by LaQuette
Camden closed his eyes and thought back to the simplicity of those times. His father’s plan for his life had been so far off at that point, it didn’t seem to strangle every breath of freedom Camden ached to steal away for himself.
“Between the music, the clubs, the superb selection of alcohol, and the cannabis—honestly, some of the best marijuana ever grown—yes, boarding school and college, those were the days.”
Elijah placed his palms flat against the countertop and braced himself. “You do realize I’m a cop, right? You admitted to all types of felonious behavior in that whimsical skip down memory lane you were just taking.”
Camden shrugged his shoulders. “And you do realize I’m one of the best trial attorneys on the circuit? I’m certain I could get any charge you lobbed at me set aside.”
Elijah waved a dismissive hand and headed for the refrigerator, returning with a container of half-and-half before he pulled a carafe of coffee from his coffee maker. “Your arrogance will get you in serious trouble one of these days, Counselor.” He filled a cup with the steaming liquid and slid it across to Camden, keeping his gaze fixed, making it impossible for Camden to escape if he wanted to. “If it hasn’t already.”
Again, the lieutenant’s perception was spot-on. Camden’s arrogance was as much a part of who he was as the ink-black color of his hair. His father had spent years conditioning Camden to the idea that entitlement was something to expect when your family’s financial and societal legacies rivaled the Rockefellers.
Camden had never considered the consequences of doing his job. It was all a game of checking off wins as his conviction rate skyrocketed above his counterparts’ in the DA’s office. He’d never thought his desire to take on the big cases to amass professional acclaim would put a target on his back. When you believed you were untouchable, such things didn’t cross your mind.
“Hey,” Elijah called to Camden, pulling him out of his musings. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” Camden lied. He shoved a forkful of food into his mouth and chewed to keep himself from telling Elijah the truth: he was scared, and it was a foreign concept to him. “Just hoping you have some soy milk in the fridge for my coffee.”
Elijah lifted a skeptical brow, his expression revealing his disbelief in Camden’s statement. This ability to read Camden was proving to be inconvenient if not annoying.
“So, have you figured out how to stop the Path? You use that super cop sense to bust the case wide-open?”
Elijah shook his head as he finished his food, then rinsed his plate before putting it in the dishwasher. “Nope.”
Camden couldn’t tell if the straight face and matter-of-fact tone was an act or not. He’d only known the man for a night. He hadn’t had the chance to learn the subtleties of his displays of humor.
“Are you at least trying?” Camden asked with expectation. There was someone after him; neither of them could afford to forget that.
“No,” Elijah answered. “I’m not trying to stop the Path, Camden. It’s not my job.”
Camden crossed his arms against his chest and stared in disbelief. “Not your job?” he repeated with as much indignation as one could muster when you heard the most ridiculous statement made over the kitchen counter.
“Camden,” Elijah continued, “I’m here to keep you safe.”
A tingle spread through Camden’s system as Elijah punctuated the word “safe” with a brief touch to Camden’s hand.
“My captain has an investigative team trying to figure out how to finish the Path for good. My job is to keep you hidden and alive until it’s time to get you back to the city for your big day in court. Until then, kick back and relax a few days.”
When Camden’s entire body tensed at the idea of relaxing in their current situation, Elijah gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I promise, Camden, nothing will happen out here.”
It was such a small gesture, Elijah holding his hand to comfort him. But in the midst of the shitstorm he was now trying to bluff his way through, Camden hung on to the small sliver of hope Elijah was attempting to give him, while simultaneously trying to deny the sizzle of electricity that singed his skin. He took a slow breath as he wondered which was more dangerous: the threat on his life, or the attraction he held for the man tasked with protecting him.
Chapter Six
“I PROMISE, Camden, nothing will happen out here.”
Elijah watched Camden with a careful eye, noticing the quiet signs of stress the man unknowingly exhibited. Camden’s usual tanned complexion seemed much fairer. The sharp line of his jaw ticked from the rigid set of muscles holding it in place. There were worry lines etched into his forehead. Add in the nervous way he kept repeating Elijah’s answers, the anxiety causing a mild lilt at the end of each sentence, turning it into a question, and Elijah had all he needed to recognize Camden was in distress.
When Elijah had met Camden, his confidence and charm had been the most attractive thing about him. He was charismatic and so certain of himself that he grabbed Elijah’s attention. Yes, Camden was a beautiful specimen of a man. He was tall, built with carved, tanned, lean muscles that made Elijah’s mouth water, and his fingers itched to touch every inch of Camden’s skin. With that lethal combination, there was no way Elijah could’ve ignored how attractive Camden was.
It was the depth of intelligence and confidence in Camden’s eyes, however, that kept Elijah’s attention that night. Not the tight body or perfect smile.
Elijah had never been one to fall into the blue-eyed craze. In part because he’d never been with a man long enough to care about what his eye color was, but mostly because other than available and ready to fuck with no strings, Elijah didn’t much care about the characteristics of the men who shared his bed. Camden was different for reasons Elijah couldn’t explain then or now. Maybe it was the dark hair/blue eyes combo that pulled Elijah in. Or, perhaps, the way those bright eyes shone with mischief when Camden laughed. Whatever it was, within ten minutes of meeting Camden, Elijah was already getting excited about spending quality time with the handsome lawyer.
Now, it was those same eyes that helped Elijah see through Camden’s bluster. Yeah, on any average day, Camden’s confidence probably choked the air out of a room, but at this moment, fear billowed off of him in unmistakable waves. Camden wasn’t just anxious; he was afraid. Somehow, that seemed wrong.
Camden had lost that fire that intoxicated Elijah upon their meeting, and witnessing that made his skin tight and uncomfortable, like it was missing some essential vitamin to keep it soothed and supple. Bizarre, because it was so opposite from who Camden was. But it was also strange because Elijah had firsthand experience on how devastating it was to lose that kind of confidence in yourself.
When Elijah was attacked, it was the first time he remembered ever being afraid. The first time he’d ever been concerned that he wasn’t enough to get the job done. That doubt that formed while he was being beaten and bloodied was far worse than any of the resulting physical injuries he’d sustained. He’d lost his belief in himself during that assault. But somehow, observing the same thing happening in Camden’s eyes made Elijah’s chest ache in ways it hadn’t when he’d experienced the same bottomless hell.
Sympathizing with Camden’s loss, Elijah tightened his hold on Camden’s hand, hoping his actions could convey what his words couldn’t.
I’ve been there. I know how this hurts.
The vibrating phone in Elijah’s pocket broke the spell. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump of emotion sitting in his airway before he answered.
“’Sup.”
“It’s Searlington,” his captain answered. “You and your new roomie kill each other yet?”
Elijah ran his hand over the under braid taming his locs and laughed. “No, not yet anyway,” he replied as he stole a quick glance at Camden. He wondered what it would take to remove the worry from his now-serious face. They seemed, for the moment, to be on the same page. How long this unex
pected reprieve would last was beyond him, considering how easy it was for Camden to get on his nerves.
“I just got off the phone with your friend, the DA,” Captain Searlington commented, instantly knotting Elijah’s stomach into a ball of nerves. What had Lindsey done now? “You and Mr. Warren were like a match to gasoline in my office. I knew something was up, so I took your friend out for drinks to get her to spill her guts. E. Why didn’t you tell me you had that kind of history with this dude? She didn’t give me all the specifics, but she said the two of you had a thing until Camden fucked it up.”
Elijah rolled his eyes and vowed to strangle Lindsey and her loose-ass lips when they met again. He saw enough pity in the eyes of his fellow officers and superiors after his injury. He didn’t need his captain—the person who’d stayed with him, holding his hand until his family had arrived at the hospital—feeling sorry for him because of a one-night stand gone wrong.
“That was a long time ago,” he answered, trying to keep his side of the conversation light for Camden’s sake. “Believe me. It’s not as deep as she makes it out to be. I think her job makes her put a dramatic spin on everything.” Elijah looked into Camden’s eyes, still tethered to the pull their depths had on him. “It was no big deal. It didn’t mean a thing. It won’t affect me doing my job.”
His chest tightened as he spoke those words. He’d intended them to be resolute, to reassure Captain Searlington she had nothing to worry about. But even he could detect something was off as he spoke. Something made even Elijah doubt that this messy situation was anything but in his control.
He gave himself a mental shake. It didn’t matter what had occurred in their past. Elijah would do what he was assigned to. Was he attracted to Camden? Would he rather not be on this case at all? The obvious answer was yes to both those questions. But the way Camden had discarded him all but ensured there would never be anything beyond this case between them. Even if Elijah wanted to act on this thing that pulled at him whenever he was in Camden’s presence, he couldn’t. Camden didn’t want him.
“Nonetheless, I’m sorry, Elijah,” Captain Searlington answered. “Now that I know the deal, if you want me to, I’ll go to brass, see if I can get you pulled from this without it blowing back on you.”
Elijah couldn’t tell if it was relief or fear that washed over him. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he contemplated his freedom. He was ready to give her the yes she was waiting for, but then he caught sight of Camden, still watching him, still weighed down with worry.
Elijah was a tactician. Except for that last sting where he’d moved without having all the information needed, Elijah had always followed the smart play. Oh, he was all about going in with guns blazing, but not without a plan to ensure he came out victorious—and alive. Taking Captain Searlington up on her offer was the smart play on many levels. He wouldn’t have to worry about fucking up this investigation or worrying about if he was the right cop for this job. He’d be free of Camden and the sexy web the man spun as naturally as he drew breath. Agreeing to be removed might be the best course of action for them both.
But the sight of him wearing Elijah’s T-shirt and sweatpants, looking less intimidating and more vulnerable without the armor of his three-piece suit, and Elijah hesitated to respond.
“Did you hear me, Stephenson?” Captain Searlington asked. “I’ll have someone relieve you tonight, and you can be done with this.”
There was his ticket out. All Elijah needed to do now was take it. He tried to say yes again, but Camden started biting his bottom lip, as if he somehow knew Elijah was about to ditch him and his case. It would’ve been fitting. Elijah walking out with no more notice than Camden gave him all those years ago.
“Nah,” Elijah replied as he hoped he wouldn’t regret this hasty decision. Camden might be a pretentious asshole who probably deserved more than an ass-kicking or two. But he didn’t deserve to live in fear of his life. “Don’t worry about it. I’m good till it’s done.”
He ended the call, folding his arms casually over his chest, wondering why he hadn’t taken the easy way out. It would’ve been so simple to walk away from this assignment. An assignment Elijah knew would cost him grief either professionally or personally. Maybe even both if his luck didn’t hold out.
A quick glance at Camden, and Elijah noticed his charge had stopped biting his lip long enough to muster up a weary smile. The smile was weak and tentative, as if Camden were silently asking Elijah for something. In that moment, Elijah instantly knew why he’d chosen to stay. Camden needed him. He’d made Camden a promise to protect him. It was a promise Elijah knew he had to keep, even to his own detriment.
Too afraid to dig deeper, he walked to where Camden stood and clapped him on his shoulder. “Come on,” Elijah murmured. “Let’s go see what’s on TV.”
When Camden seemed confused and didn’t follow behind Elijah in the hallway, Elijah turned to look back over his shoulder. “Hurry before I change my mind about letting you have my remote.”
Chapter Seven
CAMDEN was bored. There was no other way to describe it. He’d been in captivity—or quaintly phrased—protective custody for only a few hours, and there was nothing left to do within these walls. Well, there was, but he was tired of watching TV. Anything else he might have been interested in doing was strictly forbidden by Lieutenant Pain-In-The-Ass. He couldn’t use any of his virtual accounts because logging in would give anyone looking for him their location. No social media, no reading from his e-reader app, hell, he couldn’t even log into work and reference anything in the law library. There was nothing to do, and the pervasive silence would drive Camden out of his mind.
He looked through the last sports magazine Elijah had lying around and tossed it on the coffee table. “How the hell does he stay here in all this quiet without going insane?”
“Who says I’m not already insane?”
Elijah’s unexpected presence in the room made Camden jump from his reclined position on the couch while clutching his hand against his chest to soothe his startled heart.
“Can you please stop with the ninja-stealth steps? You will give me a heart attack,” he shouted. “Then the Path to Unity won’t have to worry about killing me off.”
“Makes my job easier either way,” Elijah responded as he shrugged his shoulder and sat on the sofa next to Camden. “If you’re bored, why don’t you come downstairs and work out with me?”
“We just had breakfast for dinner,” Camden whined as he plopped his feet on top of the coffee table, cringing from the annoying sound of his own voice. He wasn’t usually this high-maintenance, but even he had his limits. He was going stir-crazy. “Can’t we relax?”
Elijah leaned forward, pushing Camden’s feet off the coffee table as he stood up. “Suit yourself. I’ll be in the basement working off some of the tightness in my leg if you need me.”
Camden watched Elijah amble out of the room with an almost unnoticeable limp, and his inner toddler regretted the tantrum he’d just thrown. Elijah was working through pain to keep his body ready to protect Camden’s life. And while he did that, Camden was behaving like a child who needed to be entertained every second of the day. It was petty and beneath a man of his import.
Camden could hear his mother admonishing him. “Camden Nicholas Warren,” she’d huff. “Where are your manners? We must always be gracious to our hosts.” She’d be disappointed in his behavior, at least until she found out Elijah was a cop from a middle-class family with no legacy that the Warren pedigree would speak of. Then, her tune would probably change. Then she’d curl up her lip the way she did when she encountered something unsavory and say, “Camden, please stop dallying with someone so obviously beneath our station. It reflects poorly on us, dear.”
As did most things that veered from the approved list of things Camden could do with his life as far as it concerned his parents.
Too bored to remain where he was and too frightened to venture beyond Elija
h’s home, Camden chose the only option left to him: working out in the basement with Elijah.
Camden expected to see Elijah lifting weights when he reached the bottom of the landing. Instead he found him sitting on the floor, leaning over the leg he’d been favoring upstairs, with his body almost flattened against the length. Camden would’ve stopped to enjoy the picture if he hadn’t seen the wince of pain in the reflective surface of the mirror Elijah was sitting in front of.
“Hey.” Camden spoke carefully as he stepped closer to Elijah’s position inside the room. “You all right?”
“Yeah, I forgot to do my PT stretches for my leg this morning. It gets a little stiff if I don’t stretch at least once a day since….”
“Since the attack?”
Elijah stopped stretching to look at Camden, his face colored with disbelief and a healthy dose of suspicion. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me about something you either shouldn’t care about or shouldn’t have known about since we haven’t spoken in the last five years. You keeping tabs? Or did you dismiss my order to stay off electronics, and google me?”
Camden didn’t answer at first. Instead, he sat down on the floor opposite Elijah, and stretched his legs as far open as he could without dislocating his hips. He motioned for Elijah to do the same. When they each secured their hands to the other’s forearms, Camden leaned back, pulling Elijah into a deep partner stretch for as long as Elijah could tolerate it.
“You gonna answer my question, Counselor?”
“Elijah, I work for the Brooklyn DA’s office. I don’t think it would be that farfetched I’d know about your attack. My office prosecuted the people responsible.”
