Page 76 of Make Me Yours

TWENTY-FIVE

KAI

“He’s not who he says he is!” I’m pacing back and forth through Zeke’s apartment, furious that the old man isn't listening to what I’m saying. The asshole sits back in his recliner, acting as if I haven’t just uncovered a fucking rat amongst us, as if what I’m saying isn’t news to him. I’m fuming, my anger boiling inside, about to erupt and incinerate everything in my path. Especially because of Zeke’s nonchalance. “Are you not fucking listening to me, Zeke?”

Again, he acts like what I’m saying is nothing new. The moment I saw Elijah at Stella’s side, I knew something was up. I’d always suspected Elijah was hiding something, and that day just proved my suspicions were legit. So, I did a little digging, and thanks to Drake and his new relationship with the guys from The Disciples, we found out our boy Prophet was hiding a lot more than a secret.

“A double life, you say?” Zeke asks, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. Yet his expression isn’t one of surprise. His thick eyebrows meet at the crease in the middle of his forehead as he chews on his bottom lip, contemplating what he’s going to say next. But he says nothing, instead reaching for the beer bottle on the small end table to his right.

My hands fist at my sides, and I step forward, hovering over him as I continue. “More than that, Zeke, he’s loaded, as in a fucking millionaire. His dad is some hot shot judge who puts criminals like us away for sport. Doesn’t it seem odd to you that one of your top-ranking officers, one of your most trusted men, is in with the enemies?”

He takes a long sip of the beer, but this time when he looks over at me, his expression becomes stern. “We’re not criminals, and they’re not the enemy Malachi,” he grunts, taking offense. It’s cute. My uncle thinks his gun running operation isn’t above the law.

“News flash, Zeke, you’re not winning any awards for being an upstanding citizen,” I mock. “None of us are. Especially not since we started moving the crates for Stephan and Kane.”

“And thanks to who are we back in that mess.” I don’t miss the sarcasm in his comment. I get it. I deserve his anger after getting the Cobras back in the shit they’ve tried to stay out of, but it wasn’t my intention for them to get involved.

“I didn't ask for any of you to get involved, Zeke. I told you to back off. It was my mess, and I was going to deal with it.”

Abruptly he stands, reaching for me, and grabbing me by the collar of my vest. He pulls me close, the stench of his beer and cigarette breath meeting me head on. “That cut you wear, boy, that patch stitched on your chest, which means your problems are our problems. Stephan and Kane weren't going after you. He may have made it seem that way, pissed because you looked at his niece the wrong way, but it was his intention to get us back into business with them for years.”

Zeke releases me, stepping around the couch and walking over toward the window facing out onto the sidewalk. I follow him. He doesn’t ask me to, but his demeanor proves that’s what he wanted me to do. I join him by the windowsill, staring down into the city, watching three guys fight in an alleyway, a group of whores setting up along the corners and in front of the bar, and a homeless addict taking a hit as he lays against a brick wall of a nearby liquor store. And that’s all on one street.

“They’re the ones who turned our streets into a war zone in order to keep us out of the gun business for a while. Stephan wanted us to have no other income and finally be forced to say yes to what he’d been trying to get us to agree to since he and Wesley started cooking up KISS.”

Suddenly, the door clicks open, and I hear someone enter. “We need to talk,” they say, not bothering to greet or announce their presence. Nobody walks into Zeke’s apartment without being granted entrance. No one but Renee and myself.

I don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. Of course, he’d come in like he fucking owned the place. I can’t say I wasn’t expecting him either. I knew he’d come here after he found out what happened between Stella and me the other night. I wasn’t sure if he really cared about her, but I knew it would at least be a bruise to his ego.

Zeke side steps and moves toward the wet bar to the left of the small space, pouring three double shots of bourbon, four fingers tall. He doesn’t even react to the intruder, but the look that takes over his face tells me he knew Elijah was coming. He may have even been the one who called him. The only question is why.

“You’ve got some nerve, Pretty Boy,” I grunt, walking over to where he stands, watching us like he’s just walked into an interrogation room. He takes a barely noticeable step backward at my advance, and I can’t help but smirk. I guess he’s not so tough after all. “Some nerve showing up here after what I’ve just discovered.”

His cowardly stance lasts only a second before he’s back on the defensive, stepping into me, and closing the small gap of space I’d left between us. That’s it fucker, I dare you to strike first. I’d get a lot less shit from Zeke if I were defending myself instead of attacking his bitch.

“What you think you know is nothing close to the truth and acting like it puts us more at risk than you think. So stop being a fucking jealous bastard and listen.” Elijah looks toward Zeke for a fraction of a second before turning his gaze back to me.

I look back at Zeke, who once again has an indifferent look on his face. “What the fuck!” I shout just as my fist slams into Elijah’s sharp jaw, catching him off guard. His head falls to the side as he grabs onto the couch in front of him to hold himself up. He straightens, spitting blood on the floor at my feet, and I’m about to go in for another punch when Zeke’s arms wrap around me, constricting me, and hauling me off of him.

Elijah spats out blood once again. “I assume not having a daddy means nobody ever taught you how to manage that temper of yours before it gets you into fucking trouble, or worse, killed.”

A menacing chuckle leaves me, and I know he wasn't expecting it, given the way his eyebrows crease, his lip twitching in anger. “No, as a matter of fact, what mydaddytaught me was having a temper meant letting it loose on whatever poor fool was within reach, even if it was just a six-year-old boy.”

Elijah’s face suddenly shifts from angry to solemn, realizing I just confessed my daddy used to beat me for sport. It’s not news to Zeke, who grunts behind me hating to be reminded of what my father did to me and the guilt of not stopping him before it was too late, but I’m unsure if anyone else in the club knows. At least nobody new, apparently that includes Elijah.

“I’m not here to listen to your daddy issues Kai, go find a fucking therapist for that. I’m here to tell you to stay the fuck out of shit that doesn’t concern you, and that includes my connection to Stephan Silver.”

“So, you admit it then, you have a connection to the fucker? Is your daddy golf buddies with him? Is that what this is about? Does he cover all the illicit shit he does? Did he buy your engagement to Stella too?”

At the mention of Stella’s name, Zeke curses to himself. “Is this what the fuck this whole mess is about huh, some petty high school jealousy?”

“There’s nothing to be jealous about Zeke, Stella’s all mine and our boy Elijah here knows that’s the goddamn truth.”

“You asshole,” Elijah yells out as he charges at me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and tackling me down to the floor. His fist meets the side of my right cheek, his knuckles slicing across my skin. In the next second, I’m gripping his shoulders, flipping us over so I’m now straddling him, my fists beating down against his jaw. I’m so focused, my vision is blaring red, and I’m tuning out Zeke’s shouts.

After the fifth punch, Zeke tugs me off of him, blood dripping from my knuckles as I move to stand.

“What the fuck is your problem, Kai?” Zeke hollers out, throwing the glass he was drinking from against the wall behind my head. “I know exactly who Elijah is, boy. I know what his dad does. I know everything.”

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