by Zoey Parker
So he waited in the dark, cursing himself for making her run away, even though he realized that it had been her decision and that it was stupid to blame himself.
Still, he couldn't help it.
And the tortures he imagined Missy enduring became more vivid and sadistic with each passing hour.
One thing's for sure, Cain thought. If she does make it back alive and unharmed, I've got to make sure nothing like that happens between us again. This isn't the time for these kinds of distractions, and even if it were, then what?
I don't date anyone seriously. I never have. Leading her on so she'll expect a relationship would be a bad move. And even if she were okay with something simple and physical, I doubt Hunter would be happy about me having a casual fling with his sister.
Cain promised himself that whatever happened, there would be nothing sexual between him and Missy from that point forward. Still, the thought of this left him strangely unsatisfied, as though he'd gotten up from a meal while he was still hungry.
Finally, he heard a car pulling into the driveway, and a car door opening and closing. He bristled for a moment, worried that it might be Gaspar's men coming back—but when he heard silence from Keith and his guys, followed by the rattle of keys against the front door, he knew Missy had returned. Her footsteps in the living room confirmed it, and he realized that he had already come to know the sound of her even when they were in different rooms.
God help me, Cain thought, I'm actually getting used to having her here.
For a brief moment, Cain considered hauling himself off the air mattress, going to the living room, and trying to talk with Missy about what had happened earlier—and why it couldn't again. But now that he knew she was home safe, his nerves were beginning to relax and he felt exhaustion stealthily slipping a bag over his head. The sounds of Missy slowly drifted away and he surrendered to sleep.
Chapter 29
Cain
When Cain woke up, his entire torso felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly by a hundred daggers of pure agony. He groaned loudly, pulling himself out of bed as quickly as he could to keep the anguish of moving as brief as possible, like ripping off an adhesive bandage. In doing so, he overbalanced and had to reach out for the wall awkwardly with his good arm to keep from falling over. His tongue felt so thick and dry in his mouth that he thought he might choke on it, and everything around him seemed to be floating in a red ocean of pain which threatened to drown him.
There was a brisk knock at the door, followed by Missy's voice. “Need your pills?”
“Yeah,” Cain grunted. “An' water.”
He heard Missy's footsteps retreat from the door, followed by the sounds of the kitchen sink running and his pill bottles rattling. She seemed to be moving maddeningly slowly, and he opened his mouth to bellow for her to hurry up, but all that came out was a loud gagging sound.
Cain thought that between the pain and the side-effects of the pills, maybe it would have been better for me if Gaspar's Asshole Squad had just finished the job and killed me in front of the Teepee. Christ, I don't know how I can make it through another day of this horrible shit.
Cain heard Missy coming back to the door, looked down, and realized he was still naked. He didn't want to do anything to provoke another sexual confrontation like last night's—or at least, that's what he tried to convince himself, with varying degrees of success—and he snatched up the blanket, twisting it around his waist just as the door opened. He pressed his back against the wall to keep the blanket in place.
Missy entered with the pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Her face was stony and unreadable as she crossed the small room and placed the pills in Cain's outstretched hand.
“Here,” she said.
When Cain had popped them into his mouth, Missy handed him the glass. He gulped down the water loudly and eagerly, spilling some of it down his front. His mouth still felt oddly numb and swollen from the meds, but at least it wasn't dry anymore, and in a few moments the pain in his body began to recede again.
Missy took the empty glass from him and turned to leave. “I'll give you some privacy,” she said over her shoulder. “I'm making breakfast. If you want some, come to the kitchen. If you don't, then don't.”
“What are you making?” Cain asked.
Missy slammed the door behind her without another word.
Cain sighed, frustrated, and tossed the blanket back on the air mattress. Missy's new tight-lipped attitude was bugging him, but he wasn't sure why. Hadn't he hated her constant stream of smartass answers? Hadn't he wanted to make sure things between them stayed chilly instead of getting complicated?
Well, maybe he hadn't hated her wisecracks as much as he'd have had her believe. Maybe deep down, he even found them kind of funny, and he felt less able to take himself so seriously when she fired them at him.
Maybe he found himself missing her smile, even when it was mocking him. Maybe he was relieved that she made it back alive last night after running off alone.
And maybe he didn't really want things chilly between them. Maybe now that the pain in his body had reduced to a dull roar and he could think more clearly, he was realizing that all he could think about was what happened between them last night and how much he wanted it to happen again.
Ugh, maybe, maybe, maybe, Cain thought disgustedly, reaching for his jeans and carefully pulling them up over his legs. Get a goddamn grip on yourself. The Eagles are under attack—you don't have time to stand around pining for someone like you're in a fucking soap opera. Just focus on getting better and getting payback, and leave the secret-crush bullshit to high school girls.
With that, he opened the bedroom door and headed toward the kitchen.
Chapter 30
Missy
Missy checked the edges of the eggs in the frying pan to make sure they were well-done enough, then carefully poured some leftover chili and shredded cheese along the center, folding the whole thing over. As she did, she heard Cain enter the kitchen behind her and sit down at the table.
“Well, it smells good, whatever it is,” Cain said.
“I'm making an omelet with some of the chili,” she replied curtly.
“Sounds inventive.”
Missy heard the flat tone in Cain's voice and assumed it was sarcasm. “It's all I had to work with,” she snapped, flipping the omelet. “I didn't feel like sending Keith out to the store for more stuff, in case Gaspar comes back here with a fucking Bradley tank or something. If you want something else, tough shit. Order delivery on your goddamn phone, unless you've already smashed that one too.”
“Jesus, take it down a notch.” Cain spat back. “I'm trying to give you a compliment and you're acting like I came in here and took a shit in the pan!”
Missy sighed. She supposed she'd read too much into his comment. Still, she knew she couldn't soften up toward him, even if she wanted to. Things had to remain cool if they were going to avoid another mistake like last night's. If that meant she had to act bitchy to him, so be it.
She slid the omelet onto a plate and set it down in front of him with a fork. “Fine. Here.”
“What? You're not eating?” he asked.
“I already ate,” Missy answered. “I have a quick phone call to make.”
Before Cain could say anything else, Missy walked into the living room, dialing Christina's number.
“Um, hello?” Christina answered.
“Christina, it's Missy. When do you think you'll have time to do my hair today?”
“Oh, hi Missy!” Missy heard the relief in Christina's voice. Clearly, whatever kind of trouble she and her mother were in, she thought Missy and he Eagles could help get them out of it.
Well, we'll see, Missy thought. The odds sure seem to be against it, but...
“I should be able to see you at about, uh, four-thirty, if that works for you,” Christina continued.
Missy checked the time on her phone. That would give her about an hour and a half to get t
hings ready for the meeting. She hoped it would be enough time.
“Sure,” Missy agreed. “I'll see you then.”
She ended the call, then dialed Hunter. “Is everything okay?” he asked without preamble.
“Sure, we're fine here,” Missy told him. “I set up the thing we talked about. It's happening today. Meet me at the place again in one hour, and bring a couple of extra guys.” She hated this vague cloak-and-dagger routine, even though she knew it was necessary.
“You got it,” Hunter said. “Be safe getting there, okay?”
“You know it,” Missy replied, ending the call.
She returned to the kitchen where Cain was finishing his omelet. He looked at her warily as she collected the dish and brought it to the sink to wash.
“What was all that about?” he asked. “You're going to get your hair done in the middle of all this shit? Hunter's not going to like that.”
“Hunter knows all about it,” she answered. “Christina's mother runs the Teepee Motel, and she's got information we need about what's going on with Gaspar, so I'm going to talk to her. The hair excuse is just for whoever's listening in.”
Cain scowled. “Since when is that your job?”
“Since last night, when Christina reached out to me. I was planning to mention it to you, but...” Missy trailed off.
But then I ended up giving you an angry blowjob instead, she finished mentally.
Cain got up from the table and started pacing the kitchen angrily. “I cannot fucking believe this bullshit. I'm the motherfucking VP of the Blood Eagles. I've been up to my elbows in everything this club's done since I was fucking seventeen. I've stolen for this club. I've served time for this club. Fuck, I've killed people for this club. And now I get a little banged up, and I'm supposed to stay in my goddamn house for a week like a useless asshole while some barmaid runs around doing the real work? What a fucking crock!” He kicked the chair across the room.
“Christ, will you get a grip on yourself?” Missy asked. She went to pick up the chair.
“Leave it where it is!” Cain roared.
“Why?” Missy inquired. She bent down, grabbing the chair and lifting it.
Cain crossed the room and crouched, seizing Missy's wrist with his good arm. “Because it's my chair, it's my house, I'm the vice president of this fucking MC, and I goddamn fucking say so, that's why! Now do what the fuck I tell you.”
The hand on Missy's arm seemed to crackle with electricity, and Cain's eyes were like hot coals. Their faces were inches apart, their heaving breath crashing together in the air between them. If any other man had ever grabbed her like that, she would have kicked them in the balls without a moment's hesitation.
But Missy could tell that Cain felt as powerful as he had the previous night and she found herself turned on by that. She wanted to give in to it, to let him have her in any way he wanted. She hated his cocky macho attitude, and she hated herself for wanting him so much despite it.
And in the smoldering orbs of his eyes, she could see that he was conflicted too.
Don't kiss me, she thought.
Please kiss me, she thought.
As though he could read her mind, Cain leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers hungrily. She tried to put up some resistance, but it was impossible. She searched inside herself for logic or restraint, but could only find a burning need that refused to be ignored. She felt her body move toward his instinctually, like one drop of water trying to join with another. They sank to the floor together, and this time, she could tell that Cain was feeling no pain, only lust.
“Take off your clothes,” Cain growled.
Missy stood and started to yank off her t-shirt, but Cain held up a hand. “No. Do it slowly for me.”
Missy looked into his eyes, feeling the now-familiar blush creep up into her cheeks. She lifted the shirt up slowly, teasingly, offering a glimpse of her bra before lowering it again. Finally, she turned her back to him and pulled the shirt off the rest of the way, removed her bra, then turned, her hands covering her nipples as they rapidly grew hard beneath her fingertips.
Cain's eyes continued to burn into her. He licked his lips. “Take your hands off of them and come here.”
She lowered her arms, exposing her erect nipples and approaching him like a zookeeper nearing the cage of a hungry lion at feeding time. As this image crossed her mind, she realized how appropriate it was. There was something in Cain's eyes and posture that was undeniably proud, regal, and savage, all at once.
Missy lowered herself to her knees before him. When she was close enough, Cain snaked his good arm behind her back and moved his head down. With his hot mouth, he kissed her left breast, and she felt the area between her legs become wet again, the trickle dancing deliriously down her inner thigh until she thought she might collapse into a puddle before him.
He took her nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue against it and drawing a moan from her.
“Now your jeans,” Cain instructed.
Missy stood up and turned around again. She undid the button and zipper, hooking her thumbs into the waistline of her panties and slowly sliding them down her legs along with her jeans. Cain watched as she exposed her ass, thighs, and calves, inch by inch, until the jeans were around her ankles and she stepped out of them. She looked over her shoulder at Cain with eyes that dared him to command her again.
“Turn around,” said Cain.
Missy turned around, revealing the thin strip of dark hair over her pussy. A strand of hair fell across her eye and she brushed it away, feeling his eyes blazing over her body like a wildfire consuming a forest.
“Have you ever thought about me when you touched yourself?” he asked.
The question surprised her, and she could feel herself blushing even more hotly. She wanted to lie, to maintain some scrap of her strength and independence before him—but from the look in his eyes, she could see that her mind was as naked to him as her body was. Before she could even begin to think of another answer, her lips parted and she said, “Yes.”
“Then fucking show me,” Cain challenged her. “Show me how you get yourself off when you think of me.”
Missy's hand trembled as it drifted down between her legs, stroking her folds gently before pressing a fingertip against her clit. She began to rub it in a circular motion, never taking her eyes off his. Every muscle in his body seemed tense with arousal as he watched her stroke her clit rhythmically, breathing harder with each passing second.
When Missy's breath started to come in sharp gasps and she felt herself sliding toward the edge of climax, she slid two fingers inside herself and pressed against her G-spot, plunging over the precipice.
As she came, she let out a loud cry, fighting to remain standing even as her knees felt like they were turning to water under her.
Cain nodded slowly. “Good. Now get down on your hands and knees.”
Missy couldn't believe her ears. He wanted her down on all fours like a dog. From anyone else, the idea of this would have seemed silly at best, insulting and degrading at worst. But her legs were already feeling too weak to support her for much longer, and she was amazed to discover that some black and twisted root inside her soul wanted this. She wanted to be his pet, his toy, whatever he needed her to be.
Slowly, deliberately, Missy lowered herself to her hands and knees on the kitchen floor. Her eyes were still on Cain's face, searching for his approval and finding it.
“Fucking crawl to me,” Cain demanded. “Crawl like a bitch in heat.”
Missy did as she was told, slinking across the floor until she was directly in front of Cain. She peered at him expectantly. Her pussy was still wet and she felt her labia parting as she stuck her butt in the air, eager to be penetrated. She stole a glance at his crotch and saw that his cock was pressing against his jeans, waiting to be released.
“Now unzip me,” Cain commanded, undoing the button on his jeans.
Missy reached out with one hand, but Cain sho
ved it away.
“With your teeth.”
Missy's heart slammed against her ribcage like a trapped bird as she moved her head forward. She took his zipper between her teeth, and felt the greasy, coppery taste of metal against her tongue as she pulled it all the way down.
“Pull them off of me,” said Cain.
Missy hooked her fingers through Cain's belt loops and dragged his jeans down his legs, tossing them aside. His cock stood straight up, quivering expectantly after being released from its confinement.
“Do you want me?” Missy asked breathlessly.
