Page 12 of The Enforcers: KANE

He wondered why that was so hard for him to accept. Maybe he’d carried the burden of guilt for so long, he couldn’t imagine putting it down. But it wasn’t just that.

If Raven was okay, if she’d survived just fine, then the guilt had been for nothing. All his nightmares of what might have happened to her had been illusions. Worst of all, his protection had been for nothing. None of it had ever mattered.

She’d never needed him at all.

Kane woke the next day to a loud pounding on his cabin door.

“Hey! Stone Face!”

Kane groaned. Fucking Rafe.

Besides being the pack’s Second, Rafe was a major pain in Kane’s ass. Like Jace, their alpha, Rafe was a strong fighter, loyal as hell, and universally loved by the pack.

Unlike Jace, Rafe was impulsive, way too emotional, and had no filter whatsoever on his idiot mouth. If someone counted up the most-used phrases among the Silverlake pack, “Shut up, Rafe” would be at the top of the list.

Kane and Rafe had never gotten along, especially when Jace was away and Rafe was in charge. They were just too different.

And then, during the whole Sophia/Nashville disaster, Rafe had gotten the fucked-up idea that Kane wanted to be his friend—that Kane wanted to be friends with all of them.

Sitting around the fire pit, drinking beers and shooting the shit, shifting and running together, taking part in all the inane activities that Rafe dreamed up to keep himself from getting bored, and to amuse his mate.

He was in no mood for whatever Rafe had come up with this time.

“I’m sleeping, asshole,” he yelled back. “Some of us work for a living. And we work the damn night shift.”

“You’re not sleeping, you’re talking to me,” Rafe called, pounding on the wall again. “Anyway, it’s eleven o’clock in the morning, you lazy-ass wolf!”

Kane groaned.

“Come on out,” Rafe coaxed. “I have coffee. And it’s important.”

Kane doubted that. His idea of important and Rafe’s were usually miles apart.

But still…if there was coffee…

Kane staggered out of bed, picked his jeans up off the floor and pulled them on. He strode through the living area, banged out onto the porch and said, “That part about coffee better be true. And it better be hot.”

Rafe was standing at the bottom of the porch steps, his curly dark hair mussed as usual, holding a travel mug of coffee.

“For you, o great and powerful Enforcer,” he said, handing it up and giving Kane a mock-respectful bow.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Kane took a sip. It was hot. And it was fixed exactly the way he liked it. No sugar, just a touch of cream.

Oh, no. He lowered the cup and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Rafe. “What have you done now?” he said.

Rafe looked up at him innocently. “We’re having a contest for the best beer-can sculpture, and we need you to judge.”

Fuck. Kane almost threw the coffee at him. “Why?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because it will make you feel like part of the gang,” he said. “I don’t like you, personally, but Terin says if you want to be friends with us then I have to be nice to you even when you’re being a stone-faced asshat. And I hate disappointing Terin. I don’t get as many dick kisses when she’s disappointed.”

Kane winced. “Too much information. Does Terin know you talk about her like that?”

“Of course. And she mated with me anyway. Go figure.”

Kane couldn’t. He had no idea what shy, quiet, artistic Terin saw in Rafe. But she seemed crazy about him. Which, on the up side, meant there was probably someone for everyone. Possibly even him.

But he also knew Rafe was a persistent little prick. He might as well get this over with.