Page 42 of Cain

I look down at the bottle of Jameson he has in his hand, hanging by his left side.

Okay, so something definitely fucking happened then. Cain’s drinking away said problem while the other guys are acting weird as hell. I swear these guys are more emotional than me when I’m riding the red dragon. But no way is this asshole shutting me out if it has something to do with business.

I push my way in through the opening between his side and the doorframe on the right. “Goddamnit!” he yells as he turns to face me. “Don’t make me throw you out of here. I don’t give a shit if you're Scotch’s sister.”

I cock my hip out to the side as I cross my arms under my boobs, making them push up as I look him up and down. I didn’t miss the way his eyes immediately shot to my cleavage. And I definitely didn’t miss the flare in them, either.

“You’re not going to throw me out of anywhere until we talk about what is going on,” I say calmly. I think that’s the best approach to get the answers I want. You can’t fight fire with fire. Unless that fire cheats. Then, by all means, cut his dick off. “If you want me gone after that, then fine. I’m gone.”

I don’t miss the low, frustrated growl he lets out before he slams his bedroom door shut. I take a second to look around at everything. They say a person’s room is their most sacred space. It lets you in on little secrets and quirks they would never tell you—lets you see their true personality. And Cain’s room was definitely all Cain.

It has a darker vibe but is kind of bare at the same time. He has a basic black comforter and black drapes on the window that look like they are probably the blackout kind. His walls are what make the room feel bare. He has one poster of a pin-up girl straddling a Harley that looks 20 years old. His dresser in the corner is home to the TV, and there’s a desk on the other side that looks like it serves the same purpose as my clothes chair in my room. Everyone has that one spot where they pile clean clothes that they don’t feel like putting away.

“You have 30 seconds to start talking before I throw your ass out,” he rumbles, not moving from his spot in front of the door.

This man and his attitude are really starting to test my patience. Taking a deep breath to control my urge to knock him out, I decide to get comfy by sitting on his bed leaning up against the wall.

“I want to know what in the hell is going on. You were fine when you left my place. I know you went to talk to Storm. And now, all of a sudden, it seems like you’ve done a complete 180 towards me. So please, fill in the gaps,” I say in a tone that sounds extremely calm to my ears compared to how I’m feeling right now as I flick my hand out.

“When did you tell Storm I was coming? Right after my dick was in you?”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

EVAN

My head jerks back as if he slapped me, the back of my head hitting the wall hard, making me wince. “What?”

“I want to know why you tipped him off that we were coming! Because when we got there, his ass was nowhere to be found, and then we ended up getting fucking shot at! Was that your end goal? Take me out, and you get to keep the money you’re making from us? Or did someone else pay you to give them our location? Who are you working with?” He fires off question after question, not giving me a chance to answer as he stalks toward me.

“What?” I breathe out. He can’t seriously think I sold him out. Sold Zeke out.

“Tell me you fucking sold me out!” Cain screams in my face that he’s now inches from, so close that I think I felt a little spit hit my cheek. The veins in his neck are bulging from how tightly wound his body is.

And that’s when I snap, slapping him right across the face.

“I didn’t fucking sell you out, you asshole!” I scream back.

He lets out a roar before slamming both palms against the wall, framing my face and making me jump. “Then how did they know I was there?!”

“I don’t know!” I scream. “I don’t fucking know!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Zeke bursts into Cain’s room, the door bouncing off the wall. His face instantly hardens as he takes in the scene in front of him. “Get the fuck out of her face, man.”

Cain pushes off of the wall and faces Zeke. “This is between Evan and I. We’ll talk later about you thinking you own this fucking place and can barge into my room.”

Zeke’s eyes bounce between me and Cain. I give him a stiff nod, letting him know that I’m okay. “I didn’t fucking forget. I just don’t like that I can hear the way you’re talking to her sitting at the bar. You need to check that shit. She didn’t rat us out. Show her some fucking respect.” He turns to leave but stops just before he’s out the door. “Just scream if you need me, Ev.” And on that parting, he’s gone.

Cain walks over and closes his door again, this time softer.

“Look, Cain. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I didn’t sell you out. I can show you my phone or whatever you want, but I didn’t do it,” I say in a softer tone from my spot on his bed that I haven’t moved from. “The thought of you and Zeke getting kill—” I cough, trying to choke back and hide the tears that are threatening to fall from my eyes. “The thought of you and Zeke getting killed is something I never want to think about.”

Cain stares at me from his spot by the door, lost in thought. He may be looking at me, but he isn’t looking at me.

“Cain?” I ask softly, making his eyes dart to mine, breaking his train of thought. “I swear I didn’t do anything.”

He holds my gaze for a long time before finally breaking his silence. “I believe you.” He sighs, sounding resigned and looking slightly defeated.

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