Page 29 of Cain

“Because the more I thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. I don’t talk to people. I don’t have friends. So for someone to know what’s out here? There are only two people who could have told that to someone. Zeke or Storm.”

Fuck. I hate that she’s right.

“I thought you said that Storm didn’t come out here? Thought you and Scotch would meet up with him at a mutual location?”

“Yeah, but he knows where I live. There were a couple of times Zeke wasn’t around to go with me, so he came here to pick up. I figured if something was going to happen, I wanted it to be in a place I know like the back of my hand, and Hades would be here.”

“Don’t,” I say to Scotch as he palms his face. I can see the guilt already setting in. Like he thinks this is all his fault. “This isn’t on you, man.”

“He’s never been inside anything. When he came, I had everything ready to go outside the barn. So he doesn’t literally know exactly what I have goin’ on in there, but it doesn’t take a fucking genius to put two and two together.”

Fuck. She’s right again.

“It’s possible, but it doesn’t explain breaking into your house and spray painting a warning on your wall like a little fucking bitch.” I’m starting to get really fucking pissed again.

In my world, if you want to give someone a warning, you do it face to face like a fuckin’ man. Break a few fingers, fuck his bitch, whatever. What you don’t do, is break in and leave a note like you’re fucking pen pals.

“Right. So, this is the part where I felt like something was a little off. I decided I wanted to feel him out, thinking that in the process, I would be able to eliminate him from my very long list of possible suspects.” She snorts.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Evangeline,” Scotch growls.

“Oh, come on! I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Anyway, he texts me and tells me to meet at his pla?—.”

“Please tell me you fucking didn’t,” I growl, looking at her like she’s grown an extra head. Has she lost her goddamn mind?

“I did.” And there goes my last little bit of control

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!” I explode. Scotch is on his feet, stepping between us.

“Get a lock on it, Prez.”

I would never lay hands on a woman but holy shit. I can only deal with so much right now. If she even thought this Storm guy had anything slightly to do with it, why would she think it’s a good fuckin’ idea to go over to his place?

I’m trying to calm down.

I really am.

But all I can think about is everything that could have happened to her while she was there. Beat the fuck up. Raped. Murdered.

I’ve never felt rage and possession like this over a woman.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a fucking idiot, Cain! Do you want to hear what I have to say or not? Because I don’t owe you anything,” she hisses, doing that little head bob women do when they’re extra pissed and throwing sass.

“You don’t owe me?” I say as I push Scotch’s hand off me, stalking toward her until I’m inches from her face. “Was it not my fingers you just came on hours ago in the shower? Was it not your pussy I shaved while you clenched my fingers? Was it not my dick you were fucking grabbing like you’d die if you didn’t feel it pounding in you?”

Yeah.

I went there.

And judging by the “Jesus fucking Christ” I heard from behind me and the look I was currently getting from Evan, two people are not happy about it.

“Did you really just go there?” she yells, her voice going up an octave.

“Yeah, hellcat. I did.”

“Just because you gave me a quick, mediocre orgasm doesn’t mean I owe you shit. This isn’t a Desperate Housewives episode. You don’t see me begging for it. Any fucking guy down at DD’s can give me the same, if not better.”

“You’re signing a death wish to whatever motherfucker you try that with in my bar, babe. I’ll cut his fucking hand off if he touches what’s mine,” I growl, trying my best not to lose my shit, but she has me seeing red. The thought of another man touching her gives me a murderous rage that I haven’t felt in a long time.

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