Page 38 of Cain

“You think it has something to do with the jacked shipment and two of our prospects getting killed?” Ink asks, drawing all the attention to himself. “What? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought of it.” He shrugs. “We need to look at every angle as a possibility.”

“She doesn’t have any idea? I doubt it’s the Reapers. This screams amateur. Or someone scared to do it face-to-face,” Trick says, looking no less pissed off.

“Scotch and I talked to her last night, and she thinks it might be the guy who sells for her. Scotch has met him a few times and doesn’t get a good vibe from him.”

“I think he’s worth looking into. If Ev thinks something is off with him, then I believe her. I never liked the son of a bitch anyway,” Scotch says as the other guys nod their heads and think everything over.

“Alright, let’s vote. Do we pay this fucker a visit or let it lie and see what happens? Hands for a visit?” Looking around the table, I see every brother's hands raised. Hell yeah. “Looks like we’re paying this bitch a visit.” I grin, and cheers erupt.

What can I say? It’s been getting a little fucking boring around here.

“Scotch, you’re coming with me since you’ve met him before. I want a familiar face with me. Cyrus, I want you to come too. Just in case shit goes south and we need a little more muscle.” The dude gets off on cutting off fingers. I’m in no position to judge. We all have our kinks. Some are newer than others based on how I sucked on Evan’s fucking toes last night. Just thinking about it is making my dick hard. That’s the last thing I need. My head needs to be in the game and not thinking about how sexy my little hellcat looks while she’s under me.

Trick’s shoulders sag. “I always miss out on all the fun stuff.”

“You were the one who beat the shit out of the drunk piece of shit that was drugging drinks at DD’s. Didn’t even give me a chance with him.” Hash crossed his arms, looking equally as put out.

“I need you two to stay back at the club with the prospects in case the Reapers decide to stop by uninvited again. You don’t need to wait for me to give them a message if it happens.” Meeting Trick and Hash’s eyes, I see hope flare that they actually stop by. Crazy fuckers.

“Let’s ride out.” I bang the gavel on the table while the brothers cheer.

I’m taking up the lead with Scotch and Cyrus on each side, hanging slightly back as we cruise down the road on the way to Storm’s. I’m trying to contain my rage because, you know, innocent until proven guilty and all that shit. The only promise I’m making is not to kill him unless I find out he’s behind this.

My lip curls up in disgust as we turn into the drive at the address that Evan gave us. It’s even farther out from Ravenna Heights than we are—just a single trailer on a lot in the middle of nowhere.

I’m pissed as fuck that she came out here alone. It’s in the middle of nowhere and in the woods to boot. This fucker could have killed her, and no one would be around to hear her screams.

“You think anyone’s home?” Cyrus asks as soon as we cut the bikes.

“Good fucking question.” There isn’t even a car here. “You guys see any movement through the blinds?”

“Nope,” Scotch replies. “God, this place is a fucking dump. It smells like piss, too.”

He’s not wrong about that. Judging by how the grass in the yard is almost up to my knee, it’s clear he doesn’t take care of this place. I can only imagine what the inside looks like. “This place looks like a trap house and a hoarder's house had a baby.”

Cyrus grunts in agreement as he walks up the front steps. He pounds his fists on the door, only to be greeted with no response. Of course, he’s conveniently not home.

Cyrus turns his head, pressing his ear to the door while Scotch and I keep our eyes glued to the windows in the off-chance we catch a peeping tom.

Cyrus shakes his head, letting us know that he isn’t hearing anything, before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his lock pick. He picks it in under 30 seconds, and we’re in. I pull my Glock out of my waistband and signal to Cyrus to let me lead.

I slowly push open the door, quickly scanning the area and coming up clear. I nod my head toward the door down the left of the hall, telling one of them to check out that room as I move through the kitchen and the living room.

Scotch comes back, shaking his head. “It’s all clear. His drawers are thrown open like he was leaving in a hurry. Clothes all over the fucking place.”

“I don’t know if that means anything. It doesn’t look like he’s cleaned since he moved in. This place fucking reeks like a dirty hooker’s pussy.” Cyrus grimaces as he looks around at the moldy dishes on the counter and table and old beer cans scattered on the floor.

“I think Evan was right about him being on something.” Scotch says while pointing to the broken glass pipe on the coffee table.

This guy is living in filth. The longer I stay in here, the angrier I get again that Evan thought it was okay to come here on her own. That shit is not happening again.

“You guys thinking what I’m thinking?” This doesn’t look good, but at the same time, it isn’t adding up to anything.

“If you’re thinking that he split in a hurry, then yeah, I’m thinking what you’re thinking,” Cyrus says, while Scotch grunts in agreement. “The question is, who is after him that made him leave like that? You think Evan would know?”

Shrugging my shoulders, I answer, “No fucking clue, but I doubt it. She made it sound like she didn’t really know him outside the arrangement they had going on. Just an old coworker turned associate. They never hung out outside of this.”

“I feel like if Evan knew him on a level more than what she’s saying, she would have mentioned it,” Scotch agrees.

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