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Kane believes Lucas wants to get into my pants; therefore, I expect Kane to be waiting on me outside while fantasizing about giving Lucas a slow, painful death.

Kane hates Lucas.

The whole “cousin” thing when we aren’t blood-related just infuriates him. And regardless of why I called for him now, knowing Kane, in his mind, he sees me heading straight from a battle with him to Lucas’ house— to Lucas— as the deepest cut I could have delivered, which is absolute bullshit. And for Lucas’ safety, it’s a premise I need to snuff like a bad habit.

Or Pocher.

Yes, let’s snuff Pocher. What a birthday gift that would be!

I exit Lucas’ house to find the SUV parked at the bottom of the stairs with Kit, one of Kane’s most trusted men, leaning on the door. He offers me a mini salute as Kane pushes off the wall next to me and shows himself, predator waiting on prey, only I’m never prey, and he knows it. Ever. But I hope like hell Ghost makes the mistake of believing otherwise. I also wonder how much longer Kane’s jealousy and agitation would have allowed him to wait outside for me. Not much longer, I suspect, considering he made it this far.

I face off with Kane, toe-to-toe, as he towers over me. To most, Kane is as good-looking as he is intimidating, even terrifying. He doesn’t have that advantage with me, and he knows it. A big man has never intimidated me. In fact, it places me in the sweet pocket to cause damage to the family jewels, though in Kane’s case, I wouldn’t go that far. A wife doesn’t need such violence. She has her ways.

“You know he has cameras with audio?” I ask, a warning to watch what he says. I might not be happy with him, nor do I agree with him on Lucas and his motives, but some part of me does not want Lucas knowing things that might hurt Kane. I should probably analyze that feeling at some point that is not now.

“Of course I know, bella,” he purrs, a mix of steel and acid beneath the precisely spoken words. “I want him to know that I’m here. Why are you here?”

I don’t bother to point out his possessiveness. A statement of fact we both already understand serves no purpose. “I’m not going to be for long,” I assure him. “We need to talk. In private .”

“I tried that, and you walked away.”

“Not about your shitty decisions under my radar. I had a visitor tonight. You can guess who.”

“I heard,” he murmurs, his voice as sharp as a fresh blade. “Is he dead?”

“Assuming as much is a stretch and a compliment that will get you nowhere, Kane. You’re in deep shit with me.”

“You need to step back and see what I did for what it is. I made sure my father can’t control us. We control him.”

“They control us,” I say in obvious reference to the mob.

“You’re underestimating both of us if you think that’s true. No one can control us now, not even Ghost.”

Ghost is one of the main reasons I taunted the bear, aka Kane, into following Enrique over here. He knows Ghost, probably better than even I know he knows him. But we’ve said too much where we stand, and as if he’s in the same headspace, Kane motions toward the SUV where Kit has made himself scarce.

We rotate together, in tune with one another even when at odds, and for a moment, just a moment, I like how that feels. And that like, that love, softens my anger without ending it. He believes he took control. I’m not sure how the mob lends itself to that premise, and right now, it’s me who needs to be in control.

Not Elsa. And sure as fuck not Ghost. Right now, that’s exactly what feels like is happening. He’s in control. I wonder if Elsa has figured that out yet. I’d call her and make sure she does, but she doesn’t have her phone with her.

We reach the SUV, and again, Kane and I rotate to face each other. He steps closer. “Damn it, woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“That’s exactly right,” I assure him, even as his hand comes down on my face and his mouth crashes over mine. His lips are warm, a stark contrast to the cold night air and the death that suffocates me in its finality.

I don’t resist him. I’m not that selfless, I’m just not. I will take the last donut. I will eat the whole pie. I will allow Kane to make me moan. I’m angry with him, I might as well enjoy him while I allow him to live. Besides, you learn a lot about a man in how he kisses you.

For instance, Kane tastes of whiskey and worry, and some salty something that is as addictive as this man needing me as much as he does. There was a time when I wouldn’t have admitted I want this from him, even crave this from him, and this is exactly why. It distracts me. It’s dangerous, and this has gone too far.

I shove away from him.

“Stop kissing me like I almost died or you’re about to.” I point up at him. I seem to be a pointer today. It must be my way of not hitting everyone, especially him. “You need to stop a lot of things right now.”

“All right,” he states, anger ripping a note in his words. “What the hell was Ghost doing here?”

“That’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly a simple man, bella, in case you didn’t notice.”

No , I think. He is not, but he sure as fuck makes burying a body as simple. The question is, why doesn’t Ghost know that, and was tonight even about me? Was Ghost challenging Kane? And if so, why?