Page 57 of Kane
He’d been dreading the question. His father had made no secret of his disapproval when Mandy had been part of his life. He’d only met her once, but like Scott, he loved to call her Princess Bitch and said Kane was better off once they split. Any intel from her would be dismissed out of hand. But his father would need some source to take his warning seriously.
So he lied. “My friend Brick. The guy who hired us for the Sucre hit. He, uh, said he heard it from a reliable source. I trust him. If he says it’s going down, it will.”
His father scratched at his beard, considering his words. “Meers is behind this?”
“Bennett. I don’t know if Cue told you, but he gave us some shit out at the park the other day too. Thinks they’re entitled to dealing, part of their white crusade or whatever.”
Malcolm took a deep pull from his cigarette, then blew out a cloud of smoke. “When is this supposed to happen?”
“Within the week.” He dug his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, his fingerless gloves doing little to provide warmth. “We need to clean up now. Find somewhere to store our product and our cash. The guns too. The cops know who we are, so our regular places are out.”
Gritting his teeth, his father tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground and smashed it under his boot. “What do you suggest?”
To get out of the drug business.
They should have never gone into it in the first place. The truth would do nothing to help his cause, though. It would only start the same argument over again. “A self-storage place could work. Get one of the prospects or the girls to rent one in their name. Something no one can trace back to us. And we need to do it fast, or we’re going to end up in jail.”
Building an argument around keeping his freedom was a language his father understood. Malcolm served a six-month stint on a gun charge once. He’d said a dozen times since then, he’d never go back. “Fine. Let’s get it done.”
He followed his dad back into the kitchen, where Malcolm barked orders for everyone to start cleaning up. Scott scowled, then shot Kane a look that could melt asphalt. “You responsible for this?” He stomped around the table, vengeance burning in his eyes. “You can’t fucking admit I was right about this. Do you have any idea how much money this could mean for us? And you want to throw it all away on some Boy Scout notion about drugs being bad?”
His brother lunged forward, but Malcolm grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “Cut it out, Scott.”
Scott froze in his father’s grasp.
“We got a tip we’re gonna be the target of a raid. We need to get moving and clear out right now.”
“But—”
Malcolm swatted the back of his head. “But nothing. We’ll find out soon enough if the tip was legit. Either the cops show up here and prove him right, or they don’t.” The part about what it would mean if the copsdidn’tcome remained unsaid.
Mama V pulled down her mask. “It’ll take two or three hours to finish up with the batches we’ve got working now.”
“Use up anything we can’t transport as is.” Malcolm glanced around. “Where are the rest of the boys?”
“We’ve got the last steps going in the chapel. Pete, Scratch, Randy, and Joe are in there. Cue is working with Frank and one of the prospects up front. Everyone else is at their day job.” Scott’s evil eye still trained on Kane. “Ain’t you supposed to be at yours?”
Any other day he would be, but he cut out early to warn his family.
His father saved him from any more conversation with Scott. “It’s actually a good thing you’re here. I got a call from Ace McClinton. He wants a meeting.”
Scott tried to run his fingers through his tangled hair, but the knots were too strong. A brush every now and then would go a long way. He let out a frustrated breath, then planted on a serene smile. “I’ll go. Since Kane wants to clean house so bad, he can stay here and pack up.”
Malcolm gave a sharp shake of his head. “He wants to meet with your brother. The man was real clear about it. Besides, Kane is the one with a head for business. He can finally use the shit he learned in night school to help the club instead of just walking around thinking he’s smarter than everyone.”
There might have been a trace of a compliment somewhere in there, deep down. Very deep down.
Scott’s hands fisted, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t argue with Malcolm, though. He swallowed whatever words he wanted to say and stalked off toward the chapel.
Mama V scuttled behind him. “SP, baby, you all right?”
Her clucking would only make it worse.
Malcolm’s gaze followed them out of the room before it swung back to Kane. “What the hell are you still standing around for, boy? Go make us some money.”
***
At least he didn’t have to go back to the damn apartment complex. Kane held no misconceptions he wouldn’t have to return there at some point, but anytime he could avoid the burned-out reminder of his past, he considered it a small victory.