Kane

by Davis, Jen

  ***

  She waited until the last board member was off the property before she hopped in her car for the short drive to her father’s office. It was a shot in the dark since she didn’t make an appointment, but it was a conversation she didn’t want to have over the phone.

  Eleven stories high, Atlanta City Hall loomed in familiar majesty in front of her. Her father had told her stories of its history so many times, she knew them by heart. The high rise was built back in 1930 on the site General Sherman took as the headquarters of his occupation before his March to the Sea. It was on the National Register of Historic Places and served as the headquarters of Atlanta City Government.

  Including the mayor’s office.

  Her heels clacked across the ornate lobby with its pillars, cornices, and marble wainscoting. She no longer found it impressive, if she ever had. Only a fool would ever reveal such a thing to her father, though. He lived for the pageantry of it all.

  She rehearsed her speech in the elevator. It had to strike exactly the right balance of strength and vulnerability, independence, and deference. And even then, there was no guarantee he’d give her words any more credence than he’d give to the average constituent. Maybe less, since he didn’t think he needed to curry her vote.

  Her father’s secretary gave her a stiff nod when she stepped through the double glass doors, and she walked straight to the small settee on the right. It was the most comfortable seat in the room, and she could be here waiting five minutes or five hours depending on his schedule and the mood he was in.

  She went over the points in her head again. One: she was ending things with Nathan. She’d promised her father six months with the guy so he could use a private connection to cultivate political gain. Her part of the bargain was fulfilled. Two: she was going to spend Thanksgiving with her brother. Holidays at the Griffin estate were more about pomp and circumstance than family bonding anyway.

  Maybe she should lead with the Thanksgiving thing. Rip the band-aid off.

  “Miss Griffin?”

  She lifted her head and locked eyes with the sour-faced woman at reception.

  “The mayor will see you now.”

  He stood from behind his thick oak desk as she walked into the room. Beauregard Griffin oozed southern charm and class. His charcoal three-piece suit was impeccable, his smile warm and practiced. An article in Atlanta magazine said he was reminiscent of Gregory Peck in his To Kill a Mockingbird days. He liked the comparison so much he had the article framed and hanging on the wall in his study at home.

  His appearance was like the fancy lobby downstairs. It was cultivated to impress and intimidate, but it was really all window dressing.

  “A surprise to see you, darling.”

  She stepped into his embrace and offered her cheek before taking her seat. “Thank you for seeing me. I know how busy you are.” Polite bullshit, and they both knew it.

  His eyes narrowed, and she pressed forward.

  “I need to give my regrets for Thanksgiving. It’s important I spend it with Mike and his family.”

  “Absolutely not.” He folded his arms in front of his chest.

  A hint of what she was really feeling seeped into her words. A tactical error, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Dad, he’s going through a difficult time right now. You know how badly he was hurt in his car accident.”

  “Last I checked, he had a devoted wife to cut up his carrots. He doesn’t need his stepsister to do it for him.”

  She gritted her teeth. She never called Mike her step anything, but her father always made the distinction. “I want to be there, Dad.”

  “Of course, you do.” He shot her an icy glare. “Even when you were a girl, you acted like they were your real family. You’ve always chosen them over me.”

  She wouldn’t argue over what constituted a real family. Her father thought no one should come before blood. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, no one should come before him. “I’m not choosing one over the other—”

  “Right. I’m making the choice for you. I’ve already invited Nathan, and I can’t very well spend the holiday with him, without you.”

  She took a deep breath, sucking back the venom she wanted to spew at the mention of his name. Things were delicate with her father; he still hadn’t entirely made good on his end of the bargain they’d struck. She tugged back on the Ice Queen veneer she wore like a second skin. Letting it slip in the first place had been a stupid mistake. “We never discussed Nathan joining us.”

  Her father waved her clipped words away. “Do I need to get your approval for the decisions I make? This is an excellent opportunity to solidify the support of his political action committee.”

  The thought of spending another minute with Nathan made her skin crawl, but he would be the perfect gentleman in front of her father. He always was.

  Her dad kept speaking, oblivious to her masked frustration. “Besides, we’ll be done by nine. Plenty of time to visit your other so-called family afterward.” Looking down pointedly at the papers on his desk, he dismissed her. “I’m very busy, Amanda. Perhaps anything else you wish to discuss can wait until a more opportune time.”

  Fine. One more dinner. She would nod and smile, give her father this last chance to secure his political support, but no more. Then he’d make good on his promises, and the deal would be done.

  Then, she could put this madness behind her and get back to the shreds of her life she hadn’t managed to ruin quite yet.

  ***

  13 years ago

  September

  AC/DC piped in through the speakers mounted in the backyard for her parents’ Labor Day barbeque. Though technically speaking, Charlie Cooper wasn’t her father, he never treated her as anything less than his daughter. As soon as she and Kane cleared the patio door, he swept her up in a hug.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Baby Girl. You know it’s not a party until the family’s all here.” He smelled like Old Spice and barbeque sauce, home and safety.

  Her mom bussed Kane’s cheek and accepted the KFC bags in his hands.

  “I hope you don’t mind my contribution is store bought.”

  Mom peered into the bag and grinned. “Why would I mind? Corn is corn.”

  Kane let out the breath he’d seemed to be holding, then slid his hand around Amanda’s. The heat of it warmed her even more than the late summer sun.

  Is this how Charlie makes Mom feel?

  She couldn’t imagine her father ever inspiring warmth.

  The knowing look on her mom’s face made her cheeks burn brighter.

  Mom cleared her throat. “Your brother is already in the pool with his friends, if you two want to go join him.”

  Sure enough, Mike waved like an idiot from atop a giant floating yellow duck. “Come on in, y’all. With you two, we’ll have enough people to play water volleyball.”

  Kane’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t really play sports,” he said into her hair.

  She wrapped her arms around his trim waist. “It’s not a real sport, I promise. It’s only an excuse to splash around in the water and get the girls to jump up and down in their bikinis. No one cares how well you play.”

  “If you say so.” Or at least that’s what she thought he said. Her attention was frozen on all the skin he flashed as he pulled off his shirt. Flawless and tan, it stretched across his wide shoulders to a tapered waist. A trail of hair led from his belly button to the treasure hidden beneath the button fly of his jeans. Her breath caught.

  Hell, yes.

  She couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. “Maybe after this, we can sneak back to my dad’s house. He’s out of town.” Her fingers slid down his arm before entwining with his.

  He winced. “Your dad hates me.”

  “My dad hates everyone he doesn’t personally select to be part of my life.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care what he thinks, and neither should you. This is my real family, and they think you’re awesome.”

  K
ane opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say got lost in the whoosh of air her brother knocked out of him when he tackled Kane into the water. The sneaky bastard had managed to maneuver himself out of the pool and onto the deck without her noticing.

  Now Mike and Kane were splashing it out while the girls around them protected their faces from the flying water.

  Warmth bloomed in her chest seeing how easily he fit into her world here. She glanced over her shoulder, quickly spotting her mom’s red hair resting against Charlie’s broad chest.

  That’s what love looked like.

  She rubbed at her sternum.

  And this is what love feels like.

  She could have it. What they had.

  She didn’t have to endure a society marriage simply because her father expected one. Half of her friends from the upscale private high school she attended were already engaged, their buttoned-up fiancés, each an heir to his father’s fortune. Their marriages virtually guaranteed to be loveless, lifeless, and devoid of laughter.

  Amanda knew her father considered this a rebellious diversion from her real future, but it doesn’t have to be. She could have this forever. The realization made her sway on her feet.

  As Kane and Mike wrestled and dunked each other underwater, she could see dozens more holidays, exactly like this one, sharing them with Kane and her family. Maybe one day, their family. She swallowed against the emotion rising in her throat.

  How did I get so fucking lucky?

  A hand on her shoulder made her jump. “You’ve got it bad, sweetheart.” She hadn’t even seen Charlie coming.

  Laughing at herself, she didn’t even try to hide the truth. “Beyond bad.” She sighed as Kane blew her a kiss. “I think he could be The One.”

  Charlie lifted his thick, dark eyebrows. “The One, huh? Does he feel the same way?”

  She didn’t even have to think. The answer was in a hundred secret smiles and gentle touches, whispered words and shared dreams. “He does.”

  “Well, nothing else matters.”

  “You’re not worried about his family? My father—”

  Charlie held up one of his big, calloused hands. “The things your father finds important aren’t the same things I do, and you know it.”

  Understatement of the year.

  “Your mom’s parents weren’t too keen on me either.” His gaze sought his wife across the yard and softened when she blew him a kiss. “It’s about more than where he comes from. He can’t help who his daddy is any more than you can help who yours is. All I care about is whether he loves you and he treats you with the care and respect you deserve. From what I see, you’re getting everything I’d want for you.”

  “I wish you were my father.” She’d thought it a hundred times, but this was the first time she said it out loud.

  Charlie’s brown eyes grew suspiciously damp. “Aw, Baby Girl, in my heart, I am.” He looked over at Kane and Mike, now fighting over sovereignty of the giant floaty-duck, and he grinned. “If my blessing is what you’re looking for with Kane Hale, you’ve got it. You’re old enough to know your own mind and your own heart. Any man worthy of your love is welcome in this house and in this family.” He swatted her butt. “Now get your ass in the pool before lover boy drowns my only son.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kane

  The club didn’t do much to celebrate the holidays. Kane’s parents weren’t what anyone would call domestic. He’d only observed a handful of festivities in his entire life; all of them had been with someone else’s family. This year, though, Cue Ball got a wild hair up his ass to fry a turkey for Thanksgiving.

  He’d never seen the big, bald bastard cook anything in the fifteen years he’d known him, but it wasn’t like he had a bunch of better options busting down his door, so he agreed to help. He tilted his head at the deep fryer set up in the carport.

  Wait. They were doing this over an open flame?

  Cue Ball’s deep laugh drew his attention away from the vat of oil. “You’re looking at that thing like it’s gonna jump up and bite your ass, K.” His arms flexed in his sleeveless-T as he used the netting to lift the two turkeys in curls with each hand.

  “Save all your showboating for the girls, brother. No need to flex for me.” Kane grinned and covered his heart with his hands. “I’m already a fan.”

  “Go fuck yourself.” Cue Ball smirked and deliberately lifted one of the birds, his bicep bulging. “You know you wish you had guns like these.” He kissed the muscle with a loud smack.

  A set of feminine arms snaked around his buddy’s waist. “I hope you’re saving some of those kisses for me, baby.”

  Cue Ball turned toward the husky voice. “Maybe I have some better ideas for what you can do with your mouth.”

  He turned away as his friend made a spectacle of himself with his Flavor of the Moment. Watching another man’s conquest did nothing to light his fire.

  A quick Google search on his phone about frying turkeys raised about a hundred red flags. “Hey, Cue, those turkeys aren’t still frozen, are they?”

  “What do you take me for, an idiot?” If the man could talk, it meant the woman was finished swallowing his tongue.

  He chanced a look up from the screen and caught sight of her tight jeans as she sashayed back into the clubhouse. “You asking a trick question?”

  Cursing under his breath, Cue Ball dropped the turkeys on the folding table next to the propane tank. Then, he pulled a wicked-looking knife from the scabbard on his belt. “Help me cut the packaging off, ya prick.”

  They kept up their good-natured ribbing as they cleaned and dried the birds. He was trying to attach the hooks inside his turkey’s chest cavity when his senses recognized the unmistakable combination of secondhand smoke, Aqua Net hairspray, and a knock-off version of Chanel No. 5.

  Mama.

  “Well, I’ll be goddamned.” Her pack-a-day habit gave her voice a hint of rasp that never went away. “Desiree said you were out here cooking, but I thought she was full of shit.”

  “You come out to help us, Mama V?” Cue Ball couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

  She only had two natural born sons, but almost every man in the crew called her Mama, never Vivian. Even Malcolm did it sometimes, though it made Kane shudder if he let himself think about it. Sadly, it wasn’t even close to the most disturbing thing about their dysfunctional relationship.

  She chuckled. “You know damn good and well—”

  He finished along with her, Cue echoing too. “Mama don’t cook.”

  Never had. Never will.

  He and Scott grew up on an assortment of fast food and any kind of meat they could throw on the rusted old charcoal grill cemented to the ground near the back door.

  His mother smiled. Her boys knew her well.

  Cue Ball squatted at the base of the fryer and lit the propane. “We’re more than happy to cook for you.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Right, K?”

  “Assuming we don’t burn down the carport, sure.”

  The turkeys were ready to go in, just as soon as the oil got hot enough. Unfortunately, there was no sign of a thermometer, which meant they would have to wing it.

  Mama V pulled a Kool Menthol from its green and white pack and lit the end. She took a deep drag, and the smoke escaped on an exhale as she spoke. “Charlene was in the clubhouse looking for you, KC.”

  KC. Short for Kane Charles. His mother called both her sons by their initials. Kane’s brother was SP. Scott Paul. She thought it was cute, but it didn’t feel genuine. It never caught on with the rest of the men.

  “You plan on making her your old lady?” His mother smoothed the top of her bleached hair, where a hundred broken pieces stuck out before her ponytail holder. Her long red lacquered nails were a sharp contrast to the washed-out color.

  He shook his head. “Nah. I think Charlene and I have run our course. There wasn’t much there, even in the beginning.”

  His mother smiled with satisfaction. She was one of on
ly two old ladies in the MC, a privilege she was in no hurry to share with anyone else. Even if it didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot. “Well, I’ll just tell her to go on then, shall I?”

  A sigh escaped him. “No. She should hear it from me.” He’d put it off too long already. As many times as he warned women it was only sex, they always thought they would be the exception to his rules.

  No commitments. No feelings. Just fucking.

  He wasn’t cut out for anything else. More to the point, he’d never put himself through loving somebody again. It hurt too much when it went away. He’d rather invest his heart in the bonds of friendship. Something he could rely on. His brothers would never abandon him, and no matter how crazy their world was sometimes, he’d never leave them either.

  Allegiance was the least he could give those guys for the loyalty they’d shown him over the years.

  Leaving Cue Ball to figure out when to drop the turkeys in the fryer, he strode past his mother into the clubhouse. The back door led to the kitchen, and beyond there, a common room featuring a scarred pool table in the center with green felt so worn, it was almost completely smooth. A Budweiser lamp they rescued from a dive bar hung over it, spilling yellow light onto the table.

  Scott played against a prospect, while Charlene leaned against the wall, watching and nursing a longneck.

  He stopped and studied her. Like his mother, her blond hair was out of a bottle. Even if the brittleness didn’t give it away, he knew firsthand the carpet didn’t match the drapes.

  Her red dress was flimsy, revealing, and too tight, showing off the bony hips and hard lines of her thin frame. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, but she wore a thick mask of makeup. Even though he’d surveyed every inch of her skin, Kane had never seen her without her foundation and false eyelashes. It was simply another barrier between them, though to be fair, it was the only one she’d built. The rest were his.

  He tried to imagine her with a clean, fresh face, brown hair, and an extra ten pounds on her frame. She’d probably be a knockout.