Page 33 of Kane

Jax frowned and clicked through a few more files. “Shit. That’s a good catch.”

Kane stepped in closer behind me, reading over my shoulder. His hand brushed the small of my back, grounding me. Or maybe branding me.

“She’s right,” Jax muttered, tapping his keyboard faster. “And look here—this signature line is blank. Whoever filed it forgot to finish the paperwork.”

“That happen often?” I asked.

“Never. Not with this guy.”

Kane’s hand tightened slightly on my lower back. “Keep going.”

Jax glanced at me, this time with something closer to respect. “You might actually be able to help.”

A swell of pride rose in my chest. “Guess all those late nights of studying are finally worth something. Especially since I don’t even know if you’re going to let me leave to take my exam.”

Kane didn’t respond right away. His eyes were on the screen, but I felt the shift in the air between us.

“We’ll figure it out,” he finally said. “But you’re not leaving this compound until I know you won’t get hurt.”

I nodded slowly, heart thudding. It wasn’t a promise but felt like the closest thing to one.

Now all we had to do was find out the truth—and hope it proved me right about Devon.

12

KANE

It was barely past ten in the morning, but I already wanted to break something. Preferably the nose of the smug prick—Edge—who thought it was a good idea to schedule a “meeting” for today, of all fucking days.

The job couldn’t wait—he had made that clear. It wasn’t a favor or a check-in. It was an enforcement call. Someone with a foot in our territory was late on a payment tied to a private security contract we ran behind the scenes. Not a huge deal on its own. But the motherfucker had dragged his feet twice before, and last week his name came up in whispers at one of our speedways. This wasn’t a coincidence. It was a problem.

And problems in our world had a way of festering if you didn’t handle them fast and loud. We had to shut shit down and make a statement doing it.

So yeah, the call was legit. But it didn’t mean I was happy about it. Not when it meant leaving Savannah.

When I came into the tech room this morning, dressed and scowling, ready to head out, she’d looked up from Jax’s monitor with wide eyes. She didn’t say anything but didn't need to. Her bottom lip tugged between her teeth said enough. She didn’twant me to go, and I didn’t want to leave. Not right now. Not with all the bullshit tainting our relationship at the moment. But that wasn’t how this life worked.

I’d tossed her my extra cut and told her to wear it if she left the room or she’d be wearing my handprint on her ass. Then I kissed her hard and left before I gave in to the temptation to drag her back to our room.

Now, I stood in the middle of a dusty auto yard about an hour north of Crossbend, arms crossed, boots planted, and staring down a man who thought “I forgot” was a good enough excuse for stiffing the Redline Kings MC.

Wrench, one of our enforcers, had already cracked two of the guy’s fingers. Rev, the Redline King’s captain, stood watch near the front gate with Drift. Edge leaned back against a stack of rusting metal, flipping his knife end over end like he was bored out of his mind. Nitro was pacing near the gate to the office trailer, his arms crossed and expression tight.

“We’re generous men,” I said flatly, ignoring the asshole’s whimpers. “We offer protection. We keep your fucking doors from getting blown off. We don’t ask for much in return. Just a little respect. A little follow-through. But you thought maybe we were bluffing.”

“I-I didn’t think. I—” the man tried, clutching his broken fingers and sagging to his knees.

“You didn’t think,” I cut in coldly. “That’s your only accurate statement today.”

Wrench hauled him up by the collar and tossed him against the side of the trailer. The impact left a dent. The man crumpled again, wheezing.

“You have seventy-two hours to pay what you owe,” I growled. “You miss the deadline again, it won’t be my brothers you’ll deal with. It’ll be me. And you won’t walk away with just a couple of busted fingers. Now get outta my sight.”

The bastard stumbled to his feet and took off as fast as he could manage, limping toward the gate.

Edge finally pushed off the stack of scrap and slipped his knife into the sheath he wore beneath his cut. “That coulda gone worse.”

“Felt like a waste of a fuckin’ morning,” I muttered.