Page 2 of Cain

I hear his sigh of relief on the other end. “You’re a lifesaver, Ev. Can you meet me at the clubhouse? ”

Ah. The infamous clubhouse that I hear so little about. When Zeke first got out of the Army, he caught up with some guy he used to be in with, bought a bike, and the rest was history. I have yet to meet any of them, though. He seems to like keeping that part of his life private, and I haven’t wanted to pry.

“Yeah, I can. Text me the address?” I can’t help the funny feeling that’s building in the pit of my stomach as we both hang up—almost like a huge feeling of dread.

What kind of favor would a motorcycle club need from me?

Chapter Three

EVAN

I bring my car to a stop just outside a huge metal gate that has to be at least 20 feet tall. What in the fuck is this place? And how did I not know this existed next door to me?

My stomach is past the point of rolling. It’s full-on punching me for being a naive dumbass. Who doesn’t ask questions about what they’re getting into? “If Zeke fucks me, I swear I will cut his dick off,” I mumble under my breath as the gate slowly opens.

“What the fuck…” I mutter as I whip around. How do they even know I’m here?

I slowly drive through the gate and down the concrete drive until a giant warehouse-looking building comes into view. I cut the engine on my Dark Horse Ford Mustang and climb out. Spotting the entrance, I pause just as I’m about to grab the door handle. Do I knock? Or is this like a business, and I just enter? I should have paid more attention when I watched Sons of Anarchy, but Tig was just too hot to not have my undivided attention.

I turn the knob, deciding on just going in.

It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but as they do, I take in the giant living area. Living area? Is that what you would call a room with a stripper pole in the center, a bar up against the wall, and worn leather couches with a few tables and chairs randomly spread throughout? My nose turns up as I hear the stickiness of the floor as I walk further in. Honestly, this place looks more like a frat house.

“Hello?” I call out as I make my way over to the bar and lean against the rail as if I’m waiting for someone to pop up. Based on the floors, it shouldn’t shock me that the mirrors on the back wall are dirty. Old stickers from various places cover it. I’d like to say I can see my reflection, but it’s more of a half-assed smudgy version of myself.

I jump as a door slams shut behind me, making me whip around to see who has finally decided to acknowledge my presence, only to come face-to-face with a man who can only be described as sex-on-a-stick. He’s tall. Has to be at least 6’5, considering I’m 5’7, and he looks like he would swallow me up. I take my time as I scan him head to toe. The salt and pepper hair lets me know that he’s older. Maybe mid-40s? His fitted tee contours to his body in all the right places. He’s muscular but more in the dad bod sense. The fitted boot-cut jeans are hugging some seriously ripped thighs, though. Damn, the man is fine. If I was asked to build my dream guy physically, this man in front of me would be it.

I sharply inhale at the realization as my eyes shoot up to his face, seeing his eyebrows raised. Fuck. He just watched me check him out. The ground can swallow me up anytime now. I’m nervous as hell and fiddling with the ends of my hair like I’m fucking twelve-years-old. And now he’s just staring at me like I’m the biggest idiot. Fuck me. Men don’t usually intimidate me, but his stare is almost enough for me to tell Zeke to forget it. Almost.

“Uh…. hi. I’m here for Zeke? He called me and said to meet him.” Someone needed to start off the conversation since it was clear he wasn’t going to.

“Zeke?” The seriously intimidating man grunts out as he studies me. His eyes narrow as they slowly run up and down my body before he turns around and walks right back through the door he came from, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

My jaw drops as the door slams because what in the hell was that? Was I just dismissed? It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone this fucking rude.

And where in the hell is Zeke?

Chapter Four

CAIN

Unfuckingbelievable.

When Scotch said he would reach out to someone he thought could help us out, I wasn’t expecting that person to be a girl.

Those curves. Jesus fucking christ. They’re not in your face. More in a subtle ‘I have a little in all of the right places’ way. And that rack? I never considered myself to be a tit man, but I wouldn’t pass the chance to see how they fit in my hand. And those fucking eyes. Are they different colors? I could have sworn one was blue and the other was green. I had already been staring at her for too long without saying anything that I couldn’t just ask. That would just make me sound like a fucking dipshit, so I did the only thing I could.

I left.

I bang my fist as hard as I can against the door to Scotch’s room. “Yo, fucker! Open up!” I don’t even let ten seconds pass before pounding on the door again.

My fist is raised, ready to pound again before it flies open. “What?” Scotch glares.

My eyebrows raise at his tone. “Get your ass up. Evan is here. You have some fucking explaining to do.”

“Fuck.” Scotch runs a hand down his face. “Yeah. I’ll be right out.” He starts to turn back into his room before he stops. “Look… just don’t freak out on Evan. She’s been through a lot, and I promise she’ll keep her mouth shut about all of this, but I really think she can help us out.”

I grunt in response. I don’t know what the hell he was thinking when he thought it would be a good idea to have her help us out. Scotch knows the rules; nothing with a pussy gets involved in our shit. Unless they’re an old lady, but even that doesn’t mean they’re involved directly. They get the bare minimum side details. It’s more of a way to just vent and release some stress.

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