Unattainable

CHAPTER SIX

Cage pulled up to his father’s house, a log cabin that could no more be considered a cabin than a New York City penthouse could be considered an apartment. He cut his engine and glanced up at the home that, for the most part, he’d grown up in, and let out a long-suffering sigh.

Because neither he nor Danny lived at home anymore, weekly dinners were a thing now, mandatory by way of Eva, who was insistent that they all spend some quality time together.

For the most part Cage appreciated her efforts, loved her for trying so hard, but dinner at the West home almost always ended in catastrophe, usually because of his stubborn-as-fuck father always giving him shit. He couldn’t do anything right in his old man’s eyes. Nothing. As far as his father was concerned, he was a useless asshole who couldn’t keep it in his pants.

Forget that it was him who, when his old man was off doing whatever the fuck he felt like and their mother was off drinking herself to death, Cage was taking care of Danny. Then later, after he brought Eva home with a difficult pregnancy, he’d left Cage to pick up his slack. And even later, when his old man couldn’t seem to hack it yet again, Cage had been taking care of Ivy too.

Yeah, Deuce liked to conveniently forget all that. It always came back to sex.

And, what the fuck ever, his old man was a hypocrite. Just because, now, the asshole wasn’t sticking his dick in everything that showed his old ass any interest didn’t mean it had always been that way. Before Eva, Christ, even during Eva, Deuce had been fucking bitches left and right.

Cage never understood that. When you had a woman like Eva, hot as fuck and willing to do anything his old man wanted, loved the bastard even, why the fuck would you stray from that?

If he had a good woman, an old lady dedicated to him and the club, someone with a clean past who didn’t spread her legs for every motherfucker out there, he’d never touch another woman.

Shaking his head, Cage swung his leg over his bike and started for the porch.

The door was unlocked, so he kicked his boots off in the foyer and headed left through the living room. In the family room, he found his youngest sister, Ivy; his three-year-old niece, Danny and Ripper’s daughter, Harley; Cox and Kami’s kids, Devin and Diesel; and to his surprise, Christopher, Dorothy’s four-year-old son, all seated around the flat screen TV. With the exception of Christopher and Harley, they all had controllers in their hands, their eyes glued to the violent video game on the screen in front of them.

He nudged his little sister’s leg with his foot. “Yo, princess,” he said.

Ivy glanced up and her perfect little face split into a huge grin. “CAGE!”

The next thing he knew she was in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, squeezing the holy shit out of him.

“Jesus, you’re gettin’ heavy. How old are you now, twenty-fuckin’-five?”

Ivy laughed. “Nine, stupid! I’m only nine!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grinned, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and set her down. “Makin’ me feel old, little sister.”

“Cage, when are we gonna work on bikes again?”

He grinned down at his little tomboy of a sister. “Soon, baby,” he said. “Soon.”

He gave the trio of boys a quick chin lift, Harley a hair ruffle and a kiss, then headed through the foyer and into the kitchen area. His father was leaning back against the kitchen counter, a beer in one hand, his other arm wrapped around Eva with his free hand resting on the slight bulge of her stomach. Her long brown hair was piled messily on top of her head, and she was wearing an old pair of sweats and one of his old man’s tees.

She was four months along in another high-risk pregnancy that his idiot father had insisted on. Because for some reason three kids weren’t enough for the asshole, he wanted another, for reasons God only knew why. To make sure the world knew he still had swimmers? Cage would never understand that man.

Cox and Kami were opposite them, Cox sitting on top of the counter, Kami standing between his legs, both drinking beers.

“Yo,” he said, giving a halfhearted wave.

Cox nodded his way, Kami gave him a wave and a smile, but it was Eva who pulled away from Deuce and came at him with her arms wide open. As he folded his arms around her, he locked eyes over her shoulder with his father who, instead of saying hello, grunted something incoherent and turned back to Cox.

Ass. Hole.

“What’s little Kelley doin’ here?” he asked, referring to Christopher.

“Hawk’s on his way,” Eva said as she pulled away from him and gave him another genuine smile. Reaching up, she tugged on a lock of his hair that had pulled free of his rubber band.

“God,” she whispered, her big gray eyes sparkling. “You look just like your dad when he was your age.”

He started to smile at her despite her comparing him to his old man, because, fuck, how could you not smile at someone who loved as hard as this woman did?

“He looks like his fuckin’ mother.”

Cage lost his smile.

His mother might be a club rat turned deadbeat and she might love drinking more than she loved her own kids, but she was still his mother, and half of what had happened to her had been his old man’s fault in the first place.

“Ignore him,” Eva whispered. “And go say hi to your sisters.”

“Speaking of, where’s the brat?” he asked, referring to Danny.

Eva smiled and pointed upstairs.

Looping back around, Cage headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he was standing outside his sister’s old bedroom. Without bothering to knock, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

“Jesus fuck!” he yelled, slamming the door closed.

“Knock much?” Danny screamed from inside her room, where he’d just seen her naked, on her knees, getting nailed by her husband.

Fucking hell.

It wasn’t the first time he’d accidentally walked in on them, either. Those two idiots couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Bathrooms, bedrooms, kitchen pantries, didn’t matter where they were. Their home, someone else’s home, the clubhouse, a restaurant, the two of them were always all up in each other’s shit, all the motherfucking time.

The door flew open and Danny, looking disheveled but thankfully clothed, stormed into the hallway. “What the fuck!” she yelled.

He rolled his eyes. “Was comin’ in to say hi, you fuckin’ brat.”

The corner of her mouth curved and a dimple appeared. The next thing he knew she was lunging, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing.

“Get the fuck off me!” he bellowed, shoving her backward into Ripper’s arms, who was also now thankfully clothed. “You fuckin’ smell like Ripper,” he said, feigning disgust.

Ripper, laughing, swung one of his arms around Danny and held out his fist. Cage eyed it warily before fist-bumping him quickly.

“Don’t know where that shit has been,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Ripper said. “You just get back?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d that shit go down?”

“Wham bam,” Cage told him. “In and out. Spent the night at Preacher’s, shot the shit with the Demons for a few, did what I had to do, then took the scenic route home.”

“Nice,” Ripper said. “Prez’ll be happy.”

Yeah right, he thought, scoffing internally. Prez, his never-happy-with-him father, was just that. Never happy with him.

Behind him, two doors down, Cage heard the toilet flush from inside the bathroom. The faucet turned on, then off, then—

The door swung open and all heads swiveled just in time to see Tegen walk out into the hall, wiping her wet hands off on her long white linen skirt.

Glancing up, her cat-like green eyes locked on him and she froze midstep. He was about to say hello when suddenly her small, slightly pointed nose wrinkled up and her mouth flattened with obvious disgust.

“By the way,” Danny said cheekily. “Tegen’s here.”

Cage felt his already pissed-off mood worsen because, Jesus Christ, every time he saw the bitch, it was more than obvious she still had a stick up her ass about what had happened one drunken night, seemingly forever ago. A night he didn’t even remember.

Holding his throbbing head, Cage gingerly rolled from his side onto his back and cracked an eyelid to check out the warm body he felt lying beside him.

The first thing he saw was a big mess of orange-red frizzy hair, and being that his brain was bogged down with the aftereffects of too much whiskey, it took him a moment to process where he knew that hair from. When he did, when he knew exactly who that hair belonged to, he shot up into a sitting position, cursing when his head vehemently protested the movement.

Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe someone else in Miles City had ridiculously frizzy carrot-colored hair, a stick for a body, and freckles everywhere. Feeling sick, he glanced over his shoulder. Jesus fucking shit, motherfucker, fuck his life and everything in it.

God, what the fuck was wrong with him?

Worse, he didn’t even remember doing it. A sliver of hope lit inside of him. Maybe he didn’t fuck her? But then why was she naked? Still gripping his throbbing skull, he turned away from her and dropped his head.

Then his jaw dropped.

No.

His leathers were still on but his goddamn dick was hanging out covered in a light sheen of dried blood. Great. He’d taken her virginity. Worse yet, he didn’t even remember doing it.

That had been one of the worst mornings of his life. Actually, the entire day had sucked balls.

Not knowing what to do, he hightailed it into the shower, hoping she’d wake up and get the fuck out of his room before he got out.

No dice.

She was still there, in his bed, still naked but now awake and covering herself with his sheet, holding his cell phone in her hand. “It wouldn’t stop ringing,” she said softly, unable to look him in the eye, her pale skin flushing. “So I answered it.”

He stared down at her, not really paying attention to what she was saying, trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do with her. Seriously, what the fuck was he supposed to do with some awkward, dorky, titless teenager?

“Uh, listen, Teacup,” he said, shifting uncomfortably as he reached up and began rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not really sure what the fuck to say here, but last night… Are you okay? Does, uh, did you…” He trailed off, not knowing what the fuck he’d been trying to say in the first place and feeling like a jackass.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m glad it was you.”

He continued staring at her, his mind blank.

“It was Ellie who called,” she continued softly.

Ellie? Why the fuck would Ellie call him?

“She, um, she’s really upset…” Tegen hesitated. “She said Danny is, uh, on her way to an abortion clinic.”

What? Danny. Abortion clinic? Cage snapped the fuck out of it. His little sister had gotten herself into trouble and he needed to find her. Right. Now. Everything else, everyone else could go fuck themselves.

“I gotta go,” he said hurriedly, glancing around for his clothing. He zeroed in on his leathers and snatched them off the ground. When he was fully dressed, he crossed the room and grabbed hold of the doorknob. Then he paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” he demanded.

Tegen’s green eyes went wide and she shook her head. “I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

Nodding, he pulled open the door.

“Cage?”

Stopping, he glanced back again. “What?” he asked impatiently.

She hesitated, her skin flushing fiercely as she peeked up at him through her eyelashes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Cage froze.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

No. Just…no.

“Shit,” he muttered, suddenly unable to look at her. How the fuck had this happened? He seriously needed to stop drinking so much.

“Listen,” he continued slowly. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinkin’ but…it just ain’t like that for me, baby.”

He glanced up, saw the surprise on her face, saw the hurt, saw it all.

Then he got the fuck out of there.

He’d spent the rest of the day dealing with his little sister’s mess. Or rather, Ripper’s mess, and hadn’t given much thought to Tegen or what had happened until enough time had passed and he started realizing that not only was she not speaking to him, she wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she acted like he didn’t even exist.

He hadn’t exactly cared at the time unless he was confronted with it. When he’d find her scowling at him instead of smiling, refusing to speak to him, refusing to speak to anyone.

Watching from a distance as she grew angrier, bitter, and eventually just outright mean.

Then she’d left for college and hadn’t come home for any holidays. In fact, she didn’t come home again until her mother had been shot.

He’d taken one look at her, her new look, and he hadn’t seen the dorky little girl he used to tease incessantly anymore, but a woman, a beautiful woman.

A beautiful woman who wanted nothing to do with him. And maybe that’s what bothered him the most. Tegen was a beautiful woman who’d once acted as if the sun rose and set with him, who’d told him she loved him, yet who now wanted nothing to do with him.

And every time he saw her, it felt like she was slapping on yet another layer of attitude, each visit home worse than the last.

One thing he knew for certain was the woman had one damn long memory and could hold a grudge like a motherfucker. And unfortunately for him, the more time that passed, the more beautiful she seemed to grow. Her extremely slender figure no longer seemed stick-like but naturally lithe, like a ballet dancer. And her breasts, while still very small, had a more rounded fullness to them. His eyes raked over her long copper dreadlocks, the quarter-inch plugs in her earlobes, her slim neck, and the colorful flower tattoos across her chest. Her bare arms were also covered in ink from shoulder to wrist, and the inch of exposed concave stomach between her tank top and skirt, also inked. More so than the last time he’d seen her.

Jesus, the girl had more ink on her now than he had, nearly as much as Cox who, aside from his face, was tattooed from head to toe.

And it was…hot. Cage found his body responding to his thoughts; not physical stimulation, just his goddamn thoughts, something that only happened around Tegen and her goddamn attitude.

Still glaring at him, she flung her long dreads over her shoulders with a flick of her wrists and cocked a bony hip. His fists clenched, readying himself for whatever mud she was going to fling at him. He was not in the mood for this shit. He’d barely been off the road five seconds and now this?

“No one told me that motherfucker was going to be here,” she hissed.

Behind him Ripper snorted and Danny sighed.

Cage’s jaw locked. His eyes darted to the right of Tegen and he quickly calculated how much time he had to grab her, throw her inside his old room, and fuck that attitude straight out of her before anyone tried to stop him.

“We’ll be downstairs,” he heard Danny say and he could hear the damn laughter in her voice.

“But I wanna hear all the fucked-up shit Tegen’s gonna say to him,” Ripper said, laughing.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Tegen snapped, her eyes never once leaving Cage. “I have nothing to say to Deuce Junior.”

His nostrils flared. No bitch ever talked to him the way she did. In fact no one, other than his father, had ever treated him the way she did; he didn’t allow it, would have them eating fist before they got a second insult out. Except Tegen. When she mouthed off, the bitch always had him either tongue-tied or hard as a rock or both.

Like right now.

Tegen smirked at him. “Aw, what’s wrong, West? Did I bruise that inflated ego of yours? Little old me? Just one of your millions?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled.

Still smirking, she rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. Sorry, Cage, been there, done you, don’t care to be a repeat offender.”

“Damn,” Ripper said. “That was a good one.”

“Dinner!” Eva’s voice carried throughout the house, instantly cutting through the tension rolling around the upstairs occupants.

“Finally,” Tegen muttered, shoving past him. “I was beginning to think this family lived off beer.”

His chest heaving angrily, his cock pressing painfully against his leathers, he turned to watch her make her way past Danny and Ripper. Danny glared at her and Ripper had an amused smile on his face.

“Although,” Tegen continued as she descended the stairs. “A beer diet would explain a lot.”

Cage hadn’t even realized he’d started after her until he felt his back hit the wall. He blinked, seeing Ripper’s scarred-up face mere inches from his own.

“Brother,” Ripper said, his voice low. “Let it slide. The bitch is tryin’ to get you riled up and you’re lettin’ her.”

“Fuck her,” he growled, shoving Ripper off him even as his battle lust began to ease. “She’s still fuckin’ pissed at me over somethin’ that happened years ago, somethin’ I don’t even fuckin’ remember!”

“You are an idiot!” Danny snapped, sticking a manicured pink fingernail in his face.

“I was drunk!” he shot back defensively.

Danny shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You really are an idiot.”

He grabbed his sister’s finger and shoved it back in her face. “You got Hello Kitty fingernails, little sister, and you’re callin’ me an idiot? Fuck off.”

Their father’s face appeared between them and—

“DINNER!”

He and Danny jumped apart.

“Daddy!” Danny yelled. “What the—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Deuce growled. “Get your ass and your sorry-ass man’s ass down those fuckin’ stairs.”

Laughing, Ripper grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled her away from Deuce, who turned toward Cage.

“Tegen’s back here for five fuckin’ minutes and you already got her goin’? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Her?” he yelled. “I just got in and you’re givin’ a fuck about her? You didn’t even ask me how the job went! Fuck you!”

Deuce’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I need to ask you ’bout every little fuckin’ thing now? I’m guessin’ the job went just fuckin’ fine seein’ as how your stupid ass is standin’ right in front of me, not bleedin’. So I ain’t too sure what your fuckin’ problem is but since we’re sharin’ shit right now, how about I tell you what my fuckin’ problem is?”

Cage glared at him, torn between feeling like the piece of shit his father was treating him like and punching the son of a bitch in his big fat mouth.

“My problem,” he continued, “is your worthless fuckin’ ass ain’t downstairs at the motherfuckin’—”

Cage shut it out. Just shut down, shut it out, shoved his father out of his way, and headed down the stairs.

Family fucking dinners, his ass.

• • •

This was the very worst part of coming home. Deuce and Eva and their stupid family dinners and…seeing Cage.

Everything had been fine up until five minutes ago when I’d exited the upstairs bathroom and ran smack into the asshole.

It didn’t even matter that Miles City was a small town full of small-minded religious freaks who took one look, a second, a third, and a fourth at my colorfully tattooed body, numerous body piercings, my dreadlocks, and instantly decided I was a freak of nature.

And maybe I was. But that was beside the point.

Even Danny, with her perfect body, her perfect hair, her perfect face—she probably turned girls into lesbians, she was so damn perfect—I was actually getting along with for a change. True, I had to shade my eyes against her ridiculously bright blaring pink getup, but still.

And then I’d gone to pee and…Cage.

Boom.

Every single time, without fail, one look and I was a teenager again, feeling awkward and insignificant. And now I was praying to keep my sanity.

But sanity and Miles City, Montana, were not friendly neighbors. In fact, I was pretty sure they lived on opposite ends of the universe.

Bad mood, here I come.