Page 13 of Cain

Cyrus has one outlet he uses to deal with any sort of emotion, and that’s beating the ever-loving shit out of a sorry motherfucker. Can’t say it doesn’t come in handy. It’s why I made him one of my enforcers. It took a little bit of training to get it under control, though. I can’t have anyone just randomly beating the shit out of someone whenever something disrupts them. What would that say about the club?

So we met halfway, and he joined an underground fighting ring. He has a release, and I make a ton of money from betting on him. It’s a win-win.

“Alright!” I yell, the talking quieting down as I wait for their attention. “Does someone want to explain to me how the fuck they knew about the shipment when I specifically said this stays between us for now?” Looking around, the guys are looking at each other like they haven’t got a fucking clue.

“No idea, Prez. I know we had the prospects do clean up, but I know they didn’t leave anything behind. Repo supervised to make sure that shit got done right,” Cyrus said from the seat next to me on my left.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room as we all tried to think of any possible reason as to how the fuck this happened.

“You think it could have been Evan?” Ink asks, breaking the silence as he raises his hands in defense when the low rumble comes out of me. I’m sure the glare I shot him matched Scotch’s based on the way his fist slammed down on the table.

“No, it wasn’t fucking Evan.”

Every single one of the guy’s eyebrows shot up at the intensity of my voice.

“Alright… didn’t mean no offense, Prez. Just trying to consider all possibilities.”

“Well, if all of you say it wasn’t you, and we covered that it wasn’t Evan, I think it’s safe to say something else is going on.”

The solemn faces around me confirm my suspicions.

But who in the fuck would be stupid enough to double-cross me?

Chapter Thirteen

EVAN

I haven’t left my house yet.

I need to.

But I just can’t make myself do it.

All of last night's events, combined with my not sleeping, have officially caught up to me. I’m a paranoid bitch right now. It’s the worst feeling to feel uncomfortable in your own home. Like someone is watching your every move. I worked so hard to never feel like this again, and I’m pissed as hell that someone is taking that away from me.

I need to go outside and see if the guy from last night left any evidence or indication of what he wanted.

“Come on, Hades. Let’s go outside for a second, okay?” I call for him as I slip on my shoes. Hades has been glued to my side since he felt my anxiety when he woke up.

I scratch his head, and he bounds out in front of me through the backdoor.

One question that hasn’t stopped running through my head while I was tossing and turning all night is: How did someone on a bike get back here without Hades or me even hearing it? That just doesn’t seem possible to me. I mean, yeah, I had rock music playing while I was cooking, but it wasn’t so loud that I wouldn’t have heard a bike pull up. Unless they cut the engine before they hit my drive and pushed it all the way back? I guess that’s always a possibility.

My suspicions are confirmed when I see tire tracks with footprints next to them leading back to the barn. I follow the tracks to the barn's side door. Scratches are on the door and lock like he tried to pick it in a rush. So, the mystery man was trying to break in.

“Well, that’s unsettling,” I say out loud as I stare at the lock like it’s magically going to give me all of the answers I’m looking for.

How does anyone know what’s inside my barn, though? It just doesn’t add up. If you weren’t close to me, there is no way you would even know what I have back here.

A feeling of dread comes over me. Part of me wants to chalk this up as fluke thing, but I have a feeling I may need to involve Cain, which is the last thing I want to do. Staying away from that man is so high up on my list it isn’t even funny.

“Check with Storm first. Then, if nothing comes from that, as a last resort, I’ll see if Cain knows anything,” I tell myself as I head back into the house.

First priority is definitely getting some kind of security system set up out here. I guess I never thought I would need it but here we are.

I seriously need to start questioning my life choices. Storm’s trailer looks like the one from Breaking Bad. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it.

Reality starts setting in as I realize just how little I actually know about my “business associate.” I use that term loosely because, well, doesn’t the other person have to actually put money in? I guess Storm is more like my unofficial employee. Maybe I should invest in a beater car for these types of situations. Something that no one can trace back to me. Not that I ever plan on being in a situation like this again, but I probably have “please rob me” stamped on my forehead as I climb out of my Mustang.

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