Page 4 of Loving Lex

“No. Wait.” Shit. He had me and we both knew it. My plan to worm in under false pretenses or a ruse was faulty and stupid. I didn’t count on Gideon Kane being the savvy businessman or protector that he obviously was, but he was also underestimating me and my need to take care of my family and find answers.

He studied me, his expression growing impatient.

Fuck it. I decided to go for broke.

“I do want a job,” I reiterated. “But if you know who I am, then you must realize that I’m also here to find out the truth about what happened to my brother. I think we both know the story my family was fed about a robbery is bullshit. I’m also pretty sure you know what really happened. I intend to find out.”

He studied me for several long moments, his face unreadable. I figured he’d probably throw me out on my ass, but at least I’d said my piece and he knew I knew the score. I’d said what I had to say, man to man.

He finally sat back down and interlaced his fingers. “Stone was a good man.”

That was unexpected. I didn’t know if it was a trick to disarm me or if it was sincere. “The best,” I said, keeping my expression neutral. “Better than me.”

Kane nodded, appearing to absorb that. “You have military experience,” he said, not in question. As I nodded, he added, “Does your medical condition hinder you in any way?”

I blinked, temporarily blindsided by the question. No point in asking how he obtained access to my medical records. My private, sealed military medical records.

He did not flinch, telling me without words that he wasn’t bluffing. His reach was large.

“I have some memory loss, but it doesn’t affect my daily life. I take medication for migraines, so that’s pretty much managed. Other than that, I’m good to go.”

He sat back, his gaze intense. “I assume you have some idea what we do here.”

Oh, I did. Kane Enterprises was a legal liquor distributor and was in charge of security in a number of Vegas clubs, Cameo primarily. The illegal gun trade they ran, however, was their real bread and butter, and I knew that was what he was really asking about.

I nodded.

“Do you have any moral issues coming to work for me?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I did.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied. “Okay.” His black eyes scrutinized me. “I need another good man,” he said. “Your background is helpful.” He blew out a breath and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “I’m the head of the snake here, Mathison, but JD is in charge of security. He’ll get you hooked up with Jarod for training and get you a sidearm. We’ll start you out at Cameo up front, manning check-in for now. If all goes well, we’ll move you up from there. I pay two grand a week in cash to start, bonuses when deserved. I expect you to work hard, but I’m okay with you playing hard as long as you play within my boundaries.” Kane stood, so I did as well. “Rules are simple—absolute, one hundred percent loyalty to the organization, or you die. No touching my product without my permission, or the girls without theirs, or you die. Do not fuck with me or what’s mine and we’ll be alright.” He crossed his arms. “Whatever else you’re here to do, you do on your own time, and don’t cross me. Do we have a deal?”

Was that what had happened to Stone? Had he crossed him? I had to swallow that bitter possibility for now and take what I could get as it came. I offered my hand again. “We have a deal.”

“Good.” He uncrossed his arms and accepted my handshake. “You can start tonight at eight.”

I nodded and made my way to the door as he sat back down and turned to his computer, effectively ending our meeting. I opened the door and found a brooding JD just outside.

“Oh, Mathison?”

I turned back at Mr. Kane’s words. “Yes?”

“A word of advice?” At my lifted brow, he continued. “Take it from a man who’s spent his fair share of time chasing ghosts at the expense of his own happiness. Some secrets are better left buried.”

CHAPTER TWO

Shay

“Shit!” I yelped,turning toward the tapping at my car window.

A young man dressed in a maroon uniform, looking barely old enough to shave, smiled at me through the glass. The name ‘Calvin’ was professionally embossed on his nametag—a nametag that also identified my current dilemma.

I swallowed hard as I touched the button to lower the window two inches. “Yes?”

“Hello, ma’am,” Calvin said pleasantly. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m a valet here at the club. I just wanted to check to make sure you’re okay.”

I looked at my dash clock. Twenty-one minutes. Twenty-one damn minutes since I’d pulled into the parking lot of Cameo Gentlemen’s Club. And just sat there. “I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “Or I will be when I can breathe again.”

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