Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise #2)(13)
The truth was vague to me. When Cain left me, I believed he had killed a man. It wasn’t until recently, when I met Abel, that I learned the facts. Another Internet search provided the news reports of Cain’s clearance from charges of murder and his reinstatement into the UFC. Foolishly, I began to research the UFC, wanting to know more about the fight world. I worried that Cain had the power to kill again, or worse, get killed himself.
“Montana had a concussion. He wasn’t cleared to fight, but he did anyway. He needed the money, so I was told. He bet against himself. Elma would kill me if she found out I told you, but I think you need to know. I don’t believe Cain Callahan did anything on purpose. I think he was fighting a fight to win. That’s what Montana was doing. Why would it have been any different for Cain?” Her eyes shifted to her jeans and she pinched at the denim fabric.
“I loved Montana. As much as you can love someone who loves the fight,” she sighed. “He didn’t love me in the same way.” Lindee was sharing more than I needed to know about her relationship with Montana, and I didn’t understand why.
“I don’t believe Cain is a killer, but I’d still watch my heart if I were you. Fighters love the fight, not love. That’s where the saying comes from. I’m a lover not a fighter,” she laughed without humor. “It’s because the fighters aren’t lovers.”
I risked my own confessions if I argued with her. I disagreed, however. Cain Callahan was an excellent lover. Although the physical impression was almost a year old, the memories seemed fresh. But on further examination, I understood what she meant. Cain might have been a master of the bedroom, but I wasn’t going to be the queen of his heart. The cage was his mistress. The fight was his lover. I had been a fling that resulted in a label: wife.
“You don’t have to tell me these things,” I said softly, reassuring her that there was no need to overshare. I sympathized with her, but I wasn’t going to lose my heart to Cain again. A foolish woman tempted in the garden; once bitten, I needed to be twice shy. The Cobra left a lasting sting.
“I think I do. I can see that look in your eyes. You’re conflicted. If I thought he was in love with you, I’d say run to him, but I don’t trust men in the industry, except maybe Abel. He might be the exception.” She smiled. “But the rest of them? Run in the opposite direction, Sofie, run as fast as you can.” Her hand gripped my arm in urgency and I winced at the pinch. Her voice was desperate, warning me against a danger I had already tasted.
I laughed bitterly. “I don’t think I’ll need to run far. He never comes after me.”
To my utter surprise, someone was seated outside my apartment door. Slumped against it with his back, elbows braced on his knees, the figure sat with his head in his hands.
“Cain?”
He looked up at me with an extra edge to his chiseled face. He pulled off brooding and intimidating well, but I wasn’t afraid of him. Oddly, I never had been, despite the size of his arms and the power I’d seen him use against his own brother. Physically, he didn’t frighten me; emotionally, I was scared out of my mind.
He stared at me for a moment, as I stood before him. Dark eyes searched my face with trepidation. Uncertainty soon passed. One hand on the floor pushed him upward and muscles under his short sleeves flexed. The quick rise to his full height appeared effortless. He made standing slowly look like an art. Suddenly, his imposing body filled my vision and my personal space. He blocked the entrance to my apartment as he leaned forward.
“You didn’t wait for me?” The audacity of his question made me wonder: What was I supposed to wait for?
Attempting to ignore him, I reached around his large chest for my door handle. My keys were propped and ready to unlock my space, but he leaned back trapping my arm against the wood plank, pinning me to it with his side. He crossed his arms as he continued to glare at me.
“Do you think I’m playing a game, Sofie? If I ask you to stay, you need to listen.”
My first response was to tell him I wasn’t some dog, although I felt like I’d been kicked. Looking up at him, the words froze on my lips. His dark orbs, usually hinting at danger, gleamed with a warning of something else.
“Why don’t you come in?” I gestured with my head toward the door, and he instantly stepped back, releasing my arm. He opened his mouth, as if he had a comment to make then clamped his lips tight, twisting them in a way I remembered. He was thinking.
He reached for my suitcase, and I removed my hand quickly so we wouldn’t risk touching each other. Carrying it for me, he followed me into my apartment. I lived in a complex filled with studios and one-bedrooms. The rent was cheap, cheaper than the dorms, and I didn’t mind being alone. The place actually had three rooms, two of which were divided by a set of French doors. The layout appeared like someone forgot to include a bedroom, so my bed was actually off the kitchen, in what would be considered a dining room. The glass doors separated that space from the living room where we stood. The meager bathroom was off this room. It was as if an architect pieced the space together, but I loved the cozy comfort of the place. Hardwood floors and extra tall windows made the rooms feel spacious.
Cain’s presence filled that intimate space. It seemed small with him in it, and I suddenly had a flash of his room at my grandparents’ inn. All the guest rooms were luxurious, with a large bed and a sitting area, making the space feel comforting and welcoming. When we had been there together, the room rotated between an island of distress and a garden of seduction. My own home suddenly felt like a cardboard box filled with a homeless soul. My single couch and large area rug were all that normally graced this room, besides my books, laptop, and a scattering of notes.