Текст книги "The Wrath of Cain"

Автор книги: Kathy Coopmans

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I try backing up, to get away, but he’s too quick. He picks me up and carries me in his arms. I want to scream, but my vocal cords are paralyzed. I kick, claw, and escape from this wild animal.

He effortlessly hauls me up a few steps, a light flicking on when we hit the top. I blink my eyes rapidly, adjusting to the light. In no time, the door is flung open. Cain kicks it closed before I get any chance at all to see my surroundings. For the first time since I’ve known him, reality sinks into my veins. My Cain is gone. He has been replaced by a psychopath. A stranger.

“Sit, stay, and shut the hell up.”

He sets me down gently on what feels like a couch. I don’t know; it’s still pitch black in here.

Cain fumbles around, turning on several lights. Once my vision adjusts to the lighting, I look down my arm and see his finger marks embedded into my skin. My big toe is also bleeding. The side of my head hurts like hell.

Cain looks from my face, to my arm, to my toe, then walks directly out of the room without another word. I hear him swearing and the thuds of cupboard doors being slammed before he walks back in a few minutes later with a wet towel in his hands.

I wish he would talk, say something. Anything at all. I start choking back my sobs.

“Cain, you’re really scaring me right now.”

I sit there and cry again, getting no comfort from him at all. He’s probably going to tie me up, chain me to a bed, and leave me there.

“Give me your feet,” he says finally, patting his leg, indicating for me to place them there.

My shoulders sag in defeat and I do as he asks. I’m tired, hungry, and dirty. The slit in the side of my skirt is torn, exposing more leg than I would normally let anyone see, especially the man whose rough hands are delicately touching my feet. Warm, inviting hands, inspecting both the top and bottoms of each foot and then delicately placing them back on his muscular thighs.

His big hands start to work on cleaning up my stubbed big toe. He’s gentle when washing away the grimy dirt and blood, though I wince at the sting of the wet towel and try to move my foot out of his hold. He inspects each foot after he has them wiped clean. Reaching down beside him, he brings up a small tube of some sort of antibacterial medication. Working meticulously, he places dabs of the soothing gel on my scrapes.

“Here, drink this and take these,” he orders, handing me a small glass of water and two pills I didn’t see him holding when he came in a few minutes ago.

I hesitate before taking them, which Cain notices.

“It’s aspirin for the pain,” he says gruffly. “You have a nasty bruise forming on the side of your face. I know you must have a headache and your feet are hurt. Now take them.”

I place both pills on my tongue and wash them down with the entire glass of water.

“Thank you,” I mumble, removing my foot from his leg.

His hands begin to trail gently up my limbs. Smooth, circular strokes send a thrill of pleasure up my spine. Never once does his gaze lift to meet mine. He’s focused on his task, almost as if he is transfixed, worshipping. He suddenly stops when he reaches my knees.

“You’re going to hate me even more for what I’m about to say to you,” he says, shifting his gaze to where my hands rest in my lap.

My eyes wander around the room as I wait for him to continue, finally taking in my surroundings. Whose home is this? It’s stunning. Everything about it screams a man lives here. Black leather couch, matching chair. Wide screen television hanging on the wall. Dark wood blinds on the windows. That’s it, besides a table next to the chair. The deep greenish-blue color of the walls is what really catches my eye, though. It’s enthralling. The deep green fades into blue like a changing kaleidoscope. It… it reminds me of my eyes.

I shake my turmoil-filled head. Black furniture, the shades of the walls...

This is his house.

Everything Manny told me earlier bursts forth in my thoughts. Cain’s hurting. Seeing this is proof to me that he is. My insides shatter. All of a sudden, I’m not frightened of him anymore.

It’s difficult to describe what I am feeling right now, though. It’s almost like a jolt, a forceful sensation deep in my gut telling me to hang on for dear life. I’m torn in two directions. Seeing the tormented expression on his face makes me want to reach out, run the tips of my fingers through his hair, and tell him to just say what he needs to say. Another part of me wants to rip his balls off, shove them up his ass, and tell him to go fuck himself.

But even more so, there’s something powerful trying to claw its way out from under the surface of my skin, to tear away the brick exterior safely guarding my beaten down heart. Even after six years, I still love him. I try to swallow my emotions before I speak.

“Why would I hate you more? What is it?”

“I’m going to tell you a whole lot of shit you won’t want to hear, baby.”

He stays calm. Me? I’m not calm. Who knows what I am anymore?

I see him, though. Clear as a crystal blue day. He’s fighting against himself. The hurt and anger mix together, creating a war of guilt, fear, and desperation. I should feel gratified he’s struggling within himself; instead, I sit here not knowing what to expect from a man I’m still very much in love with. A man I will always love. A man who has done nothing but degrade, destroy, and insult that love. My husband is about to hurt me all over again.

Chapter Seven

Cain

The last thing I want to do is what I’m doing now. She won’t listen. This is the only way I know how to make her. I’ve decided I’m done hiding this situation that is out of my control, beyond her wildest human comprehension.

I have no damn clue if guilt and shame are the same thing. All I do know as I sit here is that I can’t even look at her. She’s crying again. The sound destroys the last bit of resolve I have left.

I study her openly. She’s emotional and distressed, just as I need her to be, but it’s going to be tough to stress how important it is for her to listen to me when all I can hear are those pleading noises coming from her.

I look down at my hands. Running them along her smooth legs a moment ago made me feel so alive, yet peaceful at the same time. How badly I wanted to leave my hands on her, to let her beauty and softness penetrate deep into me. To be able to run my tongue up her body, letting her melt into my mouth. I wanted to continue my exploration. Glide my fingers higher, then slide them under her skirt. Feel her thighs clench and tingle from my touch. She is, hands down, the most beautiful creation I have ever seen.

It’s hard as hell not to let my fingers run over her smooth skin. Trace the outline of those lips I have missed so much. What I wouldn’t do to be able to lean in and kiss her, suck in her oxygen so I could feel like I’m truly breathing for the first time in six years. I love her so much this is killing me. That’s right. I fucking love this woman, and here I sit hurting her, abusing her over and over again.

I look down again in disgust. I’ve never wanted anything in my life, except her. For her to love me. To think about me all day long, counting down the hours until we can be together. For her face to light up the minute I walk through the door. To just be able to be with her, hear her laugh. See her smile. To touch her. Hold her. Hear her say good morning, good night, and I love you, all the things most couples in society take advantage of. Those are my wants, but I’m afraid after all of this is said and done, those wants will become a distant fantasy.

I have a damned mole around here. They’ve most likely already told that pussy ass Kryder she’s here, which means she needs to stay by my side. We can both pretend all we want that we hate each other. Let everyone believe it. But behind these walls, or whenever we are alone, I will prove to her how much she means to me. How much I love her above anyone or anything else.

I’m not dumb enough to believe they will think it, but Calla needs to believe that if the mole thinks I don’t give two shits about her, then Kryder will stay the hell away from her and so will whoever he has working on the inside. It may be the one thing that will save her life.

She needs to stay here and keep acting like she hates me, like this is the last place she wants to be. The trick is, she has to do it my way and listen to me. She should have never come back here, damn it. I should send her away. Call her dad and tell him to come and get her.

Can a person truly loathe themselves, I wonder? Self-hate is a dark hole, known by me best of all. I’m nothing but the man I’ve created for myself. A man left with my own thoughts for years. I’ve dug my own grave by not being the husband Calla deserves. All I’ve done, I’ve done for her, but right now, it’s best that she thinks I’m nothing but a rotten prick.

  The way she pummeled Emerald, though, I can see she’s one strong woman. I stood there and could not move, my eyes not believing how she just flipped her around and punched her repeatedly in the face without a second thought. Yeah, my dick twitched like a happy camper watching her fist connect with Emerald’s jaw. She deserved it, the stupid, trouble-making slut, for spouting off a bunch of lies.

I chuckle to myself. Calla can hold her own, especially after what I saw tonight. She sure doesn’t need to toughen up; she’s got that handled. She actually needs to calm the hell down and hold her shit in when these bitches talk smack to her. Not everyone will go down as easy as Emerald did. I’ve fucked every single one of the women who hang out around here, and left all of them wanting more. All of them knowing they will never get more.

All of them, except Emerald. She already thinks I’m hers. I’ve never been hers; I’ve always belonged to the woman who’s sitting across from me. Who’s in my home.

Even though I know the truth of who he is, it still gutted me to the core seeing Manny getting to comfort her. That man, friend, family, or not, is going to have to keep his hands to himself. No one touches what belongs to me. Never. And she definitely belongs to me. If I ever hear the word ‘divorce’ come out of her mouth again, I’m going to lose my shit. Tell her to eat shit. And to fuck that shit.

Enough of the pep talk. I need to move on and get this done.

“You need to listen to me,” I begin harshly. “If you don’t do exactly what I tell you to do, I’m going to be calling your parents and telling them to plan your damn funeral, because that smart mouth of yours is going to end up getting you killed.”

I lift my face to hers to show her I mean what I say, and nearly come undone at what I see.

I’m tortured watching her eyes well up with tears. Her shirt is ripped, exposing her lacy, nude-toned bra with her plump breasts spilling out over the top. That sexy-as-hell skirt has ripped halfway up her leg. This is goddamned cruel. Even though she’s a mess, she’s still so damn beautiful. Fucking perfect, even with makeup all over her face. There’s even a smudge of dirt on her cheek. I’d give anything to reach up and wipe it clean. To see her smile.

When she simply nods her head, I have never hated myself more than I do right now.

Good. This is how she needs to be; scared and utterly frightened. I’m about to thrust her into a vortex, and I pray like hell that her time in law school has turned her into one hell of a dangerous shark, because she sure as hell needs to be a tough ass bitch to handle this life.

God, I’m a sick fuck for doing this. There is no way in hell she will ever forgive me once this is done. If it wasn’t for the fact that someone has a hit out on her, I would drag this shit out as long as I possibly could just to keep her near me. The minute this is over she’ll be gone, leaving me no choice but to let her divorce me. Hell, she may even kill me herself.

Her lips stop quivering, her gaze going down to her hands resting in her lap. I extend my arm out to her and she flinches. Christ, she thinks I’m going to hit her. And even though her thinking I’m that big of an asshole falls right in with my plans, it makes me feel like shit.

I need to move away from her before I do something stupid like pulling her into my arms. I get up and move to a chair on the opposite side of the room, gather my thoughts, and prepare to tell her every damn thing, starting with the part that needs to make her fear for her life.

“There’s a hit out on you, Calla.”

I say it without warning, giving nothing to soften the blow. I sit here and watch her shake, her face contorting into a look of astonishment and confusion, making me feel like I’ve been kicked in the teeth.

“The man who killed my father found out about you a few years back, and he’s been looking for you ever since. He knows you’re the one thing he can break me with. The only person left who I truly care about. He wants you dead.”

She opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, then she closes it just as quickly.

“I have a rat in my club, someone who told this shady, no good asshole about you, and I haven’t been able to find out who. I’ve had everyone in this place followed, had everyone checked out. You name it, I have done it, and I’ve come up with nothing. Not a damn thing. I’m no closer to finding out today than I was a few years ago when this all came to light. That’s why when you showed up I decided to keep you here, where I can be the one to take care of you and not Manny.”

Her look of disgust tells me she already knows he’s been watching her for me. I can’t be angry with him, though; I owe him more than anyone for taking care of her and keeping her safe. He’s reported to me daily about her every move; however, now that Calla is here, I will be telling him to stay out of my business. The little shit is trustworthy, but he needs to keep his big mouth shut more often.

“So you found out about Manny. I know you better than you think, so I’m not going to get into it right now with you, but now you know why I have so much information about you. I did what I had to do to make sure no one located you, and he’s the only one I fucking trust.”

I harden my voice when I continue, demanding her full attention.

“Now, here’s the part where you really need to listen to every word I say, and I am not screwing around about it anymore. You don’t have to want to be here, but you’re going to be. You may as well get used to seeing a lot of me. It’s the way it’s going to be, whether you like it or not. I get the fact that you have no clue how shit works around here. Like I said before, I don’t do drugs. I loathe them. They’re the reason that fucker killed my dad and Darcy. There’s also a lot of women who hang out here. They like the bikes, they like the men. They respect us. We respect them. We fuck. No strings attached, unless someone makes it that way. I’ve been with every one of them.”

My organs all just about stop working when more tears fall down her face, but I have to push on.

“We’re an organization. A club. A private bar. Anyone can join as long as they don’t do drugs, don’t start fights, and don’t try and screw around with anyone’s wife. They pay their dues and drink my booze. It’s as simple as that. That’s the way I want it. And that’s the way I need it.”

She’s so quiet, which is very unlike her. I wanted her to know the truth; well, the truth about this club. We are who we are now. Most of the people here are innocent, normal, hardworking Americans who love the thrill of the throttle between their legs. Nothing more, just the sweet relief of all-American freedom.

“You need to act like you want to be here. Pretend like you and I are trying to work through our shit. And stand by my side. My world is a hell of a lot different from the world you’ve been living in. When I say do something, you don’t ask any questions, you just do it. If by chance I have to leave, you come with me. You get what I’m saying?”

Wrinkles of angry shock crease her forehead.

“You have got to be shitting me!”

“Damn it, Calla. That right there is exactly what I’m talking about. You need to learn when to speak and when to shut the hell up. These people are just regular people. They leave their marriage problems at home. The men come here to get away from an argument they may have just had with their wife or girlfriend. What part of what I’m telling you don’t you understand?” My hands go up in the air in frustration.

“I don’t understand why I can’t say what I want. Are we not alone in here? And you say you’re a club. A respected one, I assume. So what’s the deal? Do women not have the same rights around here? Do they just sit around with their tails tucked between their legs, waiting to be told what to do? I mean, what is it?”

“I don’t care if we’re alone or not. What the hell do I need to do to make you understand this is some serious shit you’ve gotten yourself into? You should have never come here. Not until I summoned you.”

“Summoned me? What the hell are you, some kind of dominant? I may get into kink, but you will never summon me to do shit. You don’t scare me. I want out of here. I want my purse back. I want to call my parents. Mom and I talk every day and she has to be going out of her mind by now.”

God, the mouth on her. If I wasn’t trying to help her, I would let her run her mouth all damn day and say whatever the hell she wanted. But until I get this figured out, she needs to shut the hell up. Word will get out that she’s here, and I can’t afford to let anyone think I’m weak. And when it comes to Calla, I’m so fucking weak, it’s pathetic. The mole could have heard every damn word that went down between Manny, myself, and Calla on that path. Fuck, I have no clue.

My blood pressure is rising. My ass shoots up out of the chair and I take the few steps needed to get to her. Her face turns to panic. If she doesn’t want to listen, then by God, I’m going to make her. I yank her thick hair back, putting my face within an inch of hers. She cries out in pain when I tug even harder. I would love to show her just how kinky I can get.

“One, you let me worry about your parents. I’m doing everything I can to protect everyone, and that includes them. Once Kryder and his men know you’re here, if they don’t already, they could be targets. The less they know, the safer it is for them. Two, your phone has been destroyed. There’s ways to track those damn things. Three, I need you to fucking trust me, goddamnit. Four, when we’re alone, you can come at me with everything you’ve got. I get you feel like you walked into a ring of fire, and you’re trapped. The things I just told you are things you needed to hear. You need to know what’s happening here, and me being an asshole is the only way I seem to get your attention. And five, I’ll be as kinky with you as you want me to be. You can dominate me, or I can dominate you. I’ll take it either way, as long as the end result is me burying my cock into you.”

“You dick! You manipulative asshole!”

“Been called a lot worse, babe.”

“Fuck you!” she spits.

“I would love to fuck you, in many different ways. Maybe I should start with this mouth. When was the last time someone fucked this pretty mouth?”

Her lips part at my crude remark. She better not have let anyone else fuck that lush mouth. It belongs to me. This is my territory, my body, my every fucking thing. I dive in for the kill, my mouth crushing down on her brutally. I plunge my tongue inside, demanding that she kiss me back. She doesn’t. Her tongue lays flat, not moving as she fights to try and escape me.

I want to seize what is rightfully mine, damn it. To taste, to devour. I become more intense; rougher, even, doing my best to try and make her kiss me back. This is why I have never kissed a woman since her. Her mouth and her lips belong to me. As mine do to her.

I feel tears against my face, making me pull away from her. The hurt in her eyes guts me. I said I’d stay away from her, but I can’t help myself. I can’t. I’ve waited too long for this. I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes. Anything I can do to stay close to her until she decides to push me away.

“Cain, please don’t do this. There’s too much bad history between us, and you’ve divulged too much information about your present life. I’m just not that girl anymore.”

“You’re right, you’re not. I’m not that same young man, either. But one thing that has never changed is the way I feel about you. If after all of this is done, you do walk away from me and I never see you again, walk away with that.”

Her gorgeous blue-green eyes are glazed over with more unshed tears caused by me. Love should never hurt, damnit. It’s one of the few things in life that are free. I happen to have fallen so deeply in love at the age of sixteen that I will never come out.

I love her. I’ve been without her because I love her so much, I would do anything for her. If she only knew how many nights I would lie in bed with a restless mind and pretend we were still together, planning our future, telling each other everything. Crawling into bed together. Making love at night, then turning around the next morning and doing it all over again.

A hint of a smile curves upwards on her mouth. I will do whatever it takes for her to realize my deep-seated feelings will never change. Her safety is my top priority.

“You’ll see I’m telling you the truth, sweetheart. I promise. Just give me time to find him, to make sure you’re safe, and then we can talk about us.”

There’s so much more I would love to say to her, but I’ll leave her with the information she needs to digest for now. Backing off, I settle at the opposite end of the couch in silence. Neither of us speaks for the longest time until the loud rumble of her stomach cuts through the stillness.

“You’re hungry, and you probably want to get cleaned up,” I observe.

“Yeah, I am. This is your house, I take it?”

Her walls are back up, I can tell by the icy way she says ‘your house’.

“It’s mine,” I confirm. “I’ll make us something to eat while you shower.”

I stand and turn to her. She’s so lost, her expression blank.

“One more thing and I’ll leave you to it. We are a club. Most of us do respect our women around here, but some of these guys are old school. They’ve been in those bad gangs, the ones who treat their women like shit. I’m not going to tell them what they can and can’t do outside of here. If the women hear you smart off to me, they might get to thinking that if I let you do it, then they can, too. I just don’t want that shit to be on me or on you. We’ll talk more later, but for now, just please do what I ask.” I point down the hallway. “There’s a bedroom with a private bathroom right down this hall. Everything you need to clean yourself up is in there.”

She still doesn’t look up from the spot she’s fixated on. If time is what she needs to adjust, I’ll give her that. She needs it. I get it. She came here expecting to get rid of me and instead, she has to live under my roof and be with me twenty-four seven.

I asked her to trust me, but what she doesn’t know yet is that I don’t trust her. She’s bound to run; therefore, my wife will be sleeping with me while she’s here. Something tells me I may have to tie her to the bed when I tell her that. Gag her even. In different circumstances, I would love nothing more than to do just that, while I suck on the sweet spot on her neck, lick every inch of her skin, and screw her into a fucking sex stupor. I’d give her all the kink she wanted.

Calla finally decides to speak.

“You said everyone had respectable jobs around here. What is it you do?”

She looks directly into my eyes. If only I could tell her the truth about what it is I actually do. I can’t. No one can. I’ve told her all she needs to know for now. Before I tell her the whole truth about my life and the things I do, I need to gain her trust back. If she finds out I lied to her about anything, I know I will lose her forever before I have the chance to prove to her how much I want her back.

Kryder may be the biggest drug dealer around these parts, but me? I’m the biggest gun thief motherfucker in this whole damn country. But when I look back at her, I simply say,

“I run this bar, Calla. That’s my job.”