Cain, page 1
CAIN
ALEX WOLF
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Sloane Howell Bonus Epilogue
Bryce Pre-order
Mack Preview
Other Alex Wolf Books
CHAPTER ONE
Marissa
A lot of people think January in Milwaukee is the worst.
Not me. I like it.
Not because it’s unbearably cold, but because there aren’t near as many people in my way. I ride my bike everywhere and it makes things much easier.
And let’s be honest, I can’t really afford a car. This is a personal choice, though, my preference.
Yeah, right.
Regardless, if I don’t make it to the first day of my post-grad internship at Reardon & Associates, I may never own a car. This opportunity is my catapult, sending me on to bigger and better things.
That’s what nobody tells you at law school. You graduate, pass the bar, and celebrate and feel like you’ve ascended to the top of the mountain, only to be flung back to the ground. No, the work has just begun, and the competition is fierce.
Lucky for me, I thrive in this environment, and nobody works harder.
Nobody.
It’s so damn cold outside, my body heat is barely keeping me warm as I pedal down the street, even under all these layers. I’m wearing tights under a pair of stretch pants with sweatpants covering them. Then there’s a tank top, a long-sleeved T-shirt, sweatshirt, and my puffy coat. It usually gets the job done for anything under a mile.
I packed a very forgiving shift dress and cardigan in my backpack to change into when I get there.
I tend to buy clothes that can be folded and unfolded without too much creasing.
I glance down at my watch, knowing I left with plenty of time to spare.
You accounted for everything, multiple times. Stop worrying.
It’s a typical Monday morning, though the traffic isn’t too terrible this early. I only have a few blocks left, so I should be fine before the freezing temperature gets to me. I kind of like how the wind hits my face. It makes me sharper, more alert.
It really is a perfect day.
The second I think that, everything goes wrong.
I round the corner of Kinnickinnic and…
Shit!
A man standing on the corner of Lincoln decides to ignore the blinking No Crossing sign.
My voice is muffled by a thick scarf, but I try my best to get him out of the way. “Coming through!” I scream as loud as I can, but it’s no use.
He never sees me. Just steps into the street like he owns the city.
“Watch out!” Lucky for him, reflex takes over. I swerve in time, veering around him in a tight arc.
He starts to turn as I blow past him.
I exhale a sigh when I successfully dodge him.
Then my eyes widen, because my next problem is even bigger. I basically have two choices.
I can keep going straight and get smashed to death by a Corolla in the intersection, or I can veer right onto a giant frozen puddle glittering in the sunlight.
My hands take me to the ice before my brain fully catches on. My wheels slide over it in an instant and start to go out from under me, before the ice gives way to water underneath.
I wipe out, hard, flat on my ass, in a giant pool of freezing ice and water.
“Shit!” I holler the word, probably a little too loud, as I flop myself over toward the sidewalk like a fish out of water. It’s already seeping through my outer layers and won’t be long before it makes its way to my skin. My ass throbs, and I think my knees and hands are scraped.
I pretty much morph from surprise, to panic, to rage, in about the span of two seconds.
I can’t believe that just happened.
My heart is pounding, the sound of rushing blood rings out in my ears, and all I can think of is how much I want to kill that asshole.
When I turn back toward him, he’s standing behind me, like this is some kind of spectator sport.
“You okay?” He asks the question like it’s obligatory, but there’s no urgency there. He doesn’t run over and check on me, just stands there, staring like I’m some kind of pesky bug inconveniencing him.
Am I okay? The question, coupled with his relaxed demeanor, makes me see red. I leap to my feet, turn on him, holding my arms out to the side, with the bike at my feet still halfway immersed in the puddle. Through my teeth, I yell, “Do I look okay to you?”
He’s wearing a black balaclava, so all I can see is his deep-set gray eyes. He’s way more intimidating now that I’m on the ground and not sitting up on my bike. I have to angle my head up toward the sky, just so I can yell at him properly.
His eyes narrow in response. “Calm down. I was just checking on you.”
This son of a bitch.
“Calm down?” I growl the rhetorical question. “I could have been killed, jackass! I don’t even know if my bike works anymore! And I’m soaking wet! All because you don’t know how to watch a damn streetlight.”
He shoves his gloved hands into his pockets and relaxes a little, almost like he’s amused at the scene I’m making. “What are you more upset about? The bike, being wet, or the near-death experience?”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “What?”
“Just trying to put your grievances in order of importance.”
I swear to God, I think he’s smiling under that mask. Or smirking; probably smirking.
I stomp toward him and jab my index finger in his chest. “This is your fault.” Shit, he’s even bigger now that I’m next to him. My eyes hit him right in the neck, and I’m forced to tilt my head up to glare at him.
He brushes my hand away. “You established that already.”
“And you haven’t apologized.” I glance around, and people’s heads are turning to stare at us.
He shrugs. “The thought crossed my mind, but then your mouth opened.”
My eyes widen before I can stop them, and my cheeks get even hotter than they already were.
“Then words came out of it.”
I will kill him.
Okay, now I know he’s smirking under there. And he’s making me late. I just need to get the hell out of here.
“Just forget it, asshole.” I walk over and grab the handlebars and lift my bike, so it’s no longer lying on its side in the puddle. I don’t think there’s any damage beyond a few scratches, and the wheels seem to function okay.
“Already done.”
Just ignore him.
Can’t do it. I turn my face back to him. “I’m sure.”
He shakes his head. “Watch where you’re going next time. Maybe you won’t end up on your ass in a freezing puddle.” He turns his back, shaking his head as he starts across the street. I notice he looks both ways this time.
My hands clench into fists.
You son of a bitch.
“Next time, replace that pile of shit on your shoulders with some fucking brain cells, and I won’t have to.” I can’t help it. I don’t know if another human being has ever frustrated me this much in my life. The words just fly out before I can stop them. It’s not my proudest moment, but ugh, he is seriously the worst. What a complete douche. If I’d done what he did, I’d still be apologizing. I’d feel horrible.
Not this prick, though. He walks through the intersection and disappears down the block, like nothing happened. Just goes on about his day.
I glance over at the coffee shop on the corner, where a few people inside the window stare at me like they just watched the drama unfold.
I march my bike over and avoid their eyes as I lock it to the rack sitting out front. The adrenaline is wearing off, and everything throbs. My knees are on fire, along with my palms, and I need to survey the damage.
The worst part is, I don’t trust myself to get back on the bike. Not right now, anyway.
I keep my head down, working my way through the crowd before escaping into the ladies’ room. I lock the door, slide my backpack off and leave it on the sink while I examine myself. There are small scratches on my hands and they’re bright pink, even though I had gloves on. My elbow and hip suffered the same fate, even through multiple layers. The ground was rough around the puddle, the pavement cracked and broken.
I wince when I see the condition of my tights. They’re basically ruined and they’re my favorite pair. I mouth, “Motherfu…” in the mirror, but stop myself before finishing it. I have a backup pair, but it’s the principle of the matter.
My blood is still boiling at the thought of that guy. I think it’s the fact he gets to carry on, facing absolutely zero justice for what he did. A million things go through my brain, things I should’ve said to him.
I don’t have time for this. There are still a few blocks to go, and I still need to change when I get there. Thank God I left early, with plenty of time to spare.
I pull myself together, grab my backpack, and haul ass out the front door. By now, everyone who saw us is gone.
It’s a quarter to eight when I lock my bike to a rack in the parking garage of the Reardon building. I walk by all the foreign luxury cars on my way to the double doors at the entrance, and they get nicer the closer I get. A brand-new Range Rover sits in the front space. This must be the partners’ lot.
Lucky for me, there’s a restroom close to the garage entrance, right before the bank of elevators. I duck inside and change quicker than I’ve ever changed in my life. Something tells me I might be limping soon the way my hip throbs.
I pull out a couple ibuprofen from my purse and shovel them into my mouth. I cup my hands under the faucet to get some water, then gulp them down.
My hair is a mess thanks to my stocking cap. I run a brush through it and pull it back in a low ponytail while sliding into a pair of sensible pumps. My dark gray dress and black cardigan look good, and I tell myself while taking one last look in the mirror that everything gets better from here on out. One day, I’ll look back on this and laugh. Remember that time I almost died on my way to the first day of my internship? Good times!
There’s still five minutes before orientation starts, but I know better. To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is unacceptable. It’s pretty much my personal mantra. Be the first to arrive and the last to leave.
I shove through the bathroom door, intent on taking my new career by storm, feeling like a brand-new person. I follow a sign at the front of the building and make it to my destination three minutes early. Not the ten minutes I’d aimed for, but it will have to work.
My heart skips a beat as I step into a glass-walled conference room, where roughly fifteen other interns are already waiting. I walk over and take a seat. A few come in after me, snagging what seats are left at the long table.
Irritation floods my veins again. I wasn’t the last one here, but I might as well have been.
All because of that smug asshole on the street.
Focus!
I open a bottle of water and consciously slow my breathing. I still can’t stop thinking about him. Not in a good way, either. I keep trying to figure out what he looked like under all those clothes. Man, he was like a giant. He had to be like six four or six five. From what I could tell, he looked like he’s in pretty good shape too.
He’s probably super-hot, with an attitude like his.
Stop thinking about him!
I take a look around the room, sizing up the competition. Let’s be honest, they’ll say we’re all on the same team, but we’re not. We’re enemies, just like in law school. These are people standing in the way of me being the star, the one who rises to the top. I’m sure every single one of them feels the same, no matter how confident they seem. They’ll probably only offer a few of us staff positions once this is over.
We all sit up a little straighter, and the room goes completely silent when a tall, broad-shouldered man strides into the room. His thick, black hair is swept back off his face. It’s a nice face too, one I studied while researching the firm. I know every partner and most of the senior attorneys, their specialties, their alma maters.
This is the name partner. Cain Reardon. His bio stands out to me, and not only because the firm is named after him. He played minor league baseball, one of the top prospects in the country for two years, before an injury ended his career at twenty. Afterward, he went to college, to law school, and now his firm is unequivocally the top in Milwaukee. Not only that, he went to Wisconsin, the same college as me.
I admire his work ethic, and let’s face it, the fact he’s also a Badger. If it wasn’t for softball, I couldn’t have afforded Wisconsin.
Cain straightens his striped tie while looking out over all of us. “Good morning. Thank you for being here, and for being on time. Let’s get started.”
My palms get a little clammy just at the sight of him. Man, he’s hot. He has a deep, rich baritone voice, and speaks with authority. His suit is perfectly tailored to his frame. Damn, what is it about hot men in suits?
Stop! Now!
Still, something lingers at the back of my brain. It’s like when there’s something, and it’s right on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t remember where it’s from. There’s something familiar about his voice.
When his eyes shift around the room and then get to mine, they freeze for a split-second and widen a little.
Horror.
That’s the word I’d describe for what I feel on the inside right now. Yep. Pure horror.
To my credit, I don’t react. I inhale a little and do my best to look normal.
It’s the voice combined with the eyes, and the recognition happens instantaneously.
The super-hot, large, intimidating name partner at my dream internship, is the same guy I cursed out in the intersection thirty minutes ago.
CHAPTER TWO
Cain
“New crop of interns look promising.” Logan Miller, my second-in-command at the firm, sinks into one of the leather chairs positioned in front of my desk, sighing like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “Who we punishing this year?”
I can barely process his words with the thoughts running through my mind. What are the odds for what happened earlier? I have to stop my brain from working out the actual math.
She’s got a mouth on her, that’s for damn sure. I can’t pretend it didn’t turn me on a little.
If I’d known what she looked like without all those layers and that stupid beanie on her head, I think I might’ve been aroused. It was totally my fault, and I had every intention to go help her up and apologize.
But damn, she flew up off the concrete ready to do battle. I have many strengths, but humility isn’t one of them. I think it’s the competitor in me. I have to win, no matter what, and when I saw the anger in her eyes, it became a competition.
Logan pulls up a file on his tablet, cutting the memory short.
When he clears his throat, it tells me I need to pay attention.
His eyes scan the screen. “Okay, looks like everyone’s situated already. The redhead from Yale, the two blondes from Princeton, the brunette with the huge tits from Harvard…”
I shake my head. “Can you learn their names this year?”
He glances up from the screen like what I just suggested is insane. “Why? Most of them won’t be here long.”
“Jesus.” I shake my head. “You’re a lawyer. You of all people should know the problem with referencing an intern’s tits. Anyone’s tits, for that matter.”
“It’s not sexual harassment to notice tits bouncing around the office.”
“They weren’t bouncing.”
“See, you noticed them too.”
Okay, maybe I did, but I didn’t comment on them. And I didn’t notice for long, because a different intern caught my attention. All my attention.
He sighs. “I’ll call her Rachel, her actual name.” He straightens up a little. “Brunette with big tits is far more poetic, though.”
“Can we move this along? I have shit to do.” I wave an arm forward like continue.
He moves down the list—roughly half female, half male—making sure all the interns are paired up with the optimal mentor.
His finger hovers over the bottom of the screen. “Ahh, the last on the list, Miss Wisconsin.” He says it like “Wis-caaaahn-sin.”
I don’t know why, but something in the way he dismisses her grates on me the wrong way. “What’s wrong with UW? That’s where I went.”
“So?” Logan lowers his tablet. “Name another intern who didn’t come from an Ivy.”
