Chapter Eight #3
“Later,” he said. “Right now, we get you back inside before Solena decides I stole her new assistant.” We walked back toward the main building side by side. My hand brushed his. He caught it and did not let go.
By evening, the compound felt different.
Not tense exactly. Focused. Men clustered in small groups, speaking in low voices.
Maps came out. Phones buzzed. Spade moved between office and yard, talking to Atilla, then General, then Kane.
Whenever his gaze landed on me, I caught a flicker of something resembling respect.
I’d never expected a man such as him to see me differently.
The women moved slower. Made dinner. Kept kids occupied. Cleared space for the men to think. I hated how familiar everything felt.
“You okay?” Casey asked, handing me a stack of plates to dry.
“Diaz,” I said. “They’re going after him.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Does everything always feel so tense before a fight?”
She considered. “Sometimes. Depends on the fight. This one? Yeah. The man has been a shadow on the edge of our world for a while. Having a name and face makes the air heavier. At least now we know it’s more than just Diaz.”
“And I brought the spotlight,” I muttered.
She set a cleaned pot on the rack and bumped my hip with hers.
“You brought receipts. Literally. Your brother’s notes.
That drive. The fact Diaz sent his errand boy to talk instead of gun us down means he knows we can hurt him if we use what you gave us.
Not to mention, the club hadn’t connected Roth to Diaz before this. ”
I shook my head. “The way I see things, I painted a target on all of you.”
“You did.” Casey scrubbed harder at a stubborn spot.
“In neon. Or more accurately, you just made it bigger. We were already on their radar. We ride certain roads. We take specific jobs. Men such as Diaz consider us either tools or threats. Nothing between.” She rinsed the pot with extra force.
“Your arrival shifted us from ‘use occasionally’ to ‘deal with now or regret later.’ Honestly, I prefer clarity.”
Her calm steadied me more than empty reassurances could have. “Do you ever regret your choice?” I asked. “This life?”
Casey paused, considering. “Sometimes. Mostly when injuries happen. Or when my daughter asks why she can’t attend a normal school or play at regular parks.
I mean my oldest, Becca.” She resumed washing, her voice softening.
“Then I remember what surrounds us. Family who appears when needed. Maui would catch a bullet for our kids without hesitation. Solena and Marci would slash tires and cut faces for any of us.” A smile crossed her face.
“I wouldn’t swap this for some corporate asshole in a tie who lies while looking me in the eye and screws his secretary during business trips. ”
“Fair,” I said.
She smirked. “Besides, my old man looks good in leather.”
“So does mine.” I blurted the words before my brain caught up.
Casey’s grin spread. “Yours, huh?”
Heat hit my cheeks. “I am going to pretend you did not hear that.”
“Oh, I heard it. I’m recording it for posterity.”
“You’re evil,” I said.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “You’ll fit right in.”
* * *
Back at “our” house, the quiet felt deeper after a day full of voices.
I toed off my shoes by the door and hung my borrowed club hoodie on the hook. The picture frame Kane had given me before went on the little shelf beside the TV. My mom’s smile caught the light. The others in the picture were close friends of the family, ladies I called my aunts.
At first, I’d worried they may end up hurt because of the crap Jason had brought down on our family.
But thankfully, no one bothered them. I’d tried to distance myself from them once I’d realized what my brother was up to.
I wasn’t sure if it worked. If they knew about the aunts and hadn’t gone after them, then perhaps they’d decided they weren’t good enough leverage.
Kane dropped the small grocery bag we had snagged from the clubhouse on the kitchen counter. “You tired?”
“Worn out,” I replied. “Not sleepy yet.”
“Same.”.
An idea bubbled up before I could squash it. “Let me cook.”
“You already ate,” he pointed out.
“So did you,” I countered. “I didn’t say we needed food. I said let me cook. I want to do something nice for you that doesn’t involve guns or crying.”
His eyes warmed. “Yeah? You trying to spoil me?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Okay. Kitchen’s yours. I’ll stay out of the way unless you set something on fire.”
“That only happened once,” I reminded him.
“You set something on fire?” he asked.
“Popcorn,” I said. “Microwave. Wrong button. Long story.”
He laughed and leaned against the doorway while I dug through his pantry and the little fridge. The options were limited: pasta, jarred sauce, some ground beef, a bag of shredded cheese, half an onion, butter, milk, eggs.
“Okay. I can work with this.”
I boiled pasta, browned meat, doctored the sauce with onion and spices. Tossed everything in a baking dish I found under the sink and covered it in cheese. While it baked, I made garlic toast out of the last of the bread.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed cooking until the house filled with the smell of tomatoes and melted cheese.
Back in my old life, preparing meals became one of the few things I controlled.
My brother did things that endangered me, put me on a chessboard for men like Roth.
But even then, I held onto control in my life where I could find it.
Kane watched me from the doorway, eyes wide as I transformed basic ingredients into comfort.
“This smells amazing,” he said when I pulled the dish from the oven.
“Carbs always do,” I replied. “Same difference.”
We sat at the small table, our knees bumping underneath. He devoured his first serving, then went back for seconds and thirds.
“You trying to fatten me up?” he asked between bites.
“Someone needs to add some padding to those abs.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Keep feeding me pasta and you might succeed.”
My heart performed another weird flip in my chest.
After dishes, we ended up on the couch. He dropped into one corner. I curled into the other. A movie played on low volume, some old action thing. At some point my feet ended up in his lap. His hands rested on my shins, thumbs moving absently in small circles.
I watched his profile in the flickering light. Strong jaw. Faint scar along his cheek. The little lines at the corners of his eyes.
I thought about Victor. Diaz. The offer.
“You really meant what you said,” I blurted.
He turned his head. “Which part?”
“To him,” I said. “About me. About never handing me over.”
“I hadn’t realized you could hear any of that.” His gaze went serious. “Yeah. I meant it.”
“You said…” My voice faltered. He waited. “You said I was your woman.”
“I did.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You sure? My baggage comes cartel-shaped with teeth.”
Kane’s eyes never left mine. “When I opened my door, I walked straight toward your problems. My choice. I could have bailed, and here I sit.”
My voice dropped to a whisper. “The way you talk makes me want to believe every word.”
“I want you to.”
I slid my feet off his lap and moved closer until my thigh pressed to his. My hand found his on the cushion. I traced the veins on the back of his hand with my finger.
“In the kitchen earlier, with Casey. I said you were mine. By accident.”
His mouth curved slowly. “Yeah?”
“She is never going to let me live it down,” I said.
“Good. Somebody should have it on record.”
I swallowed. “You are, though. Mine.”
His thumb stroked over my knuckles. “And you’re mine. If you want to be.”
Fear flared. Not because I did not want it. Because I did.
“I’m falling in love with you.” The words spilled out before I could lose the nerve.
Silence stretched for a heartbeat. Then he shifted so he faced me fully, knee brushing my leg. His hand came up, fingers gentle on my jaw.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m already there.”
Relief and panic crashed together in my chest. I swallowed hard. “Are you certain?” My voice wavered as I searched his eyes. “Your protective nature might run wild because I’ve ruined so many of your shirts with my tears.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I knew I loved you before you ever got here.”
My brain shorted out. “What?”
He looked almost sheepish. “You walked up to me at the diner, shoved a cup of coffee in my hand, and seemed nervous as hell. But you thanked me. After I left, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Then you showed up at my house in the middle of the night. Every step after that just made it worse.”
“Worse,” I repeated.
He corrected me. “Stronger. Deeper. Whatever word you want. My feelings aren’t some rescue high, Jade. I worked through my own shit. I never slapped emotions on top of adrenaline. I chose you. Every time you opened a door in your head and let me see inside, my choice became easier.”
The knot in my chest loosened. I leaned in and kissed him.
Kane met me halfway, one hand cupping my jaw, the other sliding to my hip. The kiss began soft but grew hungry fast.
Weeks of fear and tension poured through me.
I slid my fingers up his chest, over his shoulders, around his neck.
He pulled me onto his lap as though I weighed nothing.
Soon I straddled him, my knees braced on either side of his thighs while his hands held my waist. Heat flared low in my belly.
The feel of him under me, solid and hot, made my breath stutter.
He broke the kiss long enough to rest his forehead against mine. “You’re driving me crazy.”
I kissed him again, deeper now. His tongue slid against mine while a low sound rumbled in his chest. When he shifted, his hips pressed up enough for me to feel how hard he’d become.
“I want you.” My cheeks burned.
His eyes softened. “You have no idea how hot you sound when you say those words.”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered.
“I exist very much in reality,” he said. “Though maybe not tonight.”