“It still hurts when it happens to someone you love.”
He sipped his drink again. “Sure. But I think facing off with death on a day-to-day basis makes you a little more stoic.”
“Is that what you did overseas? Face off with death.”
He drained his glass and plonked it back down on the table next to him. “Every damn day.”
I thought for a moment. “Who do you think did this? I mean, do you think it was random? Or did someone want Isaac dead?”
“I don’t know. Cade said he was messing around with H. Set up some rogue deal. Something like that would piss off a few people. Maybe it’s a message for the Kings to keep our paws off their heroin trade.” He picked up his guitar again and began to quietly strum it. “Whoever it was, they waited for the perfect shot and took it. He knew Isaac was going to be where he was; either that, or he followed him. And then he waited. Very patiently.”
“What makes you say that?”
His eyes shot to mine. “Because that’s what a sniper does.”
“You think whoever killed Isaac is ex-military?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to say. He’s either really good and got in one shot that was meant for drama and a second to finish the job. Or he missed the first shot and scrambled to get a second in.”
“Your gut feeling?”
His eyes found mine. “My gut feeling is that it played out exactly how Isaac’s murderer wanted it to.”
I stayed at the wake for a little longer, but when it started to turn real messy, I walked home in the rain and hoped that wherever he was, Cade was okay.
I arrived home, soaked with rain, and decided to take a shower. I stripped off in the bathroom and stepped into a deliciously warm stream of water. I soaped up my body, lathered my hair with shampoo and then conditioner, and let the heat of the shower wash away the tension and grief. Slowly, my muscles began to relax and I sighed.
Today had been heartbreaking. Isaac’s funeral had been in stark contrast to my father’s. Jackie Parrish had lived a lot longer, whereas Isaac was still young and strong, with a pregnant wife and a small son who was left behind. But he was gone. And I struggled to understand why.
When I opened my eyes, the door to the bathroom opened and Cade stepped in, his face and hair soaked with rain.
I watched him pull his shirt over his head, remove his boots, and the rest of his clothes. When he was completely naked, he stepped into the shower, and without a word, took me in his arms and pressed his mouth to mine. My body immediately responded and I melted against him, seeking comfort and pleasure in his hard body as it commanded me backwards until my back was against the wet, tiled wall. His big hands moved up to my face while his mouth moved fiercely over mine until his kiss left me breathless.
But his kiss petered out as his emotion overtook him. I looked up into his tormented face. Pain and grief were like shadows in his eyes. His face was stiff and I could feel his heartbreak radiating from him with every beat of his heart. He dropped his forehead to mine.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, his voice deep and strong, but at the same time, pained and heartbroken.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
He drew in a deep breath, his hooded eyes fixed to mine. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you . . .” His voice broke and his thumbs found the slick skin of my lower lip, his eyes intensely focused on it. I had only seen Cade cry once. When he was eighteen and he’d ridden all the way to Seattle to beg me to come back to him after we had broken up. Otherwise, he was fiercely stoic. But now, standing in the steam, he was barely in control.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied.
His anguish was deep. I watched him squeeze his eyes shut and felt the slow exhale of breath as he opened them again. Droplets of water fell in rivulets down his beautiful face and dripped onto his parted lips.
His brows drew together.
“It hurts,” he whispered.
I nodded. “I know.”
He tried to kiss me but his lips trembled against mine and he pulled away. He slapped his palms against the tiled wall and took a moment. Water poured over his head and down his broad, muscular back. His face crumpled and he slowly sank to his knees, burying his face in my stomach. His fingers pressed deep into my hips. When I felt him shake, I knew he had given into his heartache and he was crying. I ran my hand through the wet tendrils of his hair, soothing him as he wept for Isaac.