Rough Stuff (The Untouchables MC 3)

He was covered up too. Hair in his face. Sunglasses and a jacket, without patches. No visible tats.

Motherfucker.

I watched every tape over and over, from every angle. We didn’t catch him getting on his ride, though we did scan the other security tapes we had access to. His bike at least would have been more recognizable. But he was smart, like I said. He’d parked it somewhere out of the way. Maybe an alleyway or a garage. It was a dead end.

Nothing. We had nothing.

The guy was a Goddamn ghost.

“How the fuck are we supposed to catch smoke?”

“We have to be ready. Watch his targets.”

“He won’t go after her again so soon.”

“Right, so not Kelly. Someone else.”

“We need bait.”

We all turned to look at Trace. I stared at him with raised brows. What he was saying was dangerous. Reckless. Brilliant.

But would it work?

“I have to think about this. We don’t know who he is after. Other than me.”

They all nodded. Nobody wanted to say it. The killer seemed fixated on me, without a doubt.

“It’s not a good time for me to die.”

Vice and Trace laughed but Hunter nodded. He knew what I meant. I had a woman now.

And Kelly would be mighty pissed if I went off and got myself killed.

Especially because there was every chance she was carrying my baby.

I realized something in that moment. I realized I needed to get married. Now.

Just in case.

I wanted her to be protected. I wanted her to get my money. The house. Everything. I wanted her to know that I loved her, even if I was gone.

I pulled out my phone and called the club’s lawyer.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kelly

“So, you guys haven’t heard from him either?”

I chewed on a piece of my hair as Michelle checked with Mason. No one seemed to know where Cain was. And guys like Hunter weren’t exactly in the phone book.

Dammit, Cain. If you are giving me a taste of my own medicine on purpose . . .

“No, sorry. Is everything okay?”

“Just worried. He isn’t answering my texts.”

“I’m sure he’s just busy. He does have that company to run. It’s one of the best in the state.”

“Right.”

I hadn’t realized Cain’s company was so fancy, but I knew I shouldn’t be surprised. Cain was a perfectionist. Of course, he was successful. He never seemed to be short on money and his house was really well-maintained, if unassuming. But it was hard to tell when the man wore leather and broken-in jeans most of the time.

Most men showed their money off with fancy watches and cars. But maybe that was just men who had something to prove. And Cain had nothing to try and compensate for, especially if we were talking below the belt.

I closed my eyes, remembering the time he had taken Mom and me out to dinner. He’d worn a jacket. It had been tailored perfectly to his body.

Hmm . . .

I was pretty sure you couldn’t find something off the rack with his proportions. Cain had incredibly unusual measurements. Most men did not look like he did. So he was more successful than I’d realized. Way more successful, apparently. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Though it was typical Cain that he didn’t mention a thing about it to me.

Cain was one of a kind all right. And he was mine. But where in the hell was he? The guys outside wouldn’t say a damn thing to me, no matter how many times I asked them.

I just want to know if he’s okay!

I heard an engine outside and ran to the window. Cain was pulling his helmet off his head. I let out my breath in a whoosh. He was alive. He was okay.

He was . . . standing there and shooting the shit with his buddies.

I saw red. I’d been scared out of my mind and he was taking his sweet ass time getting up here to reassure me? Were they comparing their biceps or something?

I threw open the door and shouted before I even thought about it.

“Get your ass in here! Right freaking now!”

He looked up at me, surprise written all over his face. All the bikers in the driveway looked up too. I was pretty sure I saw a couple of birds turn to stare at me as well.

Uh-oh. Now you’ve done it, Kelly. Do you really want to get punished again already?

But Cain just grinned and strode toward the front stoop.

“Hi, baby girl.”

“Hi. I’m mad at you.”

“Okay.” His smile widened. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“A couple of hours ago. Why?”

I blinked and almost missed the speed at which he hoisted me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and carried me inside.

He set me down on my feet and shrugged out of his jacket.

“Why do you care when I last ate, you Neanderthal!”