Vipers Run (7 page)

“So much for not sharing my bed,” Cage murmured several hours later.

“Technically, this is a couch.”

“A pullout, making it a bed.”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” I told him. “And I never said I wouldn't share your bed—just that you couldn't order me around.”

“Right.”
He didn't look convinced at all. I wasn't either, but I frowned and tugged the covers over me. “Pull those down, babe.”

“No.” I paused. “I will if you check on Tenn.”

“I can work with that.” He reached behind him and held up his phone. There was a photo of Tenn crouching next to two men in leather vests on the ground.

“He showed them,” I murmured. Cage gave a small smile, put the phone down as he pulled the
covers away from me. He covered me with his body instead, and I wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh. He had the heaters going—I'm guessing he didn't use the fireplace because we were technically hiding. “What's this place?”

“Vipers owns it. We call it the Cabin of Secrets,” he said with zero irony. “When the club's got an issue, guys come here. Admit stuff. Like a confessional, without the priest.”

“And here I thought that was Tenn's specialty.”

“Tenn's dealing with his own shit in his own way,” Cage explained.

“You were in the Army together?”

“We went through basic together. Ended up on different platoons for a while—that's how I met his brother, Tals. Then Tals went to a different unit and Tenn and I served under Bernie.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“It's not your fault, Calla. It's mine. Can't stop my past from hurting people. The harder I run, it seems like the easier they catch me.”

“So stop running,” I told him. “What if we both stopped running and turned and fought instead?”

“I'm afraid we'd just be fighting for the rest of our lives.”

“I'd rather fight than run,” I admitted.

* * *

Later, I woke with a start, alone in bed under a warm blanket. I wound it around me as I looked around the darkened cabin.

I caught sight of Cage. He was sitting in a chair by the window. The soft light made him look young. It didn't hurt that I was looking at the unscarred side of his face, although I decided then and there I liked both sides together, because both sides made the man.

“Hey,” he said without turning his head.

“I didn't think you noticed me.”

“I notice everything about you, Calla.”

It was odd to be shy around him after sex, and I still was, but I fought for boldness. “I would've shown your face on the tape. That was everything, the whole show.”

“That part of the show was just for you.” He gave a fleeting grin, and if it wasn't so dark, maybe I would've seen a slight flush to his cheeks. “Half face is standard for shots like that. No pun intended. My scars wouldn't have worked for everyone.”

I moved close to him. He shifted on the chair, making room for me on his lap. Even if I'd wanted to refuse, he was tugging me down and I curled in his lap. “Are the Heathens the ones who did this to you?”

Finally, he ground out, “Yes. Five of them.”

Five. And Cage had been shot, stabbed and beaten severely. He'd be feeling those injuries for a long time to come. He rubbed his hand along his scarred neck, like he was revisiting the scene. He wasn't self-conscious about the scars.

His jaw clenched and his eyes snapped fire. I should've been scared enough of him to move away, because I knew what he was capable of surviving. I could only imagine what a fair fight would be like for him.

“Why do you want to know this, Calla?”

“Because you almost died. Because I think you're taking me into the same world where this happened.”

He clenched his jaw and then ground out, “Fair enough.”

I had a feeling nothing that happened to Cage was fair.

* * *

With Calla in his lap, Cage told her how he'd gone to the underground garage with the promise of information. “I've been trying to get information I could use against the Heathens. They've been giving my club trouble for years, and I finally had a way to stop them. There was this guy who'd been working for the Heathens on and off, but he wasn't a member. And he was easily
flipped for the right price. So I met him and got what I needed.”

“The numbers,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “It wasn't in my source's best interest to tell the Heathens what was going on, and as far as I know, he's still working for them and he's been calling me too. I'm still trying to figure out how the Heathens found me, but I've never run from a fight before tonight.” From anyone or anything.

“I consider tonight about saving me.”

He brushed hair from her shoulder and nipped at the unmarred skin, reddening it a little. She ran a hand over his scarred cheek—it tingled every time she touched it, like she was bringing the nerves back to life.

He leaned his head back and recalled that night. He'd been surrounded, and the fact that it was familiar faces only added to the warning bells that indicated he should've been up and out of there an hour before.

He could still hear Troy's voice.

Dad says hi.

Jesus, how he'd ended up with such a dick for a brother, he'd never know.

He'd heard the sirens in the distance before he'd called Bernie's phone. They'd scared Troy away—even though they'd known the
ambulance was ten minutes out, Troy figured Cage would be dead by the time the EMTs found him. At that moment, lying on the cement floor, he'd been beyond pain, didn't feel the coldness of the cement under his body as much as his entire body was cold. He'd blinked, but it hadn't cleared the blurriness from his eyes. He saw the blood from his wound spreading under him rapidly.

Shot and stabbed. His idiot brother was always one for overkill.

You always knew you wouldn't die in your bed peacefully.
He'd known he wouldn't live to any kind of ripe old age, but he'd lived longer than he'd expected to.

But he didn't let Calla in on any of that—his history with the Heathens wasn't something he let out easily. Instead, he told her, “I just knew I had to hang on until the ambulance got there. I hung up on you because I had to crawl through the garage—I was all the way in the corner, behind a Dumpster. They might've missed me.”

She stared at him. “I would've stayed on.”

“I know that.”

And he'd known he'd been potentially fucking up her life by giving her the intel, but choices were so limited. He couldn't let the Heathens
win. And he wouldn't let the guy who'd put that pain in her voice win either.

He'd crawled on his hands and knees out of the parking garage, and when he couldn't crawl anymore, he'd commanded himself to keep going, ignoring the pain in his chest and the fact that he'd begun to wheeze. He'd been freezing by the time he'd heard screams and attracted attention from two older women coming to collect their car.

One of them had pushed the hair out of his face and told him that he was going to be okay. She'd smelled like flowered perfume and her touch was such a mom's touch, so much like his own mom before she'd gotten hooked on that shit. He'd closed his eyes and thought about her . . . and Calla . . . and Calla was his first thought when he'd opened them.

He'd even said her name, and the nurse told him, “You haven't shut up about her. She must be pretty special.”

“She is,” he'd agreed, and then he'd done everything in his power to stay the hell away from her. And he told Calla all of that, then said, “I was in the hospital. I didn't know Bernie died. Preach—Preacher Jones—he kept it from me because I wasn't in any shape to deal with it. The second I woke up—”

“You were in a coma?”

“Yes.”

“When did the Heathens find out you were still alive?”

He glanced over at her. “When I called them and told them they'd have to try a hell of a lot harder than that.”

She bit her lip, then ran a hand over his scars. “This isn't going to be an easy ride.”

“No one ever promised it would be.”

“The Heathens know I'm with you.”

“Yeah.”

“And Tenn said they know I worked with Bernie. That they'll come after me in case I know something.”

“They're ruthless, Calla. I wish I could tell you otherwise. I didn't think that they were already watching Bernie. I thought I was smarter . . . that I could do it on my own, without backup.” He stared at her eyes, and there was understanding there.

“You didn't want anyone else to get hurt,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “And in the process, look what happened. I made you a target. For me, that's normal. I was born with a bull's-eye on my back.”

“Can you use the information you got against the Heathens still? It's not too late, is it?”

“Never too late, babe. But I've got to be careful who I give the information to. Law enforcement and motorcycle clubs aren't exactly on the best of terms.” He sighed. “In the meantime, I need to find a way to stop a few of the higher-ups in that club. And I don't want to talk about the Heathens anymore.”

It wasn't fair to her at all—she had a right to ask all the goddamned questions she wanted to, even if he couldn't give her the answers. But she looked at him, nodded and said, “I don't either,” and he knew he was a goddamned
goner.

Cage took a long drink of his beer and I did the same when he shared it with me. I was warm and tingly inside already, so I didn't need much else to help. I was untouchable here with Cage. I'd take it for however long it would last.

“Storm's coming,” he said. Until then, I hadn't noticed the wind, but I quickly realized that the wind slammed the cabin doors. At any other time, the storm might've echoed the rising storm inside of me, but Cage eased the mind-numbing fear.

“How far away from Skulls are we?”

“Hours. Whole different world in these hills.”

“Whose world?”

“This is near Havoc territory,” he said.

“Is that a metaphor?”

“Another MC. Bad motherfuckers.” He handed me a beer.

“So, not friendly, then?”

“Better than the Heathens.”

I took another long drink from the bottle. “That's not very comforting.”

“Not meant to be. This is dangerous shit.”

“And here I thought you weren't scared of anything.”

His smile was easy. “Fear keeps you from being stupid, if you're smart enough to see it.” His smile had been easy for a moment and then he turned serious. “The MC world . . . it's nothing like you've seen.”

“We had MC members come into my family's bar.”

“Seeing a couple of bikers in a random bar's a lot different than living with an MC man,” he said, not unkindly, and I recalled the information Tenn had already provided me with. “But for the moment, I've ensured you've got no choice. You're not safe without me, Calla, but that's not the only reason I want you with me.”

How he could admit that so openly amazed me. Cage stated it like an immutable law and I didn't want any other choice but to believe him. And rather than delving further into that, I asked instead, “Did the Heathens follow you to Tenn's?”

His jaw tightened. “I think they were waiting there to see if I showed. They were still actively
looking for you. They know Bernie, Tenn and I were in the Army together. Makes sense they'd stake us all out. Tenn said you didn't leave the house, but I'm sure you went out on the back deck. Who knows if they saw you there and waited for me.” He paused. “You made a phone call from Tenn's fax line.”

“Do you think . . . Was that traced somehow?”

“I don't know, babe. I wouldn't think they'd go that far but . . .”

I steeled myself for the anger, but none came. “Then you know who I called.”

“Yes.”

I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “He's my father.”

“Did you tell him where you were? Or what happened?”

“No. I didn't want him to worry about me. I'm sorry.” I kept the rest to myself. “Do you think the Heathens were tracking me through my father's calls?”

“I wouldn't think they'd be that smart to research who your dad was.”

The thought of my father being in trouble because of me made my stomach turn. “Bernie was helping my dad. Maybe someone made the connection.”

Cage watched me silently, waiting for me to
spill everything. God, I didn't want to. “Is this about the guy I'm going to find?”

My throat tightened. “No. Bernie was looking for my brother. He—Ned—stole money from me.”

“And your dad was helping?”

“Yes. He's not Ned's father so . . .” I shrugged, hoping that would end it. “I'm sorry—if I'd thought for a moment . . .”

“That you'd have a rabid MC on your ass, you would've behaved differently? I'm thinking not,” he said. “But from now on, you need to.”

“The way you talk about your club . . . do you like it there?”

“Most of the time, yes.” He paused. “I'm not sure how any woman survives it, though.”

His honesty floored me. “But some do, right?”

“Yeah, some do, Calla.”

I swallowed. “If you want to be with someone enough, you'll deal with almost anything. As long as you're doing it together, right?”

When I was younger, I looked for a love that would tear me up and have its way with me. I wanted to feel battered. Satiated. Terrified. The ups and downs of my mother's love life made me think that was the only way it should be. It wasn't until I got a little older—and wiser—that I realized that all I really wanted was a love that would set me free from all the pain of my past.

I knew it was out there, if for nothing else, because of all the time musicians and authors spend on the subject. It's the Holy Grail and compromise is out of the question. Still, I figured that, after what happened with Harris, I'd never really be able to trust any guy again. That didn't mean I didn't try. I pretended I didn't care. And while I never had another situation like that one, it didn't mean I was happy. I'd had some good sex—I'd needed to in order to make up for the worst first time ever—but the attraction postsex was never there.

Not like this. “I'm going with you by choice, Cage. Not because I don't have one.”

“Good.”

“Whatever happens . . . I don't have any expectations. I don't even want any. It's all too complicated anyway. Sex is simple.”

He raised his brows. “You might be the first woman in history to say that. Even if I know you don't mean it.”

I didn't bother arguing.

* * *

I woke to the sound of bodies thumping against the wall, hard. I heard grunts and cursing and tried to make myself invisible against the back of the couch while I watched the shadows, really hoping that one of them was Cage.

“Son of a—”

Yes, Cage. I sagged in relief, especially when another man's voice said, “She would've been proud to be called ‘bitch.'”

“Asshole.”

I blinked and watched the men stand, saw Cage shove the other man away hard. When the man I didn't know turned to me, I immediately saw the resemblance to Tenn.

“You shouldn't have done this shit alone, Cage.”

“Heard it from your brother. Don't need to hear the same shit from you.”

“You're going to hear it, and a lot more where that came from.”

“Calla, this is Talon,” Cage said, and Tenn's brother smiled and corrected, “Friends calls me Tals.”

“She's not your friend,” Cage replied.

Tals shrugged, unconcerned. “Now I can see why you didn't want any of us near her.”

Cage groaned. “Ah Jesus, Tals. Shut it!”

Tals's laugh was deep and booming. “You've got it bad.”

I, for one, was glad to hear it, but I wasn't happy about the world intruding. Cage had warned it would happen, sooner than I'd want it to.

Cage ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Why
are
you here, Tals? Coincidence?”

“You're the one who always says there's no such thing. No, sir, I'm your escort back to Skulls in the morning.”

Cage tensed immediately—and I wasn't the only one who noticed it. Tals clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Preach is not happy.”

“How much does Preach know?”

“He knows everything,” Talon said simply. “Calla, honey, we're just gonna step outside for a few minutes.”

“Knock yourself out,” I told him, then wrapped the sheet around my body and headed to the shower. I could've sworn they both whistled at me.

And I liked it.

* * *

Cage watched Calla's retreating back until she shut the bathroom door behind her. Tals had whistled with him, but then his friend had turned away and was already on the front porch when Cage joined him.

“Tenn wouldn't let me come get her.”

“He's the smart one in your family,” Cage told him, and sidestepped a swipe at the back of his head.

“I wouldn't have let anything happen to her. Christ, hers was the only name you kept saying, over and over and—”

Cage held up a hand. “I've heard it before.”

“You're keeping her with you, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Lot of reasons. But I pulled her into this, and I'm the only one who can get her out.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Tals muttered.

His friend was more pissed than Tenn after being shut out. Even though he'd known that Cage wasn't dead pretty much the whole time. But before that, Cage had dropped out of sight for months, and he'd refused to return any calls. “I'm sorry, Tals.”

“Yeah, that you got caught.”

“Gonna make a great father with lines like that.”

Tals pointed at him, fear of the devil in his eyes. “Don't you dare fucking curse me like that.”

Cage snorted. “Did Tenn get anything out of the Heathens?”

“They weren't in a chatty mood and Tenn doesn't have the patience for that shit.” Tals crossed his arms and stared at him. “Going to finally tell me what the hell really happened? Because I don't believe the Heathens just happened to sneak up on you.”

“Got some intel.”

“Gonna share?”

“Tapes. Wiretaps.”

“Enough for a RICO case against them?” Tals asked.

Cage nodded. “It's locked up tight, though. I won't risk giving it to the feds until I know who I'm giving it to.”

“Your dad know you have it?” Tals asked, then paled. “Shit. That's why?”

Cage kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure he could get the words out.

Tals whistled softly. “I knew it was Heathens, Cage . . . but . . . your dad?”

“He sent Troy.” And Cage didn't know if that made it better or worse. “A lot of this is about me, Tals. But some of it's about her.”

“We've had to tread lightly where Bernie's concerned.”

Cage agreed. It was the only thing that kept him from breaking into the police database to see what they knew. The only thing that stopped him from calling Bernie's sister. He thought about the burial, how he and Tenn and Tals had to avoid it . . .

“He always knew what he was in for with us,” Tals told him. “He went into things with both eyes open.”

“Calla didn't.” Tals looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't, and so Cage continued. “Need a favor.”

“You're serious? Beyond this saving-your-ass thing?”

“Where were you when I was trying to lose a Heathen tail tonight?”

Tals snorted. “Go for it. Just remember, you're really racking them up.”

“Bernie was trying to help Calla.”

“And while you avoided all of us, you were figuring out a way to help her too.”

He nodded. “Her father's Jameson Bradley.”

Tals whistled and shook his head. “And you got his baby girl in trouble.”

“I don't think they're exactly close. But she's got a brother. Need to find him.”

“Take it we're not paying a Welcome Wagon call.”

“As far from it as we can get,” he agreed. And there was also another guy out there who hurt her. Cage had that tucked into the back of his mind. Because as much pain as he'd been in that first night they'd talked, the pain in her voice when she'd admitted that a guy had hurt her in her past was unmistakable.

Every time he thought about it, his fists clenched, the way they were now.

Tals noticed, of course. “I'll help.”

“Thanks.”

“S'what we do.” Tals touched the scarred side of his face, shook his head. “Helps that you were always an ugly motherfucker.”

“Better than you on your best day.”

Tals hooted, and for a second Cage was back in better days. Then again, the woman inside the cabin might just be the start of more.

Tals told him, “I'll be back tonight to escort you back to Skulls. Preacher's orders, so don't try to say no.”

“Where are you going?”

“Figured I'd visit Havoc and give you two some privacy.”

Cage shook his head. “You getting involved in shit I should know about?”

“You're one to talk. Don't worry about me, brother. I'm just fine. See you in the morning.” Tals jumped off the porch, got on his bike and gunned it up the road.

For a long moment, Cage stood in the mountain air, letting what Tals said settle in.

Preacher swore the hills of South Carolina were the perfect place to soothe—and save—men's souls. And that might be true of North Carolina too, because Havoc thrived there, while boasting the rep of being both calm and deadly.
What that MC did was far enough removed from civilians and the law to give them some kind of mythological, legendary status.

Cage knew some of them, had visited their compound. Their rep was well fucking deserved. They had no desire to play nice with anyone. They just stayed to themselves and out of most wars, unless an MC fucked with them. And then their army came down from the hills and let their fury loose.

Whatever Tals was doing up there, Cage hoped it was for pleasure and not business.

Cage had been putting bikes together for as long as he could hold a wrench. The irony of being born in the back of a van—and being named after the incident—was something of an inside joke among the Heathens, because “cage” was a derogatory name for a car, which civilians drove, as opposed to the freedom of the bike.

For Cage, it referred to his Heathen lineage and his royalty, so to speak, because his cage was a beat-up Ford Bronco in which his mom had been in active labor, and it had a line of hogs leading it to the hospital. He'd been too damned impatient to wait, a trait that followed him his entire life. He was the firstborn, the golden child, and at that time his mom had been a hot-as-hell old lady his dad had been lucky enough to bag.
She'd run away from a very wealthy family to be with his father and, by extension, the MC, and Cage knew she'd regretted it. Not at first, but for sure it was a part of the reason she'd turned to drugs.

She'd been trapped. She'd seen no escape and, in reality, there was none. So whether or not she'd planned to kill herself, she'd already been doing it slowly, years before her actual death.