by Debra Kayn
"Fine." She exhaled. "Did you box?"
"I —"
"I don't think you should be in the ring." She picked up the dishes and carried them into the kitchen. Unable to go back to him, she gripped the counter and let her chin fall to her chest. She'd tried to keep things civil, learn more about his life, and enjoy the quiet evening but she had to tell him her opinion.
The last time, she hadn't stopped him from entering the events. Instead, she'd encouraged him, and because he stepped into the ring, a man lost his life. Two men lost their life.
Logan Chapman died. Caiden went to prison.
"It's not what you think," said Caiden.
She straightened her shoulders and walked back to the table. "I should've talked you out of boxing that night. If I would've asked you to take me to the movies or asked you to stay at the apartment, instead of encouraging you, you wouldn't have...nothing would've happened. You never would've gone to prison. You'd have your life back."
"I'd have you back," whispered Caiden.
She nodded, hurting inside. She'd lived with regret for as long as she could remember. If only she'd done things differently the night they went to the Bantorus clubhouse for the Friday night boxing event, lives would've been spared.
He cleared his throat and stood. "I need to go."
"Caiden?" She stepped forward and stopped before reaching for him. "If I could explain —"
"Be careful driving tomorrow." He walked to the door. "Lock up behind me."
The door closed. She sank down in the chair at the table. He blamed her, too.
Maybe not for encouraging him to box, but for everything else. He'd always lived an independent life, even when he resided with his mother above the bar. The night of Caiden's arrest, her parents controlled her life, even more after the truth came out about her relationship with Caiden.
She'd wanted to tell him what happened so long ago. It wasn't something she'd planned to speak about tonight. She hadn't even been aware that he'd be stopping by the cabin. It was when he'd sat at her table, everything felt comfortable. Not relaxed and easy like when they were together, but more like they were both adults and could manage to have a civil conversation.
Apparently, not.
CHAPTER 13
A hero is someone who understands the responsibility that comes with freedom. — Bob Dylan
Cam Farrell sat across from Caiden, a beer in his hand, and his bum leg stretched out straight with his boot heel on the floor. Caiden held his drink, more for something to grasp onto than to numb himself. He'd called Cam over to talk, and had yet to mention why.
It'd been years since he'd needed someone to set him in the right direction. During the first two weeks of his release, Cam had one of the Moroad members kicking his ass to keep him sober and straight when he'd gone off the deep end, unable to find Jolene. He never figured out why he'd received the help, considering the Moroad Motorcycle Club made their livelihood inside the prison system.
What he'd learned over the years though was Cam, and his son Jeremy always had a motive behind everything they put their hands in. So, he was highly aware that asking Cam for a favor would come with a price. He didn't have any other option, though.
"I heard Emmett Parker bought the lot across from the auto parts store and plans to put in a used car lot." Caiden set his beer bottle between his legs and latched his hands behind his head. "I guess he plans to set it up for his two kids to run next summer when they get out of school."
"The town will benefit." Cam ran his hand down his beard. "Why don't you tell me the real reason why you had me come over to your house?"
Caiden leaned forward, set his beer on the floor and braced his elbows on his knees. "I need a shotgun."
"Then, buy one."
"I can't." Caiden steepled his fingers. "I'm a felon."
"Huh. I didn't know that stopped anyone." Cam's chest rose in silent amusement. "I'll get you one. It'll cost you five hundred."
"You're ripping me off." Caiden shook his head. "Fine."
"I need to put food on my plate, too," said Cam.
Nobody knew the level of money floating around Moroad. Looking at Cam, he'd assume the older man only had a couple dollars to rub together. His clothes were worn, stained, and his T-shirt ripped. The straggly, long hair, the untrimmed beard hitting his chest only added fuel to his assumption. But, far as he knew, none of the Moroad members worked a regular job like the Bantorus Motorcycle Club. The men came from prison and stayed in the run-down motel outside the town limit, where they lived when they weren't locked up.
He never questioned where their money came from. It was none of his business. Just like it wasn't his business how he knew a group of felons could get him a gun. All he knew was he had only one option available to him.
"How soon can I get the rifle?"
Cam pushed to his feet, picked up his cane, and balanced on his good leg. "I'll have Merk bring you one. Where can you meet?"
He looked out the window at the snow coming down. "Can he make it a mile out of town? I think it's mile marker six. I can meet him there. No cameras or people around."
"No problem. Merk's got a truck. Give me an hour."
"Appreciate the help, man." Caiden walked behind Cam to the door.
Cam paused and looked up at the sky. "Still fuckin' snowing."
"Think of it as not adding miles on your Harley." Caiden looked up at the trees coated white.
"It's going to be a long winter," muttered Cam.
Cam walked outside, tossed his cane down the steps where he'd parked his truck and set out to make it down the stairs to the road below. Caiden closed the door, leaving the man his dignity. As long as he knew Cam, he'd walked with a limp. In the last five years or so, the leg had stiffened. Despite the encumbrance, Cam continued to get around, ride his motorcycle, drive his truck, and be a threat to everyone he came into contact with.
Tough son of a bitch. And, Caiden was lucky to have Moroad Motorcycle Club's protection inside prison and Cam's support as he tried to make sense of living in the real world again.
Caiden picked up the beer bottles and carried them to the sink. Last night, he'd noticed Jolene's nervousness as she looked out the windows when he'd arrived. Blind to him, she put herself right on display with the lights on in the cabin. When she'd opened the door, she held a fork clenched in her fist as if she planned to stab an intruder. A shotgun would at least scare off anyone trespassing. She also needed an outside light.
He grabbed his coat and the tool box he'd set by the door earlier and left the house. There was no use locking the place. He owned next to nothing, only clothes, some second-hand furniture, and a few dishes. Most of his time was spent at the office at the gas station, and he preferred to safely invest his money to make more for the future.
An hour later, on the dot, Merk handed over the rifle and a box of shells —courtesy of Cam, and Caiden gave him the cash. He shook Merk's hand. "Thanks."
"Serial numbers have been rubbed clean. It's good to go." Merk held his lit cigarette between his lips, stepped over to his truck, wiped the snow off above the door with the sleeve of his jacket, and opened the door. "Take it easy going back down the road. The corners are hairy."
"Will do." Caiden carried the rifle to his truck and instead drove in the opposite direction toward Jolene's cabin.
There was no need for an unmarked shotgun. He wanted Jolene armed for home protection. More to scare off anyone who would stop at her place than to kill anyone. She also needed it for protection against wild animals if they came too close and posed a threat. The bear spray he'd noticed she carried in her back pocket wouldn't stop an animal from charging.
He arrived at the cabin and parked next to Jolene's car. She had a trail shoveled to her porch in the six inches of snow that'd fallen in the last twenty-four hours. Her overzealous excitement over winter chores entertained him.
Carrying the rifle, toolbox, and sack that held the light fixture, he walked up to the front doo
r and knocked. A few seconds later, Jolene walked out of one of the bedrooms to the door. He studied her through the window. She must've been working because she had glasses on and her hair piled on top of her head.
He whistled under his breath. The glasses on her were new to him and sexier than hell. It brought out the prim and proper side of her personality he'd received when he first met her. She was a total nerd, obsessed over her grades and following the rules her parents set for her.
Then, she'd warmed up and let herself be herself, not her parents, not her friends, and he'd fallen in love.
Jolene cupped her hand on the window in the door and peered at him. He bit the inside of his cheek. Damn, she was cute.
He had a clear, up close view of her, and she could barely see him standing against the shadowed reflection. That would all be changing soon.
She opened the door. "Hey. What's going on?"
He held out the rifle. "Do you know how to shoot?"
"What kind of question is that?" She crossed her arms without taking the shotgun.
"Take it." He waited until she reached out and held the rifle. "Just set it against the wall for now. I need to put a light up outside the cabin so you can see out the windows after dark."
"Caiden..." She frowned. "Why are you doing this?"
"Is your dad here helping you around the cabin?" He set down the toolbox.
"No."
"How about that guy that's married to your friend?"
"Um, no." She scoffed. "I can hire someone if I want changes around here."
"Save your money." He pulled out the floodlight from the sack. "It'll only take me a few minutes to get this wired in on your porch."
"Caiden. Stop for a second and talk to me." She inhaled deeply and put her hand on her forehead, realized she wore glasses, and ripped them off her face. "This really isn't necessary."
He paused. "Wouldn't you like to see who walks up to your cabin after dark?"
She nodded. "Yes, but—"
"Then, I'll install the light." He looked at the rifle. "As for the shotgun, this is Idaho. Everyone owns one. You know about the dangers of living on your own away from any neighbors. You're also going to have your share of moose and bears. I'll show you how to shoot before I leave."
"I already know how." She removed the wrap thing from holding her hair on her head and shook her hair loose. Right before his eyes, she'd gone from sexy, smart woman to sex kitten.
He glanced away from her and opened the box the light came in. "You do?"
"My dad hunted. His club provided a shooting competition for the members' children every year. My father liked the idea that his daughter would win first place." She folded her glasses and hid them in her hand.
"Did you ever win?"
She raised her brows. "No. I blew the event every year despite finding the competition extremely easy. I just never wanted my father to have the pleasure of bragging about me when I had disappointed him in everything else."
He chuckled, unsurprised that she'd thwart her overbearing father at his own game. "There's a box of shells in the sack. You might want to practice a few times to get the feel of the gun."
"Now?"
"It's dusk, but go ahead. There's nobody around to hear." He picked up the toolbox and opened the door. "Yell if you need help."
He removed the old Mason jar light fixture beside the front door that had probably not worked for the last fifty years. Careful of the wires, he used his Jimmy rigged tester to find out if the wires were hot. The small bulb at the end of the tester never flashed.
"Jolene?" he called.
She opened the door. "Yes?"
"Do you know where the electrical panel is?"
"In the spare bedroom."
"Open it up and switch all the electricity off in the house. It'll be the main switch at the top. It's bigger than all the others." He waited a few minutes after she left and held the tester up against the two wires. The bulb stayed off.
"All right. Leave it off," he yelled.
Jolene joined him out on the porch carrying a flashlight under her arm with the rifle over her shoulder and the box of shells in her hand. He eyed her and received an eye roll in return. She'd put on her coat and stocking cap.
"I'll leave the flashlight on the porch if you need it." She walked out into the yard.
He stripped the wires on the new light while keeping an eye on Jolene as she inspected the rifle, loaded two shells into the barrel, and carried the gun off the porch. Once he made sure she shot away from the cabin, he set about hooking the wires up, making sure the ground wire was grounded, and then grabbed the flashlight and walked inside to flip the power back on.
Boom. The shotgun blast echoed.
He flipped the switch, and the lights in the house came back on. He wondered what else Jolene could do to surprise him. Knowing she could fire a weapon and giving her the shotgun made him feel better about her living out here.
He returned to the porch. The floodlight remained off. He had an idea the problem was in the old wiring in the cabin.
Steps came up on the porch. Without looking, he said, "Everything okay?"
"Yep," she said. "At least I hit the apple pile under the snow at twenty-five paces. Not hard with a shotgun full of pellets."
"At least you're protected now. Even holding it if you have to confront someone should keep you safe. I don't know anyone who would approach a shotgun." He stepped around her and off the porch.
"Are you leaving?"
He looked over his shoulder, through the falling snow, and said, "Getting some wire out of the truck. It's going to take longer than I thought to get the light working. I'll need to feed the new wire from your box, up into the crawlspace and out to the porch."
"Oh," she said, cradling the rifle in her arm.
Damn. She even wore the outdoorsy look well, and he found it hard to walk.
A thin layer of snow already covered his windshield. He grabbed the roll of wire out of the back of his truck. He'd be lucky to get down the road tonight if the snow kept coming at the rate it was falling.
He slowed his steps. If the job took longer than necessary, staying late wouldn't be a bad thing because he'd have more time with Jolene. Ever since he found out she'd paid for his mom to be put to rest, a lot of his anger toward Jolene had disappeared. He was learning new things about her that had him wondering about the time they were separated.
CHAPTER 14
It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped. — Tony Robbins
The first hint of shine appeared on the garnet. Jolene stilled and stared at the spot that appeared black. Knowing the beauty was hidden, she peddled her feet against the floor and slid her stool to the armed overhead light.
She flicked the power on and held the gemstone under the light and over the mirror. Excitement bubbled inside of her, and she rolled the stone between her two fingers until the light reflected perfectly giving her a blood red spot.
"You are beautiful," she whispered. "I can't wait to take everything off you."
Caiden cleared his throat behind her. She jolted, almost dropping the gemstone. Turning around, she swallowed.
"Who were you talking to?" he asked.
His gaze deepened and his mouth softened. Overcome with his attention, her stomach fluttered, and she had to look away. It was irrational for her to believe he'd feel the same way after all the time of being apart but she'd seen that look before. He was aroused, curious, and feeling things he refused to share with her.
"Myself," she said.
He'd been at her house for over three hours working on her electricity to hook up the flood light. It wasn't like he'd spent all his time with her. It was only her wish that he was here because he wanted to be with her. She needed to stop fantasizing.
"You, um, want to see something beautiful?" She waited until he stood beside her and held up the garnet. "What color do you see?"
"It's a rock."
"Not exactly. Can you se
e any color?"
"It looks like dirty gravel." he said.
She smiled and put the garnet under the light. "Come closer and look harder."
Several seconds went by, and finally, Caiden leaned over her shoulder. She inhaled swiftly, sensing him close enough all she had to do was tilt her head to one side and she could rub her cheek against him.
"Do you see the shiny spot?" she whispered.
"Yeah."
"Good, keep your eyes on that spot. Don't look away." She turned the garnet and stopped. "Now, what do you see?"
"It's red." His deep voice vibrated through her.
"Yes. It's a garnet. Specifically, it's an Alluvial garnet crystal." She blew out the air she held in her lungs. "It's going to be perfect once I take away the rough outer layer and expose the gem."
A soft growl purred in her ear, and Caiden straightened. She put the gemstone back in the case, trying to ignore how closely he watched her.
"What are you going to make with the rock?
She smiled at him calling a garnet a rock and collected the container for the gemstones. "It's not just one garnet. I'm going to have a whole line of jewelry. The Quintessential Line."
"Quintessential?" He tilted his head.
"Mm hm." She shrugged. "It's another word for perfect."
He barely glanced at the collection and instead studied her. "This means a lot to you."
She nodded. Succeeding on her own meant everything. Finding what made her happy and making money to support herself with no worries would make a statement.
She set the garnets back in their place, she shook off the nerves that threatened to hold her back. "Did you get the wiring done?"
"The floodlight is all hooked up. I checked the other wiring while I was in the crawlspace. Everything looked new, except the line out to the porch."
She gathered her hair behind her shoulders. "I had an electrician in before I moved to update the wiring and put in the appliance plug-ins. I never thought to ask him to put in a front light, too."
He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm going to go test it now if you want to check it out."
