Objective (Bloodlines #2)(33)

“Let the pretty little tart stay,” Mike sneered at him, and sat down next to me, a little too close. Cane’s head whipped around to check on the situation. I felt out of place. I shouldn't be here. Why would Cane bring me? This was no cookout, this was some meeting that I was clearly intruding on. Cane looked nervous and pissed simultaneously. It made my stomach twist.

“I'm not talking to you,” Ezra clipped.

“I’m not talking to you,” Mike mimicked. Ezra’s hand moved at the speed of light and connected with Mike’s nose, sending his head snapping back with a crack. Red mist sprayed from his face. Someone was screaming and it wasn’t until Cane’s arms came around me that I realized it was me.

“Shhh, baby girl…” he soothed into my ear. “Let’s get you out of here.” He released his grip on me and took my hand before tugging on it gently to get my feet moving.

“You go near her again, I'll kill you. You understand me?” Ezra ground out. “She’s an Ash.” Mike’s face was ashen and bloody. I don't understand why Ezra hit him, why he flew off the handle. I’d never seen someone get punched before. Not really. Not intentionally. My feet stumbled over the lumpy yard as Cane dragged me with him towards the street.

“Go home, Mags, it’s not safe here.” He looked ashamed and sad as he spoke.

“I...I don't want to be alone right now, Cane. That...that scared me.” My voice wobbled as I spoke. He kissed my forehead and pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m sorry. I should have never brought you here,” he lamented before opening my car door for me and putting me in it. “I’ll stop over in an hour, Mags, wait up for me.” He kissed me deeply before shutting the door and walking back to the cookout.

What the hell was that all about? My brain went a mile a minute the entire half-hour drive back home. Who were all those sketchy men and why the hell did Ezra fly off the handle like that? I knew they’re family but Cane is nothing like that, not that I’ve seen. Why would he choose to surround himself with those people who are so clearly not like him?

Cane had immediately moved out after graduation into his own place. When I got to Cane’s I poured myself a glass of water and as I chugged it I noticed little red dots splattered across my forearm. In a panic I ran to the bathroom, stripped off my shirt and scrubbed my arm raw. The sight of that man’s blood on my arm had made me feel queasy. I never was good with blood. I took my shirt and tossed it in the trashcan; even if I could get the blood out I doubt I’d ever be able to wear the shirt again. I pulled on one of Cane’s white undershirts and plopped down on the couch before texting him letting him know that I was at his place, not my parents’ house. My parents were out of town this weekend so I would have been home alone-but I’d rather be at Cane’s apartment. It’s comforting to me and smells like him. After an hour with no response to my text I started to get nervous. I texted him again to remind him to go to his place in case he forgot and went back to watching a cheesy movie on AMC.

The front door had blown open an hour later with such a bang that I squealed and leapt off the couch. Cane looked furious as he charged me. He had a black eye and his bottom lip was swollen. I didn't know if I should be scared or glad that he was okay.

“Cane!” I called out before he reached me. His face softened at my voice and when we collided he scooped me up, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist and held on tight. “I love you, Mags. I love you so damned much,” he said into my mouth as he kissed me. “I love you too, Cane,” I told him honestly. He fell back onto the couch with me still wrapped around him so that I was straddling his lap and he took my face in his hands. “I’ll never let them near you again,” he said while searching my eyes for something.

“I’m okay. I, uh, had to throw my shirt away, but I’m alright,” I answered.

“No,” he clipped firmly. “No, Mags, it wasn't alright. You’re too good to ever be exposed to that trash.”

“Cane, that trash is your uncle, I mean, I don’t get why you hang around with the rest of them but I understand family is family,” I answered softly.

“Yeah. Well, if he hadn't raised me I’m not so sure my dad would have wanted us around each other,” he returned cryptically.

“Why would you say that?” I asked and snuggled my head into his chest.

“Mags, he’s into bad stuff...I guess I am too. It’s the family business.”

“Please, Cane, please come to school with me. You can get student loans and take graphic design courses,” I pleaded.

“Mags, I’d never get in. Plus, Ezra needs me to stick around and help him out.”

“With what?” I ask. “When are you going to tell me what really happens at the gym, Cane?” He pushed his fingers through his hair and let his head loll back to the cushion.

“Please don't start this again, Mags. It’s better you don’t know, I promise,” his pleading oozing frustration at my never-ending curiosity.

“Just tell me. Damn it, Cane! I want to be a part of your life, not an escape from it!” I cried, and jumped off his lap before pacing the room. He was staring at me, wide-eyed. I rarely shouted and I cussed even less frequently. I knew I’d shocked him but I was all set with his mystery home life. I fell to my knees between his legs and took his hands in mine. “Please, just tell me. I’d never betray your trust, Cane, you must know that by now.” He eyed me warily but then surprised me by talking.