White Lies (Blood Brothers MC Book 1) (2 page)

“Kiddie fucker is in the next stall.”

Water sloshed all around, into his mouth, down his nose. When Kane was finally on his own, he struggled to his knees and listened without sympathy to the violation of the pedophile. Raping babies. It was a crime. It was depraved and disgusting. No excuse.

But some crimes had one.

***

“My dad’s worse today,” Angeline said as she entered his apartment. She was more nervous these days, and when Kane told her that they would figure something out, Angeline always relaxed into him and nodded.

Not now.

“Hey? What’s up?” he asked.

He started to hold her, sure that he could drive her fears away, but she just shook her head as she struggled to speak.

“And I can’t afford … so I… shit.”

Running her hands through her hair, she looked more distressed than he had ever seen her. But whatever it was, he could fix it.

“What, honey?” he asked, trying to keep it light.

And then she told him that she was selling pills on the street in the hope of meeting the next month’s bills.

“You
what?
” he asked. “Why would you…?”

Sure her dad was sick. And she wanted to help. But this? It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her. Too many things could go wrong if she happened upon the wrong guy and—

“I think I’m gonna get caught, Kane,” she said. “I tried to be careful. But…”

Tears started to stream down her face. In that moment, he could do nothing but hold her. His mind filled with the idea of her in cuffs, behind bars. It was not going to happen. Not to her.

“I’ll handle it,” he said as he took her head in his hands.

“Kane, I—”

Shushing her with the force of his kiss, he ordered her to hand over her stash. She hesitated for a second, but then he promised that he’d see to the pills and get her the cash.

“But won’t you be in danger?” she asked, bunching his t-shirt in her shaking hands.

“Maybe. But I’ll risk it for you,” he said.

Her injured father would get his treatment. He could do that much.

“Kane—“

“This way you’ll stay safe,” he promised. “I want to do this for you. Trust me. It’ll all be good.”

And then he got caught, and he would serve five years, with good behavior, for his drug dealing. His club groaned, told him he was weak, but the news from Angeline that her father was improving was good enough for now.

During their last moments in the courtroom, the seconds where she had flung her arms around his neck, Angeline promised to visit him every week.

“No.”

Angeline shook her head as he cupped her chin in his hands and smiled into her wide, green eyes.

“I don’t want you to see me like that,” he said.

“But—”

“Please, Angel?”

Her shoulders sagged as she accepted her own sentence. Kane asked her to stay away until the moment of his release. When he saw her next, there would be no barriers, no fear. Reluctantly Angeline agreed to the terms and let him go.

***

Five years. It felt like a thousand lifetimes without her, but now it was time. It was his moment of freedom, and Kane was more than ready to take her back into his arms.

His Angel.

Kane stepped through the prison gate, his eyes darting in every direction. He didn’t see Angeline. He saw no Blood Brother ready to bring him back into the fold.

He only saw Jeremy, his actual brother, wearing a suit and tie. He hesitated for a second before taking hold of Kane’s arm.

“Good to see you,” Jeremy said. “You… you look okay.”

Even as is felt like a lie, Kane fell into his brother’s embrace. Jeremy knew nothing of laying his life on the line. He was a CPA. But he had visited on a monthly basis, and when Kane asked him to check in and report back on Angeline, he returned with the news that her father just kept getting better. So it had all been worth it, and as they sped away from the prison, Kane asked if she was waiting, thrilled at the reality of his release.

Jeremy just held the wheel tighter and hit the gas. Kane took note of his clenched jaw and saw his knuckles grow white.

“Jem?” he asked. “Where is she?

Jeremy brought the car to a curb, sighing as he hit the brake.

“Angie? You okay, honey?”

Snapping out of a daydream, the same fantasy that played in her mind in a continuous loop, the one that would never come true, Angeline Wilkins turned away from the sink. With the water still running, her hands dripping, she saw her father sitting over his finished dinner. He carelessly tapped his fork against the edge of the plate as he stared at her under bushy brows, his weary gaze full of worry.

“Angie?” he asked again.

“What? Oh. It’s nothing, Dad. I’m just… tired.”

Exhausted was more like it. Angeline hadn’t slept,
truly
slept, in five years.

“Well, here,” Brent Wilkins said as he started to struggle to his feet. Pushing up from the table, Brent grunted as he rose. His cane rested against the cupboard. She had moved it, thinking only of her own desire to sit and pick at her food. In her haze, Angeline had failed to return it to his side. Now with his legs needing, Angeline forgot the running water as she hurried towards him.

“Dad—”

“I’m good,” he said as he waved her off. Angeline held back. It was good for him try things on his own, and the physical therapist always said that babying him was the worst kind of help. So she stayed still, biting down on her tongue as he gained his footing and started to limp.

“See?” he said. “Almost as good as new.”

He was walking. Shuffling really, but it was still progress.

“Now since you washed,” he started, “Let’s say I—”

Before either of them could stop it, Brent started stumbling to the ground.

“Dad!”

Lurching forward, she awkwardly collected him her arms. Summoning all of her strength, Angeline held him against her chest.

“Son of a bitch!” he groaned. She hated seeing him like this. Because it just wasn’t him. Her father was a proud man, a one-time marine who had passed through
Strait of Hormuz without a scratch. Civilian life brought its own battles; Brent lost his job and his wife in the space of the same year, and he had a teenage daughter to boot. But this was a man who could lick any adversary. Brushing away his sorrow, he started a small construction company, kept and paid for the house in which they now stood, and saw that Angeline never went without.

“I got you, Dad,” she said. “Just lean into me.”

Casting a quick glance at his eyes, she saw a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Those were supposed to be his words,
had
been in his words, and while Angeline took some pride in returning the favor, she knew that it was the last thing he wanted.

Brent was spent even before she got him back to his seat.

“God damn,” he muttered. “I almost had it that time.”

But that wasn’t true. As much as she hoped that the magic bullet had finally hit its target, he would never be whole again.

She would never tell him that.

“So close, Dad,” Angeline said. “Maybe next time. I’m sure of it. Want some coffee?”

When he stayed silent, Angeline started to clear his plate. Suddenly his hand, much stronger than his legs, crushed under the wheels of a backhoe, seized hold of her wrist. She waited as his eyes drifted towards hers.

“I can still do some things without your help,” he barked.

“I know, Dad,” she said. “Just trying to be nice.”

Angeline backed away from the table. When he shifted in his seat, she feared that he would try to stand again. And fall. If she was fast, she could snatch the dish away and hurry back to the sink like nothing had happened. But that might hurt him even more. So she hung back.

“Here.”

Brent lifted his plate slowly and offered it to her.

“Now you only have to make one trip,” he feebly joked.

Angeline smiled as her fingers surrounded the ceramic, and she patted his arm.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “That’s a big help.”

Brent formed a small fist and gently banged it to the table before folding his arms across his chest.

“Someone said something about coffee?” he asked.

“I’ll get right on that,” Angeline said.

Back at the sink, she rinsed the plate and filled the carafe. As the grounds became liquid that trickled into the pitcher, Angeline’s thoughts turned to a different pot of coffee.

***

“So tell me again. What’s with the salt?”

Kane slipped his arm around her waist, and she sank into his chest. His hold was strong and tender, and she curled her head towards his lips. Kane’s unshaven cheeks brushed against her face. She wanted nothing but his mouth, his tongue. But as she tried to claim them, Kane eased her away, smiling.

“You gotta answer my question,” he said.

Tilting her head one way than the other, Angeline started to speak when he reached behind her head. Releasing her bun, he sent her hair spilling around her shoulders. Sighing as he stroked her locks, Angeline started to press closer when she shook her head wildly with a mischievous grin.

“You like it black, right?” she asked.

Kane nodded, and she lightly touched his cheek.

“So the salt will smooth it out,” she promised. “It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

As he gathered her in his arms, Angeline pressed her palms to his chest.

“I promise you’ll like it,” she said in a sultry voice. “You just—”

“And you’ll like this.”

As he took her mouth, Angeline drank in his kiss. Kane was always so sure that he could read her mind. Maybe he could. But that didn’t mean he always got to have the last word.

“Sit.”

Kane laughed as she struck a far more forceful tone.

“I’m being serious,” she said. “A nurse knows when you need to take your medicine.”

Throwing his hands into the air, Kane backed away, shaking his head.

“Don’t want to cross a pro,” he said as he returned to the table. As he brought one broad limb over the other, he shot her a smile.

“So do your thing,” Kane said.

Angeline delighted in the chance to prove her point. She poured out two cups and sprinkled the salt into the simmering mugs.

Kane grimaced as she handed him the coffee.

“This is crazy,” he said. “You know that right?”

“I do,” she said. “It’s wild.”