Page 14 of Kaz (Salvation Kings MC: New Freedom Chapter #2)

Kaz

KNEELING BEHIND a dumpster was not how he expected to spend his evening. Preferably, there would’ve been a whole lot of alcohol and laughter involved, but no. Not tonight. Spying on dangerous people to the smell of rotten food was something he hoped he’d never have to do again.

Killian was crouched next to him, Solo right behind them.

Nicky was creeping closer to the men they were watching, clad in all black, and with her smaller body, she would be a lot harder to spot than the rest of them.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got Solo’s call, but this sure as fuck wasn’t it.

He could feel Killian seething, anger rolling off him in waves.

He trusted that Killian was smart enough to keep a lid on it and turned his gaze to the men standing under the overhang of a building a few miles out of town.

To the right were four men in pristine suits, one of them as attractive as he was powerful, and from his stance and demeanor, he was well aware of both.

Across from them were five men who, despite how loudly they were talking, he couldn’t understand.

Their clothes didn’t speak of wealth and order, unlike their companions, but he knew they had plenty of money considering the amount of drugs they were running.

They just dressed like the thugs they were.

“I’m guessing this is why he wants us gone,” Killian whispered, his words dripping with hate. “Competition.”

Kaz shook his head.

He wasn’t going to discuss it now, but something told him Killian was wrong.

There was a different reason Dante wanted them out of New Freedom.

He’d gotten the distinct notion that Dante knew what the Kings were really doing.

What the Disciples had joined them in doing, and what he was planning for his own club to do.

Which would be taking down assholes like the ones in this gang, Dante was making quite a lucrative deal with.

The Kings weren’t competition to Dante’s business. They could be the end of his business.

“My Pops didn’t say anything about this,” Kian muttered, gaze locked on Dante. “I don’t think they know.”

He was watching Dante return to his car, one of his men holding the back door open for him to slip into the backseat, when a shadow fell over him. He jerked, hand going to his gun before he realized it was Nicky. She arched a knowing brow at him and crouched down between him and Killian.

“They were discussing prices, but something was off. They didn’t say what the product was, but…” Nicky worried her bottom lip, the look in her eyes distant for a second. “Human trafficking would be my guess.”

“There’s no chance,” Kian hissed under his breath. He shook his head, gaze following Dante’s car as it drove off. “Marco’s a lot of things, but he would never get involved with human trafficking.”

Dante’s uncle, Marco Serrano, was the head of their family, and Kaz had to agree with Kian’s assessment, which only served to confuse him further.

Marco was friendly with the Kings, and there was no way in hell they wouldn’t have put him in a grave if he’d been involved with something as despicable as human trafficking.

If Dante was truly involved, it had to be without his uncle’s say. If there was any truth to it, then he could use it to keep Dante off their backs. He turned to Solo, who gave him a nod, telling him the man would do what he could to find out.

After the thugs departed, they slowly made their way to the road where their bikes were parked.

The ride back was silent despite their headsets being linked up.

They were all pissed and rightly so. The last thing they wanted was a human trafficking gang setting up shop in their backyard, and what they wanted even less than that was the gang being protected by the mob.

Nicky and Kian headed off, each to their own homes, while the rest of them went back to the clubhouse.

Kian had a rowhouse not too far from the clubhouse he’d purchased even before the sale went through on the clubhouse.

Nicky and Ciara had found an apartment in the middle of downtown, close to both their new workplaces.

Those three, along with the other couple and Maddox, were the only Kings who didn’t live at the clubhouse, which meant it was pretty crowded.

Not that he really minded. He figured it meant they were happy to be there.

To be a part of this. Of the New Freedom Chapter and his vision for the club.

They pulled up in front of the clubhouse, and something loosened in his chest when he saw Miles on the front porch, pointing at the schematics on the wall, the people around him listening intently.

He knew they were lucky to have someone with Miles’s experience in charge of the renovation, but he couldn’t help wishing Miles hadn’t seen the place or the club in such disarray.

He watched Miles for a moment longer, until Solo and Killian walked across the parking lot to join the others.

Miles’s head snapped up, his mouth moving for a moment before his gaze found Kaz.

All he heard was the thud of his heart as they stared at each other, the gold in Miles’s eyes shining in the light from the sunset.

The spell was broken when someone stepped in front of Miles, and he pushed down the feeling in his gut, that disappointment in not having those eyes on him anymore.

He pulled his helmet off and went to dismount his bike when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and nearly groaned when he saw Kian’s name on his screen.

“This better be important,” he grumbled as he picked up.

“It is. Meet me at my place. Now.”

Kian hung up before he could demand answers.

With a soft curse, he sent a text off to Wilder and then tugged his helmet back on. Kian’s house wasn’t far from the clubhouse, and the traffic was light, so he made it in less than ten minutes.

The second he parked in front of the two-story beige rowhouse, he knew something was wrong. There were entirely too many black cars parked on the street. He walked right inside anyway. Even if Kian was an idiot whose ass he wanted to thoroughly kick, he was still a King.

The front door being unlocked was to be expected. Kian had a bad habit of forgetting to lock doors and turn off engines. It didn’t ease his nerves one bit, though.

As he headed through the living room, he heard muffled talking or screaming coming from the dining room. It was hard to tell.

He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Dante standing in front of the dining table, his jaw ticking with barely restrained anger.

The muffled screaming came from Kian. He was sitting in a chair, his hands tied behind the back of it, and there was duct tape across his mouth.

Several pieces. His long blond hair was loose, hanging around his face, pieces of it caught in the tape.

Kian didn’t look at Kaz, glaring instead at Dante while he kept yelling. Was he trying to scold a fucking mobster? He wouldn’t be surprised. Kian and his big mouth.

“Is that really necessary?”

Dante crossed his arms and glared at Kian for a second longer before meeting Kaz’s gaze.

“He talks too much.”

Kaz grunted in agreement and ignored Kian’s outraged look.

“I don’t appreciate you snooping around my business,” Dante said, his tone light as if he was merely discussing the weather, but there was a dark look in his eyes that had chills running down Kaz’s arms and up his back.

“You didn’t give us much choice.”

“Didn’t I?”

Kaz was vividly aware that he was playing a dangerous game with an even more dangerous man. Something about the way Dante looked at him told him it wasn’t Kian’s life on the line, but his own.

“I believe I gave you a week,” Dante said.

“We’re not leaving.”

Dark eyes stared into his, calculating. There was something entirely too eerie about the man’s colorless eyes. There was a promise of violence in those eyes, and he knew he was standing in front of a fucking predator.

“I don’t for one second believe you can keep a low profile,” Dante said and gestured toward Kian. “This one sure as fuck can’t.”

Muffled screaming had Kaz leveling Kian with a glare. Did it stop the dumbass? No. Kian was only looking at Dante, and though Kaz couldn’t understand a word of what he said, the meaning was quite clear; he was cursing Dante all to hell.

“I don’t want a problem with the Kings,” Dante said, and Kaz opened his mouth to reply that they didn’t want trouble either, but Dante cut him off.

“But hear me when I say that if you get in my way, if you insert yourselves, I will consider you an enemy, and my enemies do not remain alive for long.”

He gave Dante a nod even as he was grinding his teeth.

“Don’t forget it,” Dante said.

He motioned toward Kian and said, “I hardly think that’s possible.”

The smile spreading on Dante’s face… Amused. He was fucking amused. It shouldn’t have surprised him that a power-hungry asshole like Dante got off on asserting said power.

Dante grabbed a handful of Kian’s long hair and jerked his head back. Kaz slowly moved his hand closer to his gun.

“At least you’re pretty,” Dante drawled, a tone in his voice Kaz couldn’t quite decipher, and then Dante ripped off the duct tape.

“Motherfucker,” Kian spluttered.

Dante laughed, a low, grating sound. He released his hold on Kian’s hair and turned, walking past Kaz.

“Good luck with that one,” Dante said under his breath before ducking out of the room.

“Come back here, you asshole. I’ll kick your fucking ass,” Kian yelled after him, jerking against his bonds.

Kaz looked at him for a moment, considering the consequences of leaving him where he was. With a sigh, he went to the kitchen to grab a knife. He returned to the dining room and cut the tape around Kian’s wrists.

“Took you long enough,” Kian grumbled.

“How long did it take for you to run your mouth enough to get,” he glanced at the pieces of duct tape Dante had left on the table, “ three pieces of tape slapped across it?”

Kian clamped his mouth shut. Something could shut him up, apparently.

“Perhaps you should stay at the clubhouse for a while,” Kaz said, hating the words coming out of his mouth.

It wasn’t that he feared Dante would come back for Kian.

It was pretty fucking clear Dante wanted to be as far away from Kian as possible.

No, it was because he knew Kian well enough to know the dumbass might go after Dante if there wasn’t anyone around to stop him.

Kian grumbled under his breath, then disappeared up the stairs. He heard drawers open and close and figured Kian was packing a bag. A breath of relief escaped him, and then he cursed himself because now he had to hear Kian run his mouth twenty-four-seven.

He eyed the roll of duct tape on the dining table. Perhaps Dante had the right idea.