Devil's Kiss (Hellhounds Motorcycle Club Book 1) by Kathryn Thomas Page B

forced it down. I waited a moment to see if it would stay, and after a few dozen breathes I could feel the sickness beginning to fade. I scooped another dollop of peanut butter onto the rest of the piece and ate that, too. By the time I had consumed the entire apple, I was feeling better.
     
    “Want another?” he asked as he pulled another apple from the bag.
     
    “One more, I think.” The peanut butter-coated apple was the best tasting thing I had eaten in a long time.
     
    The moment he had the first quarter sliced he handed it to me, I smeared it with peanut butter and wolfed it down. “What about you?” I asked around a mouthful of apple.
     
    “I’ll get something later.”
     
     
     
    When I returned from getting dressed, he handed me the grocery sack that had contained the bread, peanut butter, and apples. I looked into it and could see the last two apples, already quartered, and a sandwich, cut into bite-size squares.
     
    “Remember what the doctor said. Eat often, anytime you feel like it. This should hold you for tonight. I will get more apples for tomorrow.”
     
    His presumption annoyed me. “There won’t be a tomorrow.”
     
    “We’ll see,” he said calmly.
     
    “No. We won’t see, Cain.”
     
    He looked at me a moment then sighed. “What’s the problem, Alex? Why won’t you accept my help? Help me to understand.”
     
    “Because, Cain, I can’t trust you. It’s simple as that. You won’t tell me what you do, while at the same time you don’t seem open to change. The last thing I need is a drug smuggler, or whatever it is you do, in my life. Life is going to be hard enough without that.”
     
    “Alex, I’ve told you over and over, I’m not involved in drugs. The Hounds are not involved in drugs. Drugs are a bad business and we want no part of that.”
     
    “Yes you have. And yet, you won’t tell me what you do. How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
     
    “You’ll just have to trust me, okay?”
     
    “How, Cain? How can I trust you?” I cried, setting the bag on the counter and holding my hands out to him beseechingly. “You obviously don’t trust me since you won’t tell me anything about what you do. ‘I’m in the import business.’ Well, guess what? Drug dealers could say the same thing. If I accept you into my life, into our lives, how do I know that someday you won’t stop coming home because you have been killed or arrested? How do I know that one day the cops won’t show up and take my child from me because I’m suddenly an unfit mother because I’m involved with you? How do I know that some thug isn’t going to kick open my door and gun us all down because of what you do? How do I know—”
     
    “I won’t let any of that happen!”
     
    “And how will you prevent it, Cain? Kill them first?”
     
    “We don’t kill people, Alex! It’s not how we operate. Alex, you are going to have to trust me on this.”
     
    “And there is the crux of the problem, Cain. I can’t trust you, because you don’t trust me.”
     
    “I trust you, Alex!”
     
    “You do? Then tell me what you do.”
     
    I could see him think it over. “I can’t. I gave my word. I can’t break it.”
     
    I gave him a ‘there you go’ hand gesture.
     
    “Alex, I give you my word. None of your fears are likely to come true. I can’t promise you that I won’t die. I could get killed riding away from your house tonight after being hit by a car. You could die on the way to work tonight. Any of us could die at any moment. There are no guarantees in life. But you are blowing the risks it all out of proportion.”
     
    “Am I?” I asked quietly. “Did you know I was raised by my grandparents?”
     
    “No.”
     
    “Yeah. My dad was a Dallas police officer. He was killed in a car crash – him and my mother. I can still remember them. Officially, it was an accident. But my grandparents think it was something else. I was about seven when Granny and Grandpa had driven