Cain's Darkness(8)

“I’m Pierce, brother.” The prospect held his hand out.

Cain eyed the outstretched hand. “I’m not your brother.” He moved past Pierce, and climbed in the front seat. Pierce stayed by the passenger side door for a few seconds, then walked around the front of the SUV. He had this fierce look on his face, and Cain smirked. The man better toughen up. If he thought Cain would embrace him right off the bat, without even knowing shit about the man, his feelings would get hurt a hell of a lot. Cain didn’t trust many people aside from the men in his club, and until Pierce showed himself and proved his loyalty, he was just another schmuck on the fucking street to Cain.

Pierce got in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and glanced Cain’s way. “Man, lots of shit has happened since you were in, and a lot of it ain’t good.”

Great, just what Cain needed right now, but then again, when he was part of an MC, things didn’t always run smoothly. That was the violent, dangerous life they led, and being front and center when the shit hit the fan was all part of being in the brotherhood.

****

Several weeks later

Cain kicked open the front doors of the clubhouse, his body full of adrenaline, his blood pumping, and the need to finish this once and for all consuming him. The guys were playing cards at a table inside, and when Cain stepped in they all stood. Carl was already half dead, busted and bruised, and spilling blood on the club floor, and Cain wanted him hurting even more. They stared at each other, the club members looking confused and a little curious as to what was going on.

“Brother, what the fuck is going on?” Lucien asked.

But they had to know what the fuck was going on, had to know he’d needed to do this for the last nine fucking years. He’d found Carl at a local bar, had been tracking the fucker since he’d been out. The asshole had been trying to pick up some young girls, probably defile them like he’d done with Cain’s baby and Violet.

Cain lifted the groaning man high enough that they could get a look at his fucked-up face, and then he tossed him onto the floor, feeling satisfaction when Carl grunted but was too weak to pull his ass off the ground. The guy’s head cracked against the ground, and Cain walked over his body, cracking his busted as hell knuckles. He needed to hit Carl like a damn punching bag until Cain’s hands could no longer work. Cain went over to the bar, reached across the counter for a bottle of tequila, and drank a good portion of it before slamming the bottle back on the bar. He turned around and faced them. “That motherfucker right there.” He tipped his chin toward Carl.

“Is the one that messed with Fallina?”

Cain nodded after Kink spoke.

“What the hell are you doing bringing him here?” Malice asked and moved over to the guy, pushed him onto his back with a boot, and stared down at him.

“I am kind of low on places I can torture a prick that tried to rape my daughter,” Cain said and looked at Lucien, not revealing that Carl had actually raped Violet. “I need a place to store him until I’m done.”

“Done doing what?” Kink asked.

Cain stared at each of them, giving them a “You know exactly what the fuck I’m going to do to him” look. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Getting vengeance for all the pain my daughter has had to live with because of this bastard.” Cain grabbed the bottle again and drank more, his stare trained on the piece of shit on the floor. Malice, Kink, and Lucien three of them moved over to Cain.

“I want to watch him hurt, want to see the pain on his face, and want to have him realize that he’ll die at my hands,” Cain gritted out, and felt the fire in his veins burn brighter, hotter. “And I didn’t know where else to go, so once I found out where the asshole was, tracked his movements, this was the first place I thought of.”

Lucien grabbed his shoulder. “He hurt your daughter, and that means he messed with this whole fucking club.” Lucien moved a step back. “Let’s take him to the garage. The cement floor is coated so the blood won’t stain.”

And then they were hauling the man out that was about to live the last moments of his life out in agony.

****

Cain stared at the man that was strung up like a pig about to be gutted. He had drank half a bottle of scotch, and although he wanted to be drunk because this situation brought back a lot of memories, he made sure to stop so he was semi-sober. His little girl wasn’t a little girl any longer. At twenty-five Fallina was an adult now, leading a life that wasn’t affected by this piece of shit. His brothers were around, lending their silent support for what he was going to do to this bastard. Cain planned on making the man suffer, planned on making him scared like how his little girl and Violet had been nine years ago.