Page 4 of Kane
“Well, okay, good,” I say, nervously sipping my drink. “Um, goodbye.”
“Kane,” the man says, his voice low and gravelly. “And you are?”
“William Peeters,” I reply, immediately cursing myself for using my full name. “I mean just William.”
“Well, okay,Just William,” Kane says, a hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps we could share a drink. Mine alcoholic, yours non-alcoholic.”
I don’t know where to look or what to say.
I didn’t come here for a date, or to hook up, or for anything other than helping out my friend Davey. And now here I am, being propositioned by a dark-suited, enigmatic Russian who goes by the name Kane.
“N-n-n-no, thank you,” I stutter. “But thank you.”
“Maybe another time,” Kane answers, a steeliness in his voice that sends another bolt of electricity through me. “Or maybe not. Whatever fate decides.”
Before I know it, I’ve put my half-finished mocktail down on the bar and am halfway out of the door and then on the sidewalk.
The evening air hits me hard, and I momentarily feel a little dizzy.
What the hell just happened?
And why the hell do I feel like I’m seven cocktails in?
Whatever. It’s time to get my ass home…
The city throbs and thuds around me as I begin my walk home. I’m in a different part of the city, a place I’m not used to. The vibe here is different, a little darker than my usual areas.
The sooner I get home the better.
It’s time to put my Little turbo boosters into action and get back to my kind of world…
Chapter 2
Kane
It wasn’t meant to be like this.
My whole life I was raised to think that I was something else. Somebody different. Two older brothers led the way for me. Five and seven years older than me, I was the baby of the bunch from the day our mother gave birth to me.
Kane Kamedov. The Young Menace they called me.
I was feared on the streets and amongst other Russian families too. With my older brothers running the family business as best they could, I was the man who stepped forward when a risk needed to be taken, or justice needed to be dealt out quickly and brutally.
Maybe it was because we never had a father to keep us under control, but the three of us moved differently to other families. We took lives first and asked questions later. There was never a case of giving a rival the benefit of the doubt. Any problem would be dealt with quickly and without mercy.
And on the street level, I was the man to make it happen.
Perhaps my comparative youth meant I was wilder than my brothers. It could be that I witnessed them taking their lead in the family before me, and I always felt like I had catching up to do.
Or maybe rage is just in my genes.
Whatever it was, it worked.
But two months ago, everything changed…
My brothers went for a routine sit down meeting with an arms supplier over on the other side of town. The deal was already agreed, a shipment of high grade weapons would be delivered in the next six weeks. All that was left to be confirmed was the exact payment arrangements and a fresh deal for the next shipment, should we be satisfied with the first.
So far, so fucking good.
