Chapter Twelve
Kane
I woke up before my alarm again.
The room sat quiet and dim. Jade lay on her stomach, hair spread across my pillow, one arm stretched toward my side like she’d fallen asleep reaching for me.
The sheet had slipped down, baring the long line of her back.
Faded bruises from earlier drills marked one thigh, where she’d bumped into the cot frame. New life, same clumsy corners.
Roth’s voice tried to creep in. I gave him a chair in my head last night, down in the same cellar where we’d left him. I locked that door and refused to let him upstairs.
Up here, I had this.
I ran my fingers down Jade’s spine, light enough not to wake her. She shifted, head turning toward my touch, a sleepy sound slipping out.
I didn’t deserve the trust that sound held. Didn’t stop me from wanting to keep earning it.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I snagged it before the noise dragged her the rest of the way up.
Text from Spade: rat woke up. still stupid. get coffee. meet in office. bring your brain, not your fists.
I snorted under my breath.
“What?” Jade’s voice came out muffled against the pillow.
“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” I said.
She cracked one eyelid. “You talking to yourself over there?”
“Spade,” I said, waving the phone. “Apparently Roth’s awake and talking shit again. Spade wants backup.”
Her expression sobered fast. “You going down there?”
“Yeah,” I said. “General’s already in the loop. Atilla too. I’ll be in the room, not driving. That belongs to them and Spade.”
She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. The sheet shifted higher. I dragged my gaze back to her face.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Is that going to be our thing now?” she asked. “First words every morning?”
“Until I get an answer I like,” I said.
She thought about it. “Better than yesterday,” she said finally. “Still angry. Less… hollow.”
“Good,” I said.
“You going to tell me what happens down there?” she asked.
“The parts you need,” I said. “Not every detail. Atilla’s clear on that. So am I.”
She studied me for a second. “You’re already carrying enough ghosts,” she said. “I don’t need to borrow more.”
I leaned in and kissed her. Slow. Careful. Letting my mouth say the things I couldn’t put into clean words yet.
She kissed me back, fingers curling in the front of my T-shirt.
When I pulled away, her eyes looked a little steadier.
“You and Casey are the line between ‘scared kids in a basement’ and ‘traumatized adults.’ You’re good at that work. Doesn’t look like much from the outside. Means everything from here.”
She made a face. “Your bar for ‘good’ still feels way too low.”
“We’ll argue about it later,” I said. “Right now, I need to go watch Spade poke a snake.”
She shivered. “Don’t get bit.”
“I’ve been vaccinated,” I said.
She snorted. “Go. I’ll find coffee, then Casey.”
I dragged myself out of bed, pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, then shrugged into my cut out of habit. The leather settled over my shoulders like armor.
I caught Jade watching me, eyes dark. She slid to the edge of the bed and stood, sheet wrapped around her body. Bare feet on the floor. Hair tangled. Eyes serious. “Come back,” she said.
I cupped her jaw. “That the way you’re going to say I love you now?” I asked.
“Consider it shorthand.”
I kissed her once more and left before I forgot why I needed to.
* * *
The morning air cut through the haze in my head as soon as I stepped outside.
Dawn painted the yard in pale colors. A couple of Prospects already moved between the garage and the gate, trading off shifts. Engines rumbled faintly from somewhere beyond the tree line as someone warmed up a bike.
I forced my gaze away and headed for the clubhouse.
Inside, the smell of coffee hit me first. Pancakes sizzled on the griddle as Casey weaved through the kitchen, balancing stacks of plates between counter and table. No children occupied their usual corner yet, though cartoon voices drifted down the hallway, signaling an early start to their day.
General leaned against the end of the bar, mug in hand, talking to Atilla. Their voices hummed low, steady.
“Morning,” I said.
General lifted his mug. “You get any sleep?” he asked.
“Some,” I said.
Atilla’s gaze flicked over me. “Spade already text you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Asked for caffeine and adult supervision.”
“He’s got one of those,” General said. “We’ll see about the other.”
Atilla nodded toward the hallway. “When you’re done pretending that black tar is breakfast, get to the storm cellar,” he said. “We’re not going to drag this out longer than we have to.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
Marci slid a plate in front of me before I could make a run for the coffeepot. “Eat,” she said. “Spade’s banned from interrogation room access until he finishes his toast. Same deal for you.”
I smirked. “You banning the Prez from his own cellar too?”
She arched a brow. I knew that look and knew I needed to back down. “Never mind.”
I wolfed down the food, gulped coffee tasting of burned beans and pure stubbornness, then made my way toward the office.
Spade stood waiting by the back door, tablet tucked under one arm, thermos clutched in his hand, hoodie thrown over yesterday’s wrinkled shirt.
“Sleep much?” I asked.
“Enough,” he replied with dark circles contradicting his words. “My evil villain batteries needed recharging.”
“You say that like it’s a joke,” I said.
He grinned. “Mostly.”
We walked toward the cellar. A padlock hung on the door. Atilla stood beside it, keys in hand, General on his other side.
“You sure about this?” Atilla asked Spade, even though we all knew the answer.
Spade nodded. “He’s halfway broken,” he said. “Went from big talk to whining in under an hour last night. Give me one more pass and I’ll have the pieces I want.”
“And if he holds out?” General asked.
Spade rolled his shoulders. “Plenty of ways to skin a rat,” he said. “The man loves hearing himself talk. I need to aim him toward useful topics.”
Atilla pushed the key into the lock. “Today marks his last breath of our air,” he said. “One way or another.”
The lock snapped open with a metallic click. I followed them down the narrow stairs in single file. Concrete, damp air, and sweat assaulted my nose when we entered the storm cellar.
Roth sat where we’d left him. Chair bolted to the floor. Hands bound behind his back. Ankles secured to the metal legs. The hood was gone now. His eyes flinched away from the bare bulb overhead.
Bruises bloomed along his jaw and cheekbone. Dried blood crusted at one corner of his mouth. Sweat darkened his shirt.
He looked smaller than he had in any dream. That surprised me.
He shifted when he heard us, chains clinking. “Kane,” he said, voice rough.
The fact he remembered my name said a lot. I’d been background noise in his world for years. One more biker who happened to share a roof with the girl he thought belonged to him. Didn’t matter. I didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say.
Spade moved to the metal table set up against one wall. Laptop. A notepad sat beside them, lines already filled in from yesterday.
General took up a position near the door, arms folded. Atilla leaned against the opposite wall, expression unreadable.
I stepped closer to Roth, just out of the range of whatever he thought he could reach.
He dragged his gaze up and down me. “You’re playing dress-up,” he said. “Little soldier for the big bad club.”
“You look like shit,” I said.
Spade hit a couple of keys and the scrape of the chair echoed as he dragged his own closer to Roth’s. He sat, flipped open his notebook, and gave Roth a long, flat look. “Morning, sunshine. Ready for round two?”
Roth rolled his shoulders against the restraints. “You boys gonna kill me? Do me a favor and get on with it. All this waiting means I’ll end up leaving bodily fluids on your floor.”
“Not yet,” Spade said. “We need what you know. When your usefulness runs out, you won’t have time to worry about bathroom breaks.”
I caught a twitch at the corner of Atilla’s mouth -- a rare glimpse of amusement from our President.
Spade set his pen to paper. “Let’s talk Diaz,” he said. “Again.”
Roth snorted. “You think I’m going to hand you his head on a platter because you roughed me up a little?”
“I don’t need his head,” Spade said. “Not yet. I need his legs. The ones he stands on around here. Routes. Stashes. Names. We already have some from Jason. We want the rest. You help, I make sure your death is clean. You keep playing games…” He shrugged and looked at General. “We get creative.”
General’s expression didn’t change, but something in the air cooled.
Roth swallowed. “You think you can scare me worse than Diaz?” he said, but some of the bravado had drained out of the words.
“I don’t need to.” Spade leaned back. “He scares you plenty. That’s leverage.
Here’s what we know so far.” He began ticking points off on his fingers.
“One, Diaz uses the river warehouse for big shipments. Two, he liked Jason because our boy had a brain and Diaz didn’t.
Three, once Jason was locked up, you went after Jade for repayment.
I’m just unclear if Diaz is the one who sent you after her, or if that was your call. ”
“What does it matter?” Roth asked.
“It doesn’t. Not really. Whatever your reason for targeting her, I think you can agree it was a colossal mistake. Look where it got you,” Spade said.
Roth’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped.
“Yeah, so I went after her. It wasn’t like I was going to kill her. But once Diaz found out about Jason running his mouth, you think he would have let her live?”
“Enough,” Atilla said mildly. “We’re not here to listen to you polish your halo, Roth. Answer Spade’s questions.”
Spade slid a printout across the table toward Roth. Addresses. Company names. Some I recognized from the maps.