Chapter 25 Kane #2
Davies’s second blow connected with brutal efficiency. Ward watched Kane absorb it with disdain, golden eyes like chips of citrine. “Do not presume to give me orders, Canziano.”
“Why do you want her dead?” Kane bit out. “Why try to kill her behind my back? I was already planning to double-cross her. This won’t benefit her in the end.”
There was a long pause. Ward seemed to turn the question over in his mind, and Kane knew even before the kingpin answered that he was going to lie.
“I was trying to protect you. I’m always trying to protect you, and the girl cannot be trusted.
Her father was a swindler. A talented cheat.
I hoped to dispose of her swiftly in a manner that wouldn’t distract you.
You’re struggling enough as it is. And yet, as always, you evade my attempts to help.
Abe Walker, dead in the street. Anil Sahni, run out of town. ”
“Abe wouldn’t be dead if you’d told me the truth.”
Ward waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t care about Walker. I care only for your success.”
Kane glared, the blood pounding in his ears. He felt disconnected from every aspect of himself—a toy on a shelf, watching a scene play out in slow motion. Present but not part of anything.
“Spare me the bullshit.” His mouth was dry, but he mustered enough saliva to spit onto Ward’s pressed coat. “You don’t know what it is to care about another person.”
This time it was Ward himself who threw the punch.
It didn’t have nearly as much force as the last two, but it left a searing ache along Kane’s temple, and he knew Ward’s ring had split the skin.
A trail of hot blood slid down to his jaw, which he set, continuing to glare defiantly at the kingpin.
Ward already looked chagrinned, the fury fading as quickly as it had come.
He grabbed Kane’s chin and jerked it up, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“Remember who you belong to,” he breathed.
He smelled like tobacco and patchouli. “I’d have preferred the Mendoza girl dead, but if you’re so desperate to keep her alive, then cut ties with her yourself.
Can you do that for me? Can I trust you to do better? ”
Hating himself more than he had ever hated anyone else in his life, Kane nodded.
Ward released him. There was something regretful in the action. He waved an impatient hand, dismissing Yardley and Davies. Kane slumped forward in the chair as they disappeared back into the night. When the kingpin spoke again, his voice was changed. Softer.
“What have I taught you? If you want to rise above others, you have to be ruthless. I can feel us growing apart, and it’s because you’re no longer willing to let me guide you. Stop fighting me, Kane.”
Kane’s thoughts were muddled. How many times was he going to let Ward torture him and reel him back in?
But the man knew just what to say to make him stay.
People like you and me understand that the world owes us nothing, Ward had told Kane once. We know to reach out and take what we can, because if we don’t, someone else is going to do it.
Kane had tried. He’d tried and tried, yet never felt he obtained anything of real worth. Not when Ward was there to snatch it from his fingertips.
The kingpin turned up the collar of his jacket, and then he was gone, a shadow melting into the dark.
Minutes slid past.
Kane didn’t move. He simply sat there, anger sprouting from the devouring emptiness inside him. It twisted and lashed, a wild thing within his bones, leaving him tense and desperate for—something. He didn’t know what, and it made him want to scream.
Before he knew what he was doing, Kane swiped a hand across the table and sent his glass crashing to the floor. He made no attempt to avoid the spray of crystal-like fragments. Didn’t move at all, in fact. He only continued to stare blankly at the wall as second after agonizing second ticked by.
“Kane.”
Someone grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, and Fletcher swam into view. To say he was a deep sleeper would have been an understatement—he must’ve woken at the sound of shattering glass. Kane tried to writhe away from his friend’s hard stare, but Fletcher held him firmly in place.
“What happened?”
How was he supposed to answer that? Kane reached for the table again, that still-drunk part of him desperate for something else to break.
Fletcher caught his arm, face a tense mask. “Leave the fucking dishes alone.”
A distant part of Kane was aware of his unhinged behavior, but the guilt that roiled within him was a secondary torment. He needed—
“A towel,” Fletcher said. “I’ll get a towel. You’re covered in blood. Sit down.”
Kane sat, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“It was Ward.”
“I figured as much.” Fletcher disappeared around the corner, returning with a cloth that he pressed harshly to Kane’s cheek. A long moment of silence stretched between them as Kane replaced Fletcher’s hand with his own, feeling his pulse beneath the fabric.
“Okay,” Fletcher said as they both relaxed by increments. “Talk.”
“Ward wants us to cut ties with Zaria.”
“Shit. What does he have against her?”
“He wouldn’t explain.”
“How long ago was he here?”
“You just missed him.” Kane removed the towel, inhaling through his teeth. “I shouldn’t have gotten her involved in the first place. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the necklace other than you.”
Fletcher sank into the chair beside him. “Are she and Julian in danger?”
Wasn’t anyone in danger once Ward had his eye on them? Even if Kane did cut her out of the plan, he didn’t trust the kingpin to let her live. Not given what she knew. “Probably.”
“And you hate that because you care about her.”
Kane immediately stiffened, and he cut his friend a look. “We need her, Fletch. You know it as well as I do. So yes, I care what happens to her.”
“That’s not what I said.” Fletcher crossed his arms, but something in his gaze had softened. “What are you not telling me?”
God, where to start? Kane pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. His temples throbbed. Damn Fletcher’s ability to read him so easily. Like the coward he was, he opted for the least important truth. “I kissed her.”
Fletcher swatted his shoulder. Lightly but with enough sting that Kane gave an automatic wince of surprise.
“The hell was that for?”
“What in the world were you thinking?” Fletcher retorted. “How much more complicated are you intending to make this?”
“It’s not that complicated.”
“You’re going to betray her, Kane.”
“And now she’ll see it coming even less.”
Fletcher shook his head in disbelief. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You wouldn’t kiss someone you didn’t care about.”
“Sure I would. Have you met me?” The lie bittered Kane’s tongue.
Maybe he did care about Zaria just a little.
Maybe he’d allowed himself to enjoy that kiss before she pulled away and fled into the dark like something uncanny nipped at her heels.
But what did it matter? The important thing was that it didn’t make a fucking difference.
He was going to betray her just like Fletcher said. Hell, he had nearly gotten her killed.
“We have to tell them.”
Kane started at the change in subject. “What?”
“Zaria and Jules.” Fletcher’s brow flicked up. “We have to warn them about Ward. I realize it’s a risk, but they deserve to know.”
Kane leapt to his feet. He couldn’t have this conversation again. “I need to get some sleep.” He threw down the towel, now spotted darkly crimson with blood from his split brow.
Fletcher stared at it a moment, his mouth tight. “All right.”
They deserve to know. Fletcher’s voice chided Kane all the way to his room. They deserve to know.
It was a relief when pain and intoxication gathered him into blissful unconsciousness.