by Drew Elyse
With my hands shaking so much, I was sure I would not be able to, I called him back. Every trill through the line as his phone rang had me wanting to hang up, or be sick, or spontaneously combust.
“Cami, darlin’,” Gauge breathed into the phone.
“Hi,” I answered lamely. What was I supposed to say?
“I need to see you,” he said. No preamble, no beating around the bush.
That directness had me saying, “Okay,” before I even realized it.
“Where are you?” I told him the name of the hotel and my room number, and he did not hesitate. “I’ll be there soon.” With that, he hung up.
I paced around the room. Taupe wall to taupe wall and back again. Then I would duck into the bathroom, check myself in the mirror, and resume my pacing. Half an hour later, when there was a knock at the door, I had worn the same path more times than I could count. I could paint a picture of exactly the way I looked from my visits to the mirror, but even as I reached for the handle, I wanted to check again to be sure.
Pulling the door open, I tried to prepare myself to see Gauge standing there. He may have pleaded to have that meeting, but that was not the same as an apology. I could not let my feelings for him get the better of me. I needed to keep a level head.
Unfortunately, when I saw who was on the other side of the door, a level head was nowhere in sight.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
More disheveled than I had ever seen him, with wrinkles in his white oxford shirt and charcoal pants, and stubble passing a five o’clock shadow, Nathaniel was nearly unrecognizable.
“Camille, I need to speak with you,” he declared, that same air of superiority about him despite the appearance he would consider unbecoming.
“I have nothing to say to you.”
He looked at me, his jaw clenching, and then repeated, “I need to speak with you.”
“You need to go.”
He reached forward and shoved my back into the room, following me in. I was so floored, I did not stop him. Nathaniel was a grade A asshole, but he was never one for showing force. A chill slithered down my spine. He was changed. I had no idea what I was dealing with.
“You are going to listen to me,” he stated.
Knowing I was not capable of removing him myself and needing to buy time until Gauge got there—hopefully soon—I agreed. “Okay. I’ll listen.”
“Please, sit down,” he offered, indicating the bed. He said it like I was a guest in his home, not a man who had quite literally forced his way into my hotel room.
I did not want to push him. I had no idea what he was capable of, which was something I never thought I would say. The Nathaniel I knew had always been controlled, almost alarmingly so. The stranger in the room was anything but and could be dangerous. Therefore, I pretended to be gracious for his offer and sat.
“What would you like to talk about?” I asked.
“Camille, you know I am very upset about your decision to gallivant around with that Gauge character,” he began, saying Gauge’s name like it was a curse. “Well, events have played out such that I must insist you intervene with him. He is on a hunt to ruin me.”
I physically bit my tongue to keep from smarting off at him. Gauge was the one trying to destroy someone? Seeking retribution for trying to get him thrown in jail was hardly Gauge being the villain.
“You need to talk to him,” Nathaniel went right on demanding. “After all, this is your fault, Camille. You were the one who not only brought that animal into our lives, but went so far as to give yourself to him. You brought this on, and you need to correct it.”
Alright, I coached myself, deep breaths. You need to handle this carefully. For the first time in my life, I wished for the Beretta Dad had been trying to get me to carry since I was eighteen. I would not use it—unless Nathaniel made me—but it would restore the upper hand in my favor. Instead, Nathaniel had all the power, and he knew it.
“I can try to call him,” I offered. Gauge would likely be on his bike at that moment, not able to answer his phone.
“Yes, do that.”
I grabbed my phone, pulled up Gauge’s information, and was about to call when Nathaniel stopped me.
“Wait. You cannot tell him I am here. He and the rest of those thugs he associates with are probably looking for me. Lord only knows what they might do to me. You do not want that, do you?”
Actually, I knew exactly what they would do to him, and it was precisely what I wanted. In fact, I wanted to do it myself if I thought they would go for it.
“Of course,” I placated him. “I’ll be careful.”
At his nod, I called Gauge. I sat in the tense silence as the computerized trill played in my ear repeatedly. Then the automated voicemail message Gauge had done nothing to personalize picked up. Worried he may not have left yet for one reason or another, I decided to leave a message that might indicate he needed to get there as quickly as he could.
“Hi, it’s me. I need to talk to you right away. It is really important.”
It was all I felt confident saying with Nathaniel right there, but hopefully, it would be enough to communicate something was wrong. I had no reason to be calling him to talk when he was already on the way.
“He did not answer,” I explained to Nathaniel.
“This is not good. You need to get in touch with him,” he started ranting. “This cannot wait.”
“He will call me back immediately,” I assured him. “He always does.”
“Okay. Alright. We will wait, then.”
Unsure what to do, I decided to keep him talking. “How did you know where I was?”
“You left behind that little slip of passwords for your accounts,” he explained. “I was able to look at your credit cards records and see when you checked in.”
Well, that was a big oversight. Note to self: change everything immediately.
While I was mentally turning over a list of how many accounts that was, he asked, “What are you doing here, anyway? You had been staying with that biker.”
I really did not want him to know anything about the issues Gauge and I were having, so I decided to go with a lie. “I wanted some time to myself. A weekend away of sorts.”
“This is the best you can do for a weekend away now?” he asked with no small amount of derision. “How sad.”
The battle to keep my mouth shut was getting more difficult by the second. I wanted to tear into him. I wanted to rip his balls off. That he could treat me like shit for so long, threaten Gauge’s freedom, and then still think he could come and make not-so-gentle requests for me to put a stop to what he had coming to him made him far more of an asshole than I had even given him credit for. He thought he could come after the club, after me? They were the goddamn Disciples. I was Disciple.
No one fucks with the Disciples.
“Bit of news for you. Call it a baby gift,” Jager said over the phone.
I was on the way to Cami when he called, so I’d initially ignored it. Then he’d called a second time. You didn’t ignore a brother trying that hard to contact you. Not only was the shit disrespectful, it was fuckin’ dangerous. You never knew why someone might be trying to reach you. That wasn’t something to fuck with.
“You take a drive to Babies ‘R Us?” I mocked.
“Fuck no. Did do a little digging that might be of interest, though. It’s about your friend Nathaniel Wright.”
Well, didn’t that get my attention. “Listening.”
“Went over to the fucker’s house today since you said he was M.I.A. Found a locked drawer on his desk. Got Slick over there to pick the sucker and found a secondary computer I’m guessing Cami didn’t know about.”
“Get to the point, brother,” I insisted.
“Turns out Wright doesn’t make most of his dough from that firm he’s at. No, he’s private contracting with La Cosa Nostra. One of their money laundering outlets. On the official books, probably looks like Wright provides re
presentation for one of their operations. Reality is, he’s a funnel for setting up offshore accounts and false accounts at his firm to hide money movement. Records on the computer are pretty clear,” Jager explained.
“Better yet,” he continued, “got a look at some documents. Cami’s name is still listed on the papers for the house. She’s perfectly welcome into it at her discretion, and free to tell others to go inside. Meaning that trip she told me to take over there where I miraculously discovered this hidden laptop is totally legit. We can turn this incriminating bit of evidence about Wright over as we please.”
“Shit, brother. That’s one hell of a present.”
“Fucking giving as shit, I am. Even put in a call to Andrews, told him he should ask his fed friends if they wanted a shot at this info.”
I pulled into the parking lot of the hotel Cami said she was at, seeing the truck she was borrowing from Tank parked out front. “Guess we best locate Wright so he can answer to these accusations, huh?”
“I’d say it’s our civilian duty,” he joked.
I couldn’t say the hunt for Natey-boy was something I wanted to make a priority with shit to sort with Cami and an unnamed baby boy still back at the hospital, but it had to be done. No asshole could fuck with me and get nothing in return.
But first, I had to get my woman.
After getting Jager off the phone, I noticed a missed call from Cami. I’d taken longer to get on the road than I’d planned, but it hadn’t been that long yet. She even left a voicemail. Fuck, if she was telling me she changed her mind and didn’t want to see me, the hotel was going to have a problem on their hands. I’d bang on her door until she let me in or the cops showed up.
Since I was going in either way, I shut down my car and got out. As I walked to the door, I cued up the message, at least wanting to know if she was able to tell me anything helpful.
“Hi, it’s me. I need to talk to you right away. It is really important.”
The message left me fucking confused. She knew I was coming, why call and ask to talk? Then there was the fact that her voice sounded off. Tense, but only when I listened closely. It was like she was trying her hardest to sound normal. Why?
None of it made a lick of sense. Unless…
I took off toward the main doors. There was only one fucking explanation. Cami wasn’t alone. That weird ass voicemail was her SOS. And I had a damn good idea who was in there with her.
Elevators were too slow, so I went right for the stairwell. I flew up three flights, crashing onto the fourth floor. I nearly fucking shouted as I stared at the sign pointing out the layout of the room numbers. 401 through 449 to the left, 450 through 483 to the right. Where the fuck was 426 in that? Christ, I couldn’t even fucking count anymore.
When it clicked, I bolted down the hall to the left, slowing as the numbers counted down to her room. 430, 429, 428, 427…
I leaned against her door, listening for any indication of what I was walking into. Step one was getting the door open. I could try breaking it open, but the odds weren’t good and it’d give Wright too much time on the other side knowing there was a threat. I thought about pulling the “housekeeping” bit, but I somehow doubted my voice would pass for someone who cleaned rooms for a living. Not to mention, Wright and I had met. Only option was to knock and hope Cami was able to answer it. I stood to the side, out of view of the peephole, and gave a firm, but non-aggressive, knock.
I heard Wright’s voice through the door. “Who is that? Who knows you are here?”
My Cami—god, my brilliant, beautiful woman—was quick on her feet. “No one knows my room number but my girlfriend Denise. She would call first, though. I have no idea who that could be.” Her voice still had that fake calm tone to it. “Maybe it is someone from management. I lodged a complaint about my room service yesterday.”
“Oh, yes, of course. That must be it,” Natey-boy replied. Moron.
I palmed my Glock with one hand, my knife with the other. I had no idea who was answering, or what Wright might have on him.
The door opened and I finally drew in a full breath at the sight of my woman unharmed. Her eyes flashed at seeing me, but she kept her cool. Quick as I could, I flashed the gun at her while nodding into the room, asking if Wright was armed. She shook her head no, then stepped back to let me in.
“Who is it?” Natey-boy called out.
I turned into the room, bringing my right arm up, training the gun on his head. “Hey there, Natey-boy. Long time, no fuckin’ see.”
“You called him?” he shouted at Cami.
From behind me, she threw that sass of hers full force. Even with the little bitch in front of me waiting to take a bullet, I started to get fucking hard at the sound. “You told me to, asshole.”
“Well, well, well,” I started, “you sure know how to do a guy a favor. I had hunting you down on my to-do list for today, and here you saved me the trouble.”
He started slowly backing up, like the three feet he gained before hitting the wall was going to make a fuckload of difference if I pulled the trigger. Little did he know, that wasn’t my plan at all.
“Just got an interesting call about you, matter o’ fact,” I went on. “Heard from a reliable source you been doing some business with some men who hail from Italy. You got anything to say about that?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he denied.
“Really? See, I think you know damn well what I’m talking about. But, hey, I’ll lay this shit out for you anyway. I know about your work for the mafia.”
From behind me, Cami gave a little gasp that would have been cute as fuck in a different situation.
“You have no proof,” he shot back, as if those weren’t the four most incriminating words on earth. Sure, saying them to me meant fuck all, but how the fuck did he know I wasn’t wired?
“Need you to do me a favor, darlin’,” I said to Cami without turning toward her. I wasn’t taking my eyes off Wright until he could be patted down. I could ask Cami to do it, but there was no way in hell I was going to stand by while she put her hands on him.
“Yeah?” Cami answered.
“Get my phone from my back pocket and call Jager. He’ll be right under you in the call log. Tell him we’ve got Natey-boy here and he needs to put things in motion,” I instructed. No point in revealing to Wright what was coming for him. If he thought the club was coming to dismember him, all the better.
As it was, I was having a real hard time going the straight-and-narrow route rather than going to town on him. Only things stopping me were the fact that Cami was in the room and I really did not want to risk manslaughter charges right after my son was born. Jager had already been in contact with Andrews, and he’d gone even higher. If Wright were to turn up dead, the club could be implicated damn fast. Besides, we had the contacts necessary to make sure he got what was coming.
Actually, we’d be in a race against time to get him before anyone else. Those Italian fuckers would be on the hunt the minute they got word he’d been cuffed. Wright was the exact sort of spineless shit the feds would lean on to turn. Mafia wasn’t big on snitches. Then, there was the fact that Natey-boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Mouthy fucker like him, no muscle to speak of, no ties in the slammer, he was bound to piss someone off quick. It’d be just my damn luck if that someone offed him.
