by Debra Kayn
"What cycle are we on with the chain?" Cam crossed his arms.
"This week, it's Tuesday. We're still moving forward two days for two weeks, back three days for the last two weeks of the month. For the last ten months, I've seen the same rotation of people work their way through. No one has introduced anyone new. I delivered the papers to Blues and they passed it down the chain to the east coast. There have been no problems." Merk took off his skullcap and swept his hair back. "I've used two groups of Moroad members and we exchange every week."
He predicted Blues would work well with Moroad. The all-black membered gang recognized the importance of holding the power over Reds inside the prison, and working on the outside gave them the push they needed to grow.
Cam gazed over at Jeremy, riding down the driveway toward the house. "What about the kid? What role is he playing?"
"He's making the ride into Spokane twice a month." Merk put his cap back on. "There've been a few times one of the men got a wild hair, and to make sure we aren't followed, I've sent Jeremy on a ride in the opposite direction. He keeps his head. Not much ruffles him."
"What do you think about patching him in?"
Merk shrugged. "He's earned his spot on the outside. He's still green though with a clean record."
If he had let Jeremy take the fall for possessing a weapon instead of covering for the kid as a way to get back inside, Jeremy's lack of criminal status wouldn't be a consideration. Hell, he'd trained the kid well. He had confidence that in a tight situation, Jeremy would step up and do what needed to be done, including taking someone's life.
"Run the vote by the others and have them focus on his dedication and not that he's a damn virgin." Cam stepped back and lifted his chin at Jeremy. "Let me know how it goes."
"Will do, and hey..." Merk stopped Cam from walking away. "Hang in there. Everything will get easier once you realize there's no door locking you in."
Cam shrugged. "Shit's different here than I remember."
"Yeah?"
"Something feels off, and it has nothing to do with breathing the outside air." Cam reached for his pack of smokes.
"Like what?"
Cam shook his head. "It feels like someone's pushing me against the wall and I'm unarmed."
"Give yourself time to adjust to the outside," Merk said. "Security is tight. The club has your back. It'll all come together once you realize it's okay to have the bars gone and no fences."
"Yeah." Cam lit a cigarette.
"I'm not telling you anything you don't know. That wasn't your first or last show in state prison."
Cam walked away, knowing Merk was right. His last stunt in prison might as well have been a vacation, because he'd served harder and longer times before.
He'd always held tight control of the club. This time was no different. Everything with the gun chain, the security, the power struggle all fell together and Moroad MC sat on top amongst the gangs. He'd let the others relax, because he planned to make a move before the heat intensified again.
For that reason, he alone remained unsettled. He needed to concrete his relationship with Christina and Jeremy. He'd expected more coming from both of them. Christina turned away from him after they'd had sex last night and almost seemed hesitant to be around him. Jeremy...hell, he was a man now.
He changed direction and headed toward Jeremy. The decision to bring the kid into the club as a lifer was his original plan. During his absence, the reports favored Jeremy's attitude, devotion, and smarts. He remained loyal to the club, to Cam, and to Christina.
"Hey," Cam said.
Jeremy lifted his chin. "Hey."
Cam squeezed the clip on Jeremy's get-back whip hanging from the motorcycle's handlebar. He studied the end of the cord, pleased at the wear and tear on the material.
"You almost took your legs out from under you the first time you tried swinging the whip," Cam said, reminiscing.
"That doesn't happen anymore." Jeremy crossed his arms and a smile tugged his lips. "Ask Stache what happened when he thought he could take my whip from me."
"Kick his ass?"
"Oh, yeah." The smile won on Jeremy's face.
No longer lanky, the kid's vest strained at his shoulders. He needed a bigger size.
Cam clipped the whip back on to the handlebar. "Christina said you graduated and turned eighteen. Big changes coming around for you."
"You said I could stay with you," Jeremy said.
Cam nodded. "I don't go back on my word, kid."
Silence fell between them. His absence stole the simplicity he'd built between them. He flicked his cigarette to the ground. Everywhere he stepped, he ended up saying the wrong thing.
"Don't let Christina see you littering." Jeremy rubbed his chin. "She's gone off hardcore on a few of us for tossing shit in the yard."
Cam relaxed, glad to be back on familiar ground with Christina in the middle. "Is that so?"
The idea of Christina bitching him out, raising her voice, and staring him down would be a welcome change from her quiet and supportive manner in the last twenty-four hours. He shared a grin with Jeremy.
"You thought she was a clean freak before you left, you should've seen her when you were gone." Jeremy rocked forward and lowered his voice. "She rented a rototiller from in town, brought it home, and tore out all the weeds. Every time one of us offered to help, she bit our heads off. Merk said to let her be, cause she was working through her..."
Cam tilted his head. "She was pissed at me leaving her."
"Yeah," Jeremy said. "She spent all her time watering grass seed and kicked us all to the backyard. Even now, no one is allowed to ride their motorcycle into the yard unless we put it in neutral and coast into the grass."
Cam looked over to where he'd parked bike. Yesterday, he'd rode in straight to the porch without even noticing the yard, because all he wanted to do was see Christina.
"She's a good woman. The best you'll ever have in your life, kid."
"I know." Jeremy shrugged. "Besides, her rules make the place look better. I don't mind going out of my way to keep things looking nice."
The freshly painted house stood out from the side of the mountain like a neon sign pointing the felons' hideout to the cops. He liked being in control of his men, his house, and what goes on in his life. Coming home to find the place looked good enough to invite the damn sheriff over for lunch set wrong with him.
"I put you up for vote," Cam said. "I should hear tonight whether you made it into the club or not."
Jeremy shoulders widened. "What happens if I'm voted down? It's not like I can stick around here with all the talk going around."
As the president, he'd have a lot to say to his MC brothers if Jeremy didn't get a patch. Merk kept him updated on everyone, including Jeremy. The kid deserved to swear his life to Moroad.
"This is your home, no matter what shit goes down, we'll figure it out." Cam removed his pack of cigarettes and found it empty. "Fuck."
"What's wrong?"
He crumbled the empty pack. "I need to go to town and buy some smokes."
Across the yard, Merk started his motorcycle and rode out. Jeremy walked toward the house and Cam followed. In the kitchen, he removed his pistol from the cupboard above the fridge.
A soft gasp came from behind him. "What are you doing? You can't be caught again with a weapon."
"I’m going to town." He glanced at Christina. "Put your shoes on. You're coming with me."
"I wasn't planning on going anywhere today."
He shoved the pistol in the back of his pants and pulled his jean vest over the handle. "Change of plans."
"Can't you go by yourself without the pistol?"
"I can do whatever the hell I want, and I want you on the back of my bike."
"Ask one of the other guys to go with you." She picked up the laptop off the table, turned, and left the kitchen.
He stared at the empty hallway, gritting his teeth. Had it been so long that she couldn't remember her pla
ce in his life?
Jeremy walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and opened the fridge. "What's with you?"
"What?" Cam snapped.
Jeremy poured the milk. "You look pissed, but out in the yard you were fine."
"Yeah, well, there's going to be changes around here," he muttered, stalking from the room.
By the door, he picked up Christina's shoes and walked into the living room. He tossed the sneakers at the foot of the couch.
"Put them on," he said.
"Cam, I'm not going to town. I have work to do." She opened the laptop.
He stepped over and ripped the laptop out of her hands. "Since when do you go against what I tell you to do?"
"Since you left me eighteen months ago."
He tossed the laptop into the chair. "We don't have the internet."
"We do now."
"What?"
"I've had it for over a year."
"Why?"
She looked away. "Jeremy used it for school."
"He's graduated."
"Yes, but—"
"Christina. Look at me." He picked up her shoes and sat on the coffee table. "Give me your feet."
She lifted her feet and watched him slip on her tennis shoes. "I really don't want to go to town, Cam."
"I don't give a shit what you want. I want you with me, and I need smokes." He frowned, looking at the laptop. "Jeremy's done with school, shut it off. I don't need anyone finding out information about any of us that they don't need to know."
"What are you talking about? Who is going to find out anything about us?"
"The Feds, for one." He grabbed her hand. "Let's get going, so I can get back."
Out on the porch, she planted her feet. "This is ridiculous. You're not even listening to me."
He turned, got in her face, and whispered. "You're not going to like it if I have to tell you again. Get your ass on my bike."
She stared as she walked a wide berth around him. He ran his hand through his hair, aware of Merk and Jeremy watching him. She waited at his motorcycle. Arms crossed and pissed off. He wasn't going to give her an inch, and walked over and sat his bike. Within seconds, he rode down the road with Christina behind him.
The wind dried the sweat off him. He put more pressure on the throttle, needing the freedom of the road to escape the stress plaguing him.
Christina's arms tightened around his waist. He reached down and squeezed her thigh, leaving his hand on her leg. The pressure eased inside his chest. A good woman, the road, and no one judging his every move put him in a better mood. Christina would learn to trust him again. He only needed to remind her that he was back and in control.
All too soon, the viaduct appeared in front of him. He slowed down and put his hand back on the handlebar. Skipping the grocery store, he headed straight through town and stopped at the gas station.
Christina continued to sit on his bike. He scanned the cars at the pump, gazed over his shoulder, and found Christina with her chin down and her face turned away from him, unaware that he'd parked.
"Are you getting off my bike, so I can go in the gas station and buy some cigarettes?" he asked.
She laid her hands on his shoulders, and slid off the seat. "I'll wait for you out here."
The strap on her helmet hung loose. He hooked his finger in the D loop, bringing her around to him. "Hey, ease up on me, huh? I want things to be like they were before I left. It doesn't hurt you to ride with me. I wanted you on the back of my bike. I've been away from you too long."
She tipped off balance and braced her hands on his abdomen. "I know."
He tipped her head up and forced her eyes up to his. "You know, but you're not here with me."
"I'm here."
"Bull shit." He leaned down and kissed her. "I want you here with me."
She moistened her lips and nodded. "Okay."
"Okay." He kissed her again. "I'll be right back."
A man in a red four-wheel drive truck stared at Cam. He glared, until the man looked away. What was that asshole's problem?
He pushed his way through the double glass doors of the gas station and stepped up to the counter. Taking a fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket, he set the cash down in front of him.
"What can I get you?" The older woman working behind the counter closed the till.
"A carton of Marlboro shorts," he answered.
"Lights?"
"Full flavor. The red pack." Cam glanced out the full-length glass doors at Christina and his pulse increased.
A man stood in front of her, blocking his view.
The cashier put the carton of cigarettes on the counter in front of him and swept up his money. Halfway to the door, she called out for him to wait for his change.
"Keep it," he said, pushing through the door.
The man, smaller than Cam without any muscle, held his hands, palm up, in front of him. Christina shook her head and stepped backward, reaching for his bike. Lowered brows and pursed lips marked her face.
"Hey," Cam said, grabbing the man's attention. "If you want to continue living, you'll step away from my woman."
Christina hurried to his side. "Cam—"
"You have a problem, you can tell me about it," Cam said, putting his arm in front of Christina and stepping in front of her.
"No problem here." The man slid his sunglasses back on his face and pivoted, going back to his truck.
Cam watched the man drive away. "What the fuck was that about?"
"Nothing," Christina mumbled.
"It was something." Cam ripped off the end of the carton of cigarettes, took a pack out, and put the rest in the leather satchel on his motorcycle. "What did he say to you?"
"Can we go home?" Christina gathered her hair to the side and picked the helmet off the seat. "Please."
Cam tapped the pack of smokes against his hand, then took one out and lit it. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what that guy did to you."
"God, Cam. Just drop it." She fastened the helmet and shook her head in anger. "It was nothing. You didn't have to threaten his life. All you're doing is making it worse."
"Do I need to kill him?"
"No!"
"Then what did he—"
"He asked if I needed help. If I was safe with you." She crossed her arms. "It's the same thing I hear every time I go to town. You want to know why I don't like coming into Federal? That's why. Suddenly, everyone knows I'm the woman who lives with a convict. I don't even know that man. I don't know anyone, but everyone in town knows who you are. They ask if I'm okay and need any help every time I'm here. I can't just walk into the store anymore and be invisible. The town is too small, and I seem to be everyone's favorite topic for the last year and a half."
He was a convict. Small town or not, no matter where he went, people would always sidestep away from him because he spent time in prison. He liked people keeping their distance. The less people in his business, the better. What he didn't like hearing was how it drew people to Christina, instead of frightening them away.
"That's one thing you're going to have to deal with, baby." He inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke out slowly. "I am who I am."
"I went my whole adult life staying away from people. When you left, you made the front page of the newspaper." She held up her fingers and quoted the air. "President of Moroad Motorcycle Club charged with being a felon in possession of a loaded weapon. Armed and dangerous."
He raised his brows. Out of his long list of crimes, carrying a pistol was the least of his concern. "Talk will settle down. It always does."
"I know." She laughed to cover a sob. "I just..."
He gave her time, but she held back. "What?"
"It hurts." She patted her chest. "Before you left none of this mattered. If people looked at me longer or whispered, I ignored them because I had you to come home to. I don't have you anymore."
"I'm here."
She tilted her head. "Are you? Cause since you've been home it feels like
you left the man I know back in prison and gave me someone I no longer recognize."
He hooked her neck, bringing her to his chest. "We'll get through this."
"Promise?"
"Yeah." He flicked his cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it. "Baby steps, and if going slow, day to day, doesn't work, I'll lock you back in the bedroom."
She pinched the solid muscle over his ribs. "I'll shoot you."
He scanned the area over her head. From now on, he'd have to protect her better. "Come on, let's get out of here.
He rode out of town, a little lighter, and more comfortable about the situation. Christina wasn't going anywhere. He'd gain back her trust and each day would get easier.
Chapter Four
Katie and Lola, two of the half dozen women who came around to entertain the Moroad members, flanked each side of Christina on the outdoor bench beside the travel trailer. Christina crossed her arms, crossed her legs, and studied the men congregated on the porch. Sometime around eleven o'clock, the men stopped partying and the women gave them their privacy.
"Are you going to come watch us dance Saturday since Cam's back?" Katie tore off the label on her beer and stuffed the pieces down into the empty bottle.
"No." Christina's plans included staying home and trying to get Cam to stay with her and relax. One of the other men could take his place running the girls to Silver Girls where they danced for the men in Federal.
"I don't blame you for staying home." Lola shifted on the bench and brought her legs up, wrapping her bare arms around them. "The guys haven't been as much fun the last couple of weeks. Have you noticed that?"
"I think Ring and Johnson's fight the other night calmed them all down," Katie said. "It was pretty intense."
"The Moroad members who work in the silver mine have worked a lot of overtime lately." Lola sighed loudly. "It doesn't feel like summertime when everyone is so serious. It's the time of year for fun and getting together."
"Something is up," Katie said.
"Cam's home," Christina said, half to herself.
The other two women fell silent. Her body wound tight, Christina swung her foot in agitation. Everything about staying at the house, a house she called home, gave off a vibe of desperation, keeping her on edge. From the outside, everything looked normal. The men came over almost every night. Friday through Sunday, the drinking, dancing, and music started and kept going into the early morning. The only difference was Cam being home.
