4. Kane
FOUR
KANE
Bella avoids me for twenty-seven hours. Not completely. That'd be impossible with her sleeping in my room, working at the Landing under club escort and crossing the common room every morning while I'm stretched out on a couch too short for me. But she doesn't look at me unless she has to.
She leaves for the cafe with Judge and Cash, comes back with Tank and Wilder after dark, eats in my room and locks the door.
I let her, but the door to my room stays closed.
I can still feel Bella under me, her nails in my shoulders, her legs around my waist and the sound she made when she came. Then I remember the way her face changed afterward.
I can't let myself want you.
She said it like wanting me was another thing the club had done to her. Maybe, in her mind, it is.
I've spent half my life wanting her and the other half making damn sure she never paid the price for it. One hour together in my room doesn't give me the right to start pushing now.
So I don't push. I sleep on the couch, make sure the Landing opens at six and closes at three without trouble. I give her exactly what she asked for, and what I promised.
By the second morning, Kingdom Come has turned Rourke's Landing into a statement. Two bikes outside before sunrise. A brother at the counter through breakfast. Nobody's been told to make a show of it. They do anyway.
Bella is under our protection, and the town understands.
Men who lowered their voices when my father's bike passed now sit straighter when mine does. Shop owners watch from doorways, and Landing regulars pretend not to stare at the skull-and-crown patches.
The answer travels faster than the threat did. Good. That's what I want.
Dekker needs the rest explained in person. We meet at an abandoned boat repair yard ten miles upriver.
Judge comes with me. Tank waits by the bikes. Three of Dekker's men stand near the corrugated-metal building, hands visible and jackets hanging wrong over their guns.
Dekker looks like a man who spent money trying not to look cheap, with polished boots, a gold watch and a white shirt open at the throat. He has no code, only ambition. He smiles when I walk up.
"President."
"Dekker."
"I was starting to think you didn't want to talk."
"I didn't."
His smile holds, but it takes work.
The river moves brown and slow behind him. Barges run this corridor north. Product, money, guns. Whatever pays. King taxed traffic when it suited him and ignored it when it didn't. Dekker saw the funeral and decided the river was now unclaimed. He picked the wrong town.
"I've got no interest in your club business," he says.
"You put a rock through Bella Rourke's window."
"Did I?"
"You had her run off River Road."
"That sounds very dangerous," he says with more than a little sarcasm.
My hands stay loose at my sides, despite the fury building inside me. Judge is silent beside me. He knows I don't need help speaking.
"She's off-limits," I say.
Dekker's gaze sharpens. "That right?"
"Touch her again and what you think we won't do is exactly what we'll do."
His smile disappears, not from fear, but calculation. He looks past me toward Tank, then back to the PRESIDENT patch on my cut. "Your old man would've asked what the route was worth."
"My old man's dead."
"He understood business."
"He understood fear."
"And you don't?"
I take one step closer.
"I understand it just fine." My voice stays low. "That's why I'm giving you a chance to feel it before it costs you more."
His eyes hold mine. The yard goes quiet except for the river and the soft tick of cooling engines.
Then Dekker nods once. "Message received.” His jaw tightens.
"You don't collect in Ransom. You don't move product through my town. You don't send Fenn near her again."
"That's a lot of territory for a man three weeks in the chair."
"I'm just getting started, and things are gonna be different around here.”
Judge's head turns slightly. Dekker doesn't understand the difference yet, but he will.
"Stay away from her," I say. "There won't be another warning."
I turn my back on him. That's the part he understands. No deal, no bargaining, and no glance over my shoulder to see whether he'll reach for a gun.
On the ride back, Judge waits until the compound gates close behind us. "Is this about her, brother?"
We're alone beside the bikes. Tank's already gone inside. Afternoon light flashes off the painted crown over the clubhouse door.
"It's about Ransom."
"Sure it is."
"It's about what kind of club we're running now." I look at him.
Judge folds his arms. "You went to the Landing yourself. Put her in your room. Put half the club at her counter. Just told a man with a river operation he can't cross town limits because he scared her."
"He tried to put her car in the river."
"I'm not saying you're wrong, brother."
"Then what are you saying?"
He studies me for a second. "I'm asking if this is about more than just who she is to this club."
I could say no, but he'd know I was lying; Judge is anything but stupid.
"Yeah," I say. "It's complicated."
Judge nods, and that's all. There's no warning about presidents and weaknesses, no speech. He asked because somebody had to, and I answered because he's the one man I don't have to perform for. He grips my shoulder once and walks inside.
Bella learns about the meeting before dinner. Of course she does. Cash says something at the cafe and Marisol hears. By the time Bella comes through the compound gates, the story has probably grown guns, blood and three bodies in the river.
She finds me in the kitchen after midnight.
The clubhouse is dark. One light burns over the stove. I'm standing at the counter eating cold meat from a plate when she walks in barefoot, wearing my T-shirt. She must have found it in my room, and the sight hits harder than it should.
She stops when she sees me. I set the fork down on the plate.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"Cash told Marisol you met with the men behind this."
"Cash talks too much."
"Did you?"
"Yes. I did. They were told that they need to leave you alone."
Her arms fold across her chest. The movement drags the shirt higher on her thighs. I try hard to keep my eyes on her face.
"You threatened them."
"I explained the price."
"For touching me?”
"For coming into my town."
Her mouth twists. "There it is."
"What?"
"The reasonable answer."
"It's also true."
"It's not the whole truth."
"No. It's not." The admission lands between us.
She walks farther into the kitchen. "You haven't spoken to me all day."
"You asked for room. I gave it to you."
"I know that and I hate that you're being so reasonable. I hate that you're giving me space," she adds.
“But It's what you wanted."
"Yes. And I hate that too."
A laugh nearly gets out of me. I stop it.
Her eyes narrow. "Don't."
I lift both hands. "I didn't do anything."
"You almost smiled."
"I wouldn't dare. What do you want me to do?"
"Honestly, I don't know."
"Then we're back where we started."
"No." She shakes her head. "We're not."
The kitchen hums around us. Refrigerator. Ice machine. A pipe ticking in the wall.
Bella presses her lips together. "I heard what you told them. He said you told Dekker I was off-limits."
"I did."
"And if he touched me, you'd do what he thinks you won't."
“Also true."
Her breath changes, not with fear but something hotter. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"I meant it."
"That's the problem."
She turns away, staring toward the dark common room. I could let the silence close, but I don't.
"My father would've asked what their route was worth.” She looks back at me.
"Dekker said that. He thought I'd negotiate because King would've."
"Would he?"
"Probably." The answer costs less than it should. Maybe because she already knows the truth.
"My father could turn anything into business," I say. "Loyalty. Fear. Men. Didn't matter. If it kept him in control, he used it."
Bella's face softens by a fraction.
"You hated him."
I look away. "Sometimes."
"And now?"
"Now he's dead."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got."
She leans a hip against the opposite counter. "You mourn him."
"Sometimes."
The word scrapes and I look down at my plate. "There's relief in it too."
I've never said that aloud, not to Judge or anybody. Bella doesn't move. I keep going because stopping would make it worse.
"I wake up and remember he's gone. For a second, before the rest catches up, I'm glad." My jaw locks. "I remember I'm glad my father's dead and feel bad about that."
"He made you fight him your whole life."
"Still my father."
"And Red was still mine."
Our eyes meet, and there it is. The place nobody else can stand with us. Two dead men. Two kinds of love turned ugly by what those men chose. Anger without anywhere clean to put it.
"I knew what he was," she says quietly. "My dad. I knew the drinking wasn't King's fault. Not all of it. I was angry at him."
"You were allowed."
Her eyes shine, but she blinks it back.
"I hate that you're the man I think you are, because it makes resenting this club harder."
The words land hard enough to stop my breath. A confession wearing an insult's clothes.
For one second, neither of us moves. Then I cross the kitchen, and Bella doesn't step back. I stop close enough to feel her heat.
"Tell me to go back to the couch," I say. "And I will, I'll do that."
Her gaze drops to my mouth. "No."
That's all I need. I kiss her, but not like last time; there's no collision and no fury to hide behind.
My hand slides into her hair, and I take my time.
Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I taste her slowly.
My other hand settles against the small of her back and draws her into me.
She makes a low sound against my mouth, and I feel it everywhere.
Her hips press forward, and the contact drives a groan from my chest that I don't bother hiding.
Her hands settle on my chest. Her fingers still for half a heartbeat, then curl into my shirt and pull me closer.
I kiss her until the tension leaves her shoulders and she stops bracing for whatever comes next. Then I lift my head.
"Still sure?"
"Yes."
There's no anger or challenge in the answer, only truth. I take her hand and lead her down the hall.
The clubhouse is never completely asleep. Somebody shifts on a couch. A door closes upstairs. Floorboards complain under our feet. Bella walks beside me anyway.
In my room, she turns before I can close the door and reaches for me. We undress each other slowly.
Her fingers trace the ink across my chest, then the chain at my neck. She doesn't ask about it. I'm grateful, because if she asks I might tell her everything.
How I wore it under my shirt when I took my first beating for refusing to obey my father. How I touched it the night Red lost his patch. How many women I left before morning because none of them were her.
Instead, I kiss her palm, then her wrist and her throat.
I lay her on my bed and learn her without anger between us.
I press my mouth to the hollow of her throat and feel her breath catch.
I trace my tongue along the line of her collarbone and feel her fingers tighten in the sheets.
When I move lower, I take my time. I kiss the curve of each breast, the dip of her waist, the inside of her thigh, until she's arching beneath me and saying my name like it's the only word she knows.
When I settle between her thighs and use my mouth on her, she tries not to be loud. I make it impossible. I don't let her hide from me this time.
When she comes, her fingers lock in my hair and her thighs tremble around my shoulders. I move up her body, kissing every place I can reach.
She pushes at my chest until I'm on my back.
"What are you doing?"
"Being unreasonable."
The sight nearly kills me. She straddles me and takes her time returning everything I gave her, her mouth on my throat, nails down my stomach and hand closing around me until control turns thin.
She lowers onto me inch by inch. Every muscle in my body locks.
Her eyes stay on mine. There's no mistake this time and nowhere to hide.
I grip her hips and let her set the pace until neither of us can stand it. Then I roll us, pinning her beneath me. She welcomes the weight.
I move slowly at first, deep and controlled, feeling every inch of her close around me. Her breath shudders against my throat. I pull back and push in again, deeper, and the sound she makes is raw enough to go straight through me. Bella wraps herself around me.
"Stop holding back."
"I'm trying not to hurt you."
"You won't."
The words tear the last of my control loose. I take her harder. Her nails rake down my back, and I feel the sting of it like permission.
Her mouth opens on a broken sound. I kiss it away, hand sliding between us until she comes around me. I follow with my face buried against her neck and twenty years of wanting her burning through every nerve I've got.
Afterward, neither of us moves away. We sleep, wake and reach for each other again, slower and quieter.
By the third time, dawn grays the window. When I wake, Bella is curled against my side, her hair over my shoulder and one hand resting on the pendant like it belongs there.
Outside, boots pass and somebody starts the coffee. One brother laughs, low and knowing, before another tells him to shut the hell up. They know where I slept and that she stayed, and for once I don't care what the club makes of it.
Bella was the first girl I ever wanted and the only woman I ever loved. She's asleep in my bed, wearing my scent on her skin, and every rule I built to keep myself from taking this is gone. I should want the discipline back, but I don't.