Page 10 of Cuckoo (Devil’s Murder MC #7)

T hree days after the dinner with Trent and Sabrina, I stood inside my kitchen, washing dishes.

I often skipped the dishwasher because using it for only one person seemed silly.

I didn’t dirty a lot of pots and pans except on the weekends when I did meal prep.

Eating out had gotten too pricey, and I preferred nutritious meals that were easy to pack up and bring to work.

I only skipped bringing my lunch on Fridays.

Everyone needed a cheat day.

For me? It was usually fried chicken or pizza.

But since this was only Tuesday, I had a portion of homemade chicken noodle soup in the microwave heating up. It was hot as Satan’s ass crack outside, and I didn’t want anything heavy to eat.

I heard the ding on the microwave and finished up, drying my hands off as I left the dishes to dry on the rack. As I did so, I happened to glance out the window and noticed my neighbors staring at my front yard.

How odd.

Was the gas tech back to reread my meter?

I peeked out the front window and found the issue. Cuckoo stood outside, smoking a cigarette as he sat on his bike. Wearing dark sunglasses, his leather vest, and a costume, he was quite the sight.

His outfit of choice? A hodgepodge of outlandish pieces.

In bright white bold white letters on his black shirt was EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SNAKE. A big white arrow pointed down with a red snake curled inside it along with the words: Caution. He spits.

I rolled my eyes. He really did have a wicked sense of humor.

Instead of jeans, he wore snakeskin red leather pants. I didn’t know how he survived that material in this heat. But hey, at least he went with the same theme this time. Well, sort of.

On his head, he wore a black top hat with large peacock feathers poking the air in shades of turquoise, gold, and iridescent blue. The eyes seemed to watch over the whole neighborhood. It had to be intentional.

As I opened my front door and stepped out, I saw my neighbors straining to see what I’d do. Cuckoo tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped the cinders with his black shitkicker boots. Across the street, another neighbor walked out, watching us as he sipped from a mug.

Sigh.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, placing my hands on my hips. “You’re going to freak out the neighbors.”

He shrugged, not fazed by their curiosity. “So?”

“You can’t stake out my house like this.”

“I’m not staking out your house.”

I pursed my lips. “Okay. What is it? Stalking me?”

“Well, yeah, angel. It’s my job to ensure your safety.”

“From your bike? In my yard?”

“Yep.”

“While wearing costumes?”

“Angel, you gotta care a little less about what people think.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Cuckoo,” I groaned, shaking my head. “Go home. Ride your bike.” I’d invite him in, but he seemed on edge. The calm tone never fooled me.

“Can’t do that, beautiful.”

I tilted my head back. A long sigh escaped my mouth. “Fine. Come inside.”

“All night?”

“Yes. All night. You can stalk me from the couch.”

“Done.” A stupid, goofy grin twitched his lips.

“Don’t go thinking this means anything. I’m just avoiding trouble from my neighbors and the police.”

“I understand, angel.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snapped, irritated with his smug smile and his cocky stare. “Don’t make me kick you out.”

He slapped a palm over his chest. “You wound me. I won’t do a thing to get evicted.”

Uh-huh.

“I remember what you were like as a teenager. Rebellious. Sarcastic. Sneaky.”

“You forgot sexy, lovable, and irresistible.”

“In your dreams,” I quipped in response.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. You’re front and center in all mine.”

“I regret saying yes already.”

Cuckoo rolled his bike up my driveway, pausing as I opened the garage door. “Thanks, beautiful.”

Once his bike was secured, I clicked the button on the opener and closed the door. We entered my house, and I instructed Cuckoo to remove his shoes while we stood in the mudroom.

“As you wish.”

I startled, snapping my head up to stare into his eyes. “You used to say that often.”

We must have watched The Princess Bride a hundred times growing up. Countless popcorn fights. Way too much sugar. And late nights, cuddled with a blanket, sneaking with the sound low because we snatched every opportunity to be happy whenever possible, no matter how small.

More than once, we got caught. Rain, err Cuckoo, always shouldered the blame and took the beating that followed.

My microwave beeped, reminding me of my dinner.

“What are you having?”

“Soup.”

He frowned. “Soup? That’s it?”

“It’s plenty to eat for dinner on a hot day.”

“Angel, you need protein.” He winked. “How about I order some food for us?”

“It’s not my cheat day. That’s Friday.”

“So?”

“I have a system.” It kept me healthy, and I avoided gaining weight.

“Sweetheart, live a little. I can have In-N-Out here in fifteen minutes.”

Shit. “You don’t play fair,” I pouted.

“Then just say yes, feed me, Rain.”

He was so silly. “Feed me.”

“Rain,” he added.

OMG, he was annoying. “Rain,” I spat with sarcasm.

“You’re adorable when you get irritated.”

“It happens a lot when you’re around. It did back then, too,” I reminded him.

He laughed. “It sure did.”

Cuckoo ordered for us, and I took out my soup, allowing it to cool so I could cover it and place it back in the fridge.

I hated wasting food. We never got enough growing up in foster care, and that spilled over into my adulthood, influencing how I budgeted, ate, and viewed every aspect of shopping, preparation, and storage of food items.

“Stop scrunching your nose.” He reached for my soup, dumped it in the sink, and held out his hand when I rushed to his side. “You don’t have to worry about your next meal.”

Was that what I was doing? No. “I just don’t like to be wasteful.”

“Listen.” His calloused palms rested against my cheeks. “I will sell everything I own, even my bike,” his voice cracked, “before I let you go hungry for one fucking hour. You understand me, angel?”

Just like he gave me his pillow and set me up with a bed in the closet on the day we met, Rain never stopped providing what I needed. I had no idea he would become my shield, protector, and family. Without him, I would never have survived that house.

“Yes.” I blinked back tears. “Stop sacrificing for me. It’s all you’ve ever done.”

“Because you’re all I want.”

I blinked, trying to hold back a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to drown me. His fingers brushed my jaw.

This was happening too fast.

I tried to wrap my head around the situation and maintain control. I had objections, dammit. Good ones, too.

I stepped away, letting his hands drop. “You smoke. It’s a disgusting habit.” I lifted my chin, refusing to look away from his relentless stare.

“I’ll never touch another cigarette. Scout’s honor.”

I snorted. Like he was ever a Boy Scout. “You own a gun.”

“It’s only for protection. I swear, angel.”

“You ride too fast on your Harley. It’s reckless.”

“I’ll fucking obey every law when you’re with me.”

Frowning, I was running out of reasons to push him away. “We’re siblings.”

His lip curled into a snarl. “We’ve never been related by blood. Who cares if we lived together for a short time as kids? It doesn’t mean shit.”

That annoyed me. “It doesn’t mean shit, huh?” I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

“That’s not what I was sayin’, beautiful, and you know it.

” His arm slid around my waist, drawing me closer.

“I’ve always felt protective of you and missed you.

Those eight years we spent together mean fucking everything, Katrina.

” He tapped his chest right over his heart.

“Never forgot you. Not one fucking day.”

“You cuss too much,” I blurted, hating how much truth he exposed with his words.

“I can’t promise that’ll change, my angel. I’ll sure as fuck try.” He grinned. “Oops.”

“You’re hopeless.” I rolled my eyes at his silly expression.

“Baby, I’m it. It’s me and you. Just like it used to be, how it was always supposed to be,” he emphasized.

“This is moving too fast.”

“Then let’s take this at your pace. Slow as you want, Katrina, as long as it still ends with me and you together.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit cocky?” He assumed way too much.

“Baby, I’m confident enough for the both of us.”

“What if you decide I’m not what you desire anymore, and you don’t want to wait for me to figure this out?”

“Not fucking possible.” He shook his head. “You don’t get it yet, but you will.” His lips brushed mine. “You’ve always been mine, Katrina.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah, baby. I knew the day we met that you were special.”

“That doesn’t mean that I belong to you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Cuckoo. This is crazy. God, what we went through. The shit that almost destroyed us.” I nearly choked as some of those horrid memories tried to surface.

Darkness. A late night with a full moon. Men in masks.

I shivered. “Rain.” My voice faltered.

“Come back to me. Close that fucking door, baby. You don’t have to open it right now. Not ever if you don’t want.”

“What if I stay like this forever?’ I asked, daring to bare a deeply buried secret.

“Like what?” his voice was little more than a whisper.

“Afraid.”

His expression appeared tortured. “Fuck. I’m here. I fucking swear. You don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anything happen to you. They won’t come back.”

They. The ones we never named or mentioned.

I could feel little spidery cracks beginning to appear in my mental walls. The foundation was rocky, and it wouldn’t take much to punch through, exposing every heinous, horrific detail that we tried to hide, shattering the only barrier that kept my sanity intact.

“I can’t be found.”

He held me so tightly that I almost couldn’t breathe, and I still wanted more of him.

His promises. His protection. His presence soothed every nightmare and blocked every monster from attacking me.

He was my dragon patrolling the castle. My dark knight brandishing his sword to ensure I remained unharmed.

What I needed, what I couldn’t forget, was the eight-year-old boy who decided within seconds that a tiny five-year-old girl had no one to champion her, so he became her vindicator. Her rock. The pillar that held her up when she threatened to fall.

“Hide me, Rain.”

Outside my house, I heard the cawing of crows. Not one. Not five. Dozens. They rose in a cacophony of sounds and pitch that felt like I had stepped into a horror movie and the murder was ready to take flight, eliminating the evil presence threatening humankind.

If only that were possible.

“I can do better than that.” His head lowered as his mouth pressed to mine, lingering before he pulled back slightly. “I’ll make you forget.”

“How?”

“By focusing on us. You’ll be so consumed with pleasure that those memories from the past can’t reach you.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes dilated.

“Please.”