“No one got hurt,” I scoff.
“Tell that to the blood on your split knuckles.” He motions toward my hand.
I give him a hard stare. “No onereallygot hurt.”
“Thank fuck for that.” Kane snorts, then points his thumb toward Hugo. “This one has done enough damage to last us weeks.”
“What?” Hugo groans. “That motherfucking Etheridge guard left Mase to die. What did you want me to do?”
“Not get him beaten up.” Kane shoots him a glare. “There are other ways to deal with this shit, idiots.”
“Yeah, we could send you to talk his ears off.” I lift a shoulder. “That will be equally torturing.”
Hugo barks a laugh as Kane scowls at me.
“I warned you,” he mutters, leaning forward. “You should have left the Etheridge girl alone.”
Hugo smirks, quietly considering grassing me up. Not that I care who knows I pay the princess a visit every night. But if I have to hear Kane’s nonsense for one more minute, I may have to nail him to the walls.
I had to tell Hugo when he caught me trying to mount my bike with a concussion the next night. He didn’t ask questions, just drove me to her flat. Of course, the next day, he traded his silence for taking over The Austin, the pub he can’t shut up about. One he will lose, among other things, if he tries to cross me.
“I still think we should tell Reg…”
“I told you, I don’t want my father involved. Unlike you, I can handle my own shit.”
“This is bigger than you,” Kane drawls, throwing an arm in the air.
“It’s taken care of.” Hugo slaps Kane’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Now, quit it before he breaks your head. Mum is going to get really mad if she has to stitch up another fucking skull in the middle of the night. And you,” he points at me, “the refurb is coming out of your share.”
Hugo grabs some snacks and a six-pack of beer, then strides to the recliners and settles in with his Xbox controller.
“You know you haven’t paid rent in three years,” I bark. He flips me off without taking his eyes off the television.
Kane watches Hugo’s game with disinterest, his brain churning, cooking up schemes.
“So, did you find out anything more about Jack Romney?” I ask Kane.
“Yes and no.” He lifts a shoulder.
“The fuck does that mean?” I rise from the couch.
“Yes, I did, and no, I’m not telling you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because we have enough trouble with Daniel Etheridge poking around businesses in Fort. I don’t need your dramatics right now. You want to keep Reg out of it, fine. But I’m taking care of this my way. Just do your part.”
“Which is?”
“Stay away from the Etheridge girl,” he says, like he’s repeating himself for the thousandth time. He is. And I have no fucks to give.
“Do you see her tied to my bed?” I cock an eyebrow.She’s tied to hers. That’s different.
“Thankfully, you have a pretty busy bed.” Kane chuckles.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
