HARDCORE: Storm MC(110)
Suddenly, Missy could feel her heart pounding in her throat. She understood that Christina had called to try to help her, or warn her about some new threat from Gaspar. And from the roundabout way Christina had brought it up, she clearly didn't believe it was safe to talk openly on this line.
“So, um,” Christina continued, “are you sure you don't want to make an appointment for your hair? I can fit you in tomorrow, if you want.”
“Yeah,” Missy answered slowly. “I think that might be a good idea after all. I've, uh, just noticed some split ends you could help me with. Let me give you a call tomorrow and we'll figure out the best time to meet up.”
“Good,” Christina said. Missy could hear the relief in her voice. “I'll look forward to hearing from you.”
Missy ended the call, thinking hard. If Christina felt like she had to be that careful with her wording, could that mean Gaspar and his guys were listening in on their phone calls? She knew the technology existed, and the cartel could afford it easily. That meant she wouldn't be able to call Hunter and let him know what had happened. She'd need to tell him in person. She seriously doubted that Hunter would be able to understand any code she tried to use with him on the phone, and the more confused he got, the more attention it would draw from Gaspar if he was eavesdropping.
Before she could think on this further, she heard a loud thump from the bedroom, following by a yowl of pain. She slipped her phone into her pocket and headed for the bedroom, knocking on the door.
“Are you okay in there?” she asked.
“Yeah, just...trying to get down on the bed,” Cain said through clenched teeth. “It's lower than the fucking couch was.”
“I can give you a hand, if you want.”
“No thank you,” he growled. “I'll do it myself. Somehow.”
Missy rolled her eyes. “You're naked again, aren't you?”
There was an awkward pause. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Missy offered, “how about if I keep my eyes above your waist? Then will you let me help you, so you don't start popping your stitches?”
“All right, fine,” Cain allowed. “Just try not to stare at me. It creeps me out. Especially when you get that weird look.”
“What look is that?”
“I don't know what the look is,” Cain bellowed, “but I've seen it on your face a lot and I fucking hate it, okay? I don't know if it's pity or what the hell it is, but I don't need it.”
“Fine, no look,” Missy agreed, wondering what he was talking about. Could he tell that she'd had lewd thoughts about him? Or could he just not stand to see sympathy in eyes that were pointed in his direction? “Now can I come in, or what?”
“Sure.”
Missy pushed the door open, trying to avert her eyes from Cain's crotch again. It was even more difficult to ignore than it had been before—his cock was just hanging there between his thighs like a pendulum, begging to be stared at.
“So you need help getting down on the mattress?” Missy asked.
“No, I need help rigging a fucking trapeze in here so I can swing into it from above.”
Once again, Missy chose to ignore his sarcasm. “Okay, grab my hands. We're going to ease you down as gently as possible, so you don't strain your torso too much.”
Cain reluctantly took her hands as best he could, given the cast on one arm. She helped him lower himself to the air mattress, keeping her eyes to one side. He let out a series of harsh gasps, then finally settled back onto the bed.
“You're welcome,” Missy said, taking hold of the blanket on the bed. She started to drape it over Cain's body, but he seized it away from her hotly.
“You helped. Now go. I don't need to be fussed over and tucked into bed like a motherfucking two-year-old.”
Missy finally exploded. “Then maybe you shouldn't be acting like one and throwing some bullshit tantrum every time a person tries to help you or make you comfortable.”
“I didn't ask for that,” Cain snarled, “and I don't want it.”
“Yeah, there you go again,” she snapped back. “'I don't want it, I don't want it!' Jesus, you sound like a little baby throwing its food on the floor. What is with you, anyway? One minute you're starting to sound like you're not such a bad guy, and the next minute you're barking at me!”
“I still don't know what the fuck you're doing here!” Cain roared. “I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, either. We've both got better shit to do than hang around here like a couple of useless assholes.”