by Debra Kayn
Cam's side ached and he needed to stand and get out of here. "You've got one week to get me a message. Either you'll take me up on the offer or you can rot in your cell."
He hung up the phone and walked away from the table. The door opened and he slipped into the hallway. He'd finished what he came here to do.
Pretaro motioned for Cam to follow him. Cam followed the orders and walked through the security door and along the second hallway.
Money kept Pretaro loyal. The father of five made sure his family came first.
"Listen for any message from Merk when you're on duty. It'll be worth your time," Cam whispered. "I'll need the information right away."
Pretaro opened the last door and lifted his chin in acknowledgement. "Have a good day, sir."
"Yeah, a fucking good day to you, too," Cam muttered.
Once he stepped through the gate and entered the parking lot, free from the stench of prison, Cam lit a cigarette. One puff and his newly repaired lung rejected the idea.
He leaned against the nearest car and coughed until tears rolled down his face and he feared drawing his next breath. He gagged and spit phlegm out of his mouth, drawing a ragged gasp of air into his body, knowing if Christina were here, she'd stand back and let him suffer to teach him a lesson.
She'd lecture and watch him struggle, knowing he had to take better care of himself. She hated his smoking.
The only lesson he learned was he needed her. He missed her. He wanted her back at the house. Without her in his life, he questioned why he even gave a shit about Merk or the club.
He wiped his arm across his mouth and groaned. The muscles along his side bunched and protested the coughing attack. Ah, baby, I need you.
Cam limped to his motorcycle, clearing his throat and swallowing down the urge to throw up. Gunner raised his brows at Cam's approach. Cam reached for his motorcycle in desperation to keep from falling.
He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the handlebars. "Give me a few minutes."
"Bro, you need to quit smoking." Gunner walked a few paces away and lit his own cigarette. "I don't need you coughing up a lung going seventy-five miles per hour on the interstate. If you haven't noticed, I don't have a shovel to scrap your old ass off the pavement."
"I'll be fine." Cam flinched, hearing Christina's mantra in his head. She never told the truth when upset. She gave the customary answer of she was fine.
If she stubbed her toe, she was fine.
If she ripped her favorite shirt, she was fine.
Hell, even when she stormed off pissed about something he'd done, she was fine.
Her days of independence and trying to find Jeremy on her own were over. He needed to get back to Federal and pick up his woman.
"What's going on with Merk?" Gunner leaned against a nearby sedan.
Cam spit on the ground. "How much do you want to know?"
Gunner chuckled. "I hate that question. Either way, it's going to involve me in the long run."
"Yeah." Cam ran his fingers through his beard. "I can get him out of prison and have the charges for Judge Cranley's murder taken off his record. Plus make the attempt to kill me go away."
"How?"
"I have someone outside the club willing to be Merk's alibi on where he was during the morning of the murder. My lawyer can supply enough evidence to show Cranley killed himself over his involvement with his sister-in-law's murder. He couldn't live with the guilt," Cam said.
"What about the gloves. The Feds won't shrug off hard proof that put Merk at the scene of the crime." Gunner gathered his hair into a ponytail and tied the end off.
"That'll come back on Reds as a set up. As for proof Merk shot me, they have none. Neither one of us talked." Cam cleared his throat to keep from coughing. "They'll let Merk walk..."
"But?"
Cam shrugged. "It's up to Merk if he wants to do me a favor and get out of prison."
"He won't," Gunner said. "He's pulled away from the club even more since he got out of prison the last time. The only one he hung around with was Christina."
"Want to bet?" Cam pushed off the handlebars. "One week. A thousand dollars. Winner takes over the other's position on the gun chain for two runs if Merk rejects the offer."
Gunner strode over and shook Cam's hand. "Deal."
Easy money. Cam started his bike. "Let's get out of here. I have a woman who has been gone too long and needs her ass beat for leaving me."
Eight hours later...
Sore and exhausted, Cam pulled into the parking lot at the Inn in Federal. His patience ran out seven hours ago. If he stopped and sat down, he'd never get back up again. He'd pushed himself too far, too fast. His body rejected every breath and he wasn't sure he'd make it inside the Inn to get Christina.
Cam looked at his phone. During the eighteen hours since he'd left Federal, not one call or text came in. He tapped at the screen, sending a message to Stache.
Clear the hallway. I'm coming up the back entrance.
Stache replied back. Give me sixty seconds.
"Stay here." Cam walked alone to the door, entered the hallway on the first floor with a straight view of the desk in the lobby at the end. Without worry, he moved up the staircase on his right, skipping the elevator. Each fucking step shot a stabbing pain into his permanently injured knee and up into his stomach to his wound. By the time he pushed through the door on the second floor, he'd broken out in a sweat and sucked air as if suffocated.
"Jesus Christ, you look like shit." Stache grabbed his arm.
Cam staggered, searching the edges of the ceiling. "Just make sure no one comes in the hallway and block me from the camera at the end of the hall."
"Fuck that." Stache let go of him. "Your ass should be home in bed."
"It will be when I get my woman." He shuffled his boots along the carpet, unable to do much more than stay erect.
A Do Not Disturb sign hung on the door handle of Room 26. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the ring of picks. Leave it to an old inn to keep the original locks on the doors from thirty years ago. Three motions with the mechanism in the lock and he turned the handle. He leaned against the door, staring at the sight in front of him.
The made bed.
The customary folded white motel robe on the chair.
The opened drapes.
The spotless dresser.
He stared at the empty hotel room.
"Stache...?" Cam turned, rage filling him. "Where the fuck is she?"
Stache rushed past Cam, poking his head into the bathroom and returning to Cam. "I swear, Cam. I watched her room and she never left after returning earlier this afternoon."
"God damn it." Cam stalked out of the room and down the hall. "Put a call out. I want everyone notified that Christina is missing. I want her found."
Out in the parking lot, Stache asked, "How do you want the members to deal with her once we find her?"
Cam stopped and whirled around. Moroad MC rules were clear. Anyone thinking about or leaving the club got a bullet to the head. "Nobody touches her. If she's got a mark on her or even mentions being afraid of my club, I will kill the person who put an ounce of fear in her."
Chapter Six
The cool mountain air outside Cam's house chilled Christina's arms. She rubbed her hands together. How many times had Cam forced her to believe his house was her home?
Tonight, she might as well be visiting a stranger's house for the first time.
The locked front door. The blackness behind each window. The empty yard. Loneliness hit her hard. She gazed over at Merk's travel trailer. All the Moroad members were gone. In three days, she'd wiped out any security of having a home with the man she loved. She stood up from the rocker and walked the length of the porch. Despite her failure at finding Jeremy, she'd made the right decision to go out on her own and look for him.
Jeremy needed her, and she'd continue searching for him. Nothing Cam could say or do would stop her, even if she ended up losing him. Her
empty stomach turned. She grabbed for the railing. To move on without Cam seemed impossible and self-sacrificing. She loved him and deserved to have a life with him. Yet, Jeremy needed her more.
She wanted to step forward and do the right thing. Not only for Jeremy, but also for herself.
The low rumble of a motorcycle approaching grabbed her attention. She stepped back against the house to hide in the shadows. Her heart raced. She'd recognize the sound of Cam's Harley Davidson anywhere.
From day one, when Cam kidnapped her and locked her in the bedroom, she knew exactly where she stood with him. He never lied and sugar coated what would happen if she left him. He refused to let her go, and she thrived off the security of knowing no matter what, good or bad, wrong or right, he accepted her. That security came with a price.
Deep down, she couldn't make herself believe Cam would kill her or Jeremy. She refused to believe Cam would put his club over family, because if she accepted the fear he pushed on her, love didn't exist.
Cam loved her. It was his love she came back for, because she was stronger with him than without.
Cam rode his motorcycle clear up to the porch, riding over the lawn. She cupped her elbows and watched him look over at the truck she'd parked off the driveway. The need to go to him crippled her. He shouldn't be riding in his condition.
Gunner stopped out in the driveway. Cam waved him off, and continued to sit on his motorcycle. Unable to look away from him, she took the time to appreciate knowing he was near before she paid the price of leaving him.
The roar of Gunner leaving grew quieter. Cam slid off his bike and limped to the porch. She stepped forward wanting to help him up the steps, but his intense gaze stopped her.
Not for the first time, she doubted her decision to return. A part of her feared Cam and her inability to cross him. She willed herself to have faith.
"You left," he said, leaning against the post on the porch.
She cleared her throat and inhaled. "I needed to—"
"Shut up." His chin fell to his chest and his long hair covered his face. Several seconds ticked by without either of them talking. Finally, he muttered, "You're going to kill me."
"I'm not trying—"
"I watched you. You were never alone. I never went back on my promise to protect you." He raised his gaze, the pain evident in his dark eyes. "I've got everyone I know looking for Jeremy. Every second, I'm thinking of ways to find him. I left yesterday to make the trip to the state pen to talk to Merk, so I could get the kid back. I'm dead on my feet," he said.
She swallowed and whispered, "I'm trying to find him."
"Baby, I'm chasing the devil trying to keep my family together. I don't want to be hunting you down when we can work together and bring Jeremy home." He grimaced and took the last step onto the porch. "Now, I'm going inside to fall into bed. I don't plan to get up until I can keep my ass off the ground. So, do you think you could stop running for a few hours and go to bed with me, huh?"
All her strength to fight Cam evaporated. She closed her eyes for a moment, shaken to the core. At the least, she'd expected him to yell or lock her up in the bedroom. At the worst, kill her. Instead, he only wanted her.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arm around his back. "Let me help you to bed."
Cam leaned his weight on her as he keyed the lock. She stumbled into the foyer and led him to the bedroom, flipping on the light with her elbow. The length he'd pushed himself before fully recovered scared her. His health needed to come first. She'd failed at taking some of the responsibility of finding Jeremy away from him, and only made him worse.
Staring up into his sexy, lazy eyes, she pushed his vest off his shoulders, hurting for each grunt and groan her movements provoked from him. "I'm sorry."
"Don't." He closed his eyes, weaving on his feet. "Apologize."
Afraid to hurt him more, she grabbed his hand and brought his fingers to her mouth. Kissing each digit, she couldn't hold back any longer and pressed her cheek against his palm. "We'll find him together," she whispered.
He stroked her face with his thumb. "My boots, baby."
She kneeled down in front of him and unlaced his shoes. Quickly standing, she removed the pistol from the back of his jeans and laid it on the nightstand. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and pulled the material over his hips.
Cam half fell, half sat on the bed. She lifted his foot, pulled his boots off, and hurried to strip him of everything but his T-shirt and boxers.
"Lay down." She held his hand, taking his weight as he sprawled out on his back.
He grunted and then emitted a long sigh of exhaustion. "Turn off the light."
"In a second." She carefully peeled the edge of his T-shirt off his stomach and over his ribs.
The pink, puckered wound from the gunshot marred his beautiful body. She looked lower at the four-inch scar from the surgery to repair his lung. The tender skin showed each place the doctor stitched him together. She laid the back of her hand against his flesh. Heat rolled off him.
"I'm okay," he mumbled. "Shut the light off and get in bed."
She pressed her lips together wanting to argue against how he'd neglected his wounds. First thing tomorrow, she'd make sure he continued to take his antibiotics and rested.
She walked across the room and turned off the light. Cam stopped her from climbing over him. "Take off your clothes," he said.
"We can't—"
"Not going to fuck you. I want your skin against me, so I know you're not leaving me."
Her stomach warmed. She stripped off her clothes, climbed over him being careful not to bump against him, and laid down between Cam and the wall.
Cam lifted his arm. "Settle, baby."
"I'll hurt you."
"Do it," he mumbled.
She laid her hand on his chest. "Okay?"
"You'll heal me." He worked his fingers under her head and guided her closer.
She laid her head over his heart and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. God, she missed him. She'd lost too many people in her life, and refused to lose him too.
His arm curled around her and he palmed her head, holding her securely. She soaked in everything Cam gave her. His stable presence, his strength despite his injuries, his devotion even when she doubted him.
She opened her eyes, reality crashing down on her at where he said he'd gone. "Why did you ride clear to the prison to talk with Merk? He tried to kill you."
Cam yawned. "I need him on the outside to bring Jeremy back to you."
"What does he have to do with Jeremy?" She lifted her head and he pressed her back down to his chest. "I don't want him out of prison. He almost killed you and the police have evidence Merk killed a judge."
The details of what transpired the night Merk and Cam faced off, pistols aimed at each other, was never talked about in front of her. She'd witnessed the exchange through the living room window. Her eyes didn't lie. Merk's behavior changed in the last several weeks before the night of the shooting. He pushed boundaries, trying to make her believe Cam never loved her. Whether Merk told her lies for selfish reasons or he spoke the truth, she believed Cam.
Cam's body shuddered. She held still as his body relaxed. "Please stay away from Merk."
"Jeremy's mom was Merk's sister, baby. The kid is Merk's blood relative," Cam whispered.
"What?" Her body tightened and she fought against Cam's hold. "No."
"Yeah," he said, feeding her fear.
"No, Cam. He can't be." She pulled hard enough Cam let her sit up. "Whatever you're thinking, don't. Jeremy's mom was a druggie who only cared about herself."
"Right, but she was still Merk's sister."
She shook her head. "He never mentioned he had a sister."
"He went off to prison, thinking she had an abortion—"
"Oh, God." Christina covered her mouth. "Jeremy can never know that."
"He'll know everything once we find him."
"W-why didn't Merk say something about
being Jeremy's uncle?" she asked.
"Merk contacted his sister once after he got released early on and she told him to stay away. When he got released two years ago, when you were living in the house, he couldn't find her. He hadn't seen her for eighteen years. He had no idea Jeremy was his nephew."
She tried to get up, but Cam grabbed her wrist. "Merk needs to stay in prison. He can't take Jeremy away from us, from the club. Once we find him, we'll keep him safe and he'll be okay. He'll get over us lying about being your son and he'll realize we love him. Merk can't take him away from me. You need to protect Jeremy."
Cam rolled his head toward her and said, "If I can get Merk back to Federal and have him step up and claim Jeremy's his nephew, it'll save the kid's life. The only thing I got to keep Jeremy alive is the protection I can give him if I find him first. If one of the other Moroad members catch him before I can give him protection, they'll take him down without clearing the hit with me. But, I'm hoping they'll take into consideration that Jeremy is Merk's only family left. That's how the club works."
She buried her face in her hands. "This can't be happening."
He hooked his finger under her thumb and pulled her hands away from her head. "Merk will come through for me. In a couple of weeks, he'll be home and if I haven't found Jeremy yet, Merk will find him."
"What if it's too late by then and one of the other members finds Jeremy first?"
"I will keep looking for him every day." Cam pulled her down, settled her on his shoulder, and cupped her head. "I'm not going to let anyone take Jeremy away from us. I've already promised you. I'm doing all I can, and you're going to have to trust me to do my job. I care about the kid. Nothing has changed, only my plan to make sure he gets back here to you."
"And you," she added.
"Yeah, and me," he said, exhaling loudly.
"Everything is falling apart. Merk might not have killed you, but he killed a judge."
