Camden_Four Sons

by K. Webster

  Camden

  Four Sons

  K Webster

  Camden

  Copyright © 2018 K Webster

  Cover Design: All By Design

  Photo: Adobe Stock

  Editor: Word Nerd Editing

  Formatting: Raven Designs

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To my husband—I love you.

  Contents

  Warning

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Meet the other Sons

  Books by K Webster

  Acknowledgements

  About K Webster

  Stalk Links

  Warning

  The hero in this book is a Pearson.

  Prologue

  Ten years old…

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I watch the big hand on my watch move along with the beats of my heart.

  My big brother scared him away last year.

  But not for good.

  He came back.

  Today marks three times this summer.

  Don’t look at him. Don’t think about him.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  “Such a good boy,” he rumbles, making me shiver all over.

  I will not cry. Dad doesn’t like it when we cry if we fall or get hurt. “Be a man,” Dad always says. “Pearsons are tough.” I don’t feel so tough.

  My eyes remain glued to my watch—the same watch my grandad, Roy, gave me on my birthday this year.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I wish I were with Grandad in New York. I wish I were playing in the pool with my brothers. I wish I were helping Dad marinade the steaks.

  Anywhere but here.

  “Shhh, don’t tell your father. It’s our secret.”

  My eyes remain tear free and I don’t look at him. I never do. All I offer is a clipped nod of my head, hoping he’ll go away soon.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  He rights his clothes, then slips from my room. The moment he’s gone, I let out a heavy breath of relief. Tears well in my eyes, but I quickly blink them back.

  Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I scrub off the mess he left on my stomach with my discarded shirt. I toss the shirt at my hamper when the door creaks back open. Terror overwhelms me, and this time, I can’t hold in my tears. The moment I see my father’s friend Mateo, I let out a choked sob before I can stop myself.

  “Your dad was looking for—” He stalks toward me. I don’t flinch from Mateo. Mateo is like an uncle to me. A good uncle. “What’s wrong?”

  “I-I-I…” I trail off, imploring him to reach inside my head. To pluck out what I’m too embarrassed to say.

  “Bad dream?” he asks. “Eric said you were up here napping.”

  Tears streak down my cheeks, and I hastily swipe them away. My room reeks with his scent. How can Mateo not smell the evil still clinging to every surface?

  “Yep,” I tell him, my voice hardening. “Bad dream.”

  My tears dry, and I meet Mateo’s confused stare with an emotionless one of my own.

  “Anything I can do to help?” he asks softly, ruffling the hair on top of my head. Mateo is everything in a father my dad isn’t. I’ve seen how he adores his wife and daughter. Unlike my father. Just once, I wish my dad would ruffle my hair and tell me he loves me. Just once, I wish he’d charge into my room at the exact moment the monster from my dreams come to life is here. Just once, I’d love to see him rip him to shreds.

  Just once.

  “Camden,” Mateo tries again, his dark brows furrowed in concern. “I can help. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

  Not this. I can’t tell him this.

  What if he doesn’t believe me? I know Dad wouldn’t. The only person who would believe me is Nixon, and now that it’s happened three times, I’m not sure I want Nixon to know.

  “Can you help me put a lock on my door? I have money saved that Grandad sent me.”

  His features darken. “Is someone hurting you?”

  I lift my chin and smile. My smiles have always gotten me out of trouble. Teachers, my friends’ parents, adults in general. Well, aside from one adult, and he doesn’t deserve my smiles. “Nope. I just want a lock. I’ll be a teenager soon, and teenagers need privacy.” I always hear my older brothers Hayden and Brock beating off in their rooms. Teenagers definitely need privacy.

  Mateo’s face breaks into a grin—the same grin he regards his daughter Elma with. “Boy, you’re barely ten. Don’t rush growing up.”

  Too late for that, Uncle Teo.

  “I need one that’ll keep the monsters out,” I tell him, my bottom lip trembling despite my not wanting it to.

  He doesn’t understand the monsters are real. That they don’t come from under beds or in closets, they come straight through my bedroom door. Sneaky and quick. While no one is watching.

  “Come on,” he says after a long pause. “The party is getting wild out back. I’ll run you to the hardware store and we’ll grab the stuff we need. They’ll never miss us.”

  I smile again.

  After today, the monster won’t get back into my room. I won’t have to tell Mateo or my dad or one of my older brothers. I won’t have to tell anyone.

  It’s our secret.

  This time, I don’t shudder at those words.

  It’s our secret—one I’ll take to my grave.

  Chapter One

  Camden

  Eight Years Later…

  They say the past makes a person. Defines who they are. Molds and shapes them into who they’ll become.

  I say fuck the past.

  The past is dead to me.

  Just like both my parents.

  I feel like every passing moment is a drop in the bucket that will fill and overflow one day. That bucket is your wealth. The goddamn future. I want mine so full, it drowns out everyone around me.

  Until then, I drop, drop, drop.

  “Camden!” Mateo booms from his office.

  I step into the room and regard the man—the very man I always assumed was perfect in every way compared to my father. Now, I realize every man has secrets. Even Mateo. Mateo Bonilla is a dirty old man. Not like some dirty men I know, just your typical old guy hooking up with younger women to make himself feel better. He married once for love, but his first wife died from cancer. Next time he ties the knot will be purely for his ego.

  His fiancée is twenty years his junior.

  And my old babysitter.

  I stifle a snort and regard my father’s longtime friend with a wide grin. “Uncle Teo.”

  He stands and rounds his massive desk to pull me in for a hug. For a moment, I relax and take it for what it is. Mateo, despite who he’s going to m
arry, is still good. He would never hurt me. I wish I could say the same.

  Sometimes, those drops in the bucket splash onto others like acid. Collateral damage. I have a slight pang in my chest, but after years of learning how to control my emotions out of necessity, I push away the weak moment.

  Some things are necessary.

  Hurting Mateo is necessary.

  “How’s college treating you, kiddo?” he asks as he pulls away and tugs at my necktie.

  I chuckle and step away from him, already over the nearness to another man and needing some breathing room. “Easy,” I say, shrugging. “How’s working for my big brother?”

  He rolls his eyes and nods his head to the right where Hayden’s office is. “We don’t work for him, punk. We work with him. You know that. And for the record, Trevor and Hayden still butt heads.”

  No surprise there.

  The evidence suggested Trevor didn’t sleep with our mom and conceive my brother Nixon, but not everyone believed the evidence. Especially not my oldest brother, Hayden. At one point, I swear, he was prepared take that piece of the past to his grave and then obsess over it well into eternity.

  I, on the other hand, don’t care.

  Nixon is my brother, and that’s all that matters to me. Our mother was a cheating whore. End of story.

  “I’ll talk to him.” I tilt my head to the side and lift my brow slightly. My talks come with a price. Everyone knows this. Question is, are they willing to pay it?

  He huffs. “Don’t worry about it. Even you, master mediator, could never fix their beef. They’ll get over it at the next get together. Lucy and Katie can be quite persuasive when they tag team them.” Mateo takes his seat and leans back in it, threading his fingers together. “What can I do for you today? Not every day I get a visit from you.”

  I smirk and walk over to his desk. While he waits for my response, I pick up the framed picture of him and his fiancée. The little boy inside me looks for any indication on her pretty face that she’s just like him. The monster from long ago. But her smile is bright, albeit fake. Everything about her these days is fake.

  Takes one to know one, I suppose.

  “I’m going to be POTUS one day,” I tell him with a cocky grin.

  He laughs. “So you’ve been telling me since you were a kid.”

  I set down the picture, and meet Mateo’s amused stare. “I need an internship.”

  His brows furl together. “You’re only a college freshman. Enjoy yourself a bit, son.”

  My shoulders tense, and I give him a slight shake of my head. Absently, I adjust my Jaeger LeCoultre Duometre Q6042422 watch on my wrist. This thing set me back over thirty grand. “You know I never enjoy myself.” My words come out more bitter than I intend. Mateo is one of the few people I can be myself around, and that’s a dangerous problem to have. Straightening my spine, I flash him an easy grin. “Planning for my future is my way of fun. You know this.”

  He chuckles. “I wish we had your work ethic around here. I mean, we could take you on as an intern. I’m sure the guys would be okay with that—”

  “Not here,” I interrupt. “Interning at Four Fathers Freight won’t help my political career.” I motion to the picture on his desk. The one of him and Poppy Beckett. “Now, interning with an attorney running for lieutenant governor would. Especially considering she’s the daughter of Tampa’s sitting mayor. A lot of information could be gleaned from someone like her.”

  Understanding flickers in his eyes and he nods. Too easy, old man. Too fucking easy.

  “I’ll run it by Poppy tonight over dinner,” he says as he stares at her picture. “And if you don’t have anywhere to be, perhaps it would be better for you to dine with us.” He flashes me a wicked grin. “She can’t tell us no if you’re sitting right there. She’s too polite for that.”

  “She used to tell me no all the time when she’d babysit me and my brothers,” I challenge.

  He chuckles. “Poppy has grown up a lot since then. You’re not asking to stay up past your bed time or if you can have ice cream. We’re asking for a favor for the future president of the United States. We’ll persuade her.” His phone rings on his desk, distracting him. “My condo at seven. See you there.”

  I stare at the photo a second longer. Wide blue eyes. Silky blonde hair. Perfection just waiting to be destroyed. I’m coming for you, Poppy, and you won’t tell me no because I have a way of making people say yes.

  “Adam,” Mateo booms into his phone. “How’s my daughter?”

  I slip out of his office and walk past Trevor’s office. He’s muttering numbers, and it comforts me. Reminds me of Nixon. He seems preoccupied, so I walk over to the boardroom where I can hear voices. Levi and Hayden are going at it. Yelling and making threats at each other. I smirk as I keep on walking.

  Dad would be so proud.

  Hayden takes no shit. He’s the controlling partner with majority shares. It’s in his nature to remind the other partners of that every chance he gets. My brother runs FFF like a Pearson.

  Unyielding. Diabolical. Powerful.

  * * *

  I nod at the doorman, Ted, on my way into Mateo’s building. Ted has six daughters and works two jobs just to keep a roof over their heads. The doorman job at the fancy-as-fuck condo is just a front for his side job: dealing cocaine to half the folks who live here. I know this because I know everything. You never know when you might need a favor from someone like Ted. Alibies are important. And under duress, I could make Ted vouch on my behalf if need be.

  The key to power is making sure you hold all of it.

  Every little drop.

  Once inside the elevator, I take a look at my appearance. Dad may not have tried very hard to teach us much, but I was always watching and listening. Dad was powerful because he dressed and acted the part. Every day without fail. So each day, I don my expensive timepieces, wear my custom-made suits, and do one better than my father.

  I smile.

  I make them eat out of my hand because they want to, not because they have to.

  That is where my dear old dad failed.

  Intimidation worked for him—until it didn’t. In the end, his intimidation is what got him killed by our neighbor. He pushed and pushed and pushed, never expecting to get pushed back.

  But me?

  I want to pull.

  I want to pull everyone in and make them mine. Mine to do my bidding. Mine to control. Mine to conquer. I just want them to make that decision. Forcing them doesn’t work for my agenda.

  The elevator doors open with a ding. A young woman with dark brown hair and a toddler on her hip glares at me. She doesn’t belong here. We both know this. Only one of us despises that fact. The other is unaffected.

  I give her a slight nod and smile at the kid. He’s cute and doesn’t deserve to feel like an outsider. As I pass them, I rumple his hair. Maybe I’m the only person who will. Everyone needs to have their hair rumpled.

  Walking down the ornate hallway, I find Mateo’s unit. When I knock on the door, he wrenches it open. His lips are pursed, and he seems frazzled.

  Does Poppy know her world is about to be turned upside down?

  What has he told her?

  He forces a smile. “Great. You’re here. We were just talking about you.”

  “I’m often a topic of great conversation,” I jest.

  This time, his grin is genuine. “Come on in.”

  I walk past him into his home. Poppy hasn’t had an opportunity to color his muted grays and whites. Ever since his daughter moved away and got married, he lives like a typical bachelor. His decorating style is much like Hayden’s at the loft we share. Simple. Modern. Boring. Soon, I’ll figure out how Poppy decorates her space. If it’s anything like the foul-mouthed, knee-high-sock-wearing, messy-blonde-bun girl who used to babysit us from time to time, I imagine her home is filled with color.

  A person can pretend all they want, but their home is where you discover who they really are.

&
nbsp; We walk through his immaculate living room to the kitchen. Poppy, still wearing a rose-colored suit from a day at the office, stands in front of the stove. Her dirty blonde hair has been curled into prissy locks. I crave to run my fingers through them and destroy the perfection.

  Soon, Cam.

  Mateo, clearly on edge, clenches his jaw and frowns at Poppy. “I’ll crack open some wine. Poppy, say hello to our guest.” She tenses slightly, but I don’t miss it. As soon as Mateo leaves the kitchen, she turns to regard me.

  My, Poppy, you’ve turned into quite the sophisticated lady.

  She doesn’t smile or laugh. Not like when she’d sit on top of my kitchen island with college textbooks strewn about and her attention on her cell phone. Back then, it was a wonder how she even passed college. She spent more time yapping to her friends and planning their next outing rather than studying.

  Her father must be so proud she’s long since turned into this rather than that.

  “You’re too young for wine,” she clips out in greeting, her nostrils on her pert nose flaring.

  My lips tilt up on one side. I knew she’d be my biggest challenge yet. “You’re no longer my babysitter.”

  She smooths out nonexistent wrinkles on her suit skirt. “According to Mateo, I am.”

  I raise a brow and lean my hip against the counter before crossing my arms over my chest. Her eyes are jerky as she skims them over me to size me up. I’m no longer the little boy who begged for attention and sweets and a motherfucking friend.

  I’m Camden Pearson.