Recovering Beauty: The Kane Brothers Book Two

by Gina Azzi

  Stepping inside, my eyes scan the room and I immediately feel comfortable. Taylor is right; her place is much simpler than her parent’s. Tasteful, beautifully decorated, but still practical and homey, it suits her. An open-concept living room that flows into the kitchen and a sitting area. Natural light streaming in from the front windows and the back sliding doors that lead onto a deck. The entire first floor is decorated in neutral colors, tans and beiges and whites, that are inviting and calming. “Your home is really you.”

  “Thanks.” She drops her purse onto an armchair and flops onto the couch. “I never realized how much I would miss it.”

  “Living on your own?”

  She nods. “Have you ever lived by yourself?”

  I shake my head, another life experience I am completely stunted in. Besides never having a real girlfriend, I’ve never been truly on my own either. Not like Jax and Den and Daisy. “No. I’ve always lived in my family home. After my mom passed and dad left, it was the four of us. But eventually, Jax enlisted and Den got locked up. For a long time, it was just Daisy and I and it made sense to stay and keep things stable for her. After she finished high school and went to ASU, Den moved back home and financially, neither one of us was in the position to live on our own so it made sense to stay. I guess I never really thought about it because it always seemed logical, easy. But one day I’d like to move out. Get my own place.”

  Daisy nods, looking up at me, her eyes wide with understanding and just a sliver of sympathy. “That must have been hard.”

  “What?”

  “Putting a lot of your own life goals on hold for your sister and brothers.”

  “I don’t know if I ever had that many life goals.”

  “Maybe you would have if you felt like you could.”

  I tilt my head, thinking about her words. If I didn’t have any family responsibilities or obligations, would I have moved someplace else? Gone to college? “Maybe.”

  “It’s not too late, you know, if you wanted to do something different.”

  “Oh yeah?” I sit down on a chair, squishing her purse between my body and the armrest. “How’s your education program hunt going?”

  “Pretty good. I found a program at Savannah State I may apply to.”

  “What’s holding you back?”

  She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know if I’m ready to give up modeling completely.”

  “Why can’t you do both?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I could, but it just seems like teaching would be the next course of action after my modeling career.” She scrapes a fingernail over the Styrofoam of her coffee cup. “If I apply, I’ll see about a January start. Or even next September. Maybe give modeling a go for one more year. I’ve been working really hard at my PT and Patrick, my therapist, thinks my limp will be completely gone in another two months or so.”

  “I’ve noticed that you’re walking seems a lot stronger.”

  She nods, beaming at me, her whole face open and happy. “It is. I feel a lot stronger too. And with the limp less noticeable, I feel more confident which gives me the extra energy I need to push through the PT sessions.”

  “That’s great, Taylor. Really great. I’m proud of you.” I tell her sincerely and she shakes her head, blushing at the praise.

  “We’ll see if some of my old accounts come through again. But I want to give it one more shot, you know?”

  “Like closure?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I feel you.” I stand up from my chair, brushing my hands together as my stomach grumbles. “Not to rush but I’m starving. Want to move your stuff in and have some donuts?”

  Taylor nods, standing up as well and leaving her coffee on the side table next to the couch. “Sounds perfect.”

  We make quick work of unloading the boxes and suitcases. I carry everything into Taylor’s home and while she’s busy unpacking some items, I drop a bag of donuts and my coffee in her kitchen. Popping my coffee into her microwave to heat it up, Taylor comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my middle and pressing her cheek in between my shoulder blades.

  “Thank you. For today. For helping me.” Her voice drips with sincerity and I turn, pulling her in for a real hug and holding her against me.

  The top of her head fits perfectly under my chin and I breathe in the scent of her hair and skin and her. Giving her one more squeeze, I let her pull away. She turns her face up to mine and grins shyly.

  “Anytime, babe. I’m glad I could come help.”

  She grins at me before turning to pull some donuts out of the Kindred Spirits bag and arranges them on a plate. We sit at her large kitchen island and have a snack, the conversation between us flowing easily.

  Too soon, I have to leave in order to make my shift at Cork’s. Brushing a kiss against her cheek, I linger in her space, breathing her in one more time before heading out to my SUV and starting the engine. I’m about to back out of the parking spot when I see him.

  Tall and slim, impeccably dressed in a sharp suit like he just wrapped up a meeting, the bright blue of his eyes, usually calculating but now filled with warmth as he stares at the townhouse I just left is… the business bigshot I convinced to step up to the Devil’s Shadows poker game. My last job. My last mark was… Taylor’s father?

  I watch as he knocks on the door before opening it and Taylor appears, laughing as she wraps her arms around her dad. He hugs her back tightly and my heart sinks.

  I set up Taylor’s father with the MC. I helped cause his financial downfall.

  I’m partly responsible for the pain and disappointment Taylor experienced when she learned of her dad’s gambling addiction.

  Once again, my sins from the past come back to haunt me.

  And I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.

  September

  26

  Carter

  I answer on the first ring. "Yeah?"

  "This is a collect call from Corlie Penitentiary. Do you accept the charges?"

  Saliva thickens in my throat, and I work to swallow. "Yes."

  A crackle of static and then his deep voice fills the line. "So you finally put two and two together?"

  "What?"

  "The blonde you're running around with these days?" His tone changes, and I can picture the leering, disgusting expression crossing his features. I grip the phone tighter, hating that he somehow knows what Taylor looks like. Hating that he's thinking of her even more.

  "I don't know what you're talking about." I bluff, the image of Taylor and her father hugging still fresh in my mind. My stomach sours as I realize my part in straining their relationship, even for a short while.

  He chuckles, low and easy. The same way I do. "Come on now, man. You don't gotta be closed-lipped about it. From the reports I've been getting, she's a fine piece of ass. Great fucking rack. And rich, too. You did good with this one, yeah?"

  I pull the phone away from my ear and rest my forehead against my wrist as I try to regulate my breathing. Hate and rage seethe just below the surface, and I have to work to regain control over my emotions. No one pushes my buttons like my father. And no one has to try so little to force a reaction from me. He knows it. I swear, he gets off on it.

  "What do you want?"

  “Didn’t expect your last job to be getting her daddy caught up with the Shadows, did you?”

  I clench the phone tighter. He knew all along. Of course he did. He was just waiting for me to figure it out, to meet her father. And now that I have, he’s calling to try to pull me back into his web of lying and deceit and destruction.

  “What do you want?” I repeat.

  "The terms have changed." His tone changes, too, as business becomes the topic on the table. Gone is the ribbing and sly edge wrapping around his words. Now, he's crisp and calculating. Cold. He's the father I remember from my childhood, even though I desperately wanted the man with the easy grin and low chuckle to be my dad.

  “What terms?”

  �
�The terms Griller offered to Joe Clarke.”

  I blow out a deep breath, not surprised in the least. That's how the Devil's Shadows operates. They do what's in their best interest always, previous agreements be damned. It's why I've been living on edge for the past decade. It's why my siblings can't ever know about my involvement in the MC or with my father. Because they would be pulled in, whether they want to be or not. And they'd rather not.

  "Tell me.”

  “Clarke’s gotta come up with the fifty grand he owes the MC in the next twenty-four hours or… well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest. These calls are monitored, you know, I can’t spell it all out, even for an uneducated kid like you.”

  I choke on my own spit, dread dripping in my gut, causing a shiver to work up my spine. Here it comes, the ultimatum. My dad’s last card. I hold my breath, letting the pause between us hang, waiting for his words.

  “You don’t want your girl, the one you’ve been chasing around, mooning over like some lovestruck schmuck, to be fatherless, do you?” He taunts, laughter curling around the edges of his words as I exhale through my nose, still waiting for the bomb to land in my lap.

  “You could help her, Carter. Help her family. That’s the man you want to be now, isn’t it? The do-gooder? The family man? The respected member of society?”

  I tap my forehead against the wall, my knuckles popping from my tight grasp on the phone. Just say it. Tell me what you want! I want to scream the words but instead, I wait. I keep my cool. Knowing my silence is irking the old man, is causing him to feel a shiver of doubt that he would never admit to, I stay quiet.

  “Come back to the Shadows. Same role, same money. It’s easy for you, nothing new, nothing to learn, and a steady stream of cash. You save your girl’s father, you ease the financial burden your placing on your brothers and sister, you stop working all those hours cleaning up other people’s scraps and drinks. I’m giving you the opportunity to be a man again. All you have to do is take it. Meet Griller tomorrow. Go see the guys. Things could be good for you again.”

  I bang my forehead against my bedroom wall. Red-hot blazing anger blurs my vision and causes my limbs to shake. I'm seething, practically consumed by an anger so overpowering, I can't think. My breathing spikes and then drops, small breaths piercing the air like gunshots. Be a man? Is he kidding me? Blaming me for the financial mess of the Kane household? In this moment, I’ve never hated my father more but still, I manage to bite back the words that are desperate to fling off the tip of my tongue.

  I breathe. I count. I calm down.

  “Go to hell, old man.”

  I hang up.

  And God, for a brief moment before the panic sets in, it feels really fucking good.

  The color of the alexandrite gem shifts in the sunlight, shimmering. It's simple and elegant. It's perfect. Shaped in a tear-drop, I always imagined gifting it to my sister on her wedding day.

  But if I can save Taylor’s father from the shit Griller will put him through, if I can save my family from becoming ensnared again in the grasp of the MC, then that’s a much better gift for Daisy’s future.

  The pendant was given to my mother by her first boyfriend on her sixteenth birthday. They ran in the same privileged, Savannah high society circles when she was a girl. Back before her path crossed with my father's. Before she fell for him and took the first step in the eventual demise of her happiness. She married the wrong man.

  After that, her family disowned her, she worked odd jobs, and had us kids. She loved us with an unrivaled ferocity, but she raised us on her own. She was a beautiful soul stuck in the mindless work of keeping house and caring for kids while my father went out and partied, whored around, and had a great fucking time.

  He doesn't know about the gemstone. She may have been blinded by love at first but as the years went by, she began to see him for who he was. And she did everything she could to protect us. To salvage pieces of our futures that she knew he would destroy.

  The memory comes to me, unbidden. I only saw her twice in my life. My grandmother. The first time, it was right when Mom became sick. Grandma came to our home, dressed in her Sunday best, her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She had gestured to Jax and me and pressed a five-dollar bill into each of our hands, but she didn’t try to hug and kiss us. I remember she smelled nice, like flowers and honey. She was at our home briefly, just long enough for Mom to offer her a cup of tea. But she pressed the gemstone, a deep purple-red into Mom’s hand, closing her own fingers around Mom’s fist and told her to hide it in case a day came when she needed it. Mom’s eyes had filled with tears, but no other words were spoken. I guess they didn’t need to be. The next time I saw her was at Mom’s funeral. She sat in the back and left as soon as the ceremony ended, but I remember inhaling sharply and holding the scent of flowers and honey in my chest. She passed two years after.

  After Mom’s death, my brothers and I spent a weekend going through her things and packing up her clothes for a church charity drive. I found the pendant in a hidden compartment of her jewelry box. At the time, things were tight financially; Den was still wrapped up in the world of the Devil's Shadows, and I wanted the gemstone to be Daisy's. I was sure Jax would want to sell it, and Den would do something stupid with it, so I pocketed it. To save for my sister.

  And now I'm going to use it to save myself from being pulled back into the world of the Devil’s Shadows. Guilt plagues me at the thought but I can’t keep doing shady things if I want to have a real future, a real shot at happiness. And even though it’s awful, I truly think Daisy would understand. At least, I hope she would.

  "Hey." Her sweet voice smiles through the line.

  "Hi." I relax slightly at the sound of her voice and sit on the edge of my bed, my fingers rolling over the glittering surface of the necklace.

  "You okay?"

  "I need your help."

  "Okay."

  "Can you take me to the best jeweler you know? Someone in Savannah?"

  "Uh," she falters for a moment, "is there—"

  "Please. It's important. And kind of time-sensitive."

  "Yeah, okay. I can take you to Pierre."

  "Cool. Can I come pick you up?"

  "Now?" Surprise colors Taylor’s tone, but I don't have time to explain things. I need this Pierre dude to buy this pendant from me. And I need the money by tomorrow.

  "Yep, be there in twenty." I push up off my bed and end the call. Dropping my phone into my back pocket, I swipe my keys and wallet off my dresser and twist a baseball cap on my head, pulling the brim low.

  27

  Taylor

  Even if I hadn't spoken to Carter earlier, I would know something is wrong the second I slide into the passenger seat of his SUV.

  His eyes are dark, a storm on the horizon. His jaw clenches tight, the scruff on his cheeks and chin several days old. A baseball hat is pulled low over his eyes, and his shoulders slump as if he's Atlas, literally carrying the weight of the world.

  "What's going on?" I ask gently, clicking in my seatbelt.

  He looks over at me and for a fraction of a second, his face softens, and the right side of his mouth pulls up into an almost grin. But by the time we merge onto the main road, his glum outlook is firmly back in place.

  "I need to sell something."

  "Okay."

  "I need to get a good price for it. I know it's valuable, but I have no idea how to go about these things and get what I need so last minute. Feel me?"

  I watch him, my concern for him heightening with each word that falls from his mouth. His monotone, almost bored tone is one I've never heard from him before and I hate it. He’s so different in comparison to his usual, joking and charming self, I want to shake him until he reacts.

  "What is it?"

  "A pendant. Alexandrite."

  I raise my eyebrows. Alexandrite. You're alexandrite. "Where'd you get it?"

  He turns toward me sharply at the question, his eyes boring into mine for a mome
nt as if daring me to ask him if it's legit, if he swiped it off someone else, or if he's dragging me into something I have no right being a part of.

  But in the small amount of time that I've known Carter, I've been able to get a real pulse on him. I know that he wants me to think the worst of him, that for some bizarre reason, he thinks he deserves my scorn instead of the benefit of the doubt. But I know he would never deliberately hurt me. He couldn't.

  "It was my mother's," he says eventually, the words sticking in his throat.

  "Why are you selling it?" I nearly whisper, knowing that the expression on his face, the one full of pain and sadness and... emptiness, means this isn't something he wants to do.

  "I have to."

  I chew my bottom lip, understanding that if I press for any details, he'll cut me off. Carter has confided in me a lot, but knowing that he's told me some personal things that his own family doesn't know, means he's not used to trusting someone. I don't want to push him away; I want him to know that he can count on me. That I'm here for him. That I'm his.

  "How much do you need for it?"

  "Bottom line?" He shoots me another look, a mixture of expressions so dark and forlorn, I can't pull one out.

  I nod.

  "Fifty."

  "Thousand?" My mouth drops open in surprise.

  "Yeah."

  "By when?"

  "Tomorrow. At the absolute latest."

  "What happens if you don't have it?" A tingle pricks the back of my neck and shimmies down my spine. My hands suddenly feel clammy and my throat raw. For the first time in his presence, I'm afraid. Not of him, but for him. And for some reason, that feels even worse.

  He shakes his head, looking straight at the road.

  "You can tell me."

  "I know."