Cain (Bones MC 1)

by Marteeka Karland

  “Hey there, little miss.” A big, burly guy approached her, flanked by two equally big men. All three wore motorcycle jackets and jeans, their colors proudly on display for all to see. The guy who’d addressed her had on leather chaps over his jeans. All sported tattoos and beards, much the same as many other patched MC members she’d met. It wasn’t their appearance that concerned her. It was their expressions. One stopped by a bike parked next to hers, grinning as if he’d just heard an amusing joke. His eyes glazed with a nearly maniacal lust. “Nice ride you got there.”

  “Uh, thanks,” she muttered, unlocking the door with the fob just before she reached the car. Thankfully, she’d parked with the driver’s door on the opposite side from the bikes. Maybe she could keep the car between them and her.

  “Don’t look much like you belong in a place like this, little miss,” the same guy said. “Why not let us show you around?” The smile he gave her was more like a sneer. Yeah. She’d just bet they’d show her around.

  “Thanks, but I was just leaving.” She gave them a polite smile. Angel thought about telling them she’d had business with the Bones president, but just as quickly discarded it. One thing she’d learned during her brief stint in a club was that you kept business internal. Period. “Good day.”

  “Hold on!” One guy lunged for the door of her car, slamming it shut just as she’d opened it. “A club member offers to show you around, you don’t turn up your prissy little nose at him.”

  “I wasn’t turning up my nose at anyone,” she said. “I was just leaving --”

  The guy cut her off by grabbing her upper arms and shaking her slightly as he got right in her face. With his height, he had to bend down a little, but he also pulled her up on her toes with what seemed like little effort. “You’re not hearing me, bitch,” he said. His sneer was now an evil smirk. “We want you to come party with us. Now.”

  “I can’t possibly --”

  He cut her off with a hard slap to her face. Angel gasped in shock and pain. Her ears rang and her knees threatened to buckle. The biker had her firmly in his grasp again, peering down into her face. When she focused on him again, he gave her a satisfied look.

  “Good. We know what you want. Girls like you come here all the time looking for a bad boy. Well, you found three. Now, we don’t want no one thinking we took you against your will, so why don’t you be a good little miss and tell us you’ll go with us. ‘K?”

  Angel’s heart pounded. She couldn’t believe this was happening in a place like Somerset! Bad things occasionally happened, but never like this. At least, not that she knew of. She looked at him for a long moment, hoping she looked like she was trying to get her bearings instead of like she was weighing her options.

  If she could get away, she could dart back inside the bar in hopes someone would help her. Then again, what if they all thought like these guys? The other club sure had. God! Why hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time? She might end up worse off than she was now. No way was she setting herself up for rape -- or worse -- by these guys.

  When the guy leaned in closer, probably to intimidate her, Angel snapped her head forward hard, catching his nose with her forehead. Blood sprayed everywhere.

  The guy let Angel go to grab his nose, screaming, “Fucking bitch!”

  The others grabbed for her, but Angel took off as fast as she could in her kitten heels on gravel and bolted for the door of the bar, yelling a strangled “Help!” As she should have predicted, she stumbled, turning her ankle and tumbling to the ground with a cry. One guy was on top of her a split second later. He brought his fist down, but only hit a glancing blow off her arm as she wrapped both arms around her head for protection. That did nothing to stop the kick to her back. She cried out again, rolling to protect her back by putting her front to the attack. At least that way, maybe they’d hit her legs and arms, where she’d tucked into a ball, instead of something vital on her torso.

  As abruptly as the attack started, it ended. She heard a scuffle followed by swearing then a solid thunk.

  “Whoa, man! Take it easy!”

  “What the fuck?”

  “You come to my bar and attack my people, you answer to me.” The voice was gruff, angry-sounding. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was Cain’s voice. She sincerely hoped that whoever it was had brought backup because three against one were bad odds.

  Another thunk sounded, this time followed by a scream.

  “All right, all right! We’re going!”

  “And don’t come back. Tell Poach the Scars and Bars are no longer welcomed at the Boneyard. He has a problem, you tell him to contact me.”

  “Come on, Cain! You can’t ban us for a little fun! Bitch had it comin’! She’d been teasin’ us all afternoon then refused to follow through!”

  Another thunk. This time, instead of a yelp or a scream, a sickening gurgle, followed by a loud thud as someone hit the ground. Angel refused to peek under her arms to see in case the attack wasn’t over.

  “You just… Oh, man!”

  “You can’t do that, Cain! Poach will declare war over this shit!”

  “Again. He has a problem with this, you tell him to call me. Better yet, you tell him to come over and we’ll… chat.”

  “You threatening our president?”

  “I never threaten. Deliver my message and we’ll see how this plays out.”

  “What you gonna do with Squat?”

  Cain didn’t answer. He moved between her and the two remaining bikers. Finally, Angel had the courage to peek through her arms, only to wish she hadn’t. The man who’d attacked her lay on the gravel, a knife protruding from his neck. Blood was everywhere. No way could she stifle her whimper.

  “You gonna leave or you want me and my brothers to cull the Scars and Bars even more?”

  As if on cue, Angel heard several footsteps approaching them. They didn’t sound hurried, just… there. As if the club knew their president didn’t need the backup and were only there to watch the show. She scooted back carefully, keeping her back to her car. She hadn’t made it much past the front bumper, anyway. If she were careful, she might get the door open and slip inside. Then she could mow down anyone she needed to to get the hell out of here. God! She was so stupid! Running from one club straight into the arms of another.

  “We don’t want no more trouble,” one of the two remaining Scars and Bars said, his hands up. “Consider us gone.”

  “I’ll consider you gone when I no longer hear your rat bikes on my road.”

  The two looked like they wanted to kill Cain, but six more Bones members quelled them. Without another word, the two started up their rides and sped off, spinning gravel in all directions, including over her.

  It was several seconds before Cain turned his attention back to her. It was all Angel could do not to sob. Now that there was no threat of kidnapping and rape, she just wanted to get in her car and get out of there.

  She scrambled to her feet, reaching for the door handle, stumbling when her legs wouldn’t hold her. Strong arms wrapped around her body, holding her upright. Instinct took over, and she fought like mad, snapping her head back only to land against a solid chest. She kicked and dug her nails into the arm around her middle but the man didn’t let go.

  “Stop!” The command growled beside her ear had the effect of rendering her helpless. There was just something about it that demanded full and immediate obedience.

  Angel was so scared she could barely breathe. Her clothes were ripped and dusty with dirt and gravel, her stockings torn from her fall. Several scrapes stung her legs and arms. Her hair had come down and was now in a tangled mess. Not to mention she was bleeding from a cut at her temple. How it got there, she had no idea.

  “No one will hurt you, Angel.” That was definitely Cain. She knew not because she recognized his voice, but because of his reflection in the car window. His voice was different now than it had been any other time he’d spoken to her. It was gruff and raspy, almost a w
hisper brushed against her ear. “Let’s get you inside and look at the damage.”

  “I just want to get out of here,” she whimpered. God, she hated sounding so weak! Weak would get her nowhere. Not with these types of men. She knew that firsthand.

  “How about I take you to the clubhouse and you can clean up then.”

  “Don’t let the children see me,” she begged. “I don’t want to frighten them.”

  Her left side hurt like a bear where the guy had kicked her. When Cain scooped her up in his arms, she braced herself, unable to stop from stiffening with the sudden movement.

  “Does it hurt?” Cain asked.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to have a nasty bruise.”

  Cain didn’t respond, just strode around the car, opened the passenger’s side and placed her in. Next thing she knew, Cain was folding his large frame into her compact car. To say it was an ill fit was a vast understatement. He slid the seat all the way back and the steering wheel all the way forward and still looked cramped.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “Either get a bigger fuckin’ car or get a goddamned bike.” Then he started the Fiesta and pulled out of the parking lot, headed toward the clubhouse.

  “I don’t need a bigger car,” she said. “And I can’t drive a motorcycle.”

  He glanced at her briefly but said nothing. The muscle in his jaw clenched and unclenched, betraying his irritation. Thankfully, the clubhouse was only a few miles down the road. The sprawling complex had looked out of place to her from the beginning. It wasn’t anything like what Angel expected the first time she’d seen it. The place wasn’t overly ostentatious or anything, but was like a compound, big enough for the entire club to actually live there. She had no idea if they did, but there had to be enough space for everyone she’d met from the club and more. Not only that, but the kids had their own rooms there, according to them.

  Cain pulled her car around to the back and parked it. Without saying a word, he went around to her side and scooped her out of the car, carrying her inside.

  Having finally caught her breath, Angel tried to relax and take stock of her injuries, but the adrenaline left her shaky and slightly sick. Not to mention that her she was aching more and more with every second. Angel raised a hand to her temple. Her fingers came back streaked with blood from the stinging cut.

  “I cut my head,” she said inanely.

  “Uh huh,” was his only reply.

  He carried her with long, effortless strides to a large room smelling faintly of antiseptic and bleach. Setting her down on a padded table in the center of the room, he smoothed her hair back away from the cut, tenderly brushing his fingers over her skin. Then he seemed to catch himself and jerked his hand back as if she’d burned him, throwing her a scowl that made her want to crawl into a corner and hide.

  “Is she all right? Pops told me what happened.” The woman everyone called Mama hurried through the door to Angel’s side.

  “She’s pretty banged up,” Cain answered. “Maybe a concussion. Don’t know. Not sure how she got the wound at her temple but it might be worse than it looks.” He stood next to her, reaching for the buttons on her blouse.

  Angel batted him away. “I’m fine.” Looking at Mama she said, “If I could just wash away the blood and maybe put a Band-Aid on the cut, I’d be grateful.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “This is what I’m here for. I’ll take a thorough look at your ribs and maybe get a CT of your head.” Mama put on her glasses before gently brushing the hair away from Angel’s temple to look at the cut. “Might need a couple stitches there. I’ll know when I clean it up.”

  “CT scan? Don’t you think that’s overkill? Besides, I can’t go to the hospital. I don’t have health insurance.”

  Cain shrugged. “We have all the equipment we need here. If Mama thinks you need more, we’ll take care of it.”

  “You what? No way you’ve got that kind of medical equipment. Besides the fact it would cost a fortune, aren’t there all kinds of permits required because of the radiation?”

  “Relax, sugar,” Cain said easily, the endearment not making her relax at all. “We’re more than just another MC. Mama has anything she wants. She wants diagnostic equipment? She has it.”

  Angel looked to the older woman. “But how do you know what it all means? I’m sure you can’t just take a picture and it spits out a result. There has to be a doctor to read them.”

  She gave Angel a smile, one that said, Honey, please. “I’m a doctor, sweetheart. Retired. But I still remember a few things. And if I have a question, I know a few people I can trust to ask.”

  Did Angel have questions? Certainly! But she got the feeling she didn’t really want to know anything more. This was a questionable group of people she didn’t need to rile. That hard lesson had been learned and learned well. She looked at Cain. It was a mistake.

  The man frightened her on a level she couldn’t describe or understand. He was tattooed and scarred nearly everywhere she could see. His body was big and powerful, but the thing that frightened her the most was his eyes. They were dead. Like he could stick a knife in a man and twist it with one hand all while eating his breakfast with the other. His hair was a nut-brown and shaggy with strands of silver woven in, same as his beard. He looked like he hadn’t had a real haircut in years. Like maybe he just lopped his hair off whenever it got in his way. His eyes were a piercing turquoise. The only exception to his lifeless gaze was when he looked at her. There was no denying Cain was hot as hell on the outside, but the looks he gave her told Angel he hated her. That negated any hotness in her book. There was this blazing intensity sometimes she couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t a good feeling. He focused on her so completely she was afraid the man saw through to her soul.

  “You gettin’ undressed or do I have to help you?” Cain wasn’t smiling when he asked the question. Angel was pretty sure he was serious.

  “I’ll get undressed when you leave the room,” she managed.

  “Nothin’ I’ve not seen before.”

  “Well, you haven’t seen me,” she said defiantly.

  “Out, Cain,” Mama said, a merry twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll call you when you can come back.”

  “You check her out good,” he demanded. “If there’s a scratch anywhere on her body, I want to know about it, and you make sure it’s treated.”

  Mama stopped what she was doing and turned her full attention to Cain. “Young man, I suggest you watch your tone with me. You’re president of the club, but I’m still your elder.”

  Cain raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning and leaving the room. Angel shivered. She’d bet no one ever talked to Cain like that. If she had to guess, Mama and Pops were probably the only ones who could get away with it, and she didn’t think it was because of their age. There was a dynamic with the older couple she was missing but could feel in her bones. There was more here than met the eye. More to the whole goddamned thing.

  Chapter Three

  Cain was angrier than he could ever remember. And not only because another club had assaulted someone at his bar. They would deal with the Scars and Bars, but he was more concerned at how he felt about the victim being Angel. He’d killed one man and would have killed two more if his brothers hadn’t come outside to ground him. He would have killed the two and dumped them all on Poach’s doorstep, declaring all-out war. Not a wise decision on his part. He was still considering going after the other two men, killing them -- eventually -- and dumping them in the fucking lake a few counties upstream.

  “Assuming you want the body disappeared?” Bohannon, the club’s enforcer, was always near when there was trouble. Without asking, Cain knew the man had already cleaned the area of both the body and any blood spilt.

  “I want them all disappeared, but the one will have to be enough.”

  “Consider it done. What about Scars and Bars?”

  “Ban them. If Poach shows up, only he is allowed in and he’s to be escorted to me immediately.”
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br />   “We’ll keep an eye out for more of them. Don’t figure they’ll do what you tell them.” Bohannon was as good a judge of character as anyone Cain had ever met. Just one reason he was the enforcer of Bones. Not that he had to be to predict the actions of the Scars and Bars. Any MC threatened in such an aggressive way would respond. They had to if they wanted respect. By that same token, Bones had to retaliate for them breaking rules on their turf. It was a vicious cycle.

  “I want any threat dealt with permanently. No one fucks with us on our own ground.”

  Bohannon looked at him, a hard expression on his face. The man knew it had to be done but wanted to be sure he understood. There could be no mistakes with an order like this.

  “Is she worth it, Cain? Because we both know this is about Angel. Not any disrespect Scars and Bars committed.”

  “The disrespect is enough to warrant action.” It was a non-answer, and they both knew it. “Just see it done.”

  “You got it, brother.”

  This was bad. Never once had Cain let his personal feelings influence the business of the club, but Bohannon was right. This was more about Angel than he was ready to admit. Even to himself.

  He watched Bohannon get on his bike and take off. There would be more bloodshed before this was over. While he trusted every patched member of his club to be thorough in the disposal, he hated putting Bohannon in this kind of position. The enforcer would do whatever Cain asked of him without hesitation, and Cain had just given him a task that would definitely get blood on his hands. He had to be careful. Though Cain didn’t particularly care who he had to get rid of, Somerset was a small town. Nothing could lead back to the club or any of its members.