Unattainable (30 page)

“
Jesus, fuck, Teacup,” he
muttered, scrubbing his palms over his eyes. “What the fuck did you
do to me?”

She’d fucked him. Literally and
figuratively. He was fucked.

She was all he could think about. He
wanted her back, back home, back in his bed, just back, back,
back.

He was so consumed by his thoughts that
when his cell phone began to vibrate, he jumped. Cursing, he leaned
across his bed and grabbed it off his nightstand.

Dad: Where the fuck are you?

Cage glared down at the text message
from his father.
Home
, he typed in. Another moment passed
and his phone vibrated again.

Dad: You stupid? We got handouts today.

No, he wasn’t stupid. He’d known, he
just hadn’t cared. But…

“
Fuck this shit,” he
muttered and jumped out of bed. Getting drunk wasn’t working,
fucking wasn’t working. He might as well stop by the club and see
what runs his old man had in the works. Maybe once he put Miles
City in his rearview, he could forget this shit with Tegen, forget
how pathetic he’d been, and hopefully forget her
entirely.

• • •

“
Vegas,” Deuce said. “Who
wants it?”

“
Legal prostitution? Count
me in.”

Cage glanced down the long rectangular
meeting table to where Tap was seated. The guy lifted his arm and
held up two fingers.

Eying Tap, looking annoyed, Deuce
palmed one of the file folders in front of him and slid it down the
table. Tap’s arm shot out and snatched it up. Leaning back in his
chair, he started leafing through it.

“
Dirty,” Deuce continued,
holding up another folder. “As usual, you got Philly
and—”

“
No.”

All eyes shot to Dirty, who was shaking
his head. “Can’t do it. Can’t leave Miles City right
now.”

Deuce cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? You
mind sharin’ why?”

Dirty continued shaking his head.
“Can’t.”

A couple of the boys burst out laughing
until Deuce’s fist slammed down hard on the table and the room went
silent.

“
Is this still about
Ellie?” Deuce asked. “’Cause you already fuckin’ know Mooresville
ain’t touchin’ her. We set his shit straight, yeah?” Deuce glanced
to Mick, who nodded.

“
He ain’t touchin’ her,”
Mick confirmed. “Had a nice long chat with the fucker myself. He
gets it, knows he needs us ’bout as much as we need him if he wants
to keep livin’ in fuckin’ luxury.”

“
We told him the bitch is
off-limits,” Cox added as he cracked his knuckles one by one. “Told
him with my fists a few times too. He gets it, brother. You don’t
gotta worry.”

“
Prez,” Dirty said
hurriedly. “Maybe we could talk? In private?”

Cage cocked his head to the side and
stared at the guy. What the fuck was up with him? Something was
different about him. Something other than the fact that he’d been
showering and shaving.

Holy shit.

“
Dirty,” he said, drawing
all attention to himself. “You fuckin’ Ellie?” All eyes shot right
back to Dirty and simultaneously widened with surprise.

Ellie was hot, but from what Cage
remembered she had a damn stick up her ass. The bitch wasn’t any
fun. At all. He’d fucked her once way back when and never had any
inclination to go back for more. But Ellie and…Dirty?

What the fuck?

“
Dude,” Anger said.
“You’re tappin’ that shit, ain’t ya? That’s what the pretty boy
look is all about, yeah?”

Cage watched as Dirty’s expression went
from uncomfortable to scared shitless, looking like he was about to
bolt. Deuce saw this and gave a quick nod.

“
After the meeting, we’ll
talk,” he said tersely and Dirty, looking relieved, slumped back in
his chair.

“
Ripper,” Deuce said, back
to business. “You’re headed out to Cali next week, right? I’m gonna
need you to swing by Oakland and—”

“
Can’t do it,” Ripper
said, wincing when Deuce’s death glare turned on him. “Sorry, Prez.
Harley’s gettin’ tubes put in her ears and if I ain’t there for the
surgery, your daughter is gonna leave my ass.”

“
My daughter,” Deuce bit
out, “knows how it goes. She ain’t gonna say
jack-fuckin’-shit.”

Ripper snorted. “Maybe not to you, but
me? Yeah, Prez, I’m gonna get an earful and that ain’t all she’ll
do either.”

“
You scared of your old
lady, Ripper?” Mick said, laughing. “What’s she? A buck thirty
soakin’ wet?”

It was Ripper’s turn to shoot a death
glare. “Fuck you,” he shot back. “I ain’t scared of shit except
havin’ nowhere to put my dick when it gets cold and sad and wants a
motherfuckin’ hug.”

The entire table cracked up, every
brother except Cage, Deuce, and Ripper roared with laughter. Mick
was even wiping tears from his eyes.

Deuce flashed Ripper a disgusted look
and the guy grimaced. “Sorry, Prez,” Ripper muttered. “But you know
how it go—”

“
Don’t finish that fuckin’
sentence,” Deuce growled, his nostrils flaring angrily. “And the
rest of you assholes,” he said, looking around the table. “Reel it
the fuck in before I put a bullet in each of you.”

Despite Cage being thoroughly disgusted
by the mental image Ripper had just painted for him, he’d gotten
stuck on what his father had said.

You’re headed out to Cali
next week, right? I’m gonna need you to swing by
Oakland.

Oakland. Twenty fucking minutes
from…

Tegen.

“
I’ll take Oakland,” he
said loudly, ignoring Cox as the fucker turned to face him with a
shit-eating grin on his face.

“
You sure ’bout that?” Cox
drawled. “Lot of hippies crawlin’ ’round close by.”

“
You ain’t never ran Cali
territory,” Deuce said. “Why the fuck would I send you?”

“
Because I’m not a fuckin’
moron,” Cage spat. “I’ve ran East Coast, why the fuck not
west?”

The table went silent as father and son
stared each other down, but Cage wasn’t going to back down this
time. He wanted this run because he wanted to see Tegen, and he
didn’t give a fuck that every brother in this room knew exactly
what his game was. So much for forgetting the bitch; he was
contemplating tying her to the back of his bike and bringing her
ass back home where he would promptly tie her to his bed until she
agreed to stay.

“
When we’re done here, you
fuckin’ talk to Ripper. You fuckin’ breathe in every word that
motherfucker tells you and you best hope it sticks. Shit goes south
in Oakland, it’s on you. You feel me?”

Cage gave his old man a brisk
nod.

Two days later he was eating concrete,
California bound.

Upon entering the hallway, Cage could
hear music and laughter, smell the green, the booze…the
sex.

Nostrils flaring, his fists clenched,
he stopped walking and took a deep breath. If she were in there
with…

Anxiety like he’d never felt before
painfully cinched his stomach.

If she were in there with ZZ or with
another guy, he’d kill him, then her, then everyone else in her
fucking apartment, and, depending on how he was feeling after that
bloodbath, possibly everyone in San Francisco too.

Goddamn, he fucking hated her. Hated
how she went out of her way to make him feel like the biggest idiot
to ever walk the planet, hated that she couldn’t care less if he
looked her way or not, hated that HE wanted her so fucking bad he
could taste it and she wanted nothing, fucking nothing at all, to
do with him.

He’d told her he loved her. He’d opened
up his entire fucking world to her. And…

She’d fucking snuck out on him, for
Christ’s sake.

Yeah, so why the fuck was he here? He
was a glutton for punishment, that much he was painfully aware of.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Every time he closed his
eyes, there she was…

At thirteen, with glasses and braces
and the biggest, ugliest, frizziest hair he’d ever seen, following
him around like a lovesick puppy.

At sixteen, when he taken her virginity
and she’d told him she loved him and he’d been a nineteen-year-old
asshole who’d told her, “It ain’t like that for me,
baby.”

At seventeen and eighteen, when she’d
refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge his
existence.

At nineteen, after being away at
college for a year, when she’d come home to Montana and he’d taken
one look at her, her new look, her new attitude and wanted her. And
she hadn’t wanted him.

And now, at twenty-four, she was
everything he wanted in a woman. But she still hadn’t forgiven him,
still didn’t want him.

All of it consistently churned within
his thoughts, fucking up even the simplest of tasks.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the
doorknob, pushed open the door, and was greeted with a thick cloud
of smoke. After several minutes of shoving half-naked, dancing,
drugged-up bodies out of his way, he saw her.

Seated in the middle of an old,
battered lime-green sofa was Tegen. Her long copper dreads were
pulled back in a heavily beaded ponytail, her head was thrown back,
displaying her numerous braided hemp necklaces, her pierced lips
were parted, her hooded sweatshirt was unzipped, exposing her small
breasts.

She didn’t even notice him. She was too
fucking busy noticing the two guys who were mauling her, one with
his hand down the front of her jeans, the other palming her breast
while he went to town on her neck.

Shaking, Cage pulled his gun from the
back of his leathers and aimed. The first bullet hit the right
speaker, the second one the left, and the music stopped instantly.
All eyes flew to him.

“
Get out!” he roared,
gesturing with his gun. “Get the fuck out before I blow a fuckin’
hole in every fuckin’ one of you!”

Screaming, people started scrambling,
grabbing their shit and running for the door, edging fearfully
around him as they scurried around the room.

One of the skinny, stupid motherfuckers
that had had his hands all over Tegen looked back and forth between
Cage and her.

“
Tegen?” he asked
warily.

“
David,” Tegen said, her
eyes on Cage. “Go.”

“
But—”

“
Just go, David!” she
screamed.

“
But—”

“
GO!” Cage roared,
pointing his piece at the motherfucker’s forehead.

He got.

Tegen pushed herself up off the couch
and stood. “You know the cops are gonna be here any second, right?”
she yelled.

“
YES!” he shouted. “And I
don’t give a motherfuck!”

He should care. He should care that his
father was going to lose his shit when he found out that he hadn’t
even made it to Oakland, that instead he’d come straight to San
Francisco, straight to Tegen. But he didn’t. What he cared about
was her.

“
God, you are really
stupid,” she muttered.

His nostrils flared. “I ain’t stupid,”
he spat. “I know the fuckin’ difference between fuckin’ some bitch
and fuckin’ you! You cryin’ into my mouth, grindin’ your shit on
me, beggin’ me for more! You were right there with me, bitch! I did
not fuckin’ imagine that shit!”

Her green almond-shaped eyes narrowed.
“You wanna fuck me some more, Cage?” she said evenly. “Is that why
you came here and shot up my apartment? ’Cause if that’s the case,
then let’s get to it.”

He watched her shove down her jeans and
underwear and then kick them away.

He glared at her, wishing he could just
turn around and walk away. Because he sure as fuck felt like a
fool, she always made him feel like a fool. But standing there
staring at her slim, sleek body, her high, perky breasts, the
nipple rings, the belly button jewelry, the beautiful artwork
tattooed over her milky-white freckled skin… He couldn’t. Ah, God,
fucking shit. He was stupid. Stupid for coming here.

“
I fucking hate you,” he
hissed as he shoved his gun back in his pants and quickly crossed
the room.

“
I’ve hated you for
years,” she hissed back. “Guess we’re even no—”

He grabbed her ponytail and yanked her
head sideways but kept moving, forcing her to stumble backward
until her back hit the wall.

“
You don’t hate me,” he
said, yanking open his leathers with his free hand. Dropping his
face into her neck, he took her skin between his teeth and lightly
rolled it.

In his grip, she shook her head wildly.
“Stop,” she breathed. “Cage…wait.”

“
Fuck you,” he muttered,
sliding his hand down her slim body. “I know what I saw, I know you
still love me, Teacup.”

“
Don’t call me Teacup!”
she screamed. “I am not your Teacup!”

It was the wrong thing to say, but he’d
already known that before he said it, he just didn’t care anymore.
He’d spent the last month thinking about little else but her, her
absence, and not knowing how she really felt, both driving him
crazy. So, no, he no longer gave two fucks about her violent temper
tantrums.