by Debra Kayn
"What?" He reached for her, but she stood and walked away without saying a word.
"What's wrong with her?" Stache leaned against the porch railing and took another hit.
Cam had his suspicions about what bothered her. He braced his elbows on his knees. "She doesn't like any drug use around Jeremy."
Stache blew his lips, sputtering. "Hell, its marijuana. An hour away in Washington, weeds legal. I started smoking when I was twelve."
"Yeah, I know." Cam rubbed his beard and straightened the whiskers. "She sticks to her opinion."
Stache sniffed and exhaled loudly. "It's not my place to tell you how to run your life, man. She's a sweet woman, too sweet for you or hanging around with a bunch of men on borrowed time. If you're good with her being here, I'm happy for you. It can't be easy raising a kid you don't even know."
What Stache said was true. Cam spit on the ground. The last week, after picking up Jeremy from Lola's house, Christina had become more determined to tell him he was falling down on his job. When he'd brought Jeremy back to the house to live with him, he hadn't planned on being a judge, teacher, and babysitter. The kid was old enough to take care of himself.
Christina stood with the group of Moroad women. Cam stretched his legs out in front of him. She went through the motions of getting along with the club, took care of his house, Jeremy, and continued to have sex with him every night, but something was different this week.
She talked less and her smiles never lasted long. He'd given her time, and instead of her mood improving, she seemed to go through the motions of living instead of enjoying each day.
Gunner strolled in front of Cam's line of vision. Cam shook his head at the direction of his thoughts. He'd taken his time and earned her trust. She wouldn't leave him.
She'd begged him to be careful when he went on a run for the chain for fear he wouldn't come back to her. He stretched his lips over his teeth. Except last night, she'd kissed him goodnight after they'd had sex and instead of curling against him, she'd turned over and faced the wall.
"Is everything okay?" Stache asked.
Cam nodded. "Yeah. I'm free, right?"
"That you are, brother. You're living the fucking dream." Stache inhaled and held the smoke.
Maybe Christina had become too comfortable. He pushed himself off the step, walked across the yard to his motorcycle, and retrieved the bundle of letters he'd kept. Shoving them in his back pocket, he joined Christina and slipped his hand into hers.
"Come on." He tugged her away from the others.
Jeremy glanced at them. Cam lifted his chin, leaving the kid outside to party with the others.
Christina hurried up the porch steps. "You're not going to stay out here?"
He stopped her at the door. "Would you prefer that I stay out here bullshitting with the guys instead of inside the house with you?"
"I don't care what you decide to do." She squeezed in front of him and walked inside the house.
He followed her into the living room and stopped her from escaping into the bedroom. Whatever beef she had with him was going to end tonight. He needed her on his side and to know without a doubt, she wouldn't turn her back on him.
He needed the loyalty she gave him when she feared for her life. She seemed to pull away from him when he eased off and gave her more freedom. He let go of her. Maybe she needed reminded about who was in control of this relationship.
"Take your clothes off and get in bed," he said.
She rocked back a foot and stopped. "You should go and make sure Jeremy's not getting into any trouble."
"He's fine," he muttered, irritated that she wasn't doing what he asked.
"Fine." Her lips pursed and she walked past him toward the front door. The blatant disrespect took him by surprise.
He caught her before she could leave the house. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"If you won't watch over Jeremy, I will." She glared up at him. "That's what I'm here to do, right? Someone needs to be the parent around here."
Anger curled in his stomach. He grabbed her arm, marched her to the bedroom, shut the door, and threw the deadbolt.
From the other side of the door, Christina said, "This isn't funny, Cam. Let me out."
"Not on your life," he muttered and walked away.
He left the house, because he didn't trust himself to go to her. One scream, one sob, one attempt to beg him to promise never to leave her, and he'd be all over her. He had to stay strong. If he gave into her, he'd lose all the work he'd put into their relationship. She had to learn to trust him, no matter the circumstances.
Stache still leaned against his spot on the porch, except Lola kneeled at his boots, blowing him off. He glanced over and lifted his chin at Stache. He should be inside the house right now letting Christina put her mouth on him, and instead he walked across the yard to see if there were any more beers left.
A woman's squeal of delight dragged his attention away from the cooler. Jeremy, sitting on his motorcycle, snagged Tiff, an infrequent visitor to the house, and sat her down on his bike in front of him. Cam softened; glad the kid was enjoying himself. Despite what Christina thought, he paid attention to what was going on around him. Since moving in with him, Jeremy had matured. He used his anger and frustration to strengthen and not tear himself down all the time.
"Cam." Willy let go of Katie and walked over to him. "Is the trip to see Merk still on for tomorrow?"
"I'm going alone." Cam stepped over, grabbed a beer, and came back to Willy.
Willy lowered his voice. "It's not safe."
"I don't want any of you on camera when I pull up to the prison."
"That's a long ride with nobody at your back, brother," Willy said.
Cam pulled from the beer. "The girls dance tomorrow night. I'm going to take the night off, and let Jeremy fill in for me. I don't know how long it'll take me to see Merk, or if I will. Watch out for the kid for me."
"He's underage." Willy shook his head. "Even with ID, Bantorus MC will know the kid is still in school. It's a small town."
"Put him on guard to watch the bikes. He can stay outside in the back." Cam reached behind his neck, pulled the elastic band out of his hair, and shook his head.
"Man, nobody's going to mess with the bikes in town while the women are dancing," Willy said.
"The kid doesn't know that." Cam raised his brows. "Far as he knows, he's got a job."
Willy walked backward. "Your order. I'll let him know."
He lifted the bottle and drank deep. If only it was that easy to organize Christina's attitude.
Once he drank three more beers and his frustrations over Christina left him, Cam walked back to the house. He paused inside the foyer listening for any sounds that Christina was upset. The quietness worried him. He'd almost like having a fight with her, so they could get past whatever bothered her and get back to the important shit...like having sex.
He strolled to the bedroom, undid the latch, and walked inside the dark room. A gun blast knocked him to the floor. He grabbed his knife at his side, sprang to his feet, and held the shadowed figure, pressing the tip of the blade into a soft neck. At the slight prick, he realized who his unknown assailant was and pushed Christina away from him.
He stepped over and flipped the light switch. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Standing in front of him, Christina held the pistol he'd given her in her hand. He growled spotting the tinge of blood on the pale skin of her neck.
"Cam," Gunner yelled from the other room. "What's going on?"
"It's okay. Tell everyone to stay the fuck out!" He grabbed a shirt off the dresser and approached Christina.
She backed away from him.
"Do not move." He held the material to her neck and wiped the blood off in one swipe.
The knife barely nicked her. He'd had bigger cuts from shaving. Relieved she wasn't hurt worse, he shook her.
"What the hell were you doing?" he said.
She cried out, slapp
ing at him. "You locked me inside."
"I'm about ready to lock you in the bedroom permanently." He took the pistol away from her and set it on the nightstand. "Who did you think was coming through the door?"
"You," she screamed. "I want to leave. I don't want to live here anymore."
"Why?"
She slapped at him again. "Because you lied. All you want me for is to take care of Jeremy."
Cam's head snapped back in surprise. "Bull shit."
"You told me yourself." She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows. "The other day, you told me that I was here to teach Jeremy right from wrong."
He clamped his teeth together and tilted his head back. She'd thrown his exact words back at him.
"Is that why you've been ignoring me?" he asked.
"Since that day, you totally put Jeremy's care in my hands. I love that kid, and it's not fair to him or me. If all you want is a woman who'll take care of him, Lola can do my job and sleep in your bed," she said.
She shook with emotion. He gripped her arms, dragging her up until he was in her face. "You're blind. Look around you. I've brought you into the club, given you my home, and set you up with the security you need to live your life...so you can continue to believe in a world that isn't going to hurt you again and will bring you happiness. You benefit from the good things, while I do my best to shoulder the bad away from you. Tonight, you could've killed me, and then who would watch over you? I could've killed you, and then your blood would be on my hands. Jesus Christ, think, woman. I've been helping you since you wrote your first letter."
She went lax in his arms. He let her go, reached into his back pocket, and put the bundle of letters he'd kept from prison in her hand.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
He led her to the door of the bedroom. "I have no room in my life for doubts when my freedom can be ripped away from me by a woman who gets her feelings hurt over stupid shit. You can sleep on the couch and if you want to leave, go in the morning before I get up. I don't have any more time to waste trying to show you why I want you in my life when I've showed you, told you, and practically beat you over the fucking head trying to get you to believe that you're here, because I want you."
Before she could turn to him, he shut the door before he could change his mind. He pulled out his phone and texted Gunner.
Stand guard on the house. Do not let C leave. He waited, and once he received the reply, he tossed the phone onto the bed and sat in the recliner.
It was too late to give her a choice. He couldn't allow her to leave. Solitary confinement was meant to break a man, to bend the spirit into submitting to authority, and the way to find the inner strength to survive. He hoped like hell it worked for women, too. He wanted Christina to realize that without him, she'd never survive. Her life was in his hands.
Chapter Twenty Six
Dear Prisoner #18794
Yesterday was a hard day. While I was working, something reminded me of the man that killed my parents. I had to leave early and go home. The anger bottled up inside of me is too much. I wish I had the money and power to find him. The police tell me it's a cold case and won't actively work the case, unless they receive new clues. Right now, they only have what I could tell them. The man was normal looking with olive colored skin, short black hair, and wore jeans and a T-shirt. Even the description of the car he drove away in that I gave the police doesn't help them. The police said a lot of people drive black sedans with a hood ornament. Sometimes I think law enforcement officials don't want to help me. If I had money, I could hire a private investigator to find the murderer. Maybe then I wouldn't be scared of him coming back to kill me too.
Enough about me. I hope by now your leg is better. I imagine you hurt it while out in the yard exercising. I know you say that you keep yourself busy and being outside helps you cope through the long nights.
I hate that I only have a number to call you. Somehow, I believed knowing less about you would keep me from thinking about you as a real person. Instead, it makes me sad to know that our friendship over the last two years will never amount to anything more than a letter. Sometimes, I wonder if I've invented more into the constant correspondence, that maybe you do understand me better than I know myself. Do you think I've wanted someone to understand me for so long that I'm reading more into my attachment to your letters?
That's my question for you.
Christina
She folded the paper and slid the letter into the envelope. That'd been the last time she'd written to prisoner #18794. Cam had replied, telling her not to write again. She'd respected his wishes.
She pulled the blanket to her chest and slid down into the corner of the couch. Without the constant letters from prison, she'd mourned the loss of her only friend and confidant. Even before she'd met Cam, she'd become infatuated with a convict.
The lonely road of finding herself responsible for herself one day after being carefree and dependent on her parents pushed her into a life that was foreign and scary. She'd gone from dreaming, wishing, laughing to only having memories to sustain her in a violent, frightening world she wasn't mature enough to handle.
Nothing in life was touchable. Her feelings were numbed. The sun a constant reminder of the hurt she'd suffered in a dark world. That all changed when Cam continued to write her. She started feeling again. She smiled more and even laughed on occasion. Those same feelings she remembered getting from her parents now came from Cam, and became her reality. When he was in prison, he listened to her fears, her hopes, and her dreams. After he'd kidnapped her, he taught her that he was still the man who wanted the responsibility of taking away her fears, giving her hope, and supporting her dreams. She sat up and threw off the blanket. He always answered her questions and the longer she stayed with him the more questions she had.
He'd searched for her when he walked away from the state prison, but it wasn't until she'd phoned to set up a meeting about Jeremy's living situation that he decided to take her. Maybe there were reasons why she'd contacted the prison and Cam replied. Maybe fate put her in his and Jeremy's path.
She walked into the hallway and stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Her heart skipped a beat. Cam sat in the recliner, his chin on his chest, and his eyes closed. He hadn't even slept in the bed last night without her. He'd suffered, because of her selfishness and hurt feelings.
What she got with Cam was better than what she gave him back. She needed his strength and preserve, his confidence that she would be safe within the club. Her chest ached at remembering life before her kidnapping. She'd had a lonely life, working to make ends meet, and scared if something happened to her, nobody would miss her. That was not a way of life she wanted to revisit. She'd already lost her parents. She didn't want to lose Cam too.
She'd fallen in love with him, not because he was prisoner #18794, but because he was Cam.
She tiptoed into the room and crawled up onto his lap, wrapping her arms around the bulk of his chest and laying her head in the warm spot on his neck. His arms came around her. She inhaled the tremor going through them both.
"Can I stay?" she whispered.
"You never had a choice." His hand came up and palmed her head, holding her to him. "I was never going to let you go."
She closed her eyes, warmth flooding her body. "Tell me why you came after me."
He held her tighter. "At first I wanted to tell you in person that you had no reason to be afraid anymore, but then you accepted me...good and bad. I can't let that feeling go."
She pushed against his hand and he let her sit up. "What are you talking about?"
"You can let go of being scared that the man who killed your parents will come after you. You can let go of the anger inside of you that makes you want to kill him for what he did to your family. The man is gone. He's dead." Cam held her face. "You can let go of the anger and fear that no one is going to stop him from hurting or killing someone else."
"How do you know he's dead? The police ha
ven't identified him." She clung to the front of his vest. "They don't even have any suspects."
"Because you gave me enough information in your letters to realize who it was, and he happened to be the same person who wanted to take each of the Moroad members out, starting with me." Cam's leg flinched underneath her.
"The man who beat you in prison?" she asked. "He's the same one who murdered my parents?"
He nodded.
"You killed him?" she whispered, unable to ask any more questions, because her mouth went dry.
Cam's thumbs stroked her cheeks. "You'll never have to worry if you're the type of person who could kill another human being, because you'll never have the opportunity if you stay with me. I killed him for you. He can never hurt you again. I made him pay for what he'd done."
"B-but you were released from prison," she said.
He stared her in the eyes. "Nobody knows who killed him, and nobody will. You're the only person I've told, and I trust you with my freedom."
She nodded, understanding the depth he'd gone for her. Her throat constricted and she swallowed. He'd taken her guilt away for the feelings she'd lived with for years. She no longer had to hide, worrying about if he'd find her and murder her too.
"I can't believe he's dead," she said.
Cam pulled her head closer and kissed her lips. "You're not the type of person to take that step away from being good. You're not a bad person. I'd never want that for you."
She shivered. Despite wanting a safe life with Cam, she couldn't find it in herself to be appalled that he'd killed a man for her. She was glad her parents' murderer was dead.
"If he wasn't held responsible for my parents' murders, why was he in prison?" she asked.
Cam leaned back in the chair. "He's a member of Los Li, the United States arm of the Mexican mafia. The Feds took down the majority of their gang a few years ago. He was caught in the sweep."
"The mafia?" She blew out her breath. "Why would the mafia be after my parents?"
"I doubt it was a personal attack. It could've been territorial rights, a robbery gone to shit, or a number of reasons that had nothing to do with your parents," Cam said.
