Page 63 of Cain

“Car is taken care of,” Trick says after they both head outside. “You get anything useful out of him?”

“Yup. Turns out it wasn’t just a coincidence that the Russians were at Storm’s place that day,” I say while pouring myself a glass of Jameson. “They caught wind of him dealing, cornered him in a parking lot, and paid him for info on where he was getting his product. Sold Evan out for 50k.”

“Fuck.”

“What a piece of shit,” Trick and Hash say at the same time, both looking equally disgusted.

I look over at Scotch, who is using his pocket knife to scrape blood out from under his nails. “I got bad vibes from the guy, but it never crossed my mind that he would sell her out like that.” Scotch grumbles while shaking his head. “Fuck. And to the Russians at that.”

I can hear the guilt slipping into his tone. Guilt, I imagine, is from all of this getting as far as it has. “Don’t take the blame for this brother.” He meets my gaze and holds it for a long moment, saying nothing. Finally, he nods in confirmation that he heard me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“My guess is that Storm looked into who paid him and got spooked more than he’s letting on.” I get a chorus of grunts of agreement. “I think they were there the day Evan went over there by herself. Or he thought she found out he leaked shit.” Anything is possible at this point.

“He the one that broke into her house?” Hash asks.

“Yup. Claimed he deserved a bigger cut than what Evan was giving him. My theory continues with the Russians finding him after he tried to flee and got him to do this shit. It screams amateur.”

“But how do they know we’re tied in?”

I shake my head. “That’s the thing. I have no idea, and neither does he. That was the only thing I believed out of his mouth on the first try.”

“He could have recognized Scotch’s cut and not let on,” Ink offers.

Our club is still small. Yeah, we can all hold our own pretty well, but we’re still only a club of six, not including the two prospects we have left. It sucks we lost two during the shipment getting jacked, but that’s the life.

“I think we need to feel out the Reapers. I know Spider came busting in here ready to bust some balls, but I’m not fully trusting that he doesn’t know what’s going on.” I say, pausing to take a sip of my drink. “I’m going to call Matteo to see if he knows anything.” Matteo is the head of the Italian Mafia in Ravenna Heights. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, but we have become acquaintances over the years. Civil enough that there’s a silent agreement we’ll back one another.

“What’s our next move if he doesn’t know anything?” Scotch asks in a hardened tone.

“Well, we have Storm, and I think we need to use that to our advantage.”

“You think he’ll draw them out?” Trick asks

Nodding my head, I say, “I do. The fucking idiots think he’s valuable for some reason. They’ve paid him and kept him around this far.”

“You think he’s working up the ranks?”

“Fuck no.” A laugh bursts out of me. Seeing Storm in the Mafia? No way. I’d pay money to see that. “I think they see a desperate man and are taking advantage of that. Once they get what they want, Storm will either be taken care of or just used as an errand bitch.”

“It could work,” Ink says. “They now know he has a huge connection with Evan, who let's be honest, probably sells just as much, if not more, than some of the other players in town.”

“I think that’s our best bet. We can figure out how they know we have anything to do with Evan.” I look back over at Scotch. “Go downstairs. I want you and Cyrus to get him to set up a meeting with them or whatever the hell he does to contact them face-to-face. I want us there when that happens.”

“My pleasure, Prez,” Scotch says as a wicked smirk takes over his face. He chugs the last of his beer before slamming it down and heading toward the basement.

I finish the last gulp of my drink, too. “I need to go check on Evan. You fucks try not to get too crazy.” I grin, knowing none of that is even in their vocabulary.

“Why not? You want us to hear the sweet soundtrack of your latest porno that will be coming from your room?” Trick says as the rest of the guys whoop and cheer.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I flip them off as I head back upstairs to my room, grabbing Evan’s bags set at the bottom of the stairs on the way. I open my door, and the view I have is like a sucker punch to the gut.

Evan is out of the bath, just lounging on the bed in one of my old tees. The shirt hits about mid-thigh. Showing off her long, silky legs but leaving just enough covered that it makes you wonder what’s waiting for you underneath. Makes you want to push the shirt up a couple inches to see that pretty pussy you know is already warm and wet for you. Just waiting for you to come inside.

“Hey.” Evan smiles warmly at me, and damn if it doesn’t feel like another punch to the gut. One more, and I’d be down on my knees for this girl. “How did it go?”

“I think I’m supposed to be the one asking you that,” I say as I kick off my boots.

“Ask me how what went?” Her brows furrowed in that cute way I like.

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