He must be getting old, he decided as he followed Axl to the bar. There was a time when bars and clubs had been his hunting ground, when he’d felt as home in establishments like these as he did on the streets or on the battlefield.At home on the battleground and on the streets...normal people didn’t feel like that.
Well, he certainly wasn’t normal. Speaking of, Flick—who was as normal as could be—hadn’t had much of a reaction to the little he’d told her of his past. He’d expected shock, some distaste, maybe even a little fascination, but it didn't seem that his past life as a street rat was that big a deal.
But it was, wasn’t it? They came from two totally different worlds, with different ethics and morals. He wasn’t afraid to break the rules and he knew Flick followed them. He was utterly self-sufficient and Flick needed people like she needed air to breathe. Family and friends were important to her, while he could count the people he wanted at his funeral on one hand.
They were as different as an AK-47 and cotton wool, yet he’d felt a connection to her tonight that went deeper than attraction or sex, something that made him want open up a little more, that encouraged him to find out exactly what made her tick. And, on that point, what the hell was her aunt thinking by asking her to keep secrets from her best friend? He could see the stress of whatever she was dealing with in Flick's eyes, in her tense shoulders, in her slow-to-smile lips.
A life spent on the streets had made calculation and discretion a lifestyle and the military had cemented those traits in Kai, but they were foreign nature to Flick. She loved her aunt, she loved her friend, and she was being asked to value her loyalty to one above her loyalty to the other. That wasn’t fair.
Axl’s elbow in his side pulled him back to the crowded bar and the bartender’s expectant face. Kai ordered his beer and flicked his eyes to the end of the bar, where Jack was serving a group of bikers. As if he felt Kai’s eyes on him, Jack snapped his head up, and his look suggested that he’d like to shove a red hot poker up his nose. Or somewhere equally unpleasant.
Shit, he hadn’t done anything to Flick. Jack couldn’t beat him up for having lascivious thoughts about his sister, could he? Who the hell knew? This was Mercy, after all.
Axl handed over some cash and took a long sip of his beer. “Why are you getting the hairy eyeball from the dude behind the bar?”
“Long story.”
“Does it have anything to do with the fact that you banged his sister?”
Kai choked on his beer and Axl’s large hand slammed into the space between his shoulder blades. He kept a firm hold on his beer as he rocked on his feet. When he could breathe again and regained his balance, he met Axl’s amused eyes. “Sawyer can’t keep his mouth shut.”
Axl placed his foot on the railing of the bar. “I think Sawyer talking about you and what’s her name...Fudge?”
“Flick, you moron,” Kai grumbled.
“I think talking about Flick was a good way to distract him from the fuck-up that is his brother.”
There wasn’t a hell of a lot Kai could say to that. After all, he’d told Sawyer about Axl’s and Reagan’s argument for exactly the same reason. “I just can’t wrap my head around Doug raping anyone. The guy is so laid back he’s practically comatose.”
“The evidence is pointing to him. DNA, her statement, the fight they had,” Axl’s eyes narrowed with tension.“He's admitted he was high and doesn’t remember a damn thing.”
“If it turns out to be true, it’ll kill Sawyer. He’s stood by Doug through the petty shit, but rape is a whole new ballgame,” Kai placed his arm on the bar.
“I offered to fly out to him, asked if he wanted some company, but he told me he wanted to handle this himself,” Axl said.
Kai had made the same offer and had received the same response from Sawyer. He understood. There were just some things that you had to work through on your own. Sawyer knew that they would drop everything if they were needed; the offer had been made and refused. The best way that they could help Sawyer was to look after the business. Speaking of...
“Did you have to give me such a hard time about Reagan protecting Callow?” Kai demanded. “And what the hell were you thinking using the company plane to make your point?”
Axl looked him dead in the eye. “Have I ever used the plane when it wasn’t necessary?”
“Okay, no,” Kai admitted. “Why are you here then?”
“I made a detour from New York.”
“And what were you doing in New York?” Kai asked, his voice pitched so that only Axl could hear him.
“Parent kidnapping. A quick in and out,” Axl responded, his lips barely moving. “Very high-profile couple having a brutal argument about custody. Father picked up the kid from school and refused to return him to the mother. They wanted to keep it quiet and I...” Axl hesitated briefly, “...resolved the issue.”
Which meant that Axl had restored the kid to his mother on his own.
“Fuck, you are not James Bond, and you know the rule: always have backup.”
Axl snorted. “Please, the father is a senator’s son who was born with a drawer full of silver spoons in his mouth. The baby was bawling his head off and I had to change the diaper before I could leave.”
Kai lowered his bottle to stare at his friend. “And he just let you leave?”
“Well, I was pointing my Glock at him, but even if I hadn’t been, I think he would’ve just handed the kid over to me—he was that rattled. The kid was hungry and tired and freaked out, screaming her head off, and he didn’t know what the hell to do with her. Apparently, he and his wife were separated before the birth and he hasn’t spent any time with the kid at all. Taking her was a fuck-you gesture, but once he had her, he knew that he was in over his head. Dipshit.”