by Zoey Parker
“A captain's place is on the bridge of his ship,” Missy said, forcing a smile. When she and Hunter had been children, he'd been obsessed with ships and the ocean. For a while, he'd even considered joining the Navy, but he eventually abandoned that dream to help their father run the Eagles.
Hunter nodded again. “Yeah. Even when the ship's goin' down. Fuck, especially then. So you two stay safe, okay? Keep yer eyes open an' watch each other's backs.”
Missy briefly flashed to the memory of walking into the bathroom and seeing Cain naked. We've been watching a lot more than each other's backs, she thought.
“We will, I promise,” Cain said.
Hunter waited for a long moment, then took his hands away. This was strange behavior for him, and it frightened Missy a bit. She hadn't wanted to see him charge into action like some unthinking, bloodthirsty Viking like he had in the past, but seeing him look so adrift and indecisive was much worse.
“Okay,” said Hunter. “I'm off. And this time if anything seems funky—I mean anything—you call me that second.” He walked over to this bike, threw his leg over it, and revved it, speeding off into the night.
“Need help getting back inside?” Missy asked Cain.
“Nah, I can do it,” he said, turning and heading toward the front door. Based on how he was walking, Missy could tell he was still in agony and trying not to show it. “I'm gonna get some sleep.”
“This early?” she replied. It was night, but she knew Cain tended to keep the same hours she did—up all night, with bedtime usually at sunrise.
Cain shot her a baleful glance. “Yes, this early. I survived an attempted assassination earlier today, and I just watched someone use the head of one of my best friends as a goddamn bowling ball. So I'm going to take a bunch of pills, close my eyes, and hope that when I wake up, my world makes sense again. Unless you've got any fucking objections?”
Missy sighed, inwardly suppressing a sharper response to his hostility. He was right. They'd all had a long day. Another fight wouldn't do either of them any good.
“Then at least use the inflatable bed instead of the couch,” she said. “I've got it set up in the bedroom. It'll probably be a lot more comfortable and help you heal up faster.”
“Fine,” said Cain, walking into the house. There was a rattle of pill bottles, and a moment later, she heard the bedroom door slam shut behind him.
As Missy followed him inside, her cell phone rang. She checked it, expecting it to be Hunter calling already to make sure they were still alive and issue more warnings.
Instead, she saw that it was Christina Vargas, the mousy woman in her early thirties who cut Missy's hair. She ran a discount salon from her home at the south end of town. Missy frowned, looking at the caller ID. Missy generally called Christina every couple of months to schedule an appointment, but she couldn't remember Christina ever calling her before.
Missy answered the phone. “Hey, Christina.”
“Hey,” Christina answered. Her voice always seemed hushed and uncertain, but oddly, it sounded even more tremulous than usual. “Um, so...it's been a couple months, and I thought, y'know, maybe you'd want to go ahead and, um, make an appointment for me to do your hair...”
“Yeah, uh, thanks for thinking of me,” Missy replied, “but this really isn't a good time for that, okay? I've got way too much going on right now. I'll call you when I've got time to set something up. Bye.”
Missy lowered the phone and was about to hang it up when she heard Christina's voice call out, “Wait!” There was a twinge of desperation in it.
Missy raised the phone again. “What?”
“Umm...” Christina sounded like she was stalling, trying to think of some reason to keep Missy on the phone.
What the hell is going on here? Missy thought. Is she tweaking on meth or something, looking for someone to talk her down?
“So listen, uhh,” Christina wavered, “how's, um, how's everything going with you? How's your family?”
Missy was becoming more confused by the minute. Christina had never asked about Missy's family. She knew that Missy's brother led the Eagles—most people in Micanaw knew that—and she was such an anxious person, she usually didn't want to learn any details about the MC and its dealings.
“Well, actually, my family's a little fucked up right now, Christina,” Missy replied, stepping into the house and closing the door behind her. She could hear motorcycles approaching up the street and knew that Keith's posse was about to start settling into the garage. “Most of the shit that's been happening with us has been pretty public. Maybe you heard about it?”
“Uh, yeah, I've heard some stuff about that,” Christina said.
There was another uncomfortable silence, and Missy was about to ask point-blank what the fuck Christina was calling about when Christina continued hesitantly. “My, um, family isn't doing so great these days either, actually. My mom's been under a lot of, um, stress. Did you ever meet my mom? She runs the Teepee Motel.”
Suddenly, Missy could feel her heart pounding in her throat. She understood that Christina had called to try to help her, or warn her about some new threat from Gaspar. And from the roundabout way Christina had brought it up, she clearly didn't believe it was safe to talk openly on this line.
“So, um,” Christina continued, “are you sure you don't want to make an appointment for your hair? I can fit you in tomorrow, if you want.”
“Yeah,” Missy answered slowly. “I think that might be a good idea after all. I've, uh, just noticed some split ends you could help me with. Let me give you a call tomorrow and we'll figure out the best time to meet up.”
“Good,” Christina said. Missy could hear the relief in her voice. “I'll look forward to hearing from you.”
Missy ended the call, thinking hard. If Christina felt like she had to be that careful with her wording, could that mean Gaspar and his guys were listening in on their phone calls? She knew the technology existed, and the cartel could afford it easily. That meant she wouldn't be able to call Hunter and let him know what had happened. She'd need to tell him in person. She seriously doubted that Hunter would be able to understand any code she tried to use with him on the phone, and the more confused he got, the more attention it would draw from Gaspar if he was eavesdropping.
Before she could think on this further, she heard a loud thump from the bedroom, following by a yowl of pain. She slipped her phone into her pocket and headed for the bedroom, knocking on the door.
“Are you okay in there?” she asked.
“Yeah, just...trying to get down on the bed,” Cain said through clenched teeth. “It's lower than the fucking couch was.”
“I can give you a hand, if you want.”
“No thank you,” he growled. “I'll do it myself. Somehow.”
Missy rolled her eyes. “You're naked again, aren't you?”
There was an awkward pause. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Missy offered, “how about if I keep my eyes above your waist? Then will you let me help you, so you don't start popping your stitches?”
“All right, fine,” Cain allowed. “Just try not to stare at me. It creeps me out. Especially when you get that weird look.”
“What look is that?”
“I don't know what the look is,” Cain bellowed, “but I've seen it on your face a lot and I fucking hate it, okay? I don't know if it's pity or what the hell it is, but I don't need it.”
“Fine, no look,” Missy agreed, wondering what he was talking about. Could he tell that she'd had lewd thoughts about him? Or could he just not stand to see sympathy in eyes that were pointed in his direction? “Now can I come in, or what?”
“Sure.”
Missy pushed the door open, trying to avert her eyes from Cain's crotch again. It was even more difficult to ignore than it had been before—his cock was just hanging there between his thighs like a pendulum, begging to be stared at.
“So you need help getting down on the mattress?” Missy asked.<
br />
“No, I need help rigging a fucking trapeze in here so I can swing into it from above.”
Once again, Missy chose to ignore his sarcasm. “Okay, grab my hands. We're going to ease you down as gently as possible, so you don't strain your torso too much.”
Cain reluctantly took her hands as best he could, given the cast on one arm. She helped him lower himself to the air mattress, keeping her eyes to one side. He let out a series of harsh gasps, then finally settled back onto the bed.
“You're welcome,” Missy said, taking hold of the blanket on the bed. She started to drape it over Cain's body, but he seized it away from her hotly.
“You helped. Now go. I don't need to be fussed over and tucked into bed like a motherfucking two-year-old.”
Missy finally exploded. “Then maybe you shouldn't be acting like one and throwing some bullshit tantrum every time a person tries to help you or make you comfortable.”
“I didn't ask for that,” Cain snarled, “and I don't want it.”
“Yeah, there you go again,” she snapped back. “'I don't want it, I don't want it!' Jesus, you sound like a little baby throwing its food on the floor. What is with you, anyway? One minute you're starting to sound like you're not such a bad guy, and the next minute you're barking at me!”
“I still don't know what the fuck you're doing here!” Cain roared. “I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, either. We've both got better shit to do than hang around here like a couple of useless assholes.”
“Your president wants you here, and he wants me taking care of you. If you've got better shit to do than follow a direct order from your fucking club president, let's hear it.”
“Oh, you've got an answer for everything, huh?” he sneered. “Must be nice.”
“Hey, I've tried to make you as comfortable as possible, pal. I've ignored a lot of your insults, and I've done everything I can to keep you feeling like someone who's still in control of his life instead of a goddamn invalid.”
Cain bared his teeth. “Oh, you want to help me feel like I'm in control now? That's why you're here?”
“Yeah, it fucking is!”
Cain pulled the blanket aside, revealing his naked body. Missy found her eyes drawn to his cock before she could stop herself. It was quite sizeable, and it was beginning to stiffen. “Well if you're so big on making me feel in control, then come over here and suck me off, okay? Otherwise, get the fuck out.”
Missy heard the mocking in Cain's voice and knew that he was mostly trying to drive her away, but she could also see his obvious desire as his dick continued to harden. Part of her wanted to stomp out, slam the door, and head back to Hunter to tell him he could stick this assignment up his ass.
But there was another part of her that felt Cain's magnetism calling her to. His eyes were blazing with lust and fury, and she knew that even though his invitation was presented as a petulant dare, there was a burning sincerity behind it as well. It was different from the well-meaning earnestness of her previous boyfriends. It was something deeper, more primal and undeniable. Something that tore through her insides mercilessly like wildfire.
He wanted her. She knew that, just like she was certain he could feel her desire for him too.
Missy put her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows in a challenge. “That's what you want from me, huh?”
Cain's eyes remained locked on hers defiantly. “Yes. Now get over here and do it.”
Missy had never been commanded like this before. It brought a flush to her cheeks, and her insides felt like someone had released a flock of birds in them. She suddenly realized that she was extremely wet.
She stepped forward and slowly lowered herself until she was on her belly between his legs. His cock was inches from her face, and she could almost feel the warmth pulsing through it in waves. Now that she was free to stare at it, she found herself hypnotized by Cain's gaze instead, unable to break away from it. Over the past couple of days, she'd seen many emotions there—anger, resentment, frustration, bitterness, anguish.
But this was the first time since Cain's beating that she saw something else in his eyes: power.
It turned her on.
Missy was aware that her breath was caressing Cain's erection. She continued to hover over it for a few more seconds, wanting to tease him. But his smoldering eyes made it impossible for her to wait any longer and she moved her head forward, sliding her lips over the end of his cock. Her tongue traced patterns under the tip, and she sucked on it slowly and gently.
A rough moan escaped Cain's lips. He leaned forward and put his hand on the back of Missy's head, shoving it forward even more. Her lips parted wider as they enveloped Cain's cock, sliding down his shaft until his tip pressed against the back of her tongue.
Once again, Missy knew that Cain was trying to provoke her, to shove himself so deep into her throat that she'd gag and her eyes would water. But she'd never had much of a gag reflex, and besides, she refused to give him the satisfaction of displaying even momentary weakness. She allowed him to push deeper into her mouth, her lips pressing together to knead his shaft between them. She was breathing hard through her nose, her eyes staring up into his.
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.