Page 40 of Kane

“It’s fine,” he agreed gruffly.

“The guns check out.” Jay hoisted Scott’s heavy backpack onto his shoulder.

Ace smiled and offered Kane his hand. “Then it looks like we have a deal.”

***

Scott didn’t say a word as they walked back to their bikes, each with a duffel bag in hand. His face was unreadable—at least to anyone who didn’t know him—but Kane knew there was emotion simmering beneath his skin.

It only took a few minutes to get back to the clubhouse, and even then, Scott said nothing as he stomped in the door, heading directly to the chapel.

It wasn’t until Kane stepped in behind him and closed the door, his brother dropped the duffel and whirled around with an expression on his face loaded with hurt and betrayal. “How could you do that? You knew this was my deal.”

Sighing, he set down his burden on the table. “I didn’t even want to go at all, Scott. But you and Malcolm made damn sure it happened anyway.”

“This is how you get back at me?” Scott raked his fingers through his hair. “You try to undermine me? Make thisyourdeal? We’re brothers. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”

Kane balled his hands into fists. “Thelastthing I wanted was for this to bemydeal. I think it’s a terrible idea, which you know damn good and well. It should have been more obvious than ever when those guys started making noise about avenging Sucre. They find out it was us, they’re coming for every brother wearing a cut.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “If they were really worried about what happened, they would be looking for us regardless.”

“But by approaching them, we drew a big fucking bullseye on our backs.” Scott could not be this fucking dumb.

“Nobody forced you to come.” Scott grabbed the pack of Camels on the table and stuck a cigarette between his lips. He marched outside the back door, and Kane followed on his heels. “I could’ve brought Cue Ball with me.”

Funny. Scott never mentioned Cue Ball when he told him about the meet. “You think I would have ever chosen to go back there?”

Scott lit his cigarette, then took a long drag. He blew the smoke out defiantly.

It took everything he had not to close the distance between them and knock the cigarette out of his fucking mouth. “The last time you dragged me there, I almost died. Twenty other people actually did.”

Scott’s eyes darkened, his hurt feelings giving way to something harder. “Who took care of you when you got out of the hospital, huh? This club did.Idid. Your precious old lady kicked you to the curb, and your family stayed with you to pick up the pieces.”

He stepped into Scott’s face. “There would have been no pieces to pick up if you hadn’t manipulated me into going in the first place.” He poked his brother in the chest. “You want me tothankyou? For almost getting me killed? For ruining my fucking life?Fuck you, brother. You’ll go to your grave waiting for any thanks from me.”

Pain bloomed across his cheekbone before he even realized his brother had taken a swing. But it was fine. It gave him permission to finally let go.

He hit back with a hard punch to Scott’s gut. Then, as his brother doubled over, he grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him down until Scott’s head connected with his knee. But instead of assuaging the ember of rage inside him, the violence only fed the flame.

It was almost a relief when Scott threw another punch.

He knocked it away with his forearm and with a howl, used his shoulder as a battering ram to knock his brother to the dead grass at his feet. It would be so easy to kick him while he was down. Or to climb on top of him and whale on his face until it was beaten to nothing short of raw hamburger.

But Malcolm grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him back.

He hadn’t even heard him come out.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

For a moment, he was tempted to land his next punch across his father’s weathered face, but he forced his anger under control. It was a skill he’d damn-near perfected over the years. “Scott’s pissed the supplier wants me to take the lead as the liaison for the club.”

“He’spissed, huh?” Malcolm looked meaningfully at Scott as he pulled himself to his feet.

He shrugged. “He threw the first punch. I threw the last.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy his father. He turned away from Scott to give Kane his full attention. “Do we have a deal?”

“The product’s right there.” He used his thumb to gesture toward the door behind him, the duffel bag on the table inside. “We’ve got to be careful, though. They’re real squirrely about Sucre.” He and Scott followed their father back in the house.