by Zoey Parker
She'd given blowjobs before, but never like this. Never with a firm hand clamped on the nape of her neck, squeezing it roughly as it forced her mouth all the way down to the root. The air between them seemed like a humid haze of sex crackling with angry lightning.
“Deeper, you fucking bitch,” Cain hissed, breathing harder and thrusting into her willing mouth. “Don't stop. I want you to take every inch.”
Missy felt Cain throbbing against the back of her throat as she plunged her head down, over and over again.
“Oh, God...” Cain's voice cracked suddenly, a spasm shooting through his body. A second later, Missy felt his orgasm gush against her tongue, pumping itself down into her throat like a firehose. She swallowed once, twice, three times, taking every bit of it, refusing to demean herself by displaying a chin full of semen and spittle when she pulled away.
Once she was certain she'd taken everything he had to give, Missy pulled herself up to her knees and slid backward off the bed, still looking into Cain's eyes. He was still breathing hard, his chest hitching up and down as he looked at her with surprise. “You...just...I can't believe...you...”
Missy went to the door, reaching over to switch the light off.
“Shut the fuck up,” she said.
Then she closed the door behind her, put on her jacket, tucked her revolver into the pocket, went outside, and got into her car.
As she turned the key in the ignition, Keith ran out of the garage, flanked by two other Eagles. “Hey, where the hell are you goin'?” he asked nervously. “Hunter told you to stay put! It's not safe...”
“Tell Hunter he knows where to find me,” Missy said. “The place from when we were kids. He'll know what I'm talking about. And make sure he doesn't say it out loud when he's on the phone with you. None of our lines are safe.”
Then Missy drove off, leaving Keith in a cloud of dust and confusion as he dialed his cell phone.
Chapter 27
Missy
When they were children, Missy and Hunter had mostly traveled in separate social circles and pursued different interests. They loved each other, certainly, but like most siblings, they generally expressed that love by teasing, abusing, or ignoring one another. The closer bond that evolved into their current living/working relationship hadn't truly formed until much later, when their parents died and Missy realized that Hunter would need her to take care of him as their mother had.
However, even when they were young, there were times when Missy and Hunter had needed a secret place that was all their own—someplace the grown-ups didn't know about—for when they had to discuss important matters far from adult ears.
When Missy was in second grade, they started to use the cavernous drain pipe at the bottom of Hanging Hill, just east of Sparrow Park. The concrete pipe was large enough for them both to stand in—at least until they hit their respective growth spurts a handful of years later—and it was usually bone-dry, except when heavy rainstorms pummeled the town and the pipe flooded with runoff from the gutters.
This was where they'd spoken in hushed tones when Missy was nine, wondering whether their mother and father would divorce after their mother had caught him with another woman. This was where Missy had confessed to Hunter that a girl had been bullying her in her fifth-grade science class, right before Hunter had convinced his then-girlfriend to pay the bitch back by breaking her glasses and rubbing mud into her hair until she cried.
It had been at least a decade since they'd arranged to meet each other at the drain pipe, but Missy hadn't forgotten it, and she was betting Hunter hadn't either.
She parked her car four blocks from Sparrow Park, then skulked down the shadowy streets, doubling back several times and taking back-alleys in case she was being followed. The entire time, she kept her hand on the grip of her gun, ready to pull it out and start shooting if anyone attacked her.
Finally, she reached the dark maw of the drain pipe, peering over her shoulder as she approached it. A silhouette moved inside of it, and Missy felt a rush of fear before realizing it was Hunter. He pulled himself out of the pipe, brushing dirt and grass off the seat of his jeans.
“You didn't come alone, did you?” Missy asked.
“Roger an' Lemonhead are waitin' for me farther up the hill. I told 'em to hang back. What the fuck, Missy?” he whispered angrily. “I ask you to do one simple thing for me an' the club, an' you can't even do that?”
Missy's thoughts guiltily skipped back to thirty minutes ago, and she noticed that Cain's taste was still lingering in her mouth. She licked her lips anxiously. “There's nothing simple about it,” she replied. “Cain won't let me take care of him. Every minute with him is a fight, and I'm done with it. I don't belong there anyway.”
“Oh? An' where the hell do you belong, then?”
“At the Knife with you, trying to figure a way out of this mess. You need someone to help you strategize, and you know it.”
Hunter barked a humorless laugh. “Yeah, maybe, but somehow I doubt it's gonna be you. I've fought my way through plenty of wars with other clubs...”
“Hunter, be smart. This isn't just another club. You handle this wrong, you try your usual bull-in-a-china-shop routine on Gaspar, and it won't be a war, it'll be a massacre. And what's more, you know this. I saw it in your eyes earlier when we were at Cain's. You know you need me to help you think clearly and come up with a viable plan.”
Hunter opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Okay, let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but fine. What the fuck did you think you were gonna accomplish by running off on your own? You could've been killed between Cain's place an' here!”
“If there was anyone tailing me, I shook them off,” Missy said. “This was too important.”
“Then if it was so fuckin' important, why didn't you use the phone to reach me?”
“Because they're listening to our phones,” Missy hissed impatiently.
Hunter's eyes widened. “Bullshit.”
Missy shook her head. “It's not bullshit. It's how they've been able to know just about everything we do almost before we even do it. Think about it.”
Hunter considered this for a moment, blinking rapidly as he processed it. “How could they even do that? An' for that matter, how do you know they did?”
“It wouldn't be hard for them,” Missy said. “They've got all the money in the world, and buying surveillance gear online is easy. They've been following us already, so they've had their guys point their little microphones in our direction and intercept our calls while they're at it. As for how I know, I figured it out from talking to Christina.”
“The hairdresser? What the hell's she got to do with anything?”
“Her mother runs the Teepee,” she replied.
Hunter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Motherfucker. This starts off with some beating, an' the next thing you know, we've got tapped phones an' all kinds of conspiracy shit.”
“Christina reached out to me. She sounded terrified. Whatever's going on, her mother's involved somehow and she wants to meet with me tomorrow to talk about it. I'm going to do it and find out what the fuck is happening. This could be big.”
Hunter shook his head. “Bullshit. You're not going.”
Missy's jaw dropped. “What?”
“Could be a trap, just like the Teepee was. I'll send some of the guys to talk to her instead...”
“No you fucking won't!” Missy answered, trying to keep her voice down. “She's already scared. You sending over a few gorillas with patches will only put her more on edge, and you won't get anything from her. Unless you're planning to cuff some innocent hairdresser to the bed frame at the Knife and run a few thousand volts through her until she talks, but I don't think even you could possibly be that much of a cruel asshole. No, you need me to handle this. I can find out what we need to know and maybe how to make a move against Gaspar that won't blow up in our faces.”
“But what about Cain?” Hunter pleaded.
; “What about him?” Missy shot back. “If he wants someone around to yell at, he's got Keith and the other guys. They can heat up chili and help him wash his hair as well as I can.”
“But they can't, though,” Hunter insisted. “Look, I get what you're sayin', okay? Someone needs to get the info out of Christina, an' you're the only one for the job. I don't like it, but I get it. But 'til then, can't you just go back an' keep helpin' Cain out, just for a little while longer? You're wrong about Keith an' the guys...they're damn good at bein' outlaws, but they don't know about bein', y'know...” Hunter searched for the right word. “...nurturin'.”
Missy couldn't believe her ears. “'Nurturing?' You've got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Yeah, 'nurturing,'” Hunter nodded. Missy could see he was struggling with his words, and with his emotions. “Like you were to me when mom an' dad died. They don't know how to be like that. Fuck, I ain't never really known no one who was, 'cept for you. An' yeah, maybe it sounds stupid, but I want Cain to have that while he gets better. I couldn't stop him from gettin' beaten on, but I can at least do this for him. I owe 'im that.”
Missy covered her face with her hands for a moment, feeling frustrated. She still wanted to say no to Hunter, but after he'd conjured up so much honesty and earnestness to convince her, she didn't have the heart to do it.
“Okay,” she said. “But just until I meet with Christina tomorrow. After that, someone else can take crap from Cain and help him on and off the couch. Deal?”
Hunter looked relieved. “Thank you. I know this wasn't what you wanted, but I appreciate it. An' when this is over, if you still wanna play a more active role in the club...”
“When this is over, Hunter, we'll both be lucky if there even is a club. Until then, let's just stay focused.”
“What the fuck are we supposed to do about the phones, though?” Hunter asked. “If they've got 'em tapped...”
“There's nothing for us to do about them right now,” she answered, “except stop using them for anything important. We shouldn't let Gaspar know that we know about it, at least until we can figure out whether there's a way to use it against him...maybe we could feed him false information or something. But for now, I'd say set up some covert meeting places to pass important information to the other Eagles when you need to, and work out some codes to use in case phones are necessary.”
Hunter nodded. “Codes. Yeah. Okay. I'll see what I can come up with. Thanks, sis.”
“No problem. I'll head back to Cain's now and let you know when I set something up with Christina for tomorrow.”
Missy turned, walking away from the drain pipe and back to her car. As she got behind the wheel, she thought about what had happened between her and Cain. It had seemed so surreal, she almost had a hard time believing it had actually taken place.
Why the hell had she acquiesced to him like that? She'd never let a man boss her around before, and if any of them had tried to bully her into blowing them, she'd probably have just laughed in their faces. Her own actions seemed completely foreign to her, almost as though it had happened to someone else.
But as she drove back to Cain's house, she knew that it was the very fact that no one had spoken to her like that before which had turned her on. She'd never thought of herself as someone who secretly wanted to be dominated or controlled, but when he'd demanded that of her, the rigid tone in his voice had hardened her nipples and sent shivers down her spine.
His weakness and sullen self-pity hadn't made him desirable to her, but when he'd cast it aside and acted as though he was in control, he'd become a whole new man in her eyes—someone too confident to be denied, someone worthy of commanding her obedience.
Well, that's all very poetic and post-feminist, she thought to herself, but it doesn't change the fact that it shouldn't have happened and can't happen again. We're heading toward a very bloody war. Cain needs to heal without any weirdness or distractions complicating things, and I need...
What? What did she need? “A more active role in the club,” that's what Hunter had said. And that's what she'd insisted on. So what good would it do her to attain that, only to find herself stuck in the role of the VP's fuck-buddy? How could she expect to be taken seriously? For that matter, what would happen once they chose to break it off?
Worse still, what if they didn't break it off? What if it became something serious? Was Cain even capable of such a relationship? Was she?
Missy tried to shake the thoughts from her head as she pulled into Cain's driveway, her headlights briefly illuminating the faces of Keith and his comrades.
From now on, you play it straight around Cain, she told herself. You make sure you're all business. No more stealing glances at his cock. Nothing that could possibly be confused with flirtation, no matter how innocent it may seem. No matter what happens, you play it cool.
And with that, Missy entered the house, switched off the living room light, and settled back onto the warped and flattened cushions on the couch, wondering how the hell Cain could spend so much time on such an uncomfortable piece of furniture.
There were other, less-innocent thoughts of Cain which followed, and Missy didn't get to sleep for a very long time.
Chapter 28
Cain
Cain had been lying on the inflatable mattress stiffly and staring at the ceiling ever since Missy stormed out. Even with the pills quickly bundling up all the pain in his body and enveloping his thoughts in bubble-wrap, he couldn't sleep. He just remained there, alone with his thoughts as the dark room slowly swirled around him like a mobile over a baby's crib.
When he'd told Missy to suck his cock, it was just an angry figure of speech. He hadn't really meant for her to do it.
Had he?
Cain's mind felt muddled, and he was sure it wasn't just the side-effects of the prescriptions. He'd caught Missy staring at him—or, more accurately, he'd noticed how careful she was not to.
And he'd caught himself staring at her here and there, too, but so what? She was a pretty girl. It was natural for guys to look when someone who looked like her was in their field of vision. Hell, it was expected, even.
But had he somehow indicated that he'd wanted to take things further with her? He'd been acting so aggressively unpleasant toward her, he had assumed that would be enough to ensure that she remained uninterested and nothing happened between them. Women weren't supposed to want to be with guys who yelled at them and told them to get lost, right? Maybe some women did, but Missy hadn't given any sign that she was one of those women. If anything, he'd been fairly certain that eventually she'd get the message that he didn't want her around and just take off, Hunter's orders be damned.
When Missy had tried to pull the blanket up to Cain's chin, it had reminded him of his own cow-eyed mother and how she let herself and her children get smacked around by his father night after night. Cain almost never gave any thought to his childhood anymore, and the sudden reminder had sent him into a rage before he'd even realized why.
Okay, so he'd lost his temper with her. No biggie, right? It was only the hundredth time or so that it had happened since she'd moved in to take care of him.
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 th
ought.
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.