While the physical exercise on the lake was just what I needed, I still didn’t arrive at any conclusions about what I should do in terms of telling Cade what I did. It takes me about forty minutes to get to his house. By the time I arrive I have decided to tell him and take my chances. Problem is, the moment the door opens and I see him; all bets are off.
Chapter Seven
Betrayal
The moment he opens the door my resolve dissolves. He’s standing there in his cut with his usual black jeans and biker boots and just looks far too edible to be arguing with. A better time to tell him would be in the afterglow of great sex. He'd be much less likely to shiv me right there in bed with him.
“You know,” He begins after an impromptu make out session. “You don’t have to knock when you’re staying here.”
“Sorry, old habits die hard.”
“So I called you…twice.”
“Sorry, I was exercising and couldn’t get to my phone.”
“You get in a good workout?” He asks.
“Can you not see the layer of sweat?” I ask.
“Hmmf…musta dried up.”
“You wanna see something that hasn’t dried up?” I ask mischievously.
“Sorry, not into sweaty clams.”
“What the hell?” I pretend outrage. “No one has ever called my gate to paradise a clam, and especially not a sweaty one. You keep that talk up and you’ll be yanking on your sausage until it shrivels up to no bigger than a peanut.”
Abruptly Cade scoops me up into his arms and carries down the hall, ostensibly towards his bedroom.
“Shouldn’t you be taking me to the showers?” I ask as we pass the bathroom.
“There’s an old barrel of rainwater out back, I thought I’d just dunk you in and air dry you.”
“You’re a true romantic Cade.”
“I try…”
Moments later we’re in his bathroom while he fiddles with the water faucet. While his back is turned I begin to peel off my clothes. When he offered to take me shopping after my clothes were destroyed in the clubhouse attack I don’t think he anticipated my refined taste in clothing. The only thing he wears that cost more than twenty dollars is his boots. Even my triangle bra by Naory alone set me back about $125. I seriously doubt anything on his body costs more than that. I’m sure as hell not gonna let him take it off either or the only thing it’ll fit will be the wastebasket.
When he finally has the water how he likes it he turns around to help me get undressed and his mouth just about drops open. I love that about men. When they want you they can’t disguise it. One look at Cade and I know just how bad he wants me.
Every inch of my skin tingles as his eyes wander from my eyes to my ass and back again. He opens his mouth to say something but I stop him with my finger on his lips. One look below his belt is all the compliment I need; he doesn’t have to say a word. I already know he wants to fuck me silly.
As our lips make their connection he begins to battle with his clothes. It takes a little doing to get everything off without derailing the freight train of our passion as it rockets up through the hedonistic stratosphere. When he finally gets his pants down around his ankles I don’t let him stop to unlace his boots. Instead I drop to my knees and behave like a good old lady. As his moans and groans fill my ears the sound goes straight from my brain to my box. I just love how easy it is to make even the strongest man a slave to my tongue. Just to prove my prowess and my point I stop and pull back away as he tries to force the issue by thrusting his hips forward, but I’m not having it. I’m in control now.
“Geeze Morgan…” Cade pants.
I smile and turn my head to the side as he pokes me in the ear.
“That’s not where my mouth is…”
“Morgan…”
I laugh and dodge another thrust before I open up and take him in again. This time I let him thrust away, enjoying the feeling of him pulsating against my tongue. I reach around and grab his ass with both hands now as he prepares to blast off. I clinch and dig my nails in just before his release, just to let him know I’m still in control of things.
“Fuck!” He swears as my talons draw little beads of blood down the side of his sculpted cheeks. I have marked my territory!
I lie back on the bed and let my fingers explore as Cade takes the time now to unlace his boots, kicking them off before he pulls off his jeans and throws them across the bed. He knows better than to keep me wanting or waiting. I spread my thighs as he dives in, tongue first and in minutes it’s my turn to be a slave to my body’s demands. I don’t know how many times I climax before he mounts me and rides me like a wildcat, but it feels like every time we make love we reach some new pinnacle and this time is no exception. At some point we exhaust our passions and our energies and collapse in each other’s arms, panting, sweating. The smell of sex floats around the room like a weather front. With each breath I inhale our combined scent and find it strangely reassuring; familiar…safe. At some point I doze off because when I look out the window the sun is just disappearing behind the low hills in the distance. Cade is still asleep.
Troubling thoughts begin knocking on the barrier surrounding my conscious mind. I’m going to have to lower the wall and deal pretty soon. I can’t keep them at bay forever. I sigh, roll over and sit up. Am I really going to tell him what I did? I don’t know if I have the courage to. I feel Cade waking up beside me.
“Morgan?”
“I’m here.”
“Everything okay?” He asks.
“Sure… just not tired.”
I can’t do this. I’m not gonna do this. Shooter is going to have to break the news about Cades under the table dealings.
“Something’s on your mind Morgan, what is it?”
“How are things with you and your brother?” It’s not really what is pressing on my mind but its close enough and he’ll buy it.”
“We hate each other, but the club is stronger than our hate Morgan so you don’t have to worry about it. And there won’t be any more death matches.”
Okay I’m going to take a chance here.
“So…how do you guys keep the peace with the other clubs? You guys were practically at war with the Outkasts two weeks ago. Aren’t you guys still at war?”
There, I should be able to get some information if he is still going to be true to his word about full disclosure. We’ll see if he’s going to tell the truth or throw me a bone to get me to shut up.
“We’re working it out. No one really wants an all-out war.”
“And what about all the other gangs around here. Isn’t the mafia around here too?”
That’s getting a little pushy. Hopefully he won’t suspect a thing.
“What are you getting at Morgan?”
“I just want to make sure you are still doing that full disclosure thing. I don’t want any secrets between us Cade. I like what we have. Don’t fucking ruin it.”
“Something’s up Morgan! You’re getting at something and I want to know what it is.”
“And you’re hiding something and I want to know what it is?” I reply, raising my voice a little more than I intended.
“What makes you think I’m hiding anything from you?” He asks, raising his voice to match the volume in mine.
“I just know you Cade. You’re always planning and scheming for the club. It’s what makes you a good leader, but you have to tell me what is going on. I don’t want to be blindsided by anything.”
“Why are you asking about the mafia?” He asks.
“I don’t know. I just pulled that out of my ass. Don’t you gotta have dealings with all the powerful groups around here to stay in power?”
“We’re not in bed with the Cartel Morgan. I just worked out a deal with the Latin Kings and the Outkasts to keep the peace. There’s no room for any cartel. I don’t know whe-”
He stops mid-sentence when his cell phone rings.
“What?” He snaps into the phone. Then after a sho
rt pause. “Now? Right fucking now?” Another short pause. “Fine, I’ll be there in thirty.”
He drops his phone and searches around in the covers for his pants and underwear.
“I gotta go to the clubhouse for some kind of urgent meeting. Don’t wait up. This could take a while.”
Suddenly I get this cold sinking feeling in my gut. Shooter has called an emergency meeting at the clubhouse. At least I think that’s what is happening. He’s going to accuse Cade of going behind the club’s back. That must mean he found proof other than what I told him. I guess Cade really is getting into bed with the Cartel. I roll over and feign non-interest as he finished getting dressed. He leans over and kisses me on my back.
“See you in the morning babe.” He says as he walks out.
I wait until I hear the roar from his Harley before crawling off the bed and searching for my own clothes. I guess it’s time to go back to my own house. It’s been nice playing house with Cade and Stacy but I think I just wore out my welcome. I gotta get my shit together and be out of here before Cade gets home. I hobble out of Cade’s room and work my way upstairs hoping to find Stacy at home for a change. Ever since the patch over ride she and Shooter have been joined at the hip. Getting her away from him will be no small task, but since he’s at the emergency meeting she should be alone now.
I make it to her room without incident. I’m pretty stable now with the walking cast except when it comes to the stairs, and then things can be a little dicey. At first I rap softly on her door. If she isn’t alone I don’t want to wake Shooter. But he can’t be there. This time I use my fist and call out to her.
“Stacy, it’s me. Open up!”
I wait for a couple seconds then try once more, although I’m pretty sure she is at Shooter’s house.
“Stacy open up! I need help!”
Nothing. Well, I’m just gonna have to pack up as much of my shit as I can and call a cab. It ends up taking about a half hour to set aside the things I can’t possibly live without. A half hour later the cabbie is helping pile my shit in the trunk. Basically I just took my two laptops, my work one and a personal one, and my wireless printer. One suitcase of clothes and a couple tote bags of miscellaneous stuff. Maybe later Stacy can bring me the stuff I left behind. But for now just my bare bones stuff I need to survive. I guess I’ll be going back to work sooner than expected. I just hope all that stuff that Cade said about Stacy and me needing the clubs protection is just an over exaggeration. When I get home I’ll call Stacy and tell her I’m home and okay. She can stay and still take her vacation days, but I’m going back to work Monday.
It’s about eleven when I finally get home and get my shit in the house. I go to the kitchen first thing and grab a bottle of wine. No glass for me this evening. I need to do some serious drinking if I’m gonna be able to sleep on this. I’m sorely tempted to turn off my phone, but I really need to keep it on for Cade’s call. I need to know the exact moment he’s coming after me so I can make a plan. If I turn off my phone he’ll be able to blindside me.
I plop down on the couch and turn on CNN. I can’t believe I haven’t watched any cable programming in over a week. I used to live on a diet of CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC. I take a long pull on the bottle as some cute reporter is filling in for the regular guy. They’re going on again about the super high speed micro trades that computers are doing in the market now days. The computers can buy and sell shares when the stocks move a fraction of a point and at a rate no floor guy could ever manage. In the space of a second the right computer can buy a half a million shares of Cisco for example and turn around and sell it, then buy it again only to resell again. Those two trades alone of about $20 million can net a quick profit of about twenty-five to fifty thousand dollars all in the blink of an eye. That kind of shit I am sure is what’s responsible to the recent volatility in the market, especially in the biotech and technology sectors. If only my little laptops could trade that fast.
Before long my head begins a lazy, pleasant spin. I glance down at the bottle and I have already downed about a third of it. I’m pretty sure I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, but right now I don’t give a fuck. About half way into the next news story about some steroid scandal in the French Open, I hear a knock on my door. Who the hell is that? I look at the clock it’s nearly two in the morning. I start to get up and the bottle I was nursing falls out of my lap; it’s empty. The second I stand I realize it’s a bad idea. The room has gone from a pleasant rotation to madly spinning out of control. I slump back into the couch unable to get my balance. The knocking continues but I can’t do a damn thing about it.
“Go away!” I yell, before I realize I probably should pretend I’m not home. Oh well…too late now.
I listen for a few more minutes but the knocking seems to have stopped and no one has crashed my door down so that’s a good sign. Just in case, I look around for anything I can use as a weapon. Seems like I remember someone giving me a gun with no serial number on it. Or was that a dream? I’m not sure so I check my purse. The deadliest thing there is a tube of lipstick. I close my eyes and will my head to stop turning.
“Morgan honey.”
My eyes fly open. “Mom?”
“Who were you expecting sweetie, the boogie man?”
I can’t believe my mom is alive. All these years I was sure she died of cancer and now she’s here with me.
“Mom…I thought…”
“You thought I was dead?”
“But I went to your funeral. I saw the open casket. I cried for you momma…I cried…”
Something strange is going on here. Suddenly my face feels wet. I look up expecting to see a drip coming from a leaky ceiling but that can’t be. It’s not even raining. My heart begins to pound as I bring a shaking hand to my face; it’s wet. My face is fucking wet.
“Sweetie what are you doing?” My mother asks.
“I think I’m crying momma.”
“Well that’s a natural response when someone you love has died.”
The second she says that her smile suddenly vanishes and her face begins to melt. I recoil in horror jerking my hands back away from her. Her skin is dripping off her skull and making a nasty puddle on the wood floor. In a panic I scramble away from her to the other end of the couch. She just looks at me with her decaying skull and asks in a pleading voice.
“Morgan honey, don’t you love your mother anymore?”
“But you’re not my mom…Please go away…” My voice trails off as I sink down into the far end of the couch like I’m trying to just melt into the cushions.
The creature that was my mother is hovering over the couch getting closer and closer to me. My heart is hammering painfully against my sternum. It feels like the bone is going to crack if I can’t make myself relax. I bring my arms in front of my face, crossing them like I’m trying to defend myself from attack. Abruptly there’s a loud knocking on my door. The apparition that is my mother freezes for a second, then surges towards me. Now her dripping face is inches from my outstretched arms. There’s another knocking on my door. This time the creature stops, then before my terrified eyes she vanishes!
I let out a huge explosive breath and my heart begins to slow down. I reach up and touch my face again. My fingers come up dry. I guess I wasn’t crying after all. I start to relax again when I hear my front door opening.
“Oh shit!”
This can’t be good. I reach for the wine bottle that was cradled in my lap; it’s not there anymore. I look around frantically as I hear boots in the hallway. I got about ten seconds to find that bottle and get ready to defend my life. A familiar feeling of dread settles over me. How quickly one gets used to this feeling? My life had been in danger so many times in the last ten days. I spot the bottle on the floor beneath my glass coffee table. I scramble around on the couch, banging my cast on the couch end table. So much for my pretending to be asleep. I’m finally within reach of the bottle. As my fingers curl around the neck of the dark green glass bott
le I hear my name.
“Hello Morgan.”
The sound of my name causes my head to jerk upright. Cade is standing in my living room wearing a pained expression on his handsome face.
“Why’d you do it?”
Oh how I wish I was sober for this moment. I need to think clearly if I’m going to get out of this alive. Alive is the key word here. Suddenly a thought occurs to me. I am sitting here trying to figure out how to survive this encounter. This can’t be normal. In most relationships you don’t have to worry about your significant other killing you, you just worry about whose going to take the couch this time and how many flowers or whatever you’re going to have to buy to soothe ruffled feathers and right now I don’t think I am making a lick of sense. Good thing I’m not talking out loud right now.
“You’re drunk!” Cade says with disgust. “Of all the times I need you sober you’re drunk. I want to know why you told Shooter I was going behind the club’s back to make a deal with the Juarez Cartel? I mean, how could you even have that information and why would Shooter be dumb enough to believe something so absurd?
“I…uh…shit, I don’t know what I was thinking Cade.”
I’m wracking my brain trying to remember what the hell I told Shooter about Cade’s behind the club dealings with the Cartel. I’m thinking but nothing’s forthcoming. Suddenly my phone starts ringing. Before Cade can forbid my answering it I grab it.
“Hello?”
Stacy is on the line.
“Oh my god Morgan I’m glad I caught you. Cade is coming for you and he’s furious. You gotta get out of that house.” I can’t even get a word in as Stacy is talking a mile a minute. “Shooter and the other officers confronted Cade at the meeting about going behind the club’s back. Turns out Eddie was at that meeting too so he really didn’t go behind every ones back. He did have the club president’s blessing so to speak. And they aren’t doing a deal with the Juarez Cartel. They’re in bed with the Latin Kings and the Outkasts in some guns and blow deal. I don’t know the details. Cade orchestrated this whole deal to make sure the Disciples are the alpha club and all three of them are strong enough together to hold off the Juarez Cartel. Cade’s not in bed with the Cartel Morgan; you got it all wrong.”
Old Lady (Iron Disciples Book 2) Page 6