Kane Page 9

  This time when Mike smiled, it reached his eyes. “A girl.” He rubbed his hand in small circles over his chest. “She looks so much like Cindy, but every once in a while, she’ll get this expression on her face, and I’m looking in the mirror. It’s the damnedest thing. When I start to feel sorry for myself about the accident, I look at her, and I remember how lucky I am.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No.”

  The swift disappointment at Mike’s words took him by surprise.

  “But she’ll be back soon. Cindy took her to pick up some ice cream for dessert.” Mike stuck out his lower lip in a parody of a pout. “I’m feeling too bad for anything but Baskin Robbins.”

  Something else that hadn’t changed. Mike had been a slave to his sweet-tooth forever. Kane had personally witnessed the man eat an entire gallon of butter pecan in one sitting. “Don’t tell me Cindy can’t see through your pitiful-me bullshit.”

  Mike shrugged with a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth. “A few months ago, she would’ve. These days, she’s so determined to take care of me, I think she forgets who I am under all this plaster.” He knocked on one of the two impressive leg casts, the one ending below his right knee. The other extended all the way up his thigh beneath the leg of his cut-off sweatpants. Both were decorated with art of varying skill, from a fair approximation of a butterfly to a skull with crossbones, and some red scribbles, clearly made by a small child.

  He also spotted a small heart, marked with the letter A.

  Mandy.

  He winced, but Mike didn’t seem to notice.

  “As bad as it looks now, it was worse when all the metal was holding my pelvis in place. At least now, I’m out of the bed.” Mike’s eyes drifted to the front door as it opened to reveal his wife, a toddler on her hip, a diaper bag on her shoulder, and a Baskin Robbins bag clutched in her hand.

  Jumping to his feet, Kane reached out to lighten her load.

  Her delicate brows furrowed for a moment, and her grip on her child tightened. No doubt, she was wondering what a grizzly looking biker was doing hanging out in her living room, possibly reaching for her kid.

  He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry CeeCee, I tend to forget my manners when I see a beautiful woman carrying ice cream.”

  Cindy’s tension faded into shock, her eyebrows now climbing her forehead. “K-Kane?”

  He waved. “Long time, no see.”

  She let the diaper bag slide down her arm as she put her squirming child on the floor.

  On hands and knees, the kid made a beeline straight to her daddy’s chair.

  Cindy gaped as her gaze swept over his long dark hair, worn jacket and jeans, all the way down to his Army Surplus black boots. Then she smirked. The expression took him back more than a decade. “I didn’t recognize you in your Hells Angels costume. Halloween was weeks ago.”

  “Still a smartass, huh?” He grabbed her arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Nice to know motherhood hasn’t softened you up.”

  She returned his embrace. “Are you kidding? Motherhood makes you toughen up. You try parenting a twelve-year-old boy and see how soft-hearted you can be.” Pulling back, she wrinkled her nose. “You don’t have anything living in your shaggy beard, do you?”

  “Bitch.”

  “Prick.” Mike and Cindy spoke as one.

  The familiar exchange lightened his heart. He released his hold and returned to his seat on the sofa. “I’ve missed you guys.”

  Cindy sat next to him, the light dimming a little on her face. “We’ve missed you too.” She sighed, for the first time looking a little older than the twenty-two year old he remembered from his youth. “You didn’t have to cut us off, Kane. Just because you and—”

  “I did.” He’d spoken more sharply than he intended, so he tried to gentle his tone. “Things were…bad for me. I was drowning.”

  Her hand rested on his forearm. “Times like those, you need your friends the most.”

  “But you were her family before you were my friends.” He squeezed her hand. “If there was a break, it had to be a clean one.” Even now, the memories of their friendship still tasted of Mandy. “I should’ve come sooner than this, though. It shouldn’t have taken a near-death experience to bring me around.”

  Mike’s little girl started crying and squirming on her father’s lap.

  “I think she needs a change, Cin.”

  She gave his arm one last pat, then climbed to her feet before scooping up her child. “She needs a bath, too. I’m going to stick the ice cream in the freezer while you two finish catching up.” She shot him a warm look. “Don’t wait so long before you come back next time.”

  The crying grew fainter as Cindy moved with her baby deeper into the house.

  Mike cleared his throat. “You’re not coming back, are you?”

  “It’s complicated, brother.”

  Scoffing, Mike leaned back in his chair. “Bullshit. You’ve got to forgive her. It’s been thirteen years, man. You’ve got to let it go.”

  “Who says I haven’t?” His voice was deceptively mild.

  Mike laughed darkly. “Look at you. You joined your father’s motorcycle gang. You became the thing you hated most in the whole world. You’re the walking definition of someone who hasn’t let shit go.”

  “It’s not so simple.”

  “The hell it’s not. She left you, and you turned your back on who you were when you were together. You dropped your friends, your dreams. But you could have it all back. Cut your hair, shave your beard, get your fucking degree. And for God’s sakes, walk away from the biker gang. It was never the life you wanted.”

  Memories of his dreams for a future were a crushing weight on his heart. It was why he usually pushed them down with beer, bourbon, and pussy. None of which were available at the moment. “The club is all I have.” Flawed though they were, those men were his brothers.

  “You have me,” Mike said quietly. “You have the construction job. I hear you’re pretty tight with a guy on the crew. It’s a start.”

  “The guys in the club were there when I needed them, brother.”

  “And I wasn’t. Right?” Mike’s jaw clenched. A vein pulsed at his temple. “I would have been if you’d let me. Fuck, Kane, I don’t even know what happened. My sister never would tell me. All I know is one day, you were there, and the next, you were gone like a puff of fucking smoke.”

  His fingers dug into the soft, fuzzy fabric of the sofa cushion. “You want to know what happened? Your sister ripped out my heart. When I needed her the most, she threw me away, and she never looked back.”

  ***

  13 years ago

  October

  Scott wasn’t as good of a liar as he thought he was.

  Kane would have been more than happy to take the bus to the mall, but his brother had insisted on giving him a ride. No way Scott could know he was planning to look at engagement rings for Mandy, and no way was he going to find out. The man couldn’t speak her name without a sneer on his face.

  Still, accepting the ride on the back of his bike meant he could avoid the twenty-minute wait at the bus stop, and he was anxious to start searching for the perfect ring. It would have to be small, obviously. His job at the bank barely covered his tuition, but he’d put aside enough for a down payment. Now he needed a jeweler willing to let him finance.

  He’d been thinking about those things when he’d accepted his brother’s offer, and they’d taken off ten minutes ago. Now they idled in front of a shady-looking apartment building in Vine City, nowhere near the mall.

  Scott said he just needed to deliver something. He was lying through his teeth. Like always, his left eye twitched as the line of bull came out his mouth. Even worse, a light sheen of moisture dotted Scott’s forehead. Octobers in Atlanta weren’t exactly cold, but generally not warm enough to make someone break a sweat.

  Except for whatever reason Scott was hiding.

  “Why don’t you come in with me, K? I co
uld use a little backup.”

  He folded his arms. His brother couldn’t even look at him. “You know I don’t want anything to do with club business. Why would you need backup for a delivery anyway?” He didn’t even mention the obvious. Scott wasn’t carrying anything to drop off.

  His brother made an impatient gesture toward the apartment building. It was one of at least five large, brick structures looming in front of them. A single basketball goal without a net stood amidst the cracked blacktop. An empty Cheetos bag skittered slowly across the pavement, but nothing else moved in sight.

  “I’m delivering a message, okay?” Scott’s voice held an edge. “I’m not asking you to do much. Just stand there. You don’t have to think of it as helping out the club; you’re helping out your brother.”

  A knot of unease tightened in his stomach. “What exactly do you need my help with?”

  Scott didn’t answer. He advanced on the apartment building, his shoulders tense, hands balled into fists at his sides.

  Kane scrambled off the bike to catch up. “Scott—”

  His brother’s hand flew up, silencing the question. Then he rapped his knuckles against the third door from the left.

  It swung open instantly to reveal a tall heavyset black man with two thick gold chains resting against the vee of a black short-sleeved button-down shirt. He had a cigar cinched between his teeth. With a short nod to Scott, he opened the door wide enough for him to enter.

  Kane had no choice but to follow.

  A thick haze of marijuana smoke fogged the room, giving the illusion of soft edges in a space where none really existed. Three men sat surrounding a kitchen table littered with clear plastic bags filled with white powder, bricks—presumably of pot—wrapped in brown paper, stacks of cash, and a couple of handguns.

  If he lived through this “delivery,” he was kicking Scott’s ass.

  The big dude who answered the door stood behind the man sitting at the head of the table and crossed his arms over his chest. The seated guy, apparently his boss, looked sharp in a long-sleeved black dress shirt that managed to appear both soft and crisp at the same time. Black—maybe forty—he wore a fat, round diamond in his left ear.

  The man to his left looked younger. Bald and Hispanic, he wore a gold silk shirt and a suit jacket the color of a peacock. The third guy—the one closest to Scott and Kane—was clearly a grunt, a skinny twenty-something with a backward baseball cap.

  The boss spoke without looking up from the money he was counting. “Hale.” His voice had no inflection. “This isn’t your normal neck of the woods.”

  Scott cleared his throat. “No.”

  Placing the last bill into the stack in front of him, the man looked up. “Then what are you doing here?” he asked mildly. The question was all the more menacing with his gentle delivery.

  Scott eyed the door, then shifted his gaze to Kane before turning back to the boss.

  Oh shit. His heart lodged in his throat.

  “Just delivering a message.” A heartbeat later, Scott had a gun in hand and was unloading bullets into the man in black and the bodyguard behind him.

  Kane stood frozen, his ears ringing, unprepared as the skinny guy with the baseball cap sprang to his feet. Everything went in slow motion as the man pulled a wicked blade from his belt and lunged toward Scott.

  There was no thought, only instinct, as he stepped between the knife and his brother’s throat. The serrated blade sliced into his left cheek.

  He threw a punch, and his assailant doubled over, then struck out again with his blade. This time, the metal poked fire into his gut.

  More gunshots flew around him, and the punch of a bullet penetrated his shoulder. He dropped like a ton of bricks; his attacker fell a couple of feet away, his dead eyes staring at the ceiling.

  The room was silent now. His vision swam, blackness threatening to overtake him.

  Peacock-blue slacks and a duffel bag passed his line of sight. “Your money, Señor Hale. You’ll find the cash is all there as promised.” A Spanish accent. “Now I suggest you see to your young friend. He’s not looking so good.”

  It was the last thing he heard before the world slipped away.

  He woke up in the hospital. Everything hurt.

  His room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. No sign of his brother or his parents. He blinked, and the last vestiges of daylight had disappeared. A dim light shone from a panel above his bed. A gentle pressure squeezed against his hand.

  He turned toward the small sob from his right.

  “Mandy,” he rasped. The skin on his face tugged against the tape and bandage as he formed the word.

  Tears streaked her face. Her beautiful hair tangled in wild disarray. He attempted to lean toward her, to comfort her, but the pain of moving leveled him back to the bed. He tried to swallow, but his tongue was so dry, it stuck to the roof of his mouth. A cough shook his body and, dear God, did it hurt. Still, he couldn’t stop.

  Finally, a straw slipped between his lips, and the cool water helped him settle. Mandy held the glass close to him until he drank his fill, then set it on the tray beside her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered, squeezing her hand weakly. He’d made such a mistake following his brother into a stupid fucking drug den. Never again. He’d cut the cord. His family business was the past. Mandy was his future.

  She pulled her hand away from his. “I can’t see you anymore.”

  Her words didn’t make sense.

  The medication must be messing with me.

  He shook his head.

  “I can’t be involved in this world, Kane.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks and hardened her expression. “Do you know how many people died today?”

  “But—” His voice failed him. God, he hurt so much.

  She stood. “Don’t call me; I won’t answer. Don’t try to see me; you’re no longer part of my life.” She gave him her back and walked to the door.

  Tears spring to his eyes.

  What is happening?

  Nothing made sense. The only thing he knew was he had to stop her from walking out the door. He forced himself upright, the pain in his gut burning fire anew. Blood seeped through his sheets. He reached out. “Mandy.”

  “Goodbye, Kane.”

  He felt like he was dying. And when his last glimpse of her red hair disappeared from the room, he no longer had the will to fight it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kane

  Kane couldn’t look at Mike as he recounted the night he’d refused to think about in years. In the weeks and months after Mandy left him, he’d dissected the memory in every way he could. He tried to make sense of it, but every time he came up empty. Eventually, he simply stopped trying.

  “You never tried to see her again?” Mike’s words finally made him look up. “Never tried to call her?”

  He blew out a deep breath. “Course I did. But she wouldn’t take my calls. You hadn’t seen her. She even had a bodyguard for a while to keep me away.”

  “She didn’t come around here for weeks.” Mike seemed to be talking to himself. “Wouldn’t take my calls either. I figured she needed time.” His eyes narrowed as he focused back on Kane. “I always thought you must have cheated on her or something. Nothing else made sense. She loved you.”

  Heat flashed up his neck. “Fuck you. I would have cut off my arm for your sister. I never even looked at another woman.” He rose to his feet, his voice climbing with his outrage.

  “So, you’re saying she left you because your thug brother dragged you into a shootout?” Mike shook his head like his own words didn’t make sense.

  He sighed deeply, the familiar weight of the memory settling on his chest. “Something, or someone, set the building on fire after I passed out.” He rubbed his fingers over the crease in his forehead.

  Mike shrugged. “Okay. It still doesn’t—” He gasped as the realization hit. “Oh, my God. The big apartment fire in the Bluff?”
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  “Yeah,” he murmured.

  The horror on Mike’s face punched him in the gut.

  “Something like twenty people died. Holy shit, Kane. That was you?”

  Growling, he launched to his feet and loomed over his former friend. “No, it wasn’t me. Were you even listening? I was un-fucking-conscious.”

  “Step back from my brother. Right. Now.” Ice and steel reinforced Mandy’s voice behind him.

  He whirled to face her, taking in her fiery hair and fierce expression. His pulsing anger muted the effect her nearness usually caused. “Back off. This has nothing to do with you.”

  A lie.

  Her green eyes glittered dangerously. “My brother has everything to do with me. Threaten him again, and I’ll wear your intestines as a hat.”

  “I wasn’t threatening him.” Thank God furniture stood between them. The urge to shake her overwhelmed him, though he’d never really put his hands on a woman in anger.

  She shook her head. “Bullshit. You’re up in his face—”

  “I am not—” Their climbing voices tried to drown each other out.

  “Enough.” Cindy’s sharp voice cut through the air, silencing them both. The baby on her hip was crying. “Take it outside.” Mike gaped in stunned silence beside her.

  Mandy spun on her heel and stomped out the front door. He followed at her heels.

  The door was barely closed behind them when she poked him in the chest. “This was not what I meant when I said you should come to visit him.”

  “And it’s all about what you want, right, Your Highness?” He purposely chose a variation of Scott’s old nickname for her, and she flinched.

  “Mike is recovering from a serious accident. The last thing he needs is you bullying him over something that happened a hundred years ago.”

  A hundred years ago? Reliving what had happened at the hospital made it feel more like yesterday. He looked pointedly at the place her finger still rested against his chest, then raised his eyebrow.

  She dropped her hand and shook it like it burned, then made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.