Chapter Six

Danny

I gazed in utter shock at Diesel, ignoring Kane as he slammed into his room. Then realized my mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap. Then hurt slammed into me. "Diesel?" I whispered.

Diesel's expression softened, and I felt Sadie brush my leg. I knew she could feel the atmosphere.

"Whatever it is, Danny, sort it out." He tipped his chin to the closed bedroom door. "I have no idea what the fuck you have against him, but Kane was locked up because he attacked his abuser." My eyes widened.

"What?"

"They didn't listen to him. He got zero defense. He was a scared sixteen-year-old kid, and all they saw was the scar." Diesel stepped closer to me. "This isn't like you. He already had one group of prejudicial pricks that locked him up because they didn't bother listening to him, but I have to say I never expected you to be one of them."

"But the dog," I whispered, and Diesel frowned.

"What dog?"

"He was caught—" But I clamped my lips closed as nausea swamped me. "It was a lie." Of course it was a fucking lie.

It took Diesel a minute, but then understanding flooded his eyes, which was probably worse. "Why didn't you ask?"

"Who? You?" Danny snapped. "You've had a bug up your ass since you saw what the kids could do in Tampa."

"You know I've been writing to his lawyer. You know Gregory sent us his details."

I bristled. "I also know what I read in his file, but since you would never deign to discuss your decision or even your thought processes with me, how the hell was I supposed to know any better?"

"Hell," Diesel said half-heartedly, then looked at the door. We could both hear a drawer opening. He straightened and took a step toward Kane's room, but I put my hand out.

"No, let me. Assuming I still work for you?" I arched an eyebrow.

Diesel gave me a sheepish smile. "I'll see what I can rustle up in the kitchen."

"It's ready in the fridge," I muttered, then turned and walked towards his bedroom, putting my hand out to push the door, but thought better of it. That's what they did in jail. No one had respected Kane's privacy for at least seventeen years, so I knocked. "It's Danny. Can I come in?"

"Sure," I heard, so I pushed the door open, and Sadie and I walked through. I took in the old canvas bag with the couple of tee-shirts and pants Diesel had bought him on the bed. The empty drawer. He had nothing, which made me feel even worse. Kane glanced at me, but then his eyes slid to Sadie.

"Can I ask you a question?" my heart thumped, and I reached for Sadie as she pressed against my leg.

"You can ask," Kane said, clearly stating he wasn't forced to answer, and pushed the shaving kit from the bathroom into the bag.

"Why are you scared of dogs?"

Kane stilled, glancing at Sadie, who was sitting at my feet and looking as unthreatening as possible. Kane didn't answer for a long moment, and I'd just got to the uncomfortable realization he might not when he glanced at Sadie again. "Because I was bit by one as a kid."

I opened my mouth to ask more but closed it immediately. Of all people, I should know how trauma can affect someone. I didn't tell people my story. I'd tried once, trusted once, and it hadn't gone well. I looked at Kane. I had no reason to trust him, but for whatever reason Diesel did, and I trusted Diesel.

"I told you she was my support dog." I sat on the bed as my knees shook. Sadie immediately joined me, and half lay over me. "She can sense I'm anxious."

Kane nodded, but he didn't come closer.

"The team adopted her in Kabul. I know Gray and Diesel paid a shit-ton to bring her home, and we had a charity's help as well. We were three days from going home. Sadie had left with animal transport. Rawlings broke his toe of all things, so they sent him as well. That left me, Aubrey, and Gray, who you haven't met."

"The one married to a singer," Kane said.

"Yep. There were four others, but they were killed instantly. Gray, Aubrey, and I were captured." I swallowed and buried my fingers in Sadie's hair. She was practically sitting on me at this point.

"You don't have to tell me," Kane said quietly and shocked me by sitting on the edge of the bed.

I huffed. "You don't need to know the details, just that Aubrey died and if we hadn't been found, I wouldn't have lasted much longer." I took another deep breath. "I came out of that hole with various symptoms of PTSD. Panic attacks. I don't like crowds. Touch." I met his gaze. "Strangers."

Kane didn't say anything, just waited, I guessed, to see if I'd finished. They always talk about returning military with PTSD, but they never mention the guys in prison. I imagine people thought they deserved what they got. "I don't think I'd have made it if it wasn't for her."

"I get that," Kane murmured, then stood. My eyes widened a little as he went to the button on his jeans, but he'd shucked them down before I got the chance to even say a what the fuck in my head. And he turned his back, pulling up his shirt at the same time.

Then I understood what he was showing me. The myriad scars on the back of his right leg were horrific. Huge chunks of flesh and muscle had been gouged out. The scars continued up his ass and then to his back. It didn't take rocket science to understand what the leg scars were. I could guess those had been made by teeth, but the scars on his back were different. I knew what it looked like to be whipped, to be caned, and I forced the images back down, locking them in my mental box.

He dropped his shirt and pulled up his pants, but didn't sit back down, just backed up to the dresser, as if he was waiting for me to condemn him.

I chose to ignore his back for the moment. It was likely he didn't think I understood the difference and that it had all been made by teeth. "The dog?"

"Dogs," he murmured, keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. "Dad was involved in dog fighting. Made money but drank his profits. We had kennels out the back and I was supposed to feed them, clean them out. There was a way of chaining them, but he'd been drunk, and I hadn't realized three of them weren't tied up."

Danny wanted to tell him that he didn't have to share either, but he stayed quiet. He had the feeling this was a once only deal.

"I went into the kennels with the meat. He kept them hungry just before a fight, so there wasn't much, and they went for me the second I got in. They weren't after me, just the food, but I got in the middle of three of them fighting for it."

"How old were you?" I managed to croak out.

"Eleven. A year before I got the scar on my face."

I mentally went through his file. "Why isn't there a hospital record of it?"

Kane looked up then in surprise. "What?"

"Cops, ambulance?"

"The guy Dad drank with heard them and he had a gun. Shot one of the dogs. Dragged me out. There wasn't a hospital record because I didn't go to one."

I gaped. How was he even alive?

He patted his leg. "I'm lucky. If they'd have gotten my femoral, I'd have been dead, but my dad's ring had their own medical stuff. Dog fights are dangerous. The other guy, Leon, was an animal vet of some sort and he had all the first-aid gear. I don't remember much." He shrugged.

It was another lie. I knew it was, but I could hardly call him on it. But I bet he remembered it every single day.

"And no one knew? School?" I cursed inwardly. Even I wasn't that na?ve.

"I wish," he mumbled. "I was stupid before I even got sent down." I opened my mouth to refute that bald statement, but I had no idea what to say. "A month later, I had to start feeding the dogs again."

I couldn't even bring myself to curse then.

He glanced at the floor. "I didn't want to, but Dad made me. I had a different sort of scar soon after and I knew I had zero options. At that point, no one cared what I did." And I knew instantly who'd put the marks on Kane's back. "Fast forward a few years and he was drunk, as usual. It was the night before a fight and they needed to be fed, and I knew where Dad kept his gun, so I took it with me. One of the biggest dogs went crazy. Dad had been starving it, riling it up. It was chained, but it went berserk when I went in there and it lunged." Kane still kept his gaze on the floor and for a moment, I wished I could cope with being touched. Or touching. My mom would have said he needed a hug, and I had no idea where that random thought had come from. I imagined Kane enjoyed casual touches about as much as he liked dogs.

"I don't think the chain would have reached, but I just reacted, and I pulled the trigger. Dad woke up, and he went insane. The dog was going to win him a lot of money. He—" Kane broke off. "It was the first time I fought back. And this time Dad had injuries." He looked up. "You know the rest."

We both jumped a little when Diesel knocked on the door frame. The door wasn't totally shut. "Food's ready."

I stood. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually such a judgmental prick." I didn't extend my hand. I was pretty sure that wouldn't work for either of us.

"I got water or beer," Diesel said, ignoring what I'd just said.

"No, I'm good," Kane said and picked up the bag.

I stared at him and the bag and stood. "What are you doing?"

He met my gaze. "This isn't gonna work out."

"No," I started. "Look—"

But he put a hand up. "Not your fault."

Diesel was still in the doorway. "At least stay tonight." But Kane shook his head. Diesel sighed and nodded to the cell phone Kane had laid on the dresser. "Keep the phone." He dug in his pocket, but Kane shook his head.

"I'm good for cash, but I will keep the phone. Thanks." And he walked out. Diesel didn't say a word but started texting furiously.

"You're just gonna let him go?"

Diesel looked up. "How do you suggest I stop him?"

I sagged against the wall. Of course he couldn't. We ate in near silence, and I was ready to demand Kane's number when his phone rang an hour or so after Kane had left, and he snatched it up. I thought I heard Ringo's voice, but I couldn't tell what he said.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes. I'll get Danny to arrange a lawyer." He stood.

"A lawyer? Was that Ringo?"

"Yes. He's been tracking Kane since he left."

"The phone," I said. If I'd asked for the number, I could have done the same.

"Yep, except the idiot has just gone and gotten himself arrested." Diesel met my gaze. "They're talking aggravated assault, and this time I might need a miracle to get him out of it."

Kane

Why? I mean, why the fuck? I had nowhere to go and nowhere to sleep. The bus to Tallahassee was seventy-six bucks, but I had to get to the Greyhound station, and the fights didn't happen every night.

I sat on a bench next to the bus stop to wait for a bus that didn't run for another six hours, prepared to spend the night regretting my life choices. Except that wasn't true. I hadn't made any choices. The only one I'd made so far was getting in Rawlings' truck and if it hadn't been for…

You stupid, arrogant fuck.

Somewhere in my thick head, I'd thought things were gonna be different. That everyone didn't hate me. And yeah, I might have liked Danny. I actually might have liked him a lot and it burned that he hated me. He was… not gentle as Rawlings had said I had to be around him. I almost laughed. He was a prickly shit. But so are you. And he'd been fighting for his country while I'd been lounging in a cell.

Not by choice.

And I should have known better. Once upon a time, I'd dreamed of stepping up. Wearing a uniform. Sure, it had been a healthy dose of getting away from my dad, but somewhere in there I'd hoped to claw back a little pride. Dad already had me beat down before I even got a scar on my face. I'd wanted an escape, and I'd just been offered one, so why the fuck had I thrown it away?

Pride.Goddam fucking pride. Because they'd taken every bit of it away, I had to—fuck. I'd seen the look in Danny's eyes and pity was the last thing I wanted from him. I'd rather have him as the prickly bastard than be something he felt sorry for. Pride would never fill an empty belly. Which mine was. I was also pretty thirsty, and I'd left without so much as a bottle of water.

I glanced at the gas station across the way. I'd seen the lights, of course I had, but the experience of the one on the way here made me leery of going inside. I didn't have any cash, but I had my gate money card, and I knew that some vending machines took them. It would mean paying triple the price, but it would also mean not having to go inside.

The place didn't look too busy. There'd been one car at the pumps, but it had left and there was a car tucked around the side that I assumed belonged to whoever was on shift. I watched as a beaten-up truck pulled up near the door and a couple of figures went inside. I'd just wait until it left, then go across. When it still hadn't pulled away after a few minutes, I rubbed my tired eyes. For all I knew, they might employ two people. They might be here to collect the guy who was finishing. My ass was growing numb, and I knew that some gas stations closed before midnight. If I didn't head over there, I could easily be too late. Maybe I could get a cup of coffee as well.

I strode across the road and saw there weren't any vending machines out front. Determined not to be a fuckup, I went inside. But the lights dimmed just as my fingers pushed open the door. But maybe they hadn't closed out the register. Was that even a thing nowadays?

Maybe not.

But the barrel pointing at me was.

That was for sure one thing that apparently would never go out of fashion.