I hate being interrupted.
Not when I’m talking.
Not during practice.
And sure as freaking hell not when I’m about to plunder Cadence Cooper to within an inch of her life.
Any other girl made me hot like that just to break it off, I wouldn’t have batted an eye before I sent them packing and ignored them cold.
But Cadence?
One jerk of my chain and I’ve got no choice but to come running.
This girl has me wrapped around her pinkie finger and I’m storming into her crappy apartment in this crappy side of town, the sun beating down on me and making me sweat while my rock-hard body protests every freaking step.
Damn. Damn. This is torture.
I should be plastering her to a wall and delving inside her like a maniac.
Keep it cool, Dutch.
I step into the apartment, passing the table where I made myself a sandwich and waited for Cadence to arrive that night. She stumbles right past it, heading for her bedroom.
One look at that bed and it’s over. My mind thickens with more memories of holding her. Biting down on her ear. Plunging into her mouth. Taking her hard and fast.
Calm down.
But at this point, not even a cold shower will do much.
“You need me here for this part?” I ask.
“What?” Cadence says as if half her brain is already beyond this moment.
“Good,” I mumble. Hurrying to the bathroom, I adjust myself and dunk my head under their tiny faucet. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do for now.
I can’t be screwed up in the head. If Cadey needs me to fight, I need my brain firing on all cylinders.
Once I feel like I’m in control again, I glance around the bathroom. Small towels are folded neatly. The shower curtain is pushed back and I force myself not to imagine Cadey getting undressed and stepping under the water.
Everything is small and rusted, but it’s clean.
I sniff. Strange. The faint smell of weed is in the air.
It sure as hell isn’t Cadey’s. She’s wound up so tight that I could pluck her like a guitar string and she’d ring a note.
Is it Viola? Was drugs what caused the fight the other night?
That doesn’t seem likely either. Viola’s smart, much smarter than even her sister gives her credit for. I can totally see her turning that makeup channel into the real deal, getting sponsors, and making an empire for herself. She isn’t as fragile as she looks.
Her sister either.
I open the door, curious but clearing every single shred of emotion from my face.
A rustling sound is coming from Cadence’s bedroom. I head there and find her on her knees, letting out a shocked cry as she stares intently at something in a duffel bag. My eyes drift to the bag too and I stop short.
A stack of bills fill the case.
Cadence’s brown eyes slide from the bag to me and back. “How much was that ring?”
“About twenty grand.” It was my grandmother’s. Vintage. I didn’t want to see it on anyone else’s fingers but hers.
Cadence makes that helpless cry again. Her bottom lip trembles. “Why would you give such a valuable piece of jewelry to me?”
“Because I wanted you to have it.” My tone is matter-of-fact.
The stare she levels me would have made me wince if I were a smaller guy.
I blink as if none of it freaking matters.
Probably the wrong move.
Curses sputtering past her pretty lips, she thrusts to her feet and storms past me. I stop her by slamming my hand against the door.
She jerks to a stop and tips her chin up, meeting my eyes with a challenging stare.
“I’m not upset, Cadey. If you needed the cash—”
“I will punch you,” she snaps.
My lips quirk up, but I don’t laugh. Instead, I rub her shoulders. “Who took the ring, Cadey? And why does it make you so upset?”
“It’s…” She sighs. “It’s really complicated.”
“Let me un-complicate it. I’m good at that.” I keep touching her and I notice the tension in her shoulders start to fade.
She closes her eyes. “Actually, my mom—”
My phone rings.
Cadence stiffens and steps back.
I check the caller.
Finn.
Damn.
“I need to…” I gesture to the phone.
She turns away from me.
Irritated, I slap the phone to my ear. “This better be good, Finn.”
“You think I would have called you to discuss the freaking weather?”
I cringe. That’s not good. Finn sounds like he’s at the edge of his patience. My stoic brother rarely loses his cool.
“What’s going on?” I ask urgently.
“Zane just called me. Dad’s home. He’s saying he’s moving in.” Finn pauses. “And he invited Miss Jamieson to move in with him and her mother.”
Holy freaking…
We just got Zane to recover from that bomb dad dropped on our heads at the restaurant. It’s one thing to see the woman he loves but can’t have waltzing around at school. It’s another freaking thing entirely to have her in the same house, using our showers, prancing around in a nightgown in the kitchen.
Hell, I don’t even live with Cadence and I already find it hard to keep my hands off her.
“Dad’s going to discuss it tonight over dinner. He’s already there with Marion.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Alright, dad wants to make this uncomfortable? We play the same game. I’m calling mom.”
“Will it make a difference?”
“She’s better at controlling him than we are.”
Finn goes quiet. “Why is dad going so hard on Zane?”
“Do you want your kingdom to crumble?” I think about our exchange in the classroom and wince. “I told him to come at us.”
“So he made another cheap shot,” Finn hisses.
“He can’t go too far. We know too much of what he’s done.” I hear someone shuffling toward me and turn around. Cadence is approaching the living room, the bag of money on her shoulder and a frown on her lips. “I’ll be there soon, Finn.”
“Hurry. I’ll meet you at the house.”
I hang up. “I have to go.”
“Here.” She sticks the bag out at me.
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“Some of the money is still there. I’ll find a way to pay you back for the rest.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Take it.” She shoves the bag harder.
My phone buzzes again.
Zane.
He’s probably going to tell me the same thing Finn did.
The urge to help my brothers is strong, but I don’t feel right about leaving Cadence alone.
Wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I push her arm into her stomach so she can’t force the bag on me. Voice low and stern, I tell her, “Call your friend over. The little blonde one.”
“Breeze?”
I nod.
“I was planning on doing that anyway,” she grumbles. And then she tries to push the bag at me. “Dutch, take it.”
I step back and keep walking away. “I’m not going to ask you to tell me who pawned the ring. And I’m not going to ask you to admit you have feelings for me either.” I stop at the door. “The only thing I’m going to demand is that you call me if you’re in danger.”
“I’m not in danger.”
“Call me if you want to fight then.”
“You’re not funny.”
“If anything happens, you pick up your phone and you dial my number.”
“Dutch…”
“Call me.” I open the door and memorize her face for a second before I let it slam behind me.
