.” He sighed and backed his wheelchair into the foyer. “You just gonna stare at me with those puppy dog eyes, or you gonna come in?”

  Kane followed him into a cozy living room, then sank into the big brown sofa Mike gestured to. It looked nothing like Charlie’s place, but he felt the echoes in all the important ways. Warm colors bathed the cozy space, all the textures, soft and inviting. A baby swing sat in the corner.

  No one would doubt a family lived here.

  A pang of jealousy zinged through him until his gaze returned to Mike’s haggard face. “You look like hell, brother,” he said somberly.

  Mike barked out a laugh. It wasn’t like his old full-belly laugh; it had bite. “At least somebody’s willing to say it. The girls kind of pretend like everything is fine in front of me. Then they whisper about me in the other room, but I can hear everything.” He scowled. “We have baby monitors all over the house, dude.”

  He smiled despite himself. “Got yourself another kid, huh?” He’d heard through the grapevine Mike and Cindy had a son not long after things ended with Mandy. He should have come to visit then, but he was still too raw. “Boy or a girl?”