Kane’s call was to Arran, clear as the overtones of their conversation reached me. Convict had passed on the message about what we were doing, something Arran approved of. I was glad. If Kane was kicked out of the crew, I was pretty sure he’d leave Deadwater at the next opportunity.
For Mila’s sake, I wanted him to stick around.
When he was done, I was finishing up as well and climbed out. He lifted his gaze from his phone and stared. Then swallowed.
This.The tiny reactions he reluctantly gave were catnip to me. There was no way Kane could find the words to describe all he’d conveyed in that single look. I doubted he even understood himself. But I knew.
“Need to change my shirt,” he managed.
“Boyfriend training. You compliment me when you see me in new clothes. Even the most basic of words will do.”
“You’re a fuckin’ vision, Lovelyn.”
I’d expected little, but damn, he did good. “Top marks. I need to call my mother quickly.”
“Did something happen? You said she wouldn’t go home.”
“No, she’s fine. I just want to check in.”
At the back of the car, and in the open, frosty air, he stripped. My turn to stare. Pressing Mum’s number, I didn’t hide my ogling. The sight of his hard body warmed me through.
Kane gestured to the phone. “Want me to tell her I’m taking care of you?”
“And give her big ideas over why we’re together? No, thanks.”
“She’d tease ye?”
The line rang out.
“Answerphone,” I said. “Mum? Just me. I’m out again tonight, with a friend. Yes, he’s pretty. A little feral around the edges, but it works for me. Miss you. Talk when I’m back.”
I hung up. Kane shrugged on a black shirt.
There were questions in his eyes, but he settled on one, his fingers moving through the buttons. “The two of ye are close, aye?”
“Very. I’ve told her all about you. Are you close to your mum?” I realised my mistake as I said it.
The shutters went down. He turned away and made a point of finding a skeleton crew bandanna, shoving it into his pocket. “Good to go.”
Conversation over. Got it.
Together, we walked to Heaven, a nightclub with a room reserved as a gentleman’s club, according to online sources.
Kane bypassed the line, and a muscular bouncer stopped him, making a point of looking him over. “Show your colours.”
I blinked at the request, but Kane reached for his skeleton print bandanna and tied it around his throat. Another point lodged in my mind. He never wore the bandanna across his face like the rest of the crew. Only ever around his neck.
Kane said, “Arran Daniels sends his regards.”
The bouncer narrowed his gaze. “Where?”
“Deadwater.”
Recognition ticked over. “Skeleton crew?” At Kane’s nod, the man waved us in, past the booth and the queue of people waiting to pay their entry and have their hand stamped.
At the rope, a second bouncer made way for us to climb a short flight of stairs.
I leaned in on Kane. “What was that?”
