Page 15 of Murder & Mayhem

“I’m going to worry about you,” I state. “No matter what your job is in that club, I’m going to worry. That’s just part of caring about someone. I’m not going to sit here and say that I would have been okay with knowing you were going in there to fuck other guys, because I wouldn’t have been.” Annoyance flashes across her face, but before she can protest, I carry on. “Not only because you’re mine, and I want to be theonlyman that gets to see you naked; that gets to fuck that magical pussy of yours and watch you come all over my dick, but because I don’t wantyouto have to put yourself through that. I won’t pretend to know what sort of life you’ve lived until now, but I do know you don’t accept anyextrasat Strip Tease. You must have some sort of line you don’t cross, so don’t tell me you would have been okay with going in there and fucking some strangers to get the job done.”

Her lips are pinched, her features drawn, but I can tell she’s taking in every word I’m saying. When I’m done, I lean forward and kiss her reverently. I don’t need her to say anything back, to explain herself, or to open up to me. I just need her to know that I’m here and on her side. I’m not sure how we’re going to successfully take down the Antonellis, but I refuse to let any of us lose ourselves in the process. God knows, we’ve lost so much already.

I pull back, breaking the kiss, but she doesn’t let me go far as her hands come up to cup my face, holding it mere inches from hers. There’s a light sheen of tears in her eyes, and when she speaks, her voice is rough. “I’ve done… things in the past. To survive. But, you’re right, there are lines I won’t cross. Not if I can help it.”

I hear her unspoken words. The silent vow that no line is uncrossable, for the right price. That price being her brother. When she brushes her lips against mine, I make my own silent vow that she’ll never have to cross any of those lines again. She should never feel like she needs to do something she doesn’t want to; she should never be forced into such a corner. And so long as I have air in my lungs and blood in my veins, I’ll do everything within my power to ensure she never has to.

***

Once I’ve dropped Red back at her apartment and run a few errands, I return to the clubhouse to deal with an ornery Cain, who was still pissed off about Red’s plan when I left him earlier to go in search of her. I shake my head at his stubbornness and the fact that he’s so blinded by his need to focus on his anger that he can’t see he’s starting to give a shit about Trouble. There’s no doubt she loves to push his buttons and wind him up. She fucking gets off on it, but he gives as good as he gets, effectively pissing her off every time he opens his damn mouth. The two of them are driving me crazy with all their sniping. I can practically taste their need to fuck each other’s brains out when they are in the same room. I just wish the two of them would fucking act on it so we could all move on and think with our rational brains. Seriously, I’ve never seen two people more desperate for some profound hate sex, but there’s no talking to Cain. Any time I bring the topic of her up—unless it has to do with the Antonellis—he shuts me down, refusing to talk about her. So, I guess I need to let the two of them sort it out themselves. But, fucking hell, they better sort their shit out soon, or I will be pushing both of them to confront their feelings.

Red’s been going on and on for weeks now about how we can’t all function as a team if she and I are in a relationship and feelings get involved, but what she can’t seem to see is that there are already feelings there—from all three of us. And if any relationship is going to fuck this up, it’s going to be the one she and Cain are both vehemently denying.

As anxious as I am about Red’s role in all of this, in her being a dancer for Belle Donne—which I’m a hell of a lot more concerned about than I let on—I’m excited about this opportunity that she’s given us. We hadn’t expected her to have an in with one of their clubs. Honestly, we weren’t sure what to expect. I don’t think either Cain or I had thought much past getting the Reaper on board, and when we found out the Reaper was Red, well, we really didn’t have a clue what our next move should be.

I know Cain has his reservations about involving her at all. Not because she’s a woman and incapable—like she seems to think. But I know every time Cain looks at her and thinks about putting her in harm's way, he pictures Evie. It’s hard for him to separate the two. It always has been when it comes to women. For twelve years now, he’s seen Evie's face every time he saw a woman in danger or hurt. It’s difficult for him to accept that not every woman is as helpless as Evie was. She was just a kid, but Red… she’s more than capable of looking after herself. You just have to look at how much she’s overcome to know that.

Parking the Escalade in a free space, I head into the clubhouse, lifting my chin in acknowledgment to some of the guys as I pass by. Pushing open the swinging door, I pop my head into the kitchen, searching for Marcus.

“Yo, Marcus,” I call out when I spot him directing one of the kids on how to peel potatoes by the sink. When he looks up, I wave him over, and he fires some orders at the kid before coming over.

“What’s up, O?”

Marcus hasn’t been with us for long. Cain picked him up at the compound, along with the kids. He was seriously fucking lucky not to get a bullet in the head that night, but he’s more than proven himself since, keeping an eye on them all and earning the rather hilarious title ofmother hen.

“Can you get a team together to scout a few locations for me?”

“Sure can. Anything, in particular, you’re looking for?”

I shake my head. “Anything, really. Level of security, guard changes, and what the buildings are being used for. That sorta thing.”

“I’ll get a team on it tonight.”

Giving him a nod in thanks, I hand over a piece of paper with various addresses on it and slip back out of the kitchen as I hear him barking at the kid again.

With that taken care of, I go in search of Cain. Surprisingly, I don’t find him in his office, drowning his anger in alcohol—which is his usual response post-confrontation with Red—meaning he must be at the gym. Already predicting the sort of mood I’ll find him in, I stop by my room to change into my gym gear before heading over to the sports complex. As I enter our private gym, I don’t see anyone other than Cain letting out all of his pent-up aggression on a poor, defenseless bag.

Grabbing some tape, I wrap it around my hands while the repetitive thunk of Cain’s fists against the bag reverberates through the air. I’m not as into fighting as he is. I don’t take part in the pit fights or train regularly like Cain and the kids do, but I do know how important it is to keep my skills sharp in this line of work.

As I’m flexing my hands, ensuring I’ve got the tape wrapped just right, Cain finishes up and comes to join me on the mats. I can see the thunderstorm of emotions raging in his eyes. He’s always been volatile, but he’s been worse since he stumbled across Red that night. I know the fact that the Reaper is a woman is messing with his head. He had no qualms enlisting the help of a man to help infiltrate the Antonellis, but given what happened to Evie, he’s not as comfortable with putting Red at risk like that. However, I suspect it’s more than just that.

He doesn’t waste any time, going straight in for a punch to my gut. I manage to step back just in time, so his hit grazes off my side instead of landing correctly, and I return with my own swing. One he barely acknowledges. Our brawl only intensifies, neither of us holding back, until my breathing is heavy and my muscles scream from the workout. My stamina isn’t poor by any standards, but there’s no way I could hold out against Cain in a fight, and eventually, I slip up. I lose my concentration for a nanosecond and Cain takes the opening he’s been waiting for, his fist slamming into my cheek with enough force to snap my head sideways.

A grunt of pain escapes me, but the ringing of someone's phone has us both pausing before Cain can completely take me out. Huffing out a breath, he gets to his feet, going to grab the phone while I stretch out my jaw and rub my cheek.

“What?” he grunts down the line. He’s silent for a moment while he listens to the caller before responding, “Alright, let me know when you’re back.”

“What’s up?” I ask when he hangs up, unraveling the tape from my hands.

“Razor picked up some kid selling our guns.”

“Not one of ours?”

“Nope.”

“Huh. Grim’s?”

He shrugs, unsure. “Must be. They’ll be at the clubhouse in fifteen, so I guess we’ll find out.”

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