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“Got a problem.”
Whatever noise that was going on around him stopped and his normally laid-back voice got serious. “What kind of problem?”
“A big clusterfuck of a problem,” I admitted, running a hand down my face.
“Can't help if you don't talk to me.”
“I have one of V's girls.”
There was a long silence. “The fuck?”
“I was driving home from the bar and I heard a crash. Then some bitch hopped out of the car and started running. Thought she was half-whacked. And I fucking took her home.”
“To the compound?”
“To my house.”
“The fuck?”
I snorted. Cash was the only other person aside from me who had been to my house. Bringing some random car-crash woman over was not only unexpected, but completely out of character. “I dunno. It was late. The storm was bad. I wasn't thinking. She's got V's brand on her ass.”
“You fucked her?”
“No I didn't fuck her,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just caught sight of it. V had her for three months. The storm made his men careless. She got away.”
“Shit.”
“She has nightmares, man.”
“What?”
“Nightmares,” I said, shaking my head. “Like... where she screams.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I told her she could stay until things blow over and I'll get her on her way.”
“Seriously? You're keeping one of V's girls from him?”
“The fuck else I'm gonna do? Hand her back? He's a fucking monster, Cash.”
Cash let out a low whistle. “What do you need?”
“For you to keep your mouth shut. This doesn't involve the club.”
“You know that that isn't...”
“This isn't going to touch the club.”
“Alright,” he conceded, but I knew he had more to say.
“I need supplies,” I decided, shrugging.
“Supplies?”
“Yeah for bitches. She looks sweet in my clothes and all but they're falling off her ass.”
“So clothes?”
“Yeah. Small. She's tiny. And I don't know... shampoo and soap and shit. Whatever the fuck bitches like. You'd know better than me.” It was no secret my brother was the biggest whore around. He liked women. And they damn sure liked him back.
“Anything else?” he asked and I could hear the humor in his voice.
“Food. Don't know what she likes but I know they've been starving her.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Be there in an hour.”
“Aight,” I said, hanging up and going back into my bedroom to grab clothes.
She was still on the bed, curled up on her side, knees to her belly, her wrists on full display. Wrists that had barely-healed ligature marks marring them. Several of them. She'd been tied up for most of the time she had been there.
All I could think about through my shower was her screams.
There was a knock on the door a little over an hour later, loud. Like he was kicking instead of actually knocking, making the door shake in the jamb.
I walked over, pulling it open.
And there was Cash.
We were similar in facial features and that was about it. He got our mother's dark blonde hair that he kept long, but shaved up one side. His eyes were a deeper shade of green, and he walked with a fucking swagger. Always had. He was a toddling swaggerer. There was an air about Cash that I didn't have. A laid-back, calm, almost jovial demeanor that made women flock to him in droves. That wasn't to say he couldn't handle his shit. He was a capable, deadly fuck when he needed to be. But any other time, he was the guy a man wanted to have a beer with and a woman wanted to roll around the sheets with.
“Gonna let me in? Hands are kinda full here.”
And they were. He had a dozen bags in his hands and hanging off his arms. There was the strong smell of eggs and I noticed a brown bag in his hand. The other hand held a tray of coffee. Well, there were two coffees. And then there was one monstrous frozen drink thing with whipped cream on top.
Cash moved in past me, going toward the kitchen, pausing, and looking down the hallway. “Heya sweetheart,” he said, giving her one of his smiles.
“There's two of you,” she said timidly, looking at Cash like he might pounce on her at any minute.
“This is my brother, Cash. He brought some stuff for you.”
“Starting with,” Cash said, putting the tray down and none too gently dropping all the bags on the floor. He grabbed the huge frozen drink and held it out to her, smiling. “This. Trenta mocha frap with a shot of espresso and whipped cream.”
And just like that, her face lit up.
Lit. The. Fuck. Up.
Her sad eyes brightened, her smile spread across her face. And, for a moment, she didn't look so haunted.
“I take it you like my choice?” Cash asked, watching as she took it from his hands.
“It's perfect. Thank you,” she gave him a smile and took a long swig from the straw, her eyes closing.
Fuck. I'd given her black coffee.
“Good,” Cash said, nodding, moving back to the counter and pulling open the brown bag. “I also got us all sausage, egg, and cheese on bagels with sides of hashbrowns,” he said, pulling foil-wrapped bagels out then a huge box stained with grease. “Plates, bro,” he said to me, watching me watch Summer drink her frozen coffee with a lifted brow.
“Right,” I said, going to grab the plates.
“You hungry?” Cash asked her.
“I could eat.”
Starved for months. Yeah, I bet she could eat.
“Want to put on some clothes that fit first?” he asked, reaching for the bags.
“You brought me clothes?” she asked, her eyes going wide.
Cash's head tilted, looking at her. “As per orders.”
“Orders?” she asked, brows drawing together.
“Reign said you needed girl shit. Clothes. Soap. The works.”
Her gaze went to me and her eyes glistened. Glistened. Like she was going to cry. Over clothes and soap and shit. Because she'd been living in such hell that even the smallest gesture was making her all emotional.
“Unfortunately, I didn't get a bra size,” Cash went on, easily skirting her obviously tear-filled eyes. “Which is...” he looked at her. “Thirty-four B,” he guessed and she blushed. Blushed. Because he was right. “So you'll be going commando on that front, but I got pretty much everything else,” he told her, holding out the bags that weren't from the food store. Five of them.
