Chapter Ten

Danny

Sadie heard them before I did, but suddenly there was a lot of noise and a kid injured and in pain. I'd served as a medic in Diesel's unit. Funnily enough, my data skills outweighed the medical ones but that wouldn't get me anything other than a posting behind a desk. I noticed the scar on the kid's face, obviously, but it paled into insignificance when I saw the ones on the rest of his body. Most of his body. The knife wound to his side meant his shorts and his tee came off immediately.

Ringo fell silent pretty much immediately and stayed back. Kane shot him a passing glance but kept his focus on Shae's face, talking to him, making sure he didn't panic. When I got an okay over the phone from Diesel, I shot him up with morphine.

He wasn't likely to bleed to death, but it was a little too close to his spleen, and infection was a risk, obviously, and this kid had barely any medical records as I looked.

"This makes no sense." I glanced up and knew Ringo was talking to Diesel on his cell. "The seven-times champion obviously cheated. He had to have been paid a fuck-ton because the gym will never let him back, even if, without a victim, he gets away with it from the cops."

I met Kane's eyes and agreed with Ringo's assessment. This smacked of a set-up.

When I was happy with Shae's injury, and he finally fell asleep, Ringo decided he was needed somewhere else, after Diesel told him he was on his way back. I was left with the kid, Sadie, and Kane. The first two were easy. I still had no clue what to do with Kane.

"Rawlings on his way back?"

I looked over at Kane and nodded. He was so fucking quiet, and I was used to the team. Ringo was like a ghost, sure, but Kane was almost on another level.

Or was he?

Maybe he was on another level because I was putting him there? The time between us earlier weighed on me. Not in my gut like lead, as if I was embarrassed, but more in my heart. I felt lighter. Not that I wanted to think about that too much. Some things were too much. Too much feeling for someone that needed to concentrate on simply surviving.

"Danny?"

I'd managed to avoid talking to Gray for hours. Lying in our own filth, it didn't make for conversation. I fought my way to the present; even if I didn't want to be here, Gray's voice wouldn't let me float away.

"No," I rasped, unsure of what I was saying no to. Probably reality.

"You have to stay with me."

"Why?" I croaked out wretchedly. I was even getting used to the smell. Aubrey hadn't, and right that second his way out sounded so tempting, except I was too much of a coward, even for that. If someone handed me a gun, I wasn't sure I could have pulled the trigger. And that was more shaming than every indignity they heaped on us. I was too useless to even end it.

I blinked back into the moment only to have Kane looking at me like he knew where I'd been, and the sudden urge to tell him overpowered me. "I told you we were in a pit," I kept my voice quiet because of Shae but I doubted I could manage much more than a whisper anyway. "I didn't mean that euphemistically. The floor space was dug out. In the end, it was just Gray and me. And we had been down there for…" My throat closed and Kane grabbed my clammy hand. "Forever," I finished. It had seemed like it. "I wouldn't have made it without Gray. He kept me going."

"You know," Kane said lightly, "funnily enough that's what I used to say to Archie, but he said that it worked both ways. Archie told me he had always promised himself if he lost that last appeal, he would pick a fight with one of the gang leaders and end it, but then I arrived, and he said—" His throat closed, and I could see the effort it took to continue. "He said I gave him hope. Not that he would ever be released, but that he could keep me alive to make sure I got out. My dad never cared but I spent a lot of nights wishing I was Archie's son. Then it was over."

The unspoken becausehe died fell between us.

"He had cancer," I said, trying and failing to say it wasn't Kane's fault, and Kane nodded, but it was an acknowledgement of a fact not an excuse or acceptance. I knew about the letter Diesel had gotten via the Tampa team from Constance Picket. I hadn't taken much notice and, much to my shame, assumed she had been lied to by the old guy, Archie. Maybe I was wrong about a lot of things.

"I was torn," Kane admitted. "As if the universe hadn't screwed with Archie enough, he had to get cancer. He was in a ton of pain, and I found out the head custodian was going to make an appeal and would likely get him approved to go to a hospice to die in peace, but he refused."

I gazed at Kane. I could see what it was costing him to share and guilt ate at me. He was doing this because he was trying to get me out of my own head but at the same time, he baring secrets he probably wished he could keep buried. Had I been completely wrong about this guy?

"He did it for me," Kane whispered, his head down, and fuck knew what that admission cost. "I told him I'd be fine, but he just refused to go. The last two days he was in the clinic, and the C.O.s let me go in and out since I wanted to sit with him." Sorry, C.O.s stand for correctional officers," Kane added. "Then O'Connell was transferred in and I didn't really know him. He'd started maybe the week before, but he immediately barred me access to Archie, saying there was no way I could be anywhere near the drugs they kept there, as being enhanced, I could probably steal them. Because I argued, they immediately locked me in my cell." He paused. "Archie died about five hours later, and I wasn't with him."

My breath seemed to catch in my chest. And the breath Kane took seemed like it was almost for me. "The dogs my dad used for the fights were in an outside kennel, but at one point we had complaints over barking, so he moved them into the cellar. Even when I had to go down there, I could always come out. I wasn't trapped. I can't imagine you being down…" He swallowed, his voice petering out.

I glanced up at Kane, took in the over-bright eyes, the tick of a muscle in his jaw as if it was counting down to an explosion of pain. "No," I said, evenly. "I think you were as trapped as I was."

And right that second something passed between us. Shared, but different.

"So, tell me some more about you," Kane asked, clearly desperate for a change in subject.

I obeyed, not wanting to break the connection. "Daniel Sullivan, twenty-nine. Medic in the third battalion, 75th. Parents are Elizabeth and Roger Sullivan. Older brother of Stephen, and younger brother of Cornan and Emily. Proud uncle," I added after a moment, and something like regret rushed through me. I didn't see Cody and Geneiva nearly enough.

I glanced at Kane. "What about you?"

A huff of breath escaped his lips and for a moment I was sorry I asked.

"Kane Diaz, thirty-three. Mom, Elizabeth, but she fucked off when I was three—no idea why." He paused and suddenly, despite my madly infuriating and interfering family, I wished he had the same.

"Dad, utter bastard. Still alive, I guess."

"I could check," I offered. "Both of them."

Kane glanced at the ceiling. "Not sure if that would make it better or worse."

"Your decision." He didn't know, but it was a promise to not go snooping if he didn't want me to. Kane's gaze met mine and I could see the indecision behind the way his eyes seemed to delve so deep that I felt wide open. I wasn't sure why he was weighing his decision against what he saw in me, but he nodded. I bent over Shae again and checked his vitals, then grabbed my laptop, which was never far away.

"Father's full name and address, if you have it?"

"Jacob Elijah Diaz. Twenty-seven Ranier Road. Atlanta." But I'd found it with just the name.

"Wife Tamara Grace Diaz," I confirmed softly, and he nodded. "You might have to give me a few minutes unless it's obvious…No, Jacob still lives in Ranier Road." I glanced up and Kane didn't reply. He didn't look like he cared, and I could understand that. I found a marriage certificate immediately, then frowned as I gazed at Tamara's financials. Everything had stopped around 1990.

"Do you expect her to be able to live off the grid? No bank cards, no credit cards, no addresses?"

Kane frowned. "To be honest, I don't—didn't—know her. I have a vague recollection of blond hair, but—"

Kane's words stopped abruptly as an image flashed on the screen. I heard his breath catch as a gray-eyed blonde woman with a sunny smile flashed onto the screen. I stared at her. Kane had his dad's looks, but his eyes were his mom's. Gray with an almost silver fleck that added a smokiness, but I imagined them happy like his mom's had been in the photo. Before life sucked the joy from them.

"Tamara Grace, nee Williamson." I clicked. "Did you know you have a grandfather?"

Kane gasped in shock. "A grandfather?" he asked, the longing so apparent in his voice. "No, he never said."

"It was your mom's dad, so maybe that's understandable," I said, scanning the screen. The info wasn't hard to find, but for someone who'd been inside with zero access to information, I guessed it was. I had to remember that what I took for granted wasn't what other people did, and Kane had said they restricted everything he did.

"Albert Williamson, seventy-eight. Still lives in the same house he has for the last forty years. Adairsville, Bartow County. Kane nodded once, then turned and bolted.

Kane

I couldn't stay in the same room. I couldn't stay and watch the pity creep into Danny's expression. I wasn't surprised Dad was still alive. The only thing that would take that bastard out was his liver, but I'd hoped for my mom. Somewhere in those screwed up years at home and then more unbelievably in jail every time visitors had come, a tiny, really pitiful part of me had hoped she would walk through those doors. It was stupid and fucking pathetic, but it had never stopped me from wanting it. And now…what, she was dead? People didn't live off the grid, okay so a few did, but not some random housewife. Ice clutched my stomach because I knew. And for a bare moment a part of me started to rejoice that she hadn't left me, until I realized what had happened to her instead. And the joy turned to shame, and I could taste the ashes of it on my tongue.

Bile rose in my throat, and I stumbled to my bathroom, just making it to the toilet before retching. Not that there was anything in my stomach to expel. Fuck, but I was a mess. Even when I could eat, it seemed my body didn't want to.

Had he killed her? Was she registered as a missing person? What did my grandfather think had happened to her?

It seemed the obvious alternative. He was bitter and controlling, but part of me knew he would want her chained to him rather than dead, and he would have done a lot to make that happen. I straightened up and went to the sink to scrub my teeth. Should I be here? Or should I be looking for answers? Should I go and meet a grandfather I never knew existed?

Would he be ashamed of me?

I walked out of the bathroom and stopped short. Danny was sitting on my bed, and for once without the dog. He looked up, expression soft, and it immediately made me ignite. I tightened my fists and walked past him.

"Kane."

I stopped and rounded on him, fury licking at every nerve ending I had. Who was he? Who was he to have a perfect fucking family and to come here gloating?

"What?" I barked.

He didn't answer right away, which wound me up even further.

"I just wondered if you were okay—"

"No, I'm not fucking okay," I nearly yelled, and the door nearly slammed in on itself as Sadie came barreling in and jumped on the bed. My bed.

"Sorry, that was a dumb question." His apology took the breath from my lungs and cut off the head of steam I was working up to. Anger was a luxury I'd never been allowed inside, but now I was pissed.

Except I really wasn't. Or not at him. None of this was Danny's fault. He stood, pushing Sadie over carefully, and took a step to close the distance between us. I inhaled, ready to tell him to go to hell, but I caught the scent of the shower gel I'd used last night. I hadn't realized Rawlings had gotten me the same as Danny used. Made sense. And my stupid brain decided that it liked the smell of whatever it was. Maybe almonds. Maybe coconut. But fresh and clean, and nothing like me. Then I realized he'd taken another step toward me, and Danny was really, really, close.

And before I had the chance to question it, to panic, something made me dip my head at the same time as he looked up, and I barely had a second to realize what was happening before our lips touched.