Page 69 of Kane
She didn’t have to see the punch Cyrus threw. She heard the hard crack of his fist against Nathan’s face. And she couldn’t miss the way Nathan’s head snapped back with the force of the blow.
He didn’t fight back at Cyrus, though. He charged at her, wrapping his hands around her neck, cutting off her oxygen before she could gasp for air. “Is this the one? The man who scratched up your pretty face with his beard? The one you werefuckingwhen you were supposed to be mine?” His eyes bulged, and a vein pulsed on his Botox-riddled forehead.
As her vision darkened, she glimpsed several hands pulling at Nathan’s arms and shoulders. Or maybe she was seeing double. Triple? The world was spinning. The trailer—Nathan—everything was getting further away.
Until his iron grip released, and her lungs filled with air. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor in front of the loveseat, gasping like a fish on land. The sounds of violence echoed around her, but her brain struggled to make sense of what was happening only a few feet away.
Nathan lay flat on his back, a man straddling his chest, pounding his face like his fists were mallets. Blood splattered warm onto her skin. She heard yelling, but it was as if her ears were stuffed with cotton.
It wasn’t Cyrus pummeling Nathan. It was a white guy with burns on his neck and the side of his face. Cyrus was trying to pull him off, him and a big man. What was his name? He was Kane’s friend. The one who got shot.
She was still trying to remember his name when the world went dark.
***
Kane
Kane almost ignored his phone when it buzzed in his back pocket. Only the haunted look in his mother’s eyes at the kitchen table the day before made him reconsider.
What if the cops had come back? What if they found the storage unit with the drugs and the guns?
He tugged it out and glanced at the screen, expecting to see the photo Mama V had attached to her contact.
“Brick?” He could count on one hand the number of times his friend had called him. “Everything okay?”
“You need to get over to the new site. Fast.” Though Brick pitched his voice low, it nearly vibrated with intensity. “It’s your girl. Some guy messed her up really bad.”
He may have said more, but those were the last words Kane registered. If he were thinking clearly, he might have asked questions or tried to find out exactly what had happened. He didn’t need to clarify his friend was talking about Mandy. There was no other girl, and they both knew it.
The normal drive time to the new development lasted about five or six minutes. The Harley got him there in three, weaving in and out of the cars on the road, even taking him over a couple of sidewalks.
He drove straight up to the steps outside the trailer, where he noticed right away the door hung open, but two men blocked it. He shouldered his way past them.
Mandy lay on the floor, her back propped against the wall next to the desk. Her left cheekbone was red with the telltale swelling he’d seen on his mother’s face too many times to count. Her blouse was ripped at the sleeve, and she winced as her fingers slid back and forth over her neck. From the unfocused look in her eyes, it was obvious she didn’t register his presence.
White hot rage nearly froze him in place, but the need to touch her, to comfort her rose to the surface. He knelt beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder.
She lashed out, leading with her fists and following through with the weight of her slight body. Her knuckles skimmed over his chest, but she kept fighting, either unconcerned or unaware her strikes weren’t landing.
He slipped his hands around her wrists, holding them immobile, and the wild look in her eyes twisted his gut.
“Let me go,” she rasped, struggling against his grip.
“Mandy.” He said it gently, the way his mom had said his name when he’d woken up in the hospital. “It’s Kane. Baby, look at me.”
Her body stilled, and her gaze shot around the room. From the corner of his eye, he could see no sign of Brick, but Cy and Evan still crowded around the door. She would hate having witnesses to something like this. “Can you give us some space, guys?” He had a feeling they could help him fill in the blanks, but his first priority was taking care of his woman.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Mandy’s shoulders slumped forward. She made a small cry as he pulled her into his arms. “Shh. You’re okay now. Everything is going to be okay.” He kissed the top of her head and rocked her gently.
She didn’t make another sound, but her uneven breaths and shaking shoulders spoke volumes. Someone had hurt her beyond words, and he would not rest until the perpetrator paid the price in blood and fucking tears. But Mandy came first.
Five minutes may have passed—or maybe fifty—but it felt like an eternity before Mandy’s breathing evened out, and she relaxed against him. “I want to go home,” she whispered.
He helped her to her feet, which he realized were bare. “Do you have any shoes?” When her face started to crumple again, he didn’t hesitate. He swept her into his arms and carried her to the door, swiping her purse from the desk along the way.
Cyrus and Evan were keeping vigil at the foot of the stairs, and Evan nodded gravely, jaw clenched, as they passed by. Cyrus rushed ahead to Mandy’s car and opened the passenger door so Kane could release her inside.
Kane closed the door as she wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face into her raised knees. He turned to Cyrus. “Who did this?”