2. Killer Thoughts
Killer Thoughts
two
K a n e (42)
Iwatch the whiskey swirl elegantly in my glass, absentmindedly twirling it in circles with my fingers. The pulsating music fills the room, causing my foot to tap lightly on the bar floor. With each step, my black Jordans adhere to the tile, clinging to some spilled liquor. As I inhale deeply, the familiar aroma of cigarette smoke, marijuana, and alcohol floods my senses.
Leaning back against the booth, I watch the young crowd dance, laugh, and enjoy their escape from the past. I particularly notice Eli, who is working tirelessly to support his devastated sister, Emerson, while also dealing with his own grief as a result of their parents' deaths. It fucking hurts me to see them like this.
But Emerson. Fuck.
I shouldn't be feeling these things I feel for her. She has a model's body, perfect, perky tits, a juicy little ass you could set a glass on, and eyes that make my cock hard every time she looks at me.
She's only twenty-two, though. Would she even consider a man twice her age? I had not noticed her until a few years ago, when she joined the SSB—the biker crew her father and I founded twenty years ago.
I finally paid attention when I saw her riding a bike in tight leather pants and a crop top.
And she hasn't left my thoughts since.
But her fucking boyfriend has her under his control, and she is too afraid to leave. She hasn't said anything, but she doesn't have to. I notice the bruises. I can see the tears—we all do. But, in light of her parents' deaths, we do not want to say anything that could send her into another downward spiral.
Something else is lurking in the shadows of their relationship, but we haven't discovered it yet.
"What's up?" Stone, my son who is about Emerson's age, inquires as he slides into the booth across from me. He stands over six feet tall, tattooed and pierced, with slicked-back black hair and hazel eyes, reminding me of myself when I was his age.
My hair is now long and dark, with silver streaks visible on random strands. My eyes are no longer as bright green as they once were; instead, they are dark and dull, with hidden secrets lurking beneath my irises. My entire body, covered in tattoos, remains largely unchanged: muscular and broad, with the same sharp, defined jawline and sculpted chest that I've worked hard to maintain.
"Business," I respond, still watching the kids dance. "I need you and Ace to make a run for me tonight." I finally look at him, finishing the remainder of my drink without making a face.
"Where to?" He takes out his phone and texts Ace, his friend, and another member of the club.
"Down to New Bedford. Take your bikes; they'll get you there faster."
"Alright, Ace is on his way." He puts his phone down and refills my glass before taking a swig from the bottle. "Are we still on track for Nantasket?"
"As long as Eli says it is good, yeah. I'll talk to him sometime tonight."
He nods, his jaw slightly ajar, his gaze fixed on something behind me. Shifting in my seat, I notice Emerson entering the bar... alone. She has obviously been crying, though, and I already knew why.
Stone and I watched as she went to the bar, got a drink, looked around the group until she saw her brother and Seven, and then turned to come toward us. Eli stays put even though he sees her, his eyes widening with shock and rage.
"Surprised to see you here, Blue Eyes." Stone stands up and embraces her, kissing the top of her head as he towers over her by a foot.
"I felt like having a drink. Besides, I wanted to speak with Eli, but then I changed my mind," she laughs, looking at me.
The look she gives me makes me want to bend her over the table and fuck her sadness away.
Of course, I resisted.
"Kane, do you have any jobs?" Her lips curl into a smirk as she holds the glass to her mouth and sips like a pro. Even hotter.
"Sit down, Little One. We'll talk."
Ace walks in, the bell on the door chiming.
"Looks like I should head out. I'll be in touch."
Emerson watches Stone walk away, both he and Ace turning to look at her.
She's like a really bad car wreck or a murder scene; you know you shouldn't look, but you do, and then you can't look the fuck away. All the bikers in the club want her, but she's off limits because she's Eli's baby sister.
But rules were made to be broken, and with Emerson, I intend to break every fucking one.
"So, about those jobs," she says sweetly, batting her innocent lashes and licking her lips, unintentionally making my cock rock hard.
"Do you feel well enough to go for a run? You know how important it is for my riders to have the right mindset. No distractions, Little One." I extend my hand and place it on top of hers, feeling her pulse against my thumb.
"Well, I've never been one to be easily distracted," Emerson says with a sly grin. "Especially not when I'm out on the road, feeling the wind in my hair and the thrill of that freedom that comes with it. I'm ready, Kane. I'm always ready."
I can't help but notice the fire in her eyes as she speaks. The same fire that has drawn me in since the first time I truly saw her for who she was. As much as I want to protect her and keep her away from the darkness and dangers of this life, a part of me wants to let her in.
"Alright, Little One," I say, firmly squeezing her hand before letting go. "I have a Southie run."
"But that's not even far away." Her nose scrunches and her brow furrows, and it is the most adorable fucking thing ever.
"It's a twenty-grand pick-up, Emerson; it's a big job."
"I'll take it." She smiles as she slides out of the booth, pulling a cigarette from her pack. "I'm going out back for a smoke."
"Let me join you," I offer, sliding out of my side of the booth and following her towards the back exit, my gaze fixed on her ass.
Eli notices us and gives me a curious look, but I raise my finger and walk out the back door with his little sister.
She lights her cigarette and hands me her lighter for mine. She leans against the graffiti-covered building and looks up at the sky, as if nothing is wrong.
"Nice try." I lean next to her, blowing smoke rings into the air.
"What are you saying?" She turns to me, perplexed, her cute nose scrunching.
"Your makeup is starting to wear off. I can see the bruises, Little One," I say softly, trying not to upset her.
"Kane, please," she begs, casting her gaze downward.
I step in front of her and slide my hand under her chin, causing her head to tilt slightly back. My blood boils as I examine the collection of bruises, and it feels as if acid is coursing through my veins.
"Did he fucking do that to you?"
She nods, but doesn't say anything.
"I'll fucking kill him," I growl, pressing my forehead against hers, wanting so fucking bad to kiss her.
"He'll k–"
"What the fuck, Emerson?" Damon yells, "I have been looking everywhere for you," as he storms over to us and rips her away from me.
"Don't ever fucking grab her like that again," I threaten, noticing Emerson's fearful expression.
"She's my fucking girl, and I've told her to stay the fuck away from this place unless I'm with her."
"Kane, it's okay. Just please, stop," Emerson begs, her gaze drawn to Damon's waistband and the Glock tucked inside.
I want to fucking kill him.
But I stop provoking him and let it go, as much as it fucking kills me. Cus she's right. He's unhinged tonight, and no one knows what he's capable of. These killer thoughts inside my head keep screaming at me to kill him, but Emerson has seen enough death lately.
Nonetheless, he must be dealt with.
I take a step back, my fists clenched at my sides, watching Damon pull her back into the bar. Eli appears behind me, a worried expression on his face as he searches for his sister.
"Kane, I didn't know you were outside," he starts, but I cut him off.
"I just wanted some air," I say, avoiding his gaze as I walk toward the back door. The walk is difficult, with tension filling every void in my mind. Emerson's face, her bruises. Damon's possessive nature. I need to make it right.
Back in the bar's garage, the guys are preparing for the evening when Emerson enters, her head held high but the same sadness lingering in her glass blue eyes. She is apprehensive at first, watching the men prepare their bikes and generally just kind of existing from the sidelines for the most part. I can tell it's her way of gauging the situation. But I know she is willing and ready when I watch her fiddling with the bullets scattered all over the table.
As we gear up, I pull her aside. "You don't have to go with us, Little One. You don't have to do this. What did you even tell Damon?" I ask her.
She looks me dead in the eye with a smirk and says, "I don't want to talk about it." After that, she mounts her bike beside mine, and I give her a shoulder pat before we fire up our engines.
We've got a ride to make. And it's not just for the run. We've got some rules to fucking break.
The teasing summer breeze pushes my bike as I ride, gripping the handlebar with one hand, my other resting on my hip. Looking beside me, I watch Emerson ride, lost in her own little world as she becomes one with the open road. Even through her helmet, I can tell she's distracted, even though she swore to me she was fine. I can tell something other than Damon is bothering her, but her stubborn ass won't tell me.
...unless I force it out of her.
Filthy thoughts begin to bombard my mind, and I start to become distracted as I ride, thinking of all the ways I'd be able to convince her.
When we come up to a light only miles away from the pickup site, Emerson stops on one side of me and Seven on the other, the rumble of the bikes drowning out the rest of the city noise around us. With Emerson's visor open, I pierce my eyes deeply into hers, but she looks away, immediately breaking eye contact. I can see the internal struggle fucking with her and her feelings for the forbidden, making her question her morals.
She speeds off as the light turns green, leaving a cloud of dirt in her wake from her bike's back tire. Seven and I eventually catch up to her just as she's pulling down the long, dark driveway, which leads to a secluded three story house set in the cut. Dogs bark upon our arrival, being yanked back by the chains looped around their necks as we stand in front of the gated yard.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, pulling off my helmet and setting it on the seat of my bike.
She shrugs, keeping her helmet on. "Fine," she says, again, walking ahead of Seven and I with determination in her gait.
"What's with her all of a sudden?" Seven questions, pulling off his helmet to reveal his face.
"Not sure, but let's get this shit done so we can get out of here. I don't have a good feeling about it." I look around, retrieving my gun as we walk up to the door.
There's a risk we take with any job, but we always manage to get them done. This isn't the first time I've done business here. Whether it's doing a large cocaine drop-off or a huge cash pick-up, we've never encountered any trouble, but there's something about tonight that just feels... off.
The second I walk up to the front door and raise my hand to knock, the porch light flips off and the sound of gunfire roars from behind the door, inside the house. In a panic, the three of us duck and rush to find cover, hoping not to be hit by the flying array of bullets aimed right at us.
"What the fuck is happening?" Seven seethes, opening fire to try and defend us.
"I don't fucking know!" I scream, firing back while frantically looking around to see if Emerson is safe.
Ducking behind the PODS storage container, she fires back in the direction of the flashes we see through the door's glass panes, her helmet still covering her face.
After minutes that feel like an eternity, the gunfire comes to an abrupt stop. I peek out from behind cover and see Emerson taking off her helmet, her face pale and her eyes filled with fear. But when I try to embrace her, hoping to comfort her, she pulls away from me.
"Emerson, are you hurt?" I can feel my arm burning as I ask, already knowing I had been grazed by a bullet.
"I... I'm fine. But, Kane," she gasps, her jaw dropping. "You're bleeding."
"It's just a graze," I assure her, watching her eyes darting back and forth between my face and my arm.
"Stay here while we see what the fuck happened." Seven just stares at her, afraid to leave her alone.
But we cautiously approach the door and slowly push it open. What we find is a scene of chaos and destruction, and I feel a pit form in my stomach. This job was supposed to be routine, so how did it go so fucking wrong?
We quickly search the house, but the 20 grand we were supposed to pick up is gone, along with any answers. And the dealer lies dead on the living room floor.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," I hiss, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.
As we ride back to the bar, my mind races with thoughts and possibilities. Who could have known about this job, and how did they find out? And the most pressing question of all, who is going to pay for this fucking disaster?
Seven leaves as soon as we get back, leaving me and Emerson alone at the closed bar. I sit down and grab a bottle of Jack, not even bothering with a glass. I begin to panic when I don't see Emerson, but before I can get up and look for her, she emerges from the hall with the first aid kit in her hand, a grim expression still painted on her pretty face. Without saying anything, she rolls my sleeve up to assess the wound, pulling out the necessary items to bandage me up.
"I'm fine, Little One." I flash a smile at her, but she shakes her head, ignoring me.
Pouring rubbing alcohol over the laceration across my bicep, I hiss, getting a grin out of her. "Stop being a baby, Kane."
"How about you get shot, and I'll pour alcohol on it?"
"You got grazed, remember?" She finally smiles, cleaning the area thoroughly.
And then an awkward silence falls around us, and another look of concern flickers in her eyes. I can tell she's holding back, but from what? When I try to tug her onto my lap, she resists, refusing to give into temptation.
"We can't, Kane," is all she says, finally wrapping a bandage around my arm to stop the bleeding.
"I just want to make sure you're okay. Tonight was a lot to take in; it shouldn't have fucking happened." I shake my head, still utterly confused about the situation.
"It shouldn't have, but it did," she says, looking at me through shame-filled eyes. "And I think it was all my fault."
"How the fuck is it your fault? You were there on a job that had nothing to do with you."
Shaking her head, she whispers, "it had everything to do with me, Kane. I'm pretty sure it was Damon inside that house, and I think he was trying to kill me."