Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(9)

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause.

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

He continued flipping through the old photos. Some were of Eva and the boys, some of Kami being mauled by both Cox and Ripper, some of ZZ, some of Dorothy and Jase.

Jesus. They were all younger than he was now.

But it was the next photo that caused his jaw to drop.

Lying on her back, propped up on her elbows, butt-ass f*cking naked, legs spread wide open, sprawled across what he recognized as his old man’s bed at the club, was Eva. College-age Eva with that “come f*ck me” smile, and those tits, hanging heavy off to her sides, begging to be—

Hurriedly, he tossed it aside. Yeah, they weren’t actually related, but she was his old man’s wife and the mother of his youngest sister, meaning he shouldn’t be using her as bate material. At least, not anymore.

Back when he was eighteen, yeah, that was a whole other story.

The next photo was even worse. It had been taken at such an angle that you knew the person shooting it had been lying down, capturing the person above them.

And the person above them was his father, looking ungodly young compared to now. His long blond hair was pulled back, his suntanned face drawn tight, his nostrils flaring, his light blue eyes were hooded as he stared down at the photographer with…

Lust.

Adoration.

Maybe even some disbelief.

And even though Cage couldn’t see anything past his father’s tattooed chest, it was obvious what was happening. Eva had snapped a picture of his old man while he’d been in the middle of f*cking her. No, not just f*cking. That sorry old bastard had been in love.

Even way back then.

Jealousy swamped him. Not jealousy over Eva, even though she was one fine-ass female, but jealousy of his own father.

How many times had that * f*cked up? How many people had he hurt along the way? And as punishment, God goes and gives him one of the most perfect women Cage had ever known? Beautiful, eighteen motherf*cking years younger than him, with a heart so big, everyone around her could feel that love just pouring out.

Fair. Real f*cking fair.

His * of a father had everything, and he had…

A whole lot of nothing.

Cursing, he jammed the photos back into the envelope, then inside his cut. After setting the photo back to rights on its place on the wall, and giving Frankie one last long look, he headed for the bathroom, suddenly acutely aware that Frankie had once walked these very same steps, had headed for the very same bathroom, pissed in this very same toilet, showered in the very shower behind him, slept in that bed…beside Eva…with Eva.

Fucker had been damned obsessed with her. Worse, even. He’d raped his own wife, forcing Eva to kill him, her own husband.

Flushing, Cage headed back into the bedroom and went straight for the door. No way was he sleeping in a room full of creepy memories and a ghost who may or may not have haunting capabilities, which may or may not include gouging eyes out and slashing skin and making dudes eat their own dick.

Yeah, he liked his intestines exactly where they were, thank you very much.

He’d sleep beside Tiny. Hell, he’d sleep on top of Tiny before he slept in here.

“You didn’t deserve her either, Frankie,” he muttered, closing the door, gladly leaving behind him his stepmother’s painful past and all the garbage that had followed in its wake, locked up tight inside that shrine Preacher was passing off as a room.

“And now you can rot in motherf*ckin’ hell. All alone.”

CHAPTER TWO


Eleanor “Ellie” Tate was SO over the entire world. Over it. Done. Finished.

With her purse clutched tightly to her stomach, she marched down the steps of the very same high school she’d graduated from with honors, feeling utterly rejected.

So much for racism not being as obvious or prevalent in modern day society. How could she have never noticed it until now? She’d been born and raised in Miles City, population nonexistent, a predominately white community with the exception of the surrounding Native American reservations. The whites had stuck together, the Native Americans kept to themselves, and then there was her family. Her mother was white, her father was black, and she was a mutt.

Something she’d never thought twice about until right now. Until she’d left Miles City college bound, spent four years at MSU, another two interning while she worked on her master’s degree, only to return home hoping for a teaching job and getting shut out.

By her own principal, Mrs. Adele Lancaster.

She’d known for a fact there had been several positions open. It was the reason she’d come home. Her mom was sick, stage four breast cancer, and her dad was a wreck. She’d wanted to help out where she could and at the same time get a jump start on her career. Not wanting to waste time getting a connecting flight to Miles City, she’d gotten off the plane in Billings, rented a car, and drove straight to her job interview. She’d planned on surprising her parents, directly afterward, with good news.

So much for that.

I’m very sorry, Ms. Tate, but you’re just not what we have in mind at the moment.

So much for coming home again.

She’d gotten out of there before she’d let that bitter old bitch see how upset she was. But now that she was alone, marching aimlessly down Main Street, past her parked car with no destination, her tears began to fall.