Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-Three
Caine
I head upstairs, rapping three times on the door frame before calling her name. No answer. There’s not even a disgruntled snuffle from Gremlin. Fuck it. Boundaries be damned, I open the door.
“Margot?”
Her name hangs in the silence of the empty bedroom. The bed is made, blinds are open, and the bathroom light is off. Gremlin’s soft-sided half-crate-half-bag situation isn’t in the corner.
Pulling out my phone, I text her: What happened to horror movie rules?
I stare, waiting for Seen and a time stamp to pop up beneath my texts. Nothing.
Fucking hell.
What are you doing, Margot? The longer I think about it, the more frustrated I get. I didn’t think I needed to say, Hey, maybe don’t fuck off by yourself considering we’re a rattlesnake and porchful of blood deep into this predicament together.
The tracker. I swipe over to Friends Near Me, relief filling me when I see her glowing dot.
At least she didn’t turn off location tracking.
Zooming in shows she’s at the Green Bean, a coffee shop in downtown Newbound, not far from Shane’s firm.
While I don’t love that she isn’t answering my text, seeing her dot there is comforting. She works from there all the time.
Despite speeding, it takes me forty-seven minutes to reach the Green Bean. Margot’s light gray Elantra is parked on the far side of the lot, and I pull in beside it. The day is unusually gloomy, the sky promising rain. There’s only one person working on the coffee shop’s patio.
Margot.
The tightness in my chest eases. Dragging a hand through my hair, I exhale hard. Okay. Time for a conversation about healthy communication and a refresher on the “sticking together” rule.
As I cross the parking lot toward the patio, I’m not alone.
A man approaches from the side lot. He’s tall, wearing a navy sweatshirt with the hood pulled up.
I wouldn’t think twice about him, except for the fact that if we both continue to chart our current course, we’ll end at Margot.
Makes sense for me, obviously, but if he’s heading for the coffee shop entrance, he’ll need to angle his path.
He has less distance to cover than I do if he’s headed toward her, though.
Nope.
Don’t like that.
Quickening my stride, I wait for him to alter his trajectory. He doesn’t. If anything, he’s locked in tighter on her.
Could be a coincidence. As soon as the thought enters my head, I dismiss it.
I’ve seen way too many horror movies to be the guy who goes, Well, even though it looks like the monster, and acts like the monster, let’s give it the benefit of the doubt.
Hell no. Maybe if it were my ass sitting in the chair, but there is no giving the benefit of the doubt when it comes to her.
Now that I’m closer, I can see there’s something in his far hand. What little sunshine slips through the clouds reflects off it. Gun, the voice in my head informs me, far more calmly than I feel. He’s carrying a gun. I break into a sprint.
The man is focused on Margot; that’s the only explanation for how I get as close to him as I do before he notices me.
By then it’s too late. I lunge, slamming into him with a bone-jarring thud.
A glimpse of silver catches my eye as the gun goes sailing, landing with a crack on the concrete.
We hit the ground hard, tumbling across the patio.
I’ve never wanted to hurt anybody as much as I want to hurt him right now.
The man doesn’t react how I expect. Instead of being shocked by my attack, he rolls with the impact, attempting to put me into an armbar. Motherfucker.
Shoulder walking out of his attempted hold, I twist, hooking him with my legs and rolling us all the way over.
A car holds down the horn. Margot shouts.
Gremlin barks. All of that feels far away, muffled as if I’m underwater.
This piece of shit I’m about to wreck is the only clear spot in my vision.
He’s not giving up easily, and that delights a sick part of me.
I want him to get a few good hits in, if only so it’s that much more satisfying when I smear him across the patio.
He’s clearly not new to fighting, because he almost rolls us right back over.
For a moment we’re grappling, a snarled mess of arms and legs as we each try to get the upper hand.
Metal screeches against pavement as we tumble into a chair, or maybe a table.
It’s been years since I’ve been in a fight, but my body moves on instinct, as if returning to its natural state.
This is what I do. Bees buzz. Fish swim. I fight. More importantly, I win.
Margot’s shouting. I can’t make out the words, but her voice is worried.
I wish I could tell her not to, that everything is going to be fine.
A pang of regret that she’s witnessing this side of me stings for a second, but my fist connecting with his jaw feels way too good.
I’m straddling him now, yanking up his head so I can crack it back down against the concrete.
He’s smart, tucking his chin, but that won’t matter if I hit hard enough, for long enough.
He will never get near Margot again.
Margot’s voice is no longer miles away, but in my ear. Warm breath skims my cheek, and the smell of her perfume delights my nose a second before she puts me in one hell of a choke hold.
That’s my girl flashes through my brain as spots appear in my vision.
“Caine! No.” Hard and sharp, she’s using the same tone I heard her use on Gremlin when the dog found a dead shrew.
It doesn’t make me let go of the fucker, but I do pause.
I’m now in the weird mental place of being aroused by Margot limiting the blood flow to my brain, but also trying to murder this guy.
My confusion allows him to glance a punch off my jaw.
“Jeremy, no!” Margot snaps, abandoning the choke hold to hook her arms under mine and try to drag me backward. “Both of you stop!”
Jeremy? Reluctantly, I block his final mediocre punch and let Margot tow me off him. We’re going to have to try this whole her-yanking-me-around thing at the haunt, because it is hot. Staggering to my feet, I brush my hands off on my jeans. The other man rises.
“Who the fuck are you?” we ask each other in near unison.
“Caine, this is Jeremy. Jeremy, this is Caine.” Margot rubs her forehead. “Caine, what was that?”
“He was sneaking up behind you.” I step closer to the man. “What’s your problem?”
“I was trying to bring back her blow-dryer,” he spits. “What the fuck is your problem?”
This is my first time meeting Margot’s ex-fiancé.
Now that he’s pushed the hood of his sweatshirt back, I see he has tousled blond hair, freckles, and a nose that’s been broken a time or two.
In short, he doesn’t look a thing like Nicholas.
Regardless, I don’t like him. I’m also wondering if there’s any chance he might be assisting Nicholas or even working alone.
If he somehow got his hands on War and decided to use her to scare Margot back to him.
That has to be it.
“You’re my problem, jackass.” I half mean it, half want to see if I can bait him.
“Caine!” Margot’s horrified. Reaching out, I rub her shoulder, trying to soothe her. Swatting my comfort away, she hisses, “Apologize for attacking him.”
I give him my least apologetic smile. “Sorry I kicked your ass.”
“No. Sound fucking sorry, Caine,” Margot snaps, the edge on her voice sharp enough to shave with. My cock takes notice. He is a huge fan of pissed-off Margot. The fire in her eyes, the way she squares up instinctively, how her body language screams, Try me, I dare you. Delicious.
“Fine. If you really aren’t the one fucking with Margot, then I’m sorry.” I can’t help myself: I don’t trust this motherfucker. “But if you left that snake at the door, I swear to god they’re going to need a shovel to scrape you off the—”
“No more.” Margot holds up a hand to me. “Go sit by Gremlin, please.”
Nonplussed, I gape at her. “Are you putting me in time-out?”
“I want to have a conversation without all this aggression.” She makes a tornado gesture at me.
What the fuck.
I slink away to settle into the chair beside Gremlin’s bag, then pull her into my lap.
She cuddles against me. As I scratch behind her ears, I can slowly feel the rest of the anger leaving my body.
I’m good. I got this. As my blood pressure lowers, so does my pride.
Uncomfortably aware that I slipped back into a behavior I thought I’d kicked, I process what just happened.
Margot doesn’t seem to think this Jeremy’s a problem, but I’ve played enough games of Clue to deduce that if it isn’t the ex-husband on the front porch with a bucket of blood, the ex-fiancé is next on the list. I do regret that Margot witnessed this side of me, though.
Way to look like a well-adjusted human being.
All my talk about not being the hothead I was on the show is going to be undone by this miscalculation.
Fix it.
Rising, I head back across the patio. Margot is facing away from me, but Jeremy sees me coming. Rolling back his shoulders, he straightens like someone accused him of being six three instead of six four.
Bigger they are, the harder they fall, buddy.
Scratching behind Gremlin’s ears helps me stay cool.
Fixing my face in what I hope is a neutral expression, I step beside Margot.
Catching the end of their conversation, I realize she’s explained the snake and blood situation to him.
She gives me a watch yourself look, but there’s no fire behind it, her expression softening even more when she notices Gremlin in my arms.
Still not trusting him entirely, I give Jeremy a nod. “I actually am sorry about that. Got a little carried away.”
He shifts his weight foot to foot, studying me. After a pointed throat clearing from Margot, he says, “Thanks. Don’t worry about it.”