"You hate that thing."
"With a passion. Now are you going to put on clothes, or are we going to talk naked?"
Kase glances down and seems to notice his nudity for the first time. "Oh...right."
He stoops down and retrieves his pants. I'll admit that it's a treat watching him pull them on. I love a man in leather, and Kase has always been my standard of pure, bad boy perfection. He's gotten impossibly more compelling. The years have stolen away the last vestiges of teenage awkwardness and left in its place a cynical and flippant man. He's gotten taller, his muscle even more pronounced, and the scruff of beard that shadows his jaw hadn't been there when we were kids.
Kase pulls a chair over from the kitchenette and straddles it. If he's trying to look less sexy, he's failing. He's like a fucking chippendale dancer.
"Now," he says, eyes smoldering with intent into mine. "You talk."
7
Kase
Brooklyn doesn't say anything for a long moment. She looks intensely vulnerable, her slim shoulders rising just above the hem of my aunt's dress. Between the white fabric she's drowning in and the pale stream of her hair down her back, she gives me the impression of a drowned angel. It's disquieting, to say the least. The Brooklyn I knew may not have always been the biggest, baddest person in the room, but she sure as fuck acted like it. She had all that grace and attitude packed into one gorgeous package and I loved it.
So to see her like this gives me pause. What the fuck happened to her? Because I can't imagine that one little beating managed to douse the fiery spirit that I've seen in her.
"Brooklyn, talk to me," I wheedle. "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on.”
“They’re after him. My father, I mean.”
“Why do you think these men are after your father?"
It's not like I give two shits whether Calamity Gardel lives or dies, but the moment they dragged his daughter into this, they made it my business to keep both of them alive. For now. I'll still try to give Calamity his comeuppance if I get the chance.
"They think he's gone soft."
I barely contain a snort of derision. If there's any descriptor that fit the bastard less, it's soft. Even on his best day, approaching Calamity Gardel still carries about the same risks as hugging a cactus. It's insane, not worth the time, and will probably end in pain for all involved.
"Somehow I doubt that."
"It's because he let those two friends of yours go."
"Friends?"
I'm not sure who the hell she's talking about, because no one has really counted me as a friend in the MC for a long time. Cruz still blames me for getting our father shot. And everyone else has followed his example. Penny's the only one who really talks to me anymore. And Holly, I suppose. Though I think I'm more of a charity case where she's concerned.
Brooklyn crooks an eyebrow at me. "Yes. Friends. The two that ended up in King territory not that long ago? Rider or something?"
"Ryker?" I echo. Well fuck me sideways, this was news to me. When had Ryker been in King territory? How the hell had he gotten out? It seemed like the sort of thing that should be public knowledge in the MC. There was only one reason I could think of that I'd been left out of the loop.
Cruz didn't want me to know. The rat bastard probably thought it would give me ideas.
Shoving my fury down to be dealt with at a later date, I ask the obvious follow-up question. "What was Ryker doing there?"
"Running, I think. He said Trent McNeil was trying to kill his woman. Cleo, was it?"
Well, at least that made sense. Even if Cruz had kept the territory breach a secret from me, there was no hiding Trent's attempt on Cleo and Ryker's lives. He'd burned their house down with his own grandson still inside, for Christ's sake. If Ryker hadn't been a damn good first responder they'd probably be dead.
"So why'd he let them go?"
Not that I'm complaining. Ryker's always been aloof but never cruel. He's also patched me up after a few bad fights. So I tolerate him and I'll never want to see him dead. But Calamity Gardel, by all rights, should want him gone. Killing Ryker, especially during our turf war with the Hellions, would be a major blow to Cruz's power base. There weren't many others capable of taking the second-in-command position besides Penny or myself. And Cruz would die before he put Penny in danger. He'd also die before putting me in charge of anything meaningful.
Brooklyn tugs the hem of the dress up above her knees and twists it between her fingers. She's not looking at me.
"I don't know what the reasoning was. Maybe he thought killing Trent was more important at the time. I don't know. I've only heard secondhand accounts. But I know that was the impetus for this little power play. I was on my way home when I heard a group of them planning. And then...well you know the rest. Sack over face, tossed in the trunk, escaped during transit. And here we are."
