“Well, I’ve helped Mom. But she’s such a good cook. She’s like Top Chef amazing. It’s kind of intimidating. I mostly just watch and try to stay out of her way.”
“Okay. That stops now.”
“What?”
“The sideline thing. You’re a big girl now. You’re going to cook.”
“I am?” I sat up, feeling excited at the idea. “Really?”
Cain nodded and strained the rice pasta.
“Yes. Starting tomorrow. You have free reign in the kitchen. Just write down what you want and I’ll get it for you.” He gave me a sweet smile. “I’ll even do the dishes.”
“Thank you.”
I smiled, feeling surprisingly happy. Maybe the forty-seven orgasms he’d given me had something to do with that. Or maybe it was just . . . Cain.
I was being so lazy, but he insisted on my resting while he cooked for us. I was wrapped in a thick robe, way too big for me, of course, watching Cain work from the couch while the cooking channel played on the TV. I’d always wanted to cook, it was true. But Mom was so good at it, it hadn’t really made sense. The woman wouldn’t even let me make myself a sandwich.
It was how she showed me love. I knew that. One of the many, many ways. But maybe she hadn’t really done me a favor by doing all that stuff for me. Self-sufficiency was sexy. I wanted to be able to do things for myself.
Cain seemed to sense that. He wanted to empower me. When I wasn’t wrapped around his cock, that is.
He definitely wanted to be in charge in bed.
“This smells delicious.”
He set down two plates on the coffee table.
“You like to watch TV when you eat, right?”
I nodded.
“It’s relaxing. Not all the time though.”
“Cass told me.”
“Just when I’m tired.”
He just sat down next to me and kissed my cheek. I noticed he was having a Portobello burger with his pasta too.
“You didn’t want steak?”
“I do. And I will eat it again. But not tonight.”
“Really?”
“You said if everyone skipped meat a few times a week, it would slow down global warming, right?”
“Right.” I stared at him in wonder. “You really listened to me.”
“Of course I did. I love you, Princess.”
“I love you, too.”
He kissed me softly and I leaned into it. The kiss deepened and tongues got involved. I whimpered, already getting excited. I was ready to forget about dinner. But he was more restrained than me. He pulled back with a growl.
“Behave yourself, young lady.”
We ate and watched other people cook food for a few hours. I was so sleepy I barely noticed when Cain carried me back to bed. He made love to me once toward dawn and again when I woke up from his alarm.
I drifted off again and woke up around 10:30. I looked around and found a note.
The guys are outside so you’ll be safe. I’ll be back.
Love you
-Cain
He was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cain
“We tracked his movements here, and here.” Trace pointed at an interactive map of the blocks around the courthouse. “But then we lost him around here.”
“Show me everything.”
I was in the control room, where Trace managed all our tech. He had multiple monitors going all the time, with someone always in the room to monitor them, though no one else was allowed to touch anything.
Except me, of course.
A few things never changed. They were always on the screen. Kelly’s house. My house. A few other spots, including some clients’ places.
We had eyes everywhere.
And then there were the drones.
Trace really loved his toys. He’d even named every single one of them. Mostly after WWF fighters from the 80s and 90s. He had a strange sense of humor.
But we weren’t looking at drone surveillance this time. Our drones had not been anywhere near the area. This time, it was Connor who had hooked us up with the security footage. Most traffic lights had cameras now, and he had gotten us the footage from every side of the park.
“Get in here, guys.”
Hunter and Vice ambled in. Johnson too. He wasn’t a biker, but he was ex-military. Most of my guys were.
I leaned forward. We all stared at the screen as the camera caught the fucker going in. Setting his trap for my woman, the POS. At least we thought it was him. Unfortunately, the cameras didn’t do closeups.
It was impossible to tell who the fuck he was.
Kelly’s character sketch would help, but it wasn’t a hundred percent reliable. She’d only seen him for a few moments. A minute or two, tops. And a sketch of a scraggly biker with facial hair was kind of pointless.
Never mind that the fucker had been wearing sunglasses.
So he was smart on top of being pure fucking evil.
Just watching that ambling, shuffling strut was enough to send a chill down my spine. He was aggressive, but clearly unhinged. He walked with the assurance of a man who had seen the metal meet the road.