“Gran wasn’t able to do much the last year or so before she died. I really wish I could have come up to Shavertown more often, for more reasons than one.”
“Your grandmother knew how busy we were in DC with the task force. I think she understood.” Changing the subject, Grayson asked, “How’s the software project going?”
“Almost finished.”
“Maybe it’s a sign you should take the assignment.”
“I’m signed up for another project after this one.”
“Can’t you get out of it?”
Camden didn’t immediately answer. The thing was, he could refer it someone else. And a part of him did want to take this assignment. But what if it resulted in the same kind of tragedy as the last one?
It was hard to see past the grief and guilt Caleb’s death had created. The boy had been only sixteen when he’d died. The kidnappers had never planned to release him. Once they’d confirmed the ransom had been wired, they’d shot the boy and set the cabin they’d been holding him in on fire to destroy evidence. Despite the director and Gray telling him differently, the boy’s death had been preventable. If only they’d found him sooner . . .
“Someday you’re going to realize there was nothing you could have done.”
Camden sighed. Maybe Eli and Grayson were right. Maybe he did need to get back in the field again before making a decision about his career.
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to take a little more time to think about it. I’ll let you know as soon as I decide.”
Once he’d hung up with Grayson, Camden logged on to his laptop to check his e-mails, grateful that he’d decided to minor in computer programming in college while getting his degree in criminal justice. Months ago, he’d put up a profile on a site that connected businesses with software developers. Several days later, he’d been awarded his first project. And since then, the work had come fast and steady.
Granted, software development wasn’t as exciting as being undercover, but it was still meaningful. For one assignment, he’d created a system to track a company’s travel expenses. For another, he’d improved the way his client’s insurance claims were reported. Both companies had offered him additional work, which provided him an opportunity to make a significant career change.
Making a customer’s vision come to life had its rewards. And it didn’t hurt that no lives were put in danger in the process.
Lame excuse, man. Grayson’s voice sounded inside his head, but Camden forced his thoughts back to his work.
CHAPTER 3
Scranton, Pennsylvania
Although Camden didn’t regret the decision to take the assignment, anticipation still made him jittery. A week after he’d accepted the assignment, he bounced one foot nervously as the van he rode in pulled through the gates of Edgewater Correctional Facility, north of Scranton, Pennsylvania, and not far from the New York border.
Shifting forward in his seat, he took a good look at the huge concrete structure looming ahead. In an effort to make this transport look as real as possible, Camden sat cuffed hand and foot, wearing a green jumpsuit like any other inmate. Eli was beside him, his nearly ebony skin contrasting against the light gray of a prison guard’s uniform.
Although Camden had never given much thought to what went on inside a prison, he had thought of little else since he’d agreed to take this assignment a week ago. How easy would it be to gain the trust of Colton Phillips, aka Slider, a member of the Wicked Disciples?
When the van stopped in front of the building, Eli gave Camden a nod. The driver opened the van door and Eli helped Camden down the steps.
Legs shackled, he began the slow trudge up the walkway to the prison’s intake entrance, trying not to shiver in the chilly air. For the next few weeks he would be known as Cameron Shea, which was the name listed on the dummied-up transfer papers Eli had prepared for the operation, and was now carrying inside a large envelope tucked under his arm.
A few minutes later, he and Eli were seated in the visitors’ chairs in the warden’s office.
Edgewater’s warden, a rail-thin middle-aged man named Silas Frake, glanced through the papers before he leaned back in his chair. “We’ve never had a request like this before.”
“It’s new for us too,” Eli said.
Frake narrowed his gaze on Camden. “Let me make sure I have everything straight. You’re trying to establish a relationship with Phillips?”
Camden nodded. “That’s right. He’s a member of the motorcycle club I’m trying to infiltrate.”
“And you’re estimating being here for three weeks?”
“Yes.”
Hopefully it would be enough time. He’d have his work cut out for him trying to gain Phillips’s trust in that short time frame. The goal was to walk out of here with an “in” to the club.
“What can I do to help?” the warden asked.
“I’d like to be put on the same job detail as Phillips.”
Frake turned toward his computer. As a tropical screensaver disappeared, a primitive-looking DOS-based system came onto the screen, and he put on his reading glasses before pecking at a few keys.
“Phillips is working in the gym. I’ll assign you there too.”
Eli nodded. “We’ll need a signal Camden can use with the guards.”
The three men came up with a plan where Camden would run a hand through his hair and bring it to a rest on the back of his head if he needed to be brought in to see the warden.
“I’ll make sure your yard schedule matches Phillips’s.” The warden finished typing and then asked, “Do you want an overview of the prison?”
“Please.”
He brought a map out of a drawer, laid it across his desk, and pointed out the different areas of the prison.
“Any questions?”
Camden took one last look at the map before shaking his head. “No.”
“I’ll cover everything with my guards, then. They’ll all be aware of you and that signal.”
“We appreciate it,” Eli said, and pushed up from his seat.
Camden and the director shook hands with the warden. A prison guard escorted Eli and Camden to a processing area, where he had to part ways with the director.
“Make sure you don’t go cutting your hair in here,” Eli said.
“That wouldn’t do much for the biker look, would it?”
“No. Good thing it’s on the long side already.” Camden raised a hand to hair that now reached the bottom of his collar. “I’ve been so focused on my software projects that I haven’t had a chance to get it cut.”
His boss nodded. “Don’t shave either, if you can help it. And don’t let anyone get to you. Given your size, though, the inmates should know better than to mess with you.”
Like most of his teammates, Camden stood at just over six feet tall. The regular workouts he and Grayson had stuck with since college had turned what was once boyhood scrawniness into rippling muscles.
Eli said good-bye to Camden and headed for the exit.
On his own now, Camden steeled himself as he changed from the green jumpsuit into the orange one worn by Edgewater’s inmates. He put on his game face as the guard handed him a set of sheets.
“Follow me. I’ll show you where your cell is.”
Camden and the guard were buzzed through two security doors before entering the west cell block. As they walked down a long corridor, Camden’s nose was assaulted with the stench of human waste. He did his best to ignore it.
The guard stopped in front of an open cell and gestured with his hand. “This is you. Yard time is ending, so your cell mate should be back soon.”
Stepping into the cell only made the smell worse. Camden set his sheets onto the empty bottom bunk after the guard walked off. Then he turned around and studied the tight space.
Even with the door open, the cell felt confined. Reminding himself he didn’t suffer from claustrophobia, he paced the narrow walkway between the bunk beds and the wall. If it
felt tight now, how would it feel with another man inside and the cell door closed?
His gaze went to the small metal sink attached to the wall. A matching metal toilet sat beside it. The lack of privacy wasn’t something he was looking forward to either.
Get your mind on something else.
Camden looked up to his cell mate’s bunk. With the exception of a picture of a middle-aged couple taped on the wall above the mattress, his roommate didn’t seem big on personal effects. Maybe he hadn’t been there long.
“Hey.”
Camden turned around to a man about his own age, twenty-eight, well-built with close-cropped brown hair a little long on the top. Closing the short distance between them, Camden stuck out a hand.
“I’m Cameron. Cam.”
The man frowned down at Camden’s hand for a moment before accepting it. “Brian.”
“How long have you been here?” Camden asked.
“Too long,” Brian muttered. “How about you? Just got convicted?”
“No. I was transferred from Fayette. Something about overcrowding.”
“What are you in for?”
Camden folded his arms across his chest. “It’s drug related. You?”
Brian scoffed. “You haven’t heard? You’re bunking with a murderer.” When Camden didn’t respond, Brian added, “I’m innocent, though.”
“You are?” Camden schooled his features, not wanting to reveal his doubts. Every convict claimed he was innocent. Why should Brian be any different?
Brian nodded.
“You doing anything about that?”
“Been writing nonstop to innocence projects.”
“Any response?”
“Only one. They don’t take a case unless there’s new evidence, clothing or something else that can be tested for DNA.”
“Do you have that?”
“Shit, man, I was framed. The evidence they have already belongs to me.”
Camden frowned. “You were framed?”
“I don’t expect you to believe me.”
Holding up his hands in mock surrender, Camden kept his tone light. “It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“You got that right.” Brian climbed onto his bunk, effectively ending the conversation.
Camden gazed at him for a few seconds before taking a seat on his own mattress, thin and lumpy, and . . . What the hell are these stains?
Whether his cell mate was innocent or not, he wasn’t the friendliest person Camden had ever met.
It’s going to be a long few weeks in here.
CHAPTER 4
Newburgh, New York
“You never talk.”
The bite of toast Autumn had just taken lodged inside her throat. She swallowed hard against it. “What?”
Butch had finished his omelet and was now staring at her. “You never say anything.”
She studied him. His voice was level and he didn’t appear angry, but what in the world was this? The eggs she’d eaten churned inside her stomach.
“Do you want me to talk?”
“Definitely,” he said with a smirk. “I want to hear all those intelligent things you have to say.”
Autumn blinked. He was making fun of her; that’s what this was. Why, she had no idea, but it didn’t take much for Butch. He was probably bored. Unfortunately, today was a Saturday, so he’d be around most of the day.
Ignoring the needling, she stood to pick up their breakfast plates. “I saw a pot roast recipe I’d like to try. Do you think we can make it to the store today?”
“Not if you’re just going to burn it like you did the chicken last week.”
Autumn bristled but somehow managed to hold his gaze. “I won’t burn anything.” Despite her fear of him, keeping her voice level when he was provoking her was a challenge. “I’ll just get dressed.”
As she started away from the table, Butch grabbed her arm and yanked her back in front of him. Her heart raced as his lip turned up into a sneer.
“See that you don’t. I was nice to you about it the last time.”
“Right,” she whispered.
His gaze lingered on her hair and she held her breath. Was he going to order her to bleach it out again? The platinum bleach job he’d insisted on last year had finally grown out and her hair was back to its normal honey-colored shade of blond. In her opinion, her hair had looked trashy bleached. It wasn’t something she wished to return to.
Butch didn’t make any further demands. He let her go and she made her way down the hallway. Her heart was still pounding against her rib cage as she stepped inside the bathroom and turned on the shower.
As she waited for the water to warm, her thoughts drifted to her older brother as they often did when she had a quiet moment alone. Five years later and she still couldn’t believe Wade had left her with Butch. She’d been stunned the day he’d brought her to a club in Chicago, introduced her to Butch, handed over her bag, and walked back to his bike.
She’d never even met Butch before, had no idea he was one of Wade’s friends. She wasn’t even sure what his real first name was, just knew that his road name, his nickname at the club, was “Butch.”
Before her brother had ridden away, she’d begged him to tell her what was going on. All Wade had said was that he wasn’t going to be able to take care of her any longer, and that Butch would be helping her instead.
One look at Butch’s leering face after Wade had roared off told her all she’d needed to know. Despite her shock and confusion, the hunger in his eyes had registered. She might have only been seventeen at the time—and a virgin—but it had quickly become clear what he expected in exchange for a roof over her head and food in her belly.
Shuddering, she remembered their first night together. Butch had groped her until he’d finally taken her virginity. She’d cried herself to sleep. The next day, Butch put her on the back of his bike and headed for Newburgh.
Throughout those first days, she’d constantly asked him about Wade, but Butch had ignored her until he finally told her to forget him. A few days later when she’d mentioned Wade again, Butch had become enraged. He’d slapped her hard and told her she’d better shut up about him. Autumn had slumped against a wall, clutching her bruised cheek. She’d never again spoken her brother’s name.
She had, however, tried to contact Wade. One day when Butch was out, she’d taken the risk of calling. Trying not to think of what would happen when Butch saw the phone bill, she’d quickly dialed their old apartment’s phone number, but the number had been disconnected. Because of their financial troubles, Wade had never owned a cell phone, so he couldn’t be reached that way either.
All these years later, the betrayal and disappointment still hurt, but Autumn had never given up hope that her brother might return for her, might help her escape from Butch. He’d left her at the club in Chicago, so he didn’t know where Butch lived, but he could have asked someone, could have tracked her down.
A year after she was left with Butch, he decided to move to another house. He’d said he’d wanted something bigger and this property was large, with an old barn he used to store and work on his bikes.
Maybe in the years since, Wade had gone to Butch’s old address to try to find her. But he had never made it here.
• • •
When Autumn and Butch returned from their shopping trip, she unpacked some cans and went into the garage to put them away.
While trying to place them on the top of the garage’s storage shelf, she lost her balance. She was able to right herself, but her motions toppled the already unstable shelf, sending its contents crashing to the floor.
Butch burst into the garage, scowling. “What the hell is going on?”
“The shelf fell.”
In a huff, he pushed past her. “Can’t you do anything without fucking it up?”
Autumn stiffened when he muttered the word stupid under his breath. Butch was a miserable person, and she should know better than to let what he said affect h
er. But the word still stung. Maybe it was because he hadn’t completely missed the mark.
He looked over his shoulder as he took hold of the shelf. “Well?”
Her stomach contracted painfully. There was only one thing she could say at this point. “I’m sorry.”
Hopefully that would be the end of his rant. It wasn’t. Autumn’s head began to pound as he continued.
“You’re sorry,” he mimicked. He cursed her as he turned back to the shelf, found the support peg that had fallen, and set it back into place.
It was exactly what she’d been about to do, but she wasn’t about to say that to Butch. You didn’t stand up to Butch Cobb.
Not unless you actually were stupid.
CHAPTER 5
Scranton, Pennsylvania
“You’ll find him, right?” Caleb’s mother nervously twists the tissue she holds. The woman looks like a younger version of Camden’s own mother, although he’s never seen his mother anywhere near this upset.
“We’ll find him. I promise,” he tells her.
“Alive?” She chokes out the word.
“Yes,” he says, his words a solemn promise.
In the next instant, Camden is inexplicably driving a car with Grayson in the passenger seat, following a tip from a homeowner that the vacant cabin across the street has been occupied for the past few days. The owners live out of state, and the neighbor insisted that they never come to the cabin in winter.
Camden maneuvers the car around a curve, heading up the mountain to the address they’d been given. Just as he rounds a bend, bright lights wash over them as a vehicle passes them, speeding down the mountain in the other direction.
“Think that’s them?” Grayson asks.
Camden slows, trying to get a good look at the car as it hurtles by. “Not sure. He’s going pretty fast, but maybe he’s just a speeder. I’ll follow him.” He pulls onto the shoulder, intending to turn around.
“Cam, look.” Grayson points out the windshield to a patch of sky glowing in the darkness.
Meeting Danger (Danger #1) Page 2
