“Thanks for the ride,” Cain said tersely, opening the door. She could see his body tensing as he prepared to lift himself out of the car. Despite his rude behavior earlier, she still felt a pang of sympathy for him.
“Hey, um, are you sure you'll be okay?” Missy asked, trying to sound casual. “I can ask Hunter to send someone over to help you out while you're resting.”
Cain bristled visibly, and Missy prepared for another surly comeback. But when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly soft. “The guys have got better stuff to do than bring me groceries and shit like that. I appreciate the offer, though. I'll see you around.”
“Yeah,” Missy replied. “Hope you feel better soon.”
Inwardly, she scolded herself. Hope you feel better soon? That's what people say to someone with a bad cold, not someone who's been almost beaten to death.
There was an awkward pause, and Cain said, “You know, I mostly remember you from the night I got my VP patch.”
Missy chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you would remember that. I'll bet Marian sure does.”
Cain laughed, then winced at the pain in his sides. “I thought that was pretty cool, the way you stood up for your brother like that. You're usually so quiet, I wouldn't have guessed you had an ass-kicking like that in you.”
“Element of surprise,” Missy said. “Gets 'em every time.”
“Anyway, thanks again,” Cain said. He pulled himself out of his seat and shut the car door behind him. Missy watched him make his way to the front door, staggering slightly and fumbling for his keys. Her eyes traveled down to his tight and narrow behind, and she found her mind drifting again as she wondered what it would be like to give that ass a playful squeeze.
Cain glanced behind him, saw that she was watching him, and raised an eyebrow.
Missy felt herself blush again. Damn it, she thought. Since when do I blush at all, let alone twice in one day?
“Just making sure you made it in okay,” she called out.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Cain called back, unlocking the door and stepping inside.
Missy drove away, heading back to the house she shared with Hunter. As she pulled into their driveway, she saw Hunter standing on the porch, waiting for her.
“How is he?” Hunter asked as Missy walked up to the house.
“Pretty banged up,” she answered, “but the doctor said he'll be fine as long as he rests up for about a week.”
“Good,” Hunter said. His voice sounded far away, and his eyes looked dark and haunted.
“Did you find out who did it?” Missy asked.
Hunter nodded slowly, but didn't say anything. The way he was acting was starting to scare her. She couldn't remember the last time he'd seemed so frightened and uncertain.
In fact, she was pretty sure he never had.
Still, Missy knew that if he wasn't ready to tell her the whole story, there wasn't much else she could do. “Okay, I'm gonna grab some rest,” she said. “I'll see you at the Knife later.”
“Listen, why don't you just hang back for a while, okay?” Hunter said. “I'm not sure whether I want you coming in tonight or not. Just keep your phone on and wait to hear from me.”
Missy frowned, confused. “Sure,” she said, “if that's what you want. Why, what's going on?”
“I'm not entirely clear on that yet,” Hunter replied. “But I'm gonna send a couple of the guys over later just to check in on you an’ make sure you're okay.”
Missy put her hand on Hunter's shoulder, searching his eyes. “Hunter, what kind of trouble are we in, here?”
Hunter sighed. “The bad kind, sis. Maybe even the worst kind.”
Chapter 10
Missy
Hunter made a few calls to Eagles on his cell phone, speaking too quietly for Missy to hear. Then he rode off on his bike.
Missy went upstairs, stripped off her clothes, and started the shower. She hated the smell of hospitals—rubber and linoleum, disinfectant, and the obscure stink of disease—and she felt like it was still clinging to her hair and clothes after so many hours waiting for Cain.
The plumbing in the house was old, and she had to wait a while for the water to go from cold and rust-brown to clear and steaming. When it was ready, she stepped in and soaped herself with body wash and her loofah, feeling her tense muscles loosen under the warm spray.
She'd seen the Eagles go to war before—twice against other MCs, and once against a local gang of white supremacists. It was always stressful and scary, but it was part of the biker life and she'd grudgingly learned to accept it. She used to get exasperated at how Hunter seemed to relish the chance to create mayhem and dish out punishment. She'd often hoped he would eventually grow up, stop acting so macho, and start approaching the threat of violence with more caution.