by Hamel, B. B.
“What do we do?” she asked after a few minutes of driving.
“Look for a pay phone.”
“You’re really going to call that number?”
“I don’t have much of a choice here.”
“Are you sure you don’t know where Trip might be? There’s no other way of contacting him?”
I sighed. “This is the plan, Lace. We didn’t have time to set up anything more than this.”
“Still, you’re supposed to be partners in crime.”
I clenched my jaw, memories coming back to me. I remembered the desert and Trip’s big black cowboy hat. On the ground in front of us were two men, strangers to each other, but well-known to the cartel. They owed us money, owed us a lot of money, and we were supposed to get that money. But when we showed up at their houses, they had both tried to run.
We got runners every once in a while, but usually people realized that it was useless to try to resist. Those two guys, though, they had both put up a fight, which was very unusual. Our standard practice with runners was to tie them up and drag them out into the desert. That was usually enough to scare them into talking.
But those two, they were made of stone. Or maybe they were feeding off each other’s energy. Either way, they refused to talk.
“Come on,” Trip said. “Where’s the money?”
“Fuck you,” the thin man said.
I kicked him in the face and he flopped backward.
“What about you?” Trip said to the ugly one.
“What he said.”
I kicked him, too, probably knocking out a tooth.
Trip sighed. “We can’t let this stand, gentleman. We need money and we need it today.”
“I have nothing for you,” the ugly man said. “You might as well kill me.”
“Okay,” Trip said.
Before I could stop him, he put the gun to the ugly man’s head and pulled the trigger, blowing his brains out. The blood spattered all over the thin man’s face.
“What the fuck, Trip,” I said.
He shrugged, shaking his head. “He wasn’t going to pay up.” Trip looked at the thin man, shaking in fear, covered in the other man’s blood. “Will you pay?”
“Yes! Please don’t kill me!”
We got our money that night. But I couldn’t forget the brutal and intense look on Trip’s face as he murdered that man in cold blood. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen Trip kill before, or like I hadn’t killed myself. But it was the callous, almost careless way that he did it that made me nervous.
There was something in Trip that I didn’t understand. We may have been partners in crime, but I didn’t know him nearly as well as I should have.
“We were close,” I said slowly, “but not that close. We were the only two white men in the cartel, so that naturally made us gravitate toward each other. Plus, we were both being run by the CIA. But I didn’t know him that well.”
She stared at me. “You’re kidding, right? I thought you two were best buddies.”
“We worked well together. But other than that, I wouldn’t say we were friends.”
“Fuck, Camden. You left our parents with a guy you apparently barely know?”
“I trust him. I mean, I trusted him.”
“What about now?”
“You know I’m not so sure now.”
“Get sure. Because if we’re calling, we’re taking a huge risk.”
“I know that. No other choice, though.”
I continued driving, looking for a pay phone. There had to be at least one in the whole city of Juneau, especially considering it wasn’t exactly the most advanced placed in the world.
“We can’t just do nothing,” I said.
“I know that. But what if Trip really did betray us?”
“One way to find out,” I said, pulling over.
I walked down the block, smiling to myself. Attached to the front of a performing arts center was a single, lone pay phone. I jingled the quarters in my pocket.
Lacey came after me. “Are you sure about this?”
I dropped the change into the slot. “Not really.”
“Maybe we should look around first.”
I dialed the number. “Yeah, maybe.”
“We can find a home base. Get settled in. Take a day and see what we see.”
The line was ringing. “That’s a good idea.”
“Is that thing seriously working?”
It kept ringing and ringing. After the tenth ring, and a few long seconds of an angry stare from Lacey, I was ready to give up. My heart sank into my stomach as I realized that I had no way of contacting Trip, no way of finding out what had happened to my mother. If I forgot the number, or if it was no longer good, then we were screwed.
Eleven rings.
“Maybe you should hang up?” Lacey said, looking around nervously.
Twelve rings.
“Come on,” I said softly.
Thirteen rings.
“Leave a message,” she said.
Fourteen rings.
“Not picking up.”
I looked at the phone in my hand, ready to hang it up. Maybe I could try again. Maybe it would work. Just as I was about to slam it down onto the receiver, I heard a weird noise come out of the handset.
I pushed it up against my ear quickly.
“Hello?”
“Who is this?” the voice said, clearly annoyed.
“Trip sent me.”
There was a long pause. The voice was a man’s voice, and I listened closely, trying to hear something in the background. But there was nothing but silence.
Lacey gave me a worried look.
“Where are you?” the man asked.
“Who is this?” I asked instead.
“We don’t have time for that. This line isn’t safe.”
“Then speak fast. Where’s Trip?”
The man was clearly annoyed. “Trip is here and he is safe. We can come get you.”
“Tell me where you are first.”
“Listen to me,” the man said quickly. “If this is Camden, you must tell us where to find you. We’re all in danger.”
I clenched my jaw. I didn’t want to tell them where we were, but they were my only chance. And he was right, we absolutely were in danger.
“We’re outside the Juneau Performing Arts Center, on the pay phone.”
“I know where that is,” the man said. “Stay there. We will be there in ten minutes.”
“Okay, but—”
He hung up, cutting the line dead.
I hung up the receiver and looked at a concerned Lacey.
“You told them where we are,” she said.
“And they’re on the way.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know. Trip’s people.”
“This could be bad.”
“Go get in the car. Make sure you’re out of sight. Sit low down in the seat. Make sure you can see me, but don’t draw attention to yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t want you anywhere near me when these guys show up.”
“No. We’re sticking together.”
“Lacey. This isn’t an option.”
She took a step closer to me. “Listen, Camden. I get it. You feel like you have to do whatever it takes to keep us safe. But you aren’t sacrificing yourself.”
“I can’t keep you safe from this,” I said angrily. “I don’t know what’s coming.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Drive away, Lace, if anything goes south. I can handle myself, but I might hold back if you’re nearby.”
She stared at me silently for a second, and I had the absurd desire to grab her and start kissing her right then and there. But we didn’t have time for that. The men were on their way, and I had no clue what they were bringing or what was going to happen.
“Okay,” she said finally. “But don’t get hurt.”
“I won’t.”
I felt strangely calm. This was what we had driven so far for. Whatever was going to happen was coming, and I’d finally find out whether Trip could be trusted.
I would make it work out. I had to.
There was no other choice.
Chapter Thirteen: Lacey
I hated being so far away from what was happening.
But he had a good point. He had to protect me and also somehow navigate what was about to happen, and having me nearby probably wasn’t going to help. Still, I wished he had given me a gun at least, something I could use to help if something bad happened. I would probably shoot myself in the foot, but still.
As I sat down lower in the car, watching as Camden casually leaned up against the pay phone, it hit me square in the chest: when had I become the kind of person that wished she had a gun? Only a few weeks ago, I was appalled by the mere sight of a weapon and never in a million years wanted to own one. Suddenly, though, I was wishing that I had one in my hands, ready to fire if necessary.
That scared and excited me. I didn’t want to be a violent, dangerous person, but maybe I needed to be. Maybe I needed to grow up and start sacrificing for those I loved.
For all his faults, Camden was certainly ready to do what it took to keep everyone safe. It was his fault, or it was mostly his fault, or maybe he was a victim as much as we were. I couldn’t really tell. The story about the CIA, or whoever they were, really threw a wrench into my feelings. Before, it had been so black and white. But now it was anything but simple.
I wanted to hate him. I wanted to despise him and never, ever see him again once everything was over. But as time went by, I began to see things in him. I began to see the old Camden I knew, buried under the layers of the intense and almost scary person he had become, but still there.
He was cocky and funny and strong. He was dangerous and always looking for a thrill. But he was also protective of us and would do anything for me.
I didn’t plan on having sex with my stepbrother. That’s not exactly something you wake up in the morning and think, oh hey, I should totally bang my stepbrother today. It just happened, and I didn’t regret it one bit.
Because I wanted him. I wanted him more than anything. His strong, ripped body, his heart-melting grin, his passion, it all made me want to kiss his full lips as hard as I could.
He fucked up. He put us in a terrible position. But he was trying to fix it.
I watched him the whole time, never took my eyes off him. I couldn’t. It had been the longest in the past few days that I had gone without him being right by my side. I felt almost naked.
But he looked confident. Sure of himself. Like nothing could possibly go wrong. And maybe in his head that was the truth. Maybe, somewhere inside him, he couldn’t imagine failing.
The longer I was with him, the more I began to think that way, too. Like he was invincible.
But there was still that darkness. That need to sacrifice himself, like he was some kind of martyr.
Suddenly, a black pickup truck came around the corner and pulled over in front of Camden, pulling me from my thoughts. I watched as three men climbed out and approached. I felt my heart beat faster, nervousness flooding me.
Camden smiled and gestured. The men said something, moved slightly closer. They looked tough, but that could have just been my mind playing tricks. I was too far to get a really good look at them. Camden held his hands out and the men stopped moving. They were talking, but I had no clue what they were saying. I couldn’t read lips.
Camden didn’t look scared, and the men didn’t look aggressive. The more I stared, they looked normal, actually, like they were fishermen. One was middle aged, going to fat a little bit, but had a full head of dark hair cut short. He wore a sweater and jeans and a dark jacket. The other two were younger, though not by too much more. The longer I watched, the more I saw a resemblance, and I realized that they were probably related.
The older man was doing the most talking. The one younger guy was wearing a red vest, and he stood off to the side, his arms crossed. The other young guy had a hat on with a bunch of different colors in the weave, and he was more active in whatever they were saying. Camden seemed to ignore both of the young guys, only looking at the older man.
My heart was hammering in my chest and throat. I felt almost sick and trapped in the car. It had become almost like a second home for a while there, but suddenly it was like a coffin.
I wanted to get out. I wanted to open the door and breathe the fresh, cold air. Instead, I stayed where I was, because Camden had told me to.
What’s taking them so long? I thought.
I wanted whatever was going to happen to happen already. The waiting was the worst part. I was sick of waiting, sick of traveling, sick of being in limbo. I wanted something solid.
I was practically itching with anticipation and worry.
And then Camden looked right at me. My breath caught in my throat as his gaze pierced directly into the front windshield.
The two men followed his eyes. Camden nodded and gestured, drawing me out.
I stared at him. The men didn’t move, just watched. Camden gestured again, this time clearly wanting me to come over.
Slowly, I climbed out of the car. My heart was racing. I could barely breathe.
I began the long walk over.
It was happening. These men, these dangerous men, whoever they were, they might be deadly.
But I had to trust Camden.
And as I left the relative safety of the car, I realized that I did. I trusted him with my life, with my everything.
I sat squished in the front seat of the truck. Camden was against the window and I was between him and the older man. His name was Mikhail, and the two younger guys were Tomas and Brent. The two boys were cousins, and they were all Russian immigrants as far as I could tell, though I didn’t exactly ask.
“How far is this place?” Camden asked Mikhail.
“Not too far,” he said, his Russian accent obvious but not overwhelming. “Maybe twenty more minutes.”
The two boys were sitting in the back flat bed, and I realized they must have been freezing with the bitter wind created by the moving truck. I glanced back at them and neither of them seemed to mind. They just sat there gazing out at the woodland as we drove by, their hair waving slightly in the wind.
“Don’t worry about them,” Mikhail said, smiling at me. “They’re strong boys. They will be okay.”
“It’s cold out there,” I said simply.
“Always cold here. But not as cold as Russia.”
Camden laughed. “Russians always say that.”
“It’s true! Your Alaska is nice place. But Russia is big and bold and always fucking freezing cold.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said.
“It is.” Mikhail smiled at me again.
Camden nudged my leg and rolled his eyes. I stifled a laugh.
We continued driving through the forest down a small dirt road. We’d left the main highway ten minutes back and were traveling toward what looked like a string of mountains. Mikhail said the house was nearby, not quite at the mountains, but they seemed so close, almost like I could touch them already. They must have been absolutely huge.
“Is Trip meeting us there?” Camden asked.
“Trip isn’t there right now.”
“But he will be?”
“Yes, yes. He will be tomorrow.”
“Where is he?”
“Getting supplies. Cold here. Need lots of fuel. Lots of food.”
“What about our parents?”
“They are good, very good. We treat them as good as possible.”
“My mom is okay?”
“Your mom sings every day and takes long, hot baths.”
Camden was silent and looked back out the window. His expression had briefly turned confused, but it was gone. I glanced at him but had no clue what was going on inside his head.
“What about my dad?” I asked.
“He takes long walks. And drinks vodka with us after dinner.”
I laughed and shook my head. I wasn’t surprised that he was taking to life in the wilderness, especially the part about the drinking.
Back in Juneau, as soon as I approached the group, Camden had explained what was going on. Mikhail was the leader of a small Russian mob contingent out in Alaska, mostly running drugs in and out of Canada. Apparently Trip had been a good business partner back in the day, and he was paying them a good deal of money to shelter everyone until the Mexican cartel lost interest.
Mikhail, Tomas, and Brent were members of the mob. Mikhail was clearly the leader, though Tomas seemed like he was second in command. Brent didn’t say a single word, and he actually creeped me out a bit. I avoided looking at him for too long.
But Mikhail was nice enough. Maybe a little rough and gruff, but he didn’t seem dangerous at all. In fact, he seemed like just another old fisherman or hunter, not at all like he was some kind of dangerous mobster. Maybe looks could be deceiving, but I immediately liked Mikhail. The tension that had been dogging me ever since we’d left Hammond was beginning to slightly release, and I was excited to finally see my dad again.
The plan was for the three of them to drive us up to a small cabin near a lake where we’d be staying. He said that a few of his men took turns sleeping at the place to keep watch, but that we had the run of it for the most part.
And that we’d be staying there for a while, out in the middle of nowhere.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
On the one hand, it meant I didn’t have to stress about the Mexicans catching up with us again. On the other, it was probably going to be pretty damn boring out in that cabin with nothing to do.
Nothing to do except Camden. I felt a thrill run through me as I imagined all the different things he could do to me out in the wilderness. I wanted to fuck him in the forest, up against a tree, or down on the rough dirt. I knew it wasn’t the best place to fantasize about fucking my stepbrother, especially when we were on our way to see our parents, but I couldn’t help it.
