by Jenika Snow
Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2015 Jenika Snow
ISBN: 978-1-77233-274-2
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To the Crescent Snow Street Team. You guys are wonderful with your continued support. To Evernight for being a wonderful publisher, and to all the readers that continue to stand by me during this journey. I couldn’t do it without any of you!
CAIN’S DARKNESS
Brothers of Menace MC, 4
Jenika Snow
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
His blood boiled, his knuckles nearly burst through his skin from how tightly he was holding his handlebars, and his jaw ached from grinding his teeth. All he could think about was that his daughter Fallina’s friend, Violet, had called him saying that a man was attacking Fallina and refusing to leave. He was replaying the voicemail he’d listened to just moments before getting on his Harley and heading to where his sixteen-year-old daughter and her best friend were.
He turned onto Violet’s street, saw her small house in the distance, and felt his rage increase. He hadn’t called the club, hadn’t let The Brothers of Menace know because after he had gotten the voicemail he had hauled ass over here. He didn’t even know if he could talk to his club right now. All he saw was red, and all he wanted to do was break the motherfucker’s body that had thought he could touch his little girl or her fragile friend.
Pulling into the cracked and worn-down driveway he cut the engine and climbed off his bike. The house was a piece of shit, and the only reason he allowed his daughter or Violet to be here was because Violet’s piece of shit father wasn’t home. She’d been at the house to grab things for an extended weekend stay at his place, as the two girls were like sisters given how close they were. And now some motherfucker wanted to take from them what they weren’t willingly offering. Fuck no. Blood would definitely be shed today.
Before he could even storm up the driveway and into the house a man was stumbling out of the front door, a knife cut on his arm, and his buttons undone. He turned and grabbed Fallina, tried pulling her forward, and Cain saw red. He recognized the asshole as one of Violet’s neighbors and her junkie father’s friends. The bastard was clearly drunk or high, because he had to brace a hand on the side of the house to steady himself.
“You motherfucking cock-sucker,” Cain roared out and charged forward. He was vaguely aware through the haze of rage filling his head that Violet stood in the doorway. She held the knife clearly used to cut this prick. He didn’t want her to watch what was about to go down right now, but he also couldn’t stop himself. The bastard lifted his head, but Cain was already on him. He grabbed the hair behind the man’s head, and in one quick move slammed his forehead into the side of the house. Cain used so much force that part of the side became disengaged.
“Get the hell off me,” the drunk slurred out, and the stench of alcohol and stale sweat filled Cain’s nose.
He slammed the fucker’s head on the pavement, over and over again until the guy struggled even less. Blood coated the cracked and already grease stained pavement. The gurgling sound coming from the asshole that had crossed the line and fucked with his little girl and Violet told Cain that he would soon be lying here lifeless, silent.
He was aware of the sound of sirens in the distance, but he didn’t care if the police were coming right now. Cain needed to finish this, to give his little girl and Violet peace of mind that no one would be able to fuck with them and not pay the price. Taking out his blade from his boot, he pulled the other man’s head back, exposing his throat. Right when he brought the knife to the fucker’s neck, the sound of shouting filled his head. He looked up, saw a swarm of police in front of the house, and neighbors that had come out of their crappy little houses to watch the drama.
“Dad,” Fallina said, but his head was filled with this white noise, of his heart beating, and of his rage consuming him.
“Put down the weapon and stand slowly, hands behind your head.”
Cain stared at the police officer that spoke, and although he wanted to kill this bastard, he also looked over his shoulder and saw Fallina and Violet watching him with wide eyes.
“Do as we say. Drop the weapon, stand with your hands on your head, and face the house.”
He wanted this asshole dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to take his life while two sixteen-year-olds watched. Dropping the knife was one of the hardest fucking things he had ever done. He slammed the fucker’s face on the cement once more, slowly stood with his hands in the air, and did what the police shouted out. He stared at his daughter and Violet, seeing the looks on their faces, of the torn clothing on Fallina, and the bruise on Violet’s cheek. These two girls didn’t deserve any of this, and he had made it worse.
He focused on those two young women, mouthed to them that everything would be okay, and then felt the cops swarm on him and throw him on the ground. Whatever the fuck happened, he knew both of the girls would be okay. He’d make sure they were safe, make sure the club looked out for them, and that no one would ever fuck with them again.
****
Cain walked toward the communal showers, passed the cellblocks, and took in the groups of men that had segregated themselves by skin color, and told himself this would be one long ass sentence. He had only been in ADX, or the Alcatraz of the Rockies, for two weeks, proud to be put here because he had done it in the name of protecting his child and Violet. But he also regretted a part of it because he would miss out on being with his family, his brothers in the club, and it was all because of that motherfucker that had dared to lay a hand on his little girl. Cain cracked his knuckles, rolled his head around on his neck, and felt the rage move through him at the thought of all the things he would do to that sick bastard once he was out. The Brothers of Menace would watch over what was his, take care of his daughter and of Violet, and make sure they didn’t want for anything. The club was a family, a tightly knit connection of men that were closer than blood.
He pushed everything else out of his mind, and knew that once he got out of this shithole he’d go after the man that had put him in here. The club could have easily taken him out, but Cain wanted that opportunity, wanted the pleasure of squeezing the life out of him and making him suffer. And fucking hell would he make him suffer.
He moved past the group of white supremacists playing cards, and then went further still to pass the workout room where a group of African-Americans were working out. That was what this world was like on the other side of bars. It was color against color, rank against rank, and violence controlled everything. It was about who was the strongest, which group could have the most pull, and what guards were in on any kind of illegal exchange. There was corruption, and segregation ruled the cellblocks. And what wasn’t broken into colors was broken into groups: white supremacists, gangs, bikers, wise guys, and so forth. It was an eat or be eaten world. Hate wars were rampant, and Cain had to be strong in order to survive. Good thing he had a lot of hate, violence, and rage burning through him. His first night here he had been attacked while sleeping, but his bunkmate had learned fast that he wasn’t a man to be fucked with. Cain had broken his arm, leg, and put the guy in
the infirmary for a week. But that incident had cost Cain seven days in solitary.
He stepped into the shower room and slung his towel over the rack. Even the showers were segregated by race, and if someone fucked up by going to the wrong one it could be an all-out war. Yeah, Cain had sure as fuck learned fast what needed to be done to survive, and he had no plans on leaving this place in a body bag. He had unfinished business to handle, and he had to finish his sentence before that could be followed through.
He started to bathe, but soon he heard the sound of the door opening and closing. He didn’t turn around, but was alert, aware of his surroundings. No fucking way he ever let his guard down in this hellhole.
“Hey man,” a newbie that had transferred from another cellblock said, as he made his way closer.
Cain nodded once, and focused on the wall before him. He finished scrubbing up, shut off the water, but then the fucker was moving closer still and not taking the fucking hints in the looks Cain gave him to stay the hell back. “What the hell are you doing?” Cain said in a deep, threatening voice. The guy was naked as hell, and looked like he was tweaking hardcore.
“Man, I need some H. I need some fucking H bad.”
“Do I look like I deal with that shit, man?” Cain said with malice in his voice. He grabbed his towel, pushing past the junkie. The tweaker grabbed for him, maybe asking for help, or trying to stop Cain from leaving. He was clearly jonesing for some drugs, but the thing was, everything in this place was a threat. The guy tried to come after him again, and Cain was beyond pissed. The bastard was grabbing at Cain’s arms like he was a lifesaver, and if he didn’t back the hell up Cain would make sure he’d be meeting the fucking tiled floor here soon.
“I just need the name of someone who has something, man. I just need a bump, one damn bump, and I’ll be good.”
“I don’t have anything for your junkie ass, and if you come after me again I’ll knock your teeth in.” But it was clear the asshole wasn’t listening. He might have been too out there to fully understand that Cain wasn’t a man to be fucked with, but in here you listened or fought. The guy wouldn’t listen, was so far out of his damn mind, that he came forward again. Instincts kicked in, and Cain reacted. He slammed his fist into the man’s face, knocked his ass back, and the guy still tried to rise and come forward. He was a crazy fucker, but finally got on his feet and moved out of the shower room, blood trailing behind him.
Cain went over to the mirrors, wiped his palm over the fogged glass, and then smoothed his hands over his chin length dark hair. He wanted to be out of here, wanted to be home with his daughter, make sure she and Violet were okay, and do damage. But while in here he couldn’t be any help to anyone. He was still connected to his club, still a part of the brotherhood that was forged by oath and blood, and he would be forever. He glanced down at his abdomen, and stared at the Brothers of Menace patch tattooed on his side. It was a patch of honor, badge of blood and commitment. He’d die a brother, and he was fucking proud of that fact.
He stared at his reflection again, heard the inmates yelling and shouting as the majority started to come into the shower room, and told himself he’d fucking kill before he was killed in this place. He needed to get home and take care of what was his, and that was the driving force in him.
Chapter Two
Four years later
She had been writing to him for four years, and this was the first time she would see Cain Trainer in all that time. She was nervous, so damn nervous that she was sweaty, her hands shook, and her heart raced. At twenty years old she was still trying to find her way in the world, but what kept her grounded, what kept her head clear and the demons at bay, was the thought of Cain. He was so much older than she was, so dangerous and powerful, and the father of her best friend, Fallina. But despite all of that he had always been there for her, maybe indirectly and not consciously, but he had helped her out when she had been lost and confused.
She went through the metal detector at American Federal Supermax prison, feeling uncomfortable that she was even within its walls. ADX was one of the worst prisons in the country and rightly so due to the prisoners that resided within its high security walls. Fremont County, Colorado was hours away from Chatham View, but she had made the trip because she wanted, no, needed, to see Cain. She was at a part of the prison that wasn’t as high security, but not any less dangerous. She’d planned this visit for months, had to get permission from several higher-ups in the administration department in order to see Cain, but she was finally here.
The metal detector didn’t go off, and she picked up her keys and purse, knew the officer had gone through that as well, and followed the guard toward the visiting area. The small room held two tables with four chairs at each one. It was currently empty, and when she took a seat at one of the tables and stared out the glass window right across from her, her heart started beating harder. She was nervous, so nervous that she was going to see Cain again after so long. Although she had asked if Fallina wanted to come, the timing hadn’t worked out. But she knew Fallina came up to see her dad frequently, and although Fallina would always look downtrodden when she’d return, Violet had a feeling Cain wasn’t the type of man to want visitors. This certainly wasn’t a place that elicited happy, loving memories, even if Cain was here because he had protected them all those years ago.
Violet felt like she sat there for hours, and then she heard a loud buzz, signaling a door being unlocked. Moments later she saw him, walking behind a guard, and another one right behind him. He didn’t look at her, not until he stepped in the room. He had handcuffs around his wrists and shackles around his ankles. He stared at her, looking older, more dangerous, if that was even possible. He had several days’ worth of scruff on his cheeks, and his dark hair was on the longer side, brushing his shoulders. He looked rough in a way that told her he’d probably seen far too much while inside. The guards took off the handcuffs, but left the shackles. He moved toward her, his dark eyes trained on her and this hard look on his face.
“I told you not to come here, Violet,” he said in a hard voice, and was clearly pissed she didn’t listen.
“I’ve been writing to you, and I wanted to see you, Cain. You rarely respond when I do contact you, and it’s hard.”
He breathed out and leaned back in his seat. “I don’t want you at a place like this. It’s fucking brutal in here, and I don’t want you exposed to this shit.”
Yeah, she knew the reputation of this prison, but they were in the visiting wing, away from the offenders that were truly dangerous and locked up for everyone’s protection. “If it wasn’t safe then they wouldn’t allow me to come, to see you.”
He didn’t move, didn’t respond, and looked even more pissed now. “It doesn’t matter, Violet. This place is fucked, and I don’t want you here. I told you that, but you’re so damn stubborn.”
“I wanted to talk to you, and the few letters you sent back were not the responses I thought I’d get.”
He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the chipped and worn tabletop. “I am pissed because I want you to stay away from Carl, and not go near him to try and figure out his location.”
“I thought you’d want to know where he was, Cain, because I know you’re not done with him.” She hoped he wasn’t done with him, and how sick did that make her? But the truth was she had a bigger beef with Carl than anyone knew. Fallina didn’t even know about the nasty things that pervert had done to her.
“Believe me, I’ll handle shit,” he said in a softer voice. “I don’t want you worrying about anything, nothing, Violet.”
She glanced at the guard standing by the door, and the other two standing right outside of the room. Violet didn’t want to get into this with Cain, especially not here and now, but Cain was upset, and she needed to tell him why she was so invested in not letting Carl get away. She knew that it wasn’t anyone’s responsibility to handle the man that almost raped Fallina all those years ago. She also knew that the club could
have taken out Carl, gotten him while Cain was locked up. But she heard from a couple of the club members right after the attack, while she had been in hearing distance, that Cain wanted to handle this on his own.
He grabbed her hand, stunning her. She looked at him, saw the serious expression on his face, and knew that whatever he was about to say was not going to be something she wanted to hear.
“This isn’t your fight, isn’t your worry.”
She looked down to see him running his finger along the back of her hand. She was really going to tell him, say something she’d never said to anyone because she was ashamed and disgusted. “Carl raped me when I was sixteen, not long before he attacked Fallina and tried to do the same thing.” Violet didn’t look him in the eye.
He stilled, tensed right in front of her, and the anger and heat came from him like a blast to the face. “What?” he said in a low, hard, and dangerous voice. He moved his hand off of hers, shifted on the seat, and stared at her with this cold, unrelenting gaze. “Why didn’t you say something before, Violet? Why did you keep this in for all these years?” He was shaking now, his anger tangible as it wrapped around her, suffocating her slightly, and stealing the air that was in her lungs.
“I was ashamed, Cain, disgusted and sickened that it happened, but can you now understand why I needed to keep track, if not for my own sanity?”
He didn’t respond, didn’t even move after she spoke.
“I need this just as much as you feel you do.” She didn’t elaborate on what she needed, because she knew Cain understood her just fine. There were guards around, in a fucking prison, and so talking about wanting someone dead probably wasn’t the best course of action.