Authors: Jenika Snow
The prick, who called himself Boomer, stopped when he was right in front of Cain. “You ready to get your ass handed to you this time?”
The sound of the fighting on the basketball court sounded like a riot had broken out. Shouting, orders, and curses rang through the air. Cain didn’t respond, just braced his feet apart and waited for Boomer to come forward. They grappled for a few moments, and Cain saw the glint of the shank in Boomer’s hands. He jabbed the sharpened piece of metal toward Cain’s side, but he blocked him, took the asshole to the ground, and was able to get the shank out of his hands. Cain held his hand around Boomer’s throat, but the fucker knocked him in the jaw. Cain tasted blood as his teeth cut into the inside of his cheek, and rage burst through Cain like a wrecking ball destroying a building. He slammed his fist into the other man over and over again, saw the blood come from his mouth and nose, and cover Cain’s knuckles.
“I’m going to fuck you up when you’re not looking, maybe even go after that pretty little slit that left just earlier today.”
Cain saw red at Boomer’s words. He knew that just because someone was locked up didn’t mean they couldn’t get things done on the outside. Cain took the shank, and without thinking jabbed it into the side of Boomer. The man grunted, and Cain twisted the metal so the wound wouldn’t close.
“You don’t fuck with what’s mine. You don’t even talk or think about what is mine,” Cain said in a seething voice.
“Yo, break it up.” Goon said over his shoulder.
Cain glanced up and saw the fight over by the basketball court was being broken up. He moved off of Boomer, who still was on the ground, now curled up and bleeding out.
“Come on, go through the south entrance,” Goon and the other bikers said, and Cain took off, not about to be caught having severely injured an inmate. That would have fucked with his parole, and could have also put more years on his sentence. He followed Goon and a few of the bikers inside, and glanced over his shoulder to see a few guards rushing over to Boomer. The fucker wouldn’t speak, not unless he wanted to be called out as a rat, which would only get him in a lot of shit with everyone in the joint. No matter what group a person was in while locked up, what race or gang, no one snitched anyone out. That was a death sentence.
Cain headed inside, went right to his cell with his hand shoved in this pocket to hide the blood, and once inside he cleared off his knuckles. He watched the blood run down the drain until the water turned clear, then braced his hands on the small metal basin of the sink and stared at his reflection in the dull plastic mirror on the wall. He’d get out of here early, and do what he needed to do. That was his driving force, and no one would fuck with that.
Violet stared at the woman, her psychologist that she’d been seeing off and on for the last few years since the attack, and noticed the way Doctor Yen watched her with interest. It had been a long, long time since Violet had been back to talk to the therapist, but she also knew that she wasn’t one hundred percent better either. Maybe at one time she thought she had been, even convinced herself that the therapy hadn’t been working, but the truth was it had been, and she wanted to talk to someone about how she felt about Cain.
“How are you’re feeling today Violet? It’s been a long time since we have spoken together.”
Violet nodded and looked around the office. The building she was in currently held a doctor’s practice, a lawyer’s office, real-estate agent, and her therapist’s office. It was the only professional building in Chatham View, and her therapist, although not one that was a big-shot in Denver or a bigger city, had helped her immensely over the last few years.
“Violet, is there anything you want to talk about, or if you prefer we can just sit here?”
That was genuine sincerity in Doctor Yen’s voice, and Violet knew that she would be more than happy to sit here and let Violet stare off into space. That was the nice thing about coming here: Violet wasn’t expected to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, even if that was just talking. She looked at her therapist, an older woman with short black and grey hair, flat ironed and swooped to the side. Her dark eyes were partially hidden behind thick black rims, ones that looked stylish and not gaudy. Violet had started seeing Dr. Yen when she was having a hard time concentrating, and partially because Fallina had said it was helping her.
“I just thought coming here might help since I haven’t been able to let my mind get past Cain.”
“Mmhmm,” Doctor Yen said, and jotted something down on her notepad. “This is the man in the motorcycle club, the one that is in jail because he attacked the man that harmed you and his daughter?”
Violet nodded and looked at her hands. She twisted her fingers together, knew that the therapist may not be able to steer her in the direction that would help clear her mind, but she had to try to see if coming back helped.
“Violet, do you think maybe you feel this love, this connection, for this man because you see him as your savior?”
This wasn’t a new question, just one Violet had avoided answering. “No, I don’t think that is the fact.”
“Do you think maybe you see Cain as someone who is like a father figure, and that is why you have this strong attachment to him?”
“Sure, I saw him as a father figure while growing up, but something changed after he was put away.”
“Mmhmm,” Doctor Yen said again and jotted down some more notes. “Let’s recap, Violet.” The therapist stared at her and smiled gently. “Your mother wasn’t in the picture, and you don’t remember her, right?”
“Your father was an alcoholic that would verbally abuse you on your looks and weight.”
“Yeah, that’s correct.” As strange as it was hearing it from someone else, Violet had moved past her father’s emotional abuse. She didn’t let it shape her. What was consuming her since she was sixteen was Cain, and of course those lingering feelings of disgust when she thought about the man that had hurt her.
“Then the man,” Dr. Yen looked down at her notes, “Carl Brungarden, raped you when you were sixteen.” The therapist didn’t phrase it like a question. “It’s been a very long time since we’ve talked, Violet. How have you been dealing with that?”
Violet looked down at her hands again. “I don’t think about Carl, or at least I try not to. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see something ugly, picture his hands holding me down, but it hasn’t controlled me or any relationships I’ve tried to have.”
The doctor nodded.
“I’m not damaged though. Carl doesn’t have that kind of control over me. And no, I don’t think the rape, or my father, has anything to do with what I feel for Cain.”
The doctor didn’t move and didn’t say anything, just let Violet speak, and right now that was what Violet needed.
“Violet, I think you’ve come a long way, and are doing remarkably well for someone with the life, the past you have had.”
“Thank you. I think I’m doing well in life, too, but I just can’t get my feelings for Cain to diminish, not even after all these years.”
She nodded. “Do you want the feelings to diminish?”
Violet thought about that. “No, I don’t, but I also know I can’t possibly have anything with him in that way.”
“And why is that?”
“Because he isn’t the type of man that settles down, especially not with a woman like me, his daughter’s best friend.”
“Violet, maybe speaking to Cain will help in you moving forward, help you make that first step.”
“He’s pushed me away, and I’ve stayed away because I don’t want to make things bad between us.”
“There isn’t a timeframe where you have to move on, where you have to stop thinking about the past. That takes time, and is why you have seen me in the past and now. You need to just get through it one day at a time.” She smiled at Violet. “But you have to start with yourself first, worry about making you whole and right before you try and focus on taking the next step in that direction.”
Violet knew Doctor Yen was telling the truth, and knew that although she was doing very well in her life, she wouldn’t be able to just work on herself and not worry about what she wanted with Cain. She loved him, and that was not an emotion she wanted to lose. The past hadn’t weakened her, but made her stronger.
Cain felt the wind on his face, the freedom run through his veins. He was finally out of this piece of shit place and would be able to exact his revenge, and be with his girls. He stopped and waited for the gates to open and let him out. But there wasn’t any welcoming committee on the other side, just a black SUV with a pierced and tatted up motherfucker wearing a Brothers of Menace Prospect cut, and looking a little apprehensive.
Good, he should be a little frightened in Cain’s presence. Cain walked through to the outside, took a second to revel in the fact he was finally out, and glanced at the guard that stood on the other side.
Fuck you, motherfucker.
“Have a fan-fucking-tastic-day,” he said instead of what he really thought. He grinned, and the guard didn’t move, didn’t even crack a smile or snarl. Cain walked up to the prospect, eyed the man up and down, and commented on the fact he was a big asshole. He’d be a good addition to the club for muscle alone, but then again it would all depend on how loyal and true to the MC he was. They didn’t want any weak bastard wearing their cuts.
“I’m Pierce, brother.” The prospect held his hand out.
Cain eyed the outstretched hand. “I’m not your brother.” He moved past Pierce, and climbed in the front seat. Pierce stayed by the passenger side door for a few seconds, then walked around the front of the SUV. He had this fierce look on his face, and Cain smirked. The man better toughen up. If he thought Cain would embrace him right off the bat, without even knowing shit about the man, his feelings would get hurt a hell of a lot. Cain didn’t trust many people aside from the men in his club, and until Pierce showed himself and proved his loyalty, he was just another schmuck on the fucking street to Cain.
Pierce got in the driver’s seat, started the engine, and glanced Cain’s way. “Man, lots of shit has happened since you were in, and a lot of it ain’t good.”
Great, just what Cain needed right now, but then again, when he was part of an MC, things didn’t always run smoothly. That was the violent, dangerous life they led, and being front and center when the shit hit the fan was all part of being in the brotherhood.
Several weeks later
Cain kicked open the front doors of the clubhouse, his body full of adrenaline, his blood pumping, and the need to finish this once and for all consuming him. The guys were playing cards at a table inside, and when Cain stepped in they all stood. Carl was already half dead, busted and bruised, and spilling blood on the club floor, and Cain wanted him hurting even more. They stared at each other, the club members looking confused and a little curious as to what was going on.
“Brother, what the fuck is going on?” Lucien asked.
But they had to know what the fuck was going on, had to know he’d needed to do this for the last nine fucking years. He’d found Carl at a local bar, had been tracking the fucker since he’d been out. The asshole had been trying to pick up some young girls, probably defile them like he’d done with Cain’s baby and Violet.
Cain lifted the groaning man high enough that they could get a look at his fucked-up face, and then he tossed him onto the floor, feeling satisfaction when Carl grunted but was too weak to pull his ass off the ground. The guy’s head cracked against the ground, and Cain walked over his body, cracking his busted as hell knuckles. He needed to hit Carl like a damn punching bag until Cain’s hands could no longer work. Cain went over to the bar, reached across the counter for a bottle of tequila, and drank a good portion of it before slamming the bottle back on the bar. He turned around and faced them. “That motherfucker right there.” He tipped his chin toward Carl.
“Is the one that messed with Fallina?”
Cain nodded after Kink spoke.
“What the hell are you doing bringing him here?” Malice asked and moved over to the guy, pushed him onto his back with a boot, and stared down at him.
“I am kind of low on places I can torture a prick that tried to rape my daughter,” Cain said and looked at Lucien, not revealing that Carl had actually raped Violet. “I need a place to store him until I’m done.”
“Done doing what?” Kink asked.
Cain stared at each of them, giving them a “You know exactly what the fuck I’m going to do to him” look. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Getting vengeance for all the pain my daughter has had to live with because of this bastard.” Cain grabbed the bottle again and drank more, his stare trained on the piece of shit on the floor. Malice, Kink, and Lucien three of them moved over to Cain.
“I want to watch him hurt, want to see the pain on his face, and want to have him realize that he’ll die at my hands,” Cain gritted out, and felt the fire in his veins burn brighter, hotter. “And I didn’t know where else to go, so once I found out where the asshole was, tracked his movements, this was the first place I thought of.”
Lucien grabbed his shoulder. “He hurt your daughter, and that means he messed with this whole fucking club.” Lucien moved a step back. “Let’s take him to the garage. The cement floor is coated so the blood won’t stain.”
And then they were hauling the man out that was about to live the last moments of his life out in agony.
Cain stared at the man that was strung up like a pig about to be gutted. He had drank half a bottle of scotch, and although he wanted to be drunk because this situation brought back a lot of memories, he made sure to stop so he was semi-sober. His little girl wasn’t a little girl any longer. At twenty-five Fallina was an adult now, leading a life that wasn’t affected by this piece of shit. His brothers were around, lending their silent support for what he was going to do to this bastard. Cain planned on making the man suffer, planned on making him scared like how his little girl and Violet had been nine years ago.
He was proud that Fallina was living her life healthy, happy. She was a schoolteacher, helping others and giving them her support. She was a good girl, Violet, too, and this piece of shit waste of space had taken that happiness from them. He closed his eyes and breathed out, knowing that this prick hadn’t gotten far enough with Fallina to take her innocence—thank fuck. But he had taken Violet’s innocence, ripped it from her young body like it was his in the first place. Violet may not be his by blood, but he’d watched her grow, knew her home life had been shitty, and he had told her years ago he’d never let anyone hurt her. He’d failed in that respect, and he’d make it up to her. What she didn’t know, and what he was fighting with every damn day of his life, was the fact he wanted Violet as his own. He wanted her like he shouldn’t, in a way that was wrong and immoral in his eyes. She had been there for him all those years ago when he had been locked up, telling him where this bastard was even though he hadn’t wanted her to get involved. She was fierce and strong, despite what this asshole had done to her.
He slowly opened his eyes, felt rage and murder fill his head and body, and curled his hands into tight fists at his sides. Yeah, this motherfucker would pay with blood and his screams of pain. Cain was getting his vengeance now for the two women he cared about more than himself.
The man was already beaten and bloody, begging for his life, but those pleas fell on deaf ears. They were in the garage behind the clubhouse, and had been for the last few hours. Cain was unstoppable, and wouldn’t lighten up until the fucker was not breathing any longer. Carl, the man that had hurt everything he held dear, had his arms above his head, and a piece of rope was secured around his wrists and hung suspended from one of the beams above. He passed out, but Cain would make sure that he didn’t stay that way for long. He walked over to grab a bucket of ice water Kink had brought him, moved toward Carl, and tossed the frigid water on the hanging man. The rapist sputtered and came back to consciousness, and Cain grinned. He took a step back, and took off his once white t-shirt, which was now blood splattered from the beating he had given Carl.