HARDCORE: Storm MC(115)

But of all the things to yell at her, why “Suck my cock?” Had he secretly hoped that she would?



And for that matter, why the fuck did she?



Cain shook his head, trying to clear it even as he felt the drugs flicking the lights off in his skull one by one, like a bartender closing up for the night.



It didn't make any sense. Missy hated him, didn't she? Or even if she didn't, she certainly didn't seem to actively like him. And with a face and a body like hers, Cain had a hard time believing she'd have any trouble getting action whenever she wanted it, so she certainly hadn't done it out of desperation.



So even if she'd somehow been able to tell that Cain had secretly wanted her to actually blow him—which, yeah, okay, he supposed he had—why would she do it? To make him feel better?



Well, to be fair, it did help, Cain thought.



Even though what had happened between him and Missy left him confused, it also left him feeling more powerful than he'd felt since the beating. In that moment, he'd been in control again, and his injuries had been forgotten.



Another question that nagged at him even more than the previous ones was why she'd run off after it happened. Did she regret doing it? Where had she gone? Would she be safe, or would Gaspar's men close in on her and pick her off once she was alone?



The last of these concerns chewed at his heart like a hungry rat as the minutes ticked away. He found that he couldn't help but picture what Gaspar might do to her if he got to her. The images in his head were graphic and unwelcome. He almost got up and went to the living room for more pills to sponge them away—until he realized how dangerous it would be to get hooked on the damn things, and how defenseless they would leave him if something bad happened.



So he waited in the dark, cursing himself for making her run away, even though he realized that it had been her decision and that it was stupid to blame himself.



Still, he couldn't help it.



And the tortures he imagined Missy enduring became more vivid and sadistic with each passing hour.



One thing's for sure, Cain thought. If she does make it back alive and unharmed, I've got to make sure nothing like that happens between us again. This isn't the time for these kinds of distractions, and even if it were, then what?



I don't date anyone seriously. I never have. Leading her on so she'll expect a relationship would be a bad move. And even if she were okay with something simple and physical, I doubt Hunter would be happy about me having a casual fling with his sister.



Cain promised himself that whatever happened, there would be nothing sexual between him and Missy from that point forward. Still, the thought of this left him strangely unsatisfied, as though he'd gotten up from a meal while he was still hungry.



Finally, he heard a car pulling into the driveway, and a car door opening and closing. He bristled for a moment, worried that it might be Gaspar's men coming back—but when he heard silence from Keith and his guys, followed by the rattle of keys against the front door, he knew Missy had returned. Her footsteps in the living room confirmed it, and he realized that he had already come to know the sound of her even when they were in different rooms.



God help me, Cain thought, I'm actually getting used to having her here.



For a brief moment, Cain considered hauling himself off the air mattress, going to the living room, and trying to talk with Missy about what had happened earlier—and why it couldn't again. But now that he knew she was home safe, his nerves were beginning to relax and he felt exhaustion stealthily slipping a bag over his head. The sounds of Missy slowly drifted away and he surrendered to sleep.





Chapter 29



Cain



When Cain woke up, his entire torso felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly by a hundred daggers of pure agony. He groaned loudly, pulling himself out of bed as quickly as he could to keep the anguish of moving as brief as possible, like ripping off an adhesive bandage. In doing so, he overbalanced and had to reach out for the wall awkwardly with his good arm to keep from falling over. His tongue felt so thick and dry in his mouth that he thought he might choke on it, and everything around him seemed to be floating in a red ocean of pain which threatened to drown him.



There was a brisk knock at the door, followed by Missy's voice. “Need your pills?”



“Yeah,” Cain grunted. “An' water.”



He heard Missy's footsteps retreat from the door, followed by the sounds of the kitchen sink running and his pill bottles rattling. She seemed to be moving maddeningly slowly, and he opened his mouth to bellow for her to hurry up, but all that came out was a loud gagging sound.



Cain thought that between the pain and the side-effects of the pills, maybe it would have been better for me if Gaspar's Asshole Squad had just finished the job and killed me in front of the Teepee. Christ, I don't know how I can make it through another day of this horrible shit.