Recovering Beauty: The Kane Brothers Book Two

by Gina Azzi

31

  Taylor

  He finds me. And a much bigger portion of my heart than I’d like to admit is relieved he did.

  I'm grateful I’m back in my own place, away from my parents, surrounded by familiarity and comfort as I sit on the top step of the stairs, tears tracking my cheeks.

  "Taylor, please. Open the door." Carter's voice is pure anguish, and it pulls at my heart even though I'm angry. Even though I'm ashamed.

  Why can't I ever be enough for a man? Why can't it ever be about more than just looks and motives and scheming plans? Why can't it just be because he loves me?

  "Baby, please. I need to talk to you. To explain." He pounds again, the door rattling under the force of his banging.

  I thought he was different. I thought that because he wasn't from the same upbringing as me, because he has brothers and a sister and cared for them, kept their family together, that his values weren't like Barrington Wade's. That I meant more to him than just to secure something he wanted.

  But jeez, at least with Barrington I know who I’m getting.

  Carter lied to me about who he is, about why he wanted to get to know me. He knows my father? This entire time, he’s known about Daddy’s gambling. I remember the night I confided in him at Cork’s. He held my hand and offered sweet words and reassurances even though he had a role in the whole thing.

  I drop my head, the tears coming harder as a wave of anger rolls through me.

  I remember today, at Pierre’s, how convincingly he told the lie about Daisy and medical school. Oh my God. What else has he lied about?

  Has our entire relationship been one big lie? A joke? A con?

  The thought smarts a trail of shame through me that quickly morphs into indignation the longer I sit here and listen to him call through the door.

  Screw this.

  I deserve better. More.

  Carter Kane cost me too much. My career, my livelihood. Now, he's broken my heart and made me doubt myself. Made me unsure of how I read people.

  I stomp down the stairs and yank open the door.

  His hand is raised as if to pound against it again, and his mouth drops open in surprise. He pushes inside quickly before I can change my mind and slam the door in his face.

  "Taylor." He reaches for me, his face pained, his eyes wild.

  "So, what? This was just some part of a bigger plan?" I gesture between us, practically screaming at him. The tears fall freely now, hot on my skin. Wiping my hands across my face, they slip off from the moisture.

  "No!" He reaches for me again, but I step out of his grasp. "Taylor, of course not. Please, listen to me." His tone is pleading. His eyes bleed with a pain I hate seeing, even now, even after everything.

  "Why would you do this to me?" I ask, my voice low as the fight swoops out of me. As the anger recedes and a sharp sadness settles in my chest, I almost fall over from the quick withdrawal of adrenaline.

  "You don't understand, I didn't—"

  "Of course not. Because I never understand anything, right? Because I'm just some stupid, pretty, privileged little girl with no comprehension of the real world."

  His eyes swing to me, fierce and frustrated. "Don't put words in my mouth. You know you're the smartest, most generous, loving person I know."

  "How could you use me like this? Why didn’t you tell me you know my father?"

  "Taylor, baby," he starts, his hand closing around my wrist, tugging me toward him.

  I breathe in his scent as it wraps around me like the hug I desperately want from him but don't want to want. Cedar and clean soap and something purely man. Purely Carter.

  "Please," I whisper brokenly into his shoulder. "Please, don’t do this to me. Please stop hurting me."

  He drops my wrist, a streak of pain blazing across his features as he sucks in a deep breath. "I never meant to hurt you, Taylor. That's the last thing… God, I… Fuck." He twists his body away from me, rage rolling off his shoulders in waves. "I knew this would happen."

  "What?" How could he know this would happen? Was he planning it from the beginning? Was anything between us ever real?

  "You're like alexandrite, Taylor."

  "What does that even mean?"

  "You're precious, rare, on your own level. Untouchable."

  I roll my eyes at his lame attempt to help me understand.

  He shakes his head. "You're like magic, Taylor. You change the colors around you; you've changed me. And that's what I love about you."

  "What? Why are you even telling me this now?"

  "You're beautiful, Taylor. But it's not because of the way you look. It's because of everything else. The way you view the world, your enthusiasm and passion for literature, and your kind heart and even sweeter soul. You're all goodness, all precious and rare and authentic in a way that can only become tarnished and jaded by being with me. Your life and my life should never even coexist, never mind co-mingle." He grasps the side of my neck, and I can't help but lean into his touch. "I love you, Taylor Clarke. And I hate that you'll never really be mine. But I promise you, a part of me, the best part, will always belong to you."

  Although my hysterical outburst from earlier has subsided, his words bring a fresh swell of tears. "Carter." Panic courses through me and I feel unsteady. I’m angry with him; hurt and betrayal cling to me. But now, now that he’s pulling away, I suddenly don’t want him to go. I want him to stand here and fight for me. To fight for us. I want him to fight, and that thought brings more shame than comfort. What is wrong with me?

  "I'm sorry, Taylor. Truly sorry for everything I put you through, everything I put your family through. It isn't—I never meant, please just believe me when I tell you I love you. If you only take one thing away from our time together, let it be that. Because that's the fucking truth."

  His lips descend over mine in a kiss wrought with so much pain, so much confusion, so much doubt it's overwhelming. Hope swirls in my chest, heightening with the intensity of the pressure of Carter's mouth against mine. But when he breaks our connection, I read the loss I feel in his eyes and know that we're over. Done.

  Hope plummets and I turn sharply, walking away from him quickly, so he doesn't have time to register that he's destroyed me. Broken my heart beyond repair.

  And maybe even my spirit.

  32

  Carter

  It's nearly daybreak by the time I park in front of my house and flip off the ignition. I'm tired. So incredibly tired, my bones ache. Climbing out of the SUV, I shuffle toward the front door and slowly climb the steps.

  Reaching out, I'm about to twist the doorknob when the door swings open in front of me. Denver's large frame blocks the entrance.

  "Den?" I ask, confusion in my voice. "It's nearly five in the morning."

  My brother blows out a deep breath, his hand raking across his face as he stares at me. "Get inside." He steps out of the way and lets me pass, his strong arm linking around my neck and squeezing my head into his bicep. "You okay?" His voice is low and gruff and although he's almost choking me, I also know it's his way of showing affection.

  I collapse on the couch in the living room, and Denver sits in a chair to my right.

  "I messed everything up."

  "Get some sleep." My brother tosses a pillow at me. "We can sort it in the morning."

  I shake my head. "I don't think I can fix this."

  "It's going to be okay, Carter."

  "What if it's not?" I look at him, suddenly petrified that I ruined the only good thing I ever almost had. That I'll never get another chance. That this was it, and I ripped it apart, ripped her apart, just like I do to every good thing that crosses my path.

  Den stares at me, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. For a moment, he looks like he did on the morning of our mother's funeral—at a complete loss of what to do with the rest of us, but knowing he had to do something. At first he tried, I mean he really tried. But the allure of our father, the pull of what the MC life promised, was too great, and he was suck
ed away from us. And even though he's made his way back and redeemed himself a million times over, he still sits and looks at me like he's cost me everything.

  Like all of my sins are somehow on him, not because I make poor decisions that compromise the lives of the people I care for the most.

  "It will be." Denver's voice is firm and confident as he nods toward my pillow. "Close your eyes," he commands. Kicking back in his chair, he stacks his feet on the coffee table and folds his hands over his stomach.

  I shift back on the couch, tucking the pillow under my head and close my eyes. Sleep lures me in, my mind grateful for the distraction and my body spent. Still, the only thing I see in my dreams is golden hair and deep blue eyes. Is a girl too beautiful to be real? Is a girl too hurt to be mine?

  Taylor should never forgive me.

  If I really love her, I should want more for her. Better.

  I should let her go.

  When I wake the next morning, I feel hungover, even though I didn't drink any alcohol. My stomach is queasy, my head pounding, and my mouth full of cotton.

  "You look like shit," Daisy comments from the chair Denver fell asleep in last night. She's flipping through a magazine, pretending to read, but every so often, her eyes stray to where I lay, wishing sleep would come back.

  "I feel like shit."

  "Den's making breakfast."

  "Coffee?"

  "That too."

  "'Kay."

  I hear the magazine snap shut and the soft thud as Daisy tosses it onto the coffee table.

  "Stop being so loud."

  "How hungover are you?"

  "I didn't drink anything."

  Daisy laughs until she realizes I'm serious. Then she's perched next to me on the floor, the back of her hand resting against my forehead. "You don't have a fever. Do you feel sick?"

  "I ruined everything. I just needed—" Damn it. The money transfer. I jolt up, scaring the crap out of my sister who falls back on her heels, sitting in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. "I need my laptop. Where is it?"

  She scrambles to her feet, shooting me a worried look, and ducks into the kitchen. I hear her and Denver exchange a few words, although I can't make out what they are.

  Daisy hands me my laptop, and I open it quickly, my knee bouncing up and down while it connects to the internet. As soon as I'm online, I open the browser and sign into my account. There, next to my account number, is the balance: $61,673.29.

  "Woah," Daisy whispers behind me. "Denver!" she calls out but I ignore her.

  Picking up my phone, I dial Griller directly.

  "Three hours 'til I call Joe," he answers.

  "Stay the fuck away from Taylor’s family," I warn, my tone cold.

  He laughs, enjoying this and goading me further. "Or what?"

  "Fuck off, Griller. I got your money."

  A few seconds of silence pass.

  Denver's frame shadows the entryway from the kitchen to the living room. He sneers at the mention of Griller's name and strides next to me, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. He holds his hand out to take the phone, but I shake my head, holding up one finger.

  "Fifty grand?" Griller finally asks.

  "Yeah."

  "When?"

  "Today. Now."

  "Cash?"

  "Just gotta run to the bank. But when I give you the cash, that's it. You stay the hell away from Joe Clarke. You stay the hell away from Taylor. Don't ever let her name cross your lips again. And you don’t go near my sister. You see her on the street; you cross and go the other way. Feel me?"

  Daisy gasps when I mention her, and her eyes dart between Denver and me. Denver takes on an ashen look, his dark eyes turning to black coal at the mention of Griller and Daisy in the same conversation.

  "Yeah, yeah. I hear you, Kane," Griller agrees nonchalantly.

  "I'm fucking serious."

  "Same. Meet me at Raf's in three hours. Bring the cash, and I'll call off the guys watching your girl and her daddy." He clicks off.

  My stomach drops to my feet at the thought of slimy thugs having eyes on Taylor. I need to get this shit wrapped up and done now. I need to make sure Taylor's safe.

  "Daisy," I say, turning toward my sister. "I need a favor."

  "No." She shakes her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not going to be sent on some little errand, so you and Den can call in Jax and have some type of family meeting to figure out whatever the hell is going on without me. I'm here, this involves me, so tell me what's going on." She stands her ground, and I can't help but be proud of the woman she's grown into. For years, when Den was in lock-up and Jax was deployed, it was just Daisy and me. I'm almost relieved to see her assertiveness, even when it's directed at me.

  "This isn't a little errand. I’m gonna be honest with you. But this is serious. I need you to check on Taylor and make sure she's okay. You can even call her, just do it from your number."

  Daisy's eyes narrow. "Why don't you call her?"

  "Because she's not speaking to me."

  "Is she in danger?"

  “Possibly.”

  "Give me her number."

  I hand Daisy my phone and watch as she punches Taylor's number into her cell. She shoots me a look I can't read and disappears into the kitchen, holding the phone against her ear as it starts to ring.

  "What the hell, man?" Denver asks in a low voice. "Griller? How do you even—"

  "Dad."

  "What?"

  I hang my head, blowing out a stream of breath. "We got a lot of shit to sort out and a short amount of time to do it. I need you to listen to what I'm going to say and hold your questions 'til later."

  Denver studies me for a brief moment before nodding.

  "I'm going to take a quick shower and meet you in the kitchen. Get Jax on the line."

  Daisy waltzes back into the living room and pins me with a stare that is both disappointed and sympathetic.

  "Is she okay?" I ask, trying to remain composed.

  "She's fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  "She's really nice."

  I give a curt nod, pushing from the couch and heading toward the stairs.

  "You better fix whatever the hell you did," my sister says behind me.

  I take the stairs two at a time and slam the bathroom door closed behind me.

  Ten minutes later, I step into the kitchen feeling much better. It's amazing what a shower can do sometimes. Denver is leaning against the butcher block island, chatting on FaceTime with Jax. My sister sits on a barstool, eating the scrambled eggs and toast Den fixed for her.

  "Hey," I say, sliding onto the barstool next to her.

  Denver repositions his phone, so Jax can see all of us.

  "Carter," Jax says to me in greeting. Next to him, Evie pushes her way onto the screen and stares at me, her eyes full of empathy. So Evie.

  "You okay, Carter?" she asks, softly as my brother rolls his eyes.

  I nod.

  "What's going on, man?" Denver asks, tossing me a piece of toast with butter and strawberry jam.

  I blow out a deep breath. "Let me tell you everything before you lay into me, yeah?"

  Everyone nods. Daisy's hand snakes around my back and gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze in solidarity.

  Then I drop the bomb. "I've been doing shit for the Devil's Shadows for years now. I'm still in contact with Dad."

  “What the hell do you mean?” Jax.

  “You’ve been talking to Dad?” Denver.

  “For how long?” Daisy.

  “What kind of shit?” Jax again.

  “Everyone, stop. Let him talk. Give him a chance to explain.” Evie’s voice is quiet but steady and the calmness infused in her tone causes everyone to pause for a beat.

  I offer her a grateful smile through the phone screen. “I’m sorry.” I say to my siblings. “I know this is a lot to process and it’s fucked up, but I didn’t want to hurt you guys.” My eyes cut to Denver when I
say this and the ashen expression on his face causes guilt to bloom in my stomach. Once upon a time Den was Dad’s golden boy. He thought, truly believed, that he took the pressure off the rest of us by doing Dad’s bidding. Even going to jail because of it. I know on some level, my involvement with Dad, with the Devil’s Shadows, hits Denver like a betrayal and I hate that.

  “Start at the beginning.” Evie urges quietly.

  I nod, flashing her another look of thanks. Taking a deep breath, I delve in. “After Mom passed, Dad started spending all his time with the Shadows, getting wrapped up in the MC life.”

  My siblings all nod as I make eye contact with each of them. Denver’s jaw is tight, his pulse ticking. Daisy’s eyes are wide with worry. Jax is pulling on the back of his neck the way he does when he’s agitated. Only Evie looks at me calmly, her quiet strength encouraging me to continue.

  “We all wanted to keep Daisy safe, out of the MC lifestyle, and provide her with as much normalcy as possible, considering she was growing up essentially without parents. Dad started coming around, pulling Denver into the Shadow’s fold and for a while, that worked. Denver liked belonging to the club life and Jax and I were able to keep Daisy out of it. Except after the shit went down with Dad and Den,” I pause, my eyes cutting to Denver as he looks away. No one actually knows what went down between Dad and Den. Just that it was awful. More than awful. It meant Denver went away to prison for two years and afterward, he barely mentioned Dad’s name again. “After that, once Den got locked up, Dad started coming around again. By then, Jax had enlisted and it was really just Daisy and me. Griller and the guys kept showing up, making threats, saying how they wanted to see Daisy.”

  Jax inhales sharply at this, Denver swears, and Daisy’s eyes well with tears.

  “I told them to back off. Started missing work, back then I was doing construction, but I kept getting calls from Griller’s guys about what Daisy was wearing as she walked home from school, how she did at cheerleading tryouts, and I kept trying to be everywhere at once. It wasn’t sustainable. So one day, I get a call from Dad. He says I could help out the MC, do some odd jobs for them around town, and in return, they’d back off Daisy. The money was a hell of a lot better than what I was earning and at the time, it seemed like a good idea. I mostly ran underground boxing matches and illegal poker games but sometimes I did other things, cons, pushing drugs, running numbers, whatever the hell they asked me to do. In return, Daisy stayed safe and off their radar. And I got paid.”