Outlaw's Wrath - An MC Brotherhood Romance Boxed Set

by Glass, Evelyn

  I filled out all the paperwork and filled in Cain’s name when he rapped on the clipboard with a finger when I skipped Father’s Name the first time. When I finished the paperwork he took the clipboard from me and returned it to the nurse’s station where he spent a few minutes talking with the nurse.

  It didn’t take long before he had her smiling and nodding and he passed what appeared to be a business card to her. She took the card and clipped it to the paperwork then smiled brightly at him as plucked the single fake rose from the holder on her desk and handed it to her. I fumed as she giggled, took the rose as if to smell it, and then returned it to the holder.

  “What was that all about?” I asked as he sat down again.

  “They’re going to call me and let me know when your appointments are scheduled and if they change.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can be here.”

  “All the way from Dallas?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  He said nothing as he smiled at me. I sat back and stared at the television running a loop about caring for yourself during pregnancy. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying it, but I was slightly touched that he would make the effort to be here for my appointments. But I wasn’t ready to give him a pass just yet and would wait and see how long it lasted.

  Chapter 6

  “You want to get something to eat before you leave for work?” Cain asked as he opened the passenger door of my car for me.

  I sighed in resignation. He had wrapped the female doctor around his little finger and she had spent more of the visit talking to him about what was coming up, and what he could do to help me, than she did talking to me. “If I say yes, will you leave after we eat?” I asked hopefully.

  “Maybe,” he replied as he shut my door. He looked up as the sky rumbled then squeezed into my car. He reached behind him and pulled the top up and latched his side as I did the same on my side. He didn’t look at all comfortable in my little car and I looked out of my side window to hide my smile.

  “Where to?”

  He had fixed us a simple lunch of sandwiches and sodas while I showered, but that smoked turkey hadn’t set all that well. “I’m not that hungry. What do you want?”

  “Well… we could try that place you stormed out of. What was the name of it? Lord Have Mercy?”

  “Lard Have Mercy,” I corrected.

  “Yeah. That place. I would still like to try the beignets and chicory coffee. I left in a bit of a hurry last night and didn’t have a chance to actually try them.”

  I flushed at the mild rebuke, but he was grinning playfully at me. “Okay. That will be fine.”

  “Will you actually stay and have dinner with me this time?”

  I wanted to snap at him for being an ass, but I guess I deserved that, and it was obvious he was just needling me. “So long as you aren’t an asshole, yes.”

  “Fair enough. How do I get there from here?”

  I gave him directions and we arrived just as it began to rain, big drops that promised there was a toad strangler was on the way. He pulled up and stopped close to the door so I could hop out and dash under the covered front door to wait for him. He found a spot at the far end of the lot just as the heavens opened up and I had to giggle as I watched him squeeze out of the car ass first. MX5s weren’t designed for big, muscular, Americans, especially with the top up. He plodded, hunch shouldered, through the rain and then ran his hands through his hair when he stepped under the covering to squeegee the water out of it. Damned if it wasn’t a sexy move and I wondered if he did it on purpose.

  “You ready?” he asked as he opened the door for me.

  I stepped in and the smells I normally like so well assaulted me.

  “What?” he asked as I stopped.

  “I need some air,” I gasped as I stepped quickly around him and back outside. I took a couple of deep breaths and the queasiness began to fade.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he joined me, taking me gently by the elbow.

  “Wow! That turkey sandwich is kicking.”

  “What?”

  “Lunch isn’t sitting that well,” I explained. “When I walked in there, the smells got to me. I thought I was going to puke.” I took another deep breath. “I’m feeling better now.”

  “Are you sure? You want to go home instead?”

  “No. I’m fine now.”

  “Morning sickness?”

  “Kind of early for that, isn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “Beats me. One of the old ladies in the club used to carry a plastic trashcan around with her after she got pregnant. She was puking all the time, almost from the time she found out. We called her the barf-a-tron. Not in front of her, of course.”

  “Weren’t you sweethearts,” I said flatly. “I’m feeling better. Let’s try this again,” I said as I stepped out of the way of a couple that was leaving.

  We enter Lard Have Mercy again. At first I thought I was going to be okay, but then the nausea hit me like a punch in the gut. I shoved Cain out of the way and made it out of the door before I embarrassed myself. I was bent over, hands on knees, gasping as I fought against my stomach when I felt his hand gently caressing my back.

  “As soon as you feel better, I’ll take you home.”

  It took several long moments of panting before I felt well enough to stand up straight. “I’m better now,” I said as I straightened, enormously proud that I hadn’t actually puked in front of the restaurant.

  “Wait here,” he said as he stepped from under the cover.

  He walked out in the pouring rain and brought the car up in front of the door. I was just about to make a dash for it when I saw him squeezing out again and I waited, not sure what he was doing. I hoped he didn’t want me to drive because I really didn’t feel like it. Out of the car he walked around to the passenger side and held the door handle. I ran out into the rain and he jerked the door open for me and shut it behind me before he trudged around the front of the car and squeezed in. He was soaked to the skin and the windows immediately began to fog.

  We drove through the rain, the wipers thumping out a steady rhythm as they fought to clear the windshield. As we waited at a light, he reached into his vest and pulled out his phone. After a couple of touches he placed the phone against his ear.

  “Mom! It’s Cain. Good. Listen, I have a question. I have a friend that is suffering from morning sickness. No. No.”

  He was juggling the phone as he drove and shifted gears. Sometimes I could hear a buzzing voice from the phone, but with the hiss of the tires, the rain roaring on the canvas top, and the wipers, I had no hope of making out what was being said.

  “I’m in a car and it is pouring rain. Mom! I’ll tell you all about it later, okay? Right now, I want to know what to do about it. About four weeks. Uh huh. Uh huh.” He looked at me. “Are you allergic to peanut butter?”

  I shook my head no.

  “No. That’s it? Okay. Thanks, Mom.” He punched a button and tucked the phone away. “You have any peanut butter at your house?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Is that supposed to help with the morning sickness?”

  “It’s worth a try. Mom said it worked for her. We’ll stop and get some on the way home. Smooth or extra-crunchy?”

  The ridiculousness of the conversation got to me and I grinned. “Smooth.”

  ***

  “Wait here,” he said as he wormed his way out of the car and into the rain.

  I watched him splash through the puddles and into the market, returning a few minutes later with a bag. He opened the door and, after placing the bag behind the seat, stuffed himself into the car again.

  “Lovely weather you have here,” he said mildly as he wrung the water from his hair again. “Love the car, too. I think I will get one when I get home. It’s so easy to get in and out of. Especially with the top up.”

  I tried not to, I really did, but I burst into
giggles.

  “You think it’s funny?” he growled playfully then flicked water into my face from his fingers.

  “Stop! You’re getting me wet!”

  “Oh, damn! Did I? I’m so sorry.” He then twisted his head violently side to side, slinging water everywhere, like a dog shaking himself dry.

  I shrieked and put up my hands to ward off the flying water as I tried to make like a turtle and pull my head into my shoulders. “Stop!” I squealed.

  “There. That’s better,” he said as he started the car then grinned at me.

  “For who?” I cried and then giggled again.

  ***

  “Here,” I said as I tossed him a towel.

  “Thanks.” He took the towel and dried his hair then patted it over the rest of his body, soaking some of the water from his clothes. I thought about offering him the use of my shower, and dryer, but I had to leave for work soon and I didn’t want to give him any ideas.

  I pulled the peanut butter, bread, and apples from the bag. “So this is supposed to work?”

  “All we can do is try it. It’s loaded with protein.” He pulled a wicked looking knife from a holder on his belt and quickly cut an apple into quarters.

  “Second drawer,” I advised when he started opening drawers, obviously looking for a spoon.

  He pulled out a spoon, opened the peanut butter and dipped some onto an apple quarter before handing it to me. “Give that a try.”

  The moment the smell of the peanut butter hit me I could feel my stomach roll over. I tried to hand it back. “I can’t.”

  He refused to take the offered piece. “Alex, you have to eat something.”

  I held my breath and bit off the end of the apple. My stomach rebelled but I chewed it up and forced it down. I waited a moment to see if it would stay, and after a few dozen breathes I could feel the sickness beginning to fade. I scooped another dollop of peanut butter onto the rest of the piece and ate that, too. By the time I had consumed the entire apple, I was feeling better.

  “Want another?” he asked as he pulled another apple from the bag.

  “One more, I think.” The peanut butter-coated apple was the best tasting thing I had eaten in a long time.

  The moment he had the first quarter sliced he handed it to me, I smeared it with peanut butter and wolfed it down. “What about you?” I asked around a mouthful of apple.

  “I’ll get something later.”

  When I returned from getting dressed, he handed me the grocery sack that had contained the bread, peanut butter, and apples. I looked into it and could see the last two apples, already quartered, and a sandwich, cut into bite-size squares.

  “Remember what the doctor said. Eat often, anytime you feel like it. This should hold you for tonight. I will get more apples for tomorrow.”

  His presumption annoyed me. “There won’t be a tomorrow.”

  “We’ll see,” he said calmly.

  “No. We won’t see, Cain.”

  He looked at me a moment then sighed. “What’s the problem, Alex? Why won’t you accept my help? Help me to understand.”

  “Because, Cain, I can’t trust you. It’s simple as that. You won’t tell me what you do, while at the same time you don’t seem open to change. The last thing I need is a drug smuggler, or whatever it is you do, in my life. Life is going to be hard enough without that.”

  “Alex, I’ve told you over and over, I’m not involved in drugs. The Hounds are not involved in drugs. Drugs are a bad business and we want no part of that.”

  “Yes you have. And yet, you won’t tell me what you do. How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

  “You’ll just have to trust me, okay?”

  “How, Cain? How can I trust you?” I cried, setting the bag on the counter and holding my hands out to him beseechingly. “You obviously don’t trust me since you won’t tell me anything about what you do. ‘I’m in the import business.’ Well, guess what? Drug dealers could say the same thing. If I accept you into my life, into our lives, how do I know that someday you won’t stop coming home because you have been killed or arrested? How do I know that one day the cops won’t show up and take my child from me because I’m suddenly an unfit mother because I’m involved with you? How do I know that some thug isn’t going to kick open my door and gun us all down because of what you do? How do I know—”

  “I won’t let any of that happen!”

  “And how will you prevent it, Cain? Kill them first?”

  “We don’t kill people, Alex! It’s not how we operate. Alex, you are going to have to trust me on this.”

  “And there is the crux of the problem, Cain. I can’t trust you, because you don’t trust me.”

  “I trust you, Alex!”

  “You do? Then tell me what you do.”

  I could see him think it over. “I can’t. I gave my word. I can’t break it.”

  I gave him a ‘there you go’ hand gesture.

  “Alex, I give you my word. None of your fears are likely to come true. I can’t promise you that I won’t die. I could get killed riding away from your house tonight after being hit by a car. You could die on the way to work tonight. Any of us could die at any moment. There are no guarantees in life. But you are blowing the risks it all out of proportion.”

  “Am I?” I asked quietly. “Did you know I was raised by my grandparents?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah. My dad was a Dallas police officer. He was killed in a car crash – him and my mother. I can still remember them. Officially, it was an accident. But my grandparents think it was something else. I was about seven when Granny and Grandpa had driven up to see me and to spending a few days with us. Grandpa told me Dad said was investigating some kind of smuggling ring. He didn’t tell them what, but a few days before he died, he told my grandparents that he had a big break in the case he was working on. I can remember him and Mom dancing around the house because he was so excited about it, though, at the time, I didn’t know what the big fuss was. Anyway, they were going out for Mom’s birthday, just the two of them, when a wheel came off their car. The car hit the center wall and flipped over, then they were hit by a semi. Dad died at the scene, Mom later in the hospital. I still have the newspaper clippings that my grandparents saved.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex, I really am. But that just proves my point. Anyone could die anytime.”

  “No. Don’t you see? They were killed because of what he knew, or what he was going to do. I don’t know. Don’t you find it suspicious that right after he gets a big break in his case that a wheel comes off? When was the last time you heard of a wheel coming off a car?”

  “But you don’t know it was related to his job. The police don’t give up on one of their own like that. It was probably just a terrible accident.”

  I shook my head. “No. I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry, Cain, but I just can’t. You need to go. And don’t come back.”

  “Alex…”

  “Just go, okay? Please?”

  I watch his face go hard and then soften as he accepted my demand. “Fine. I’ll go. But I can’t let this drop, Alex. I understand your fears, but you are worrying for no reason. You really are. We have to reach some kind of agreement on this. I can’t let you drag my kid into the kind of life I had. I just can’t.”

  “You have no say in the matter.”

  “We’ll see,” he said softly as he picked up the bag and handed it to me again before he turned and walked out my front door. Hopefully forever.

  Chapter 7

  “Jill! Can you cover for me a minute? I need a break.”

  “Sure, Alex. You okay? You don’t look so good.”

  “Stomach is a little upset, that’s all. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay. Let me make a round then I will be right back.”

  Jill, my relief bartender, moved off to do a quick check on her tables. The night had started out pretty good, but the longer my shift lasted, the harder it had been to stay
focused. I had to tone down my routine, sticking with the stuff I could do in my sleep, simple flips and catches, for fear of dropping the bottles.

  “Thanks. I’ll be back as quick as I can,” I gasped as Jill stepped behind the bar. I hurried to the back and dug in my locker, pulling out the plastic bag. I debated on apples or the sandwich for a moment, not feeling like eating either, but hoping that eating something would settle my stomach again. I opened the Ziploc bag and pulled out a couple of the apple slices. I felt my stomach heave over, but I stuffed the apple into my mouth and resolutely chewed and swallowed.