by Debra Kayn
"He's hanging around town lately. Tiff moved into one of the upstairs apartments in the Sterling Building above Silver Girls. The kid's staked out the block while this shit goes on with Reds. He doesn't trust anyone else to keep watch over her, so he's doing it himself."
"Is that safe?" she asked.
"Safe as anyone is right now." He shoved his arms in his vest and picked up his pistol, the extra magazine, and stepped over to her. "Give me a kiss. I need to go."
She held his sleeve and kissed him. "Be careful, and come back to me."
He turned without promising and walked out the door. She lay back, wrapping the blanket around her, and counted the minutes. Because Cam refused to give her answers to her questions about what Moroad MC did on the nights they took their motorcycles out as a club, her imagination went wild. She wasn't naive. There were always articles in the newspaper and news segments on the television highlighting the activities of known motorcycle clubs. Everything from drugs, prostitution, racketeering, and murder made the news.
Whatever he was involved in was illegal, dangerous, and threatening his freedom. She snuggled deeper in the blanket. She'd heard talk. Despite the members keeping their meetings quiet and their activities away from her and the Moroad women, she knew whatever they did in the middle of the night involved the exchange of weapons. But, she also knew they weren't manufacturing guns. Everyone in town knew Bantorus MC sold guns to anyone looking to buy. It wasn't unusual in Idaho to get a seller's permit and sell on the side of the law. What she couldn't figure out was what Moroad MC did with guns and how they made a living—a very good living—off them.
Knowing she wasn't going to be able to sleep, she sat up, scooted over to the wall, and opened the newly installed window. The bars Cam had installed when he'd first refused to let her leave the house still hung on the outside. She laid her head against the glass and smiled. When she'd asked him why he didn't take the barrier down after she voluntarily stayed with him, he admitted he liked the added insurance of knowing she couldn't escape him in the bedroom.
God, she loved him and his stupid, unconventional thoughts that made absolutely no sense to anyone, but her. The added security proved he wasn't going to let her go. She only wished she had something to reassure herself that he'd come back to her every time he left the house.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze. The roar of motorcycles jolted her fully awake. The low rumble, an extension of Cam, brought comfort and worry. She couldn't change his behavior or understand the danger he lived for when each day was a blessing to her.
Cam led the riders single file down the gravel road. The dust cloud left in their wake blurred the red taillights until they were gone. Still, she blinked and focused her eyes, trying to catch one more sight of them until the darkness hid them from view. Soon the aura from the floodlight at the end of the porch narrowed her view to only the yard.
A dark movement closer to the house grabbed her attention. She gasped, sitting straighter.
Merk stood at the edge of the yard. It seemed like lately, if Cam left the house, Merk stayed behind. She blindly reached for the blanket again to cover herself.
As if sensing her location, Merk's head turned and he gazed at the window. She pressed herself against the wall, peeking around the curtain. There was no way he could see her inside the room with the flood light shining outside the window.
The darkness hid his expression, but she could tell something bothered him by the way he shoved his hands in his front pockets, lowered his head, and walked out of sight. She turned away from the window and lay down. She needed to apologize to him soon. Somehow, he'd misunderstood her reaching out to him as more than friendship. Her devastation over losing Cam when he went to prison made her selfish and blind to others. She never realized his feelings went beyond those of someone protecting and comforting her. She'd clung to Merk, so not to lose a part of Cam. Instead, she'd hurt Merk— someone who she respected and wanted to keep in her life.
Chapter Nineteen
Moroad MC arrived at the scheduled destination for pickup five minutes early. Cam stood in front of Gunner, Stache, Willy, Rich, Bear, and Jeremy. Everyone waited for answers, and he wanted business taken care of before the delivery arrived and while Merk wasn't around.
"I received information that not only is Judge Cranley making it possible for Reds members to walk out of prison, but so is Roseberg," Cam said.
"I know Cranley, but who the hell is Roseberg?" Stache asked.
Cam expected the question. When he'd read the paper Jacko passed to Pretaro and handed over to him, he had to make a few phone calls to find the answer. "He's the judge on the United States Sentencing Commission...in Washington D.C."
"Jesus Christ." Bear scratched his head through his mop of hair. "We might as well be up against the God Damn president of the United States."
Cam nodded. "Since most of us are unable to travel outside Idaho without getting a warrant aimed at our back, it's going to be impossible to go after the top man."
"So we're going after Judge Cranley?" Stache spit on the ground. "Getting that prick would be my pleasure. He's hung Moroad MC members by the balls too many times for me to go easy on him."
"That's my opinion, too." Cam looked around at all the members. "Who wants to go after the judge and see if getting rid of the middle man will stop Reds from making any more threats against us and the chain?"
"Yeah," Bear said.
Rich nodded. "I'm in."
"Fuck yeah." Willy smacked Rich on the shoulder. "Eliminating Cranley will send a message straight to the top."
"Yeah," Gunner said.
Jeremy hooked his hand under his armpit and added, "Yes."
"Then it's official. We'll visit him this weekend." He turned at the flash of headlights in the distance. "Cranley's only an hour away, living out of Coeur d'Alene. On Saturday, his wife and two daughters leave early for a gymnastics meet across town. Cranley will be alone."
"What about Reds?" Rick asked. "If you put pressure on them first, our visit with Cranley might make a bigger impression."
"Let's see if taking care of Cranley pushes Reds back. Once the deed is done, I'll talk to Jacko inside. He can get the Moroad members who are incarcerated to take over Reds. I'm hoping that's enough. If not, we'll take them out one by one until they ease back. Nothing is going to stop the chain from continuing, and no way in hell will I allow the son of a bitches to take away everything I've worked and fought for all these years," Cam said.
"Yeah, man. I fucking agree with you, brother," Bear said.
"What about Merk?" Jeremy stepped out of view of the car. "Doesn't he get a vote?"
After careful consideration, he decided he wanted his vice president with him. Nobody would notice if Merk took a bullet in the mayhem surrounding the hit on Cranley. Merk could go out a patched member, and he'd have Merk away from Christina without anyone suspecting a thing.
"As far as Merk, if he's the rat, he hasn't shown his hand. I'll run everything by him when I get back, but majority rules on the job. We go in and hit Cranley." Cam stepped back. "Now, let's get business done with tonight, so we can get this load of guns to Spokane."
A navy colored sedan stopped in the middle of the rural road. Cam waited for the driver from Blues to step out. News of taking out Cranley should've eased the pressure of tonight, but with Reds threatening Moroads, he trusted no one. It took very little to buy someone's loyalty. Blues swung to all sides in the state pen. On the outside, they went to wherever the money flowed.
The car door opened and a tall man stepped out. Cam squinted into the darkness and recognition dawned on him. There was only one man who stood almost seven feet tall.
Bull Dog.
"Jeremy?" Cam whispered.
The kid stepped up beside him. "Yeah?"
"Hang back."
"Why?" Jeremy turned and faced Cam. "What's up?"
"Because that big guy likes boys, and if he gets a look at your pretty face, he'd
kill us all without blinking." Cam walked forward and left Jeremy with the bikes.
Within three paces of Bull Dog, Cam stopped and waited for the code phrase.
"There's more potholes on this road then there are stripes," Bull said, looking through the group of Moroad members.
Cam stepped forward, pleased with the statement. "We'll be out of your hair in no time."
The others hurried forward and met the other Blues' member at the trunk of the car to pick up the duffle bags of broken down weapon parts that would reach the west coast and be transported overseas, void of any markings or signs of where they came from.
"I see Moroad MC is still holding on to all the old members." Bull Dog grunted. "You need new blood, Farrell."
"We're doing fine with who we have." Cam stayed between Bull Dog and Jeremy.
If Bull Dog decided to go past him, there would be no way for Cam to stop him without using a bullet. The black asshole outweighed him by a hundred pounds and stood almost a foot taller. The fact no one ever told Bull Dog no in prison meant the guy always got his way. He collected favors and went commandos with his bunkie almost every night. The guards put Bull Dog on the lower wing away from Moroad to keep him happy. Everyone knew the Moroad members would kill Bull Dog if he touched one of them.
"It's good to be out, but damned if freedom doesn't hurt me," Bull Dog muttered. "I'm sure I'll see you again on the inside. Neither one of us ever lasts too long on the outside."
Cam fought to keep his disgust showing. He had no time for a cho-mo looking for ass. "When we've cleared your car, you'll want to turn around and head back the way you came. It's too risky to drive through Federal."
Bull Dog looked at him again and narrowed his gaze. Cam shrugged and let Bull Dog come up with his own conclusion on if he spoke the truth or not.
The Moroad members carried the duffels past Cam to the motorcycles. Cam stayed in the middle of the road and waited until Bull Dog and his partner got back in the car, turned the vehicle around, and left. Then he returned to his motorcycle.
He took one of the duffels from Stache and tied the bag to the back of his bike seat. To anyone who viewed the club riding in the middle of the night, it would appear they were a small group of friends, packing for an overnight stay wherever they could lay their head. The real danger came if a cop profiled them at the state line. Spokane lay thirty minutes into Washington and state patrol staked out Interstate 90.
Each ex-convict needed to stay in the state of Idaho according to their parole. Each run could be their last if they get picked up in Washington. He'd make sure he made it back to Christina.
"Jesus, Bull Dog gets fucking creepier each time I see him." Bear raised his shoulders to his ears and shuddered. "When the hell did he get out?"
"It must've been after you left prison and before I got put back inside the fence. He wasn't there during my last trip. If that's the case, he's probably the only Blues member that got released within the last three years." Cam double checked the straps and glanced at Jeremy. "Did you double check your bag?"
"Yeah." Jeremy swung his leg over his motorcycle. "I'm ready. Let's go and get back. Tiff's alone until I roll back into town, and I don't like it."
"There will be lots of things you don't like." Cam grinned. "Don't let a woman pull you by the dick."
Jeremy shook his head in amusement, started his motorcycle, and yelled over the noise, "You're one to give me advice. At least I haven't had to lock a woman in my room to keep her."
Cam lunged forward, swiping at Jeremy's head. The kid popped his clutch and almost tipped his bike. Cam grabbed his handlebar and said, "Fun and games are over. Go on and lead us to the interstate, kid. It'll make you feel like a big man, instead of a pussy whipped teenager."
Stache laughed and rode off with the others. Cam, the last to leave, looked behind him at the deserted road. He'd created the gun chain from an idea while locked away for murder when he was just a few years older than Jeremy, and tonight he contributed to its success. Moroad MC accomplished the impossible and lived off untouched government money.
An air of confidence rolled off everyone. An attitude of hope that their recent troubles would soon be behind them. He'd worried about Jeremy stepping into the role of a lifer at his age with no experience under his belt, but the kid continued to surprise him at the way he adapted and stepped up into position. Even the other members accepted Jeremy's enrollment better than he'd expected. Maybe Jeremy's innocence or his willingness to take a risk kept optimism high. Whatever the reason, the dangers of tonight were eased by the camaraderie of the Moroad members working as a fucking club for once.
Cam started his motorcycle and caught up with the others. The hopeful solutions to the Reds problem let him enjoy the ride. Christina finally worked through her worries about keeping Jeremy's parentage secret, and stood at Cam's back with his decision. Once he took out Judge Cranley and sent the message to the commissioners in D.C, Reds would back off. Moroad MC would be safe until the next group threatened their freedom.
Chapter Twenty
Christina kissed Cam and when he refused to kiss her back, she licked his cheek until he grabbed her. She laughed, unable to hold in how much he pleased her.
"Thank you. I know you don't think this is necessary, but for me it is. I want to make things right and apologize." She grabbed Cam's hand and stepped back, tugging him away from the side of the house. "Just promise me you won't hit him or interrupt me."
"Ain't promising nothing, baby." He walked with her, holding her hand tighter. "If he looks at you or touches you, I'll kill him."
She glared. "I trust you not to hurt anyone in front of me."
"Oh, it won't be in front of you. I'll lock you in the damn bedroom and then kill Merk," he said.
She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Please, stop."
Knowing he'd never let her have this conversation alone with Merk, Christina asked Cam to walk across the yard with her for support. Before Cam came home from prison, he'd been friends with Merk. Even more important, they were president and vice president of Moroad MC. The longer the tension between the two grew, the more distracted they'd become. She wanted nothing to happen or endanger their lives, because they were too stubborn to talk.
Merk stood outside his travel trailer, one boot on the step, and a piece of Duct tape in his mouth. She caught his eye and waved. Merk lifted his chin, took the tape in his hands, and wrapped the silver material around the back of his boot.
Christina stopped a few feet away. "What are you doing?"
"The sole is coming off the back of my boot." He put his newly repaired boot in the grass and faced her. "Now it's good as new."
Christina studied the broken down leather, the tape, and shook her head. "I could go to town and buy—"
"Christina," Cam said. "The man can buy his own fucking shoes."
Merk glanced at Cam and brought his attention back to her. "Cam's right."
She blew out her breath. They didn't have to gang up on her.
"Okay." She held her hand up, stopping Cam from saying anymore. "I walked over here to talk to you."
Merk frowned. "About?"
"Well, Cam's reaction to us being friends." She planted her hand in the middle of Cam's chest in case he lunged forward. Thankfully, he stayed put. "He brought something up that made me realize I was overlooking my responsibilities, and I need to make things right. I haven't been a very good friend to you."
"Fuck," Cam muttered.
Merk lowered his chin and squinted. She forged ahead. "When Jeremy came home that night without Cam, I was devastated. I thought I hated Cam, and I hated that he'd left me. I hated the house, and everyone in Moroad MC. I was still full of anger and hurt the night you rode into the yard, and I hated you on sight."
"I remember," Merk said.
She nodded. "I was a bitch."
"Yep," Merk agreed.
Cam growled. She rubbed him briskly in the middle of his ribs, staying c
onnected to him. They both needed to hear what she had to say. She wanted no secrets between them.
"Then things changed and I began to accept that Cam was away. Looking back, I'm proud of myself because I didn't continue to sulk in my anger. I started working on the house and what I couldn't do, you volunteered your time and muscle. I was so caught up in what was happening to me, I never thought about you having just walked out of prison only to have your friend's woman put you to work around here, or making you listen to me bitch." She swallowed and raised her voice, because emotions clogged her throat. "I was selfish. All I could do was concentrate on not losing the love I have for Cam, and you didn't deserve to be thrust into my problems. You should've had time to adjust to living on the outside without a crazy bitchy lady always asking for help."
Merk's gaze lifted to Cam's. "It's okay."
She glanced back and forth between Cam and Merk. "It's not okay, and that's why I want to apologize. I know I took advantage of your kindness and was extremely selfish."
Something passed between Merk and Cam. No one spoke, no one twitched a muscle, but the two men shared a look. A look that excluded her. For her personal reasons, she would not embarrass Merk and bring up the idea that he developed feelings for her in front of Cam.
As a child, she had the love of her parents, her friends, and even her teachers loved her in the sense she was an obedient student. Everyone invested time and companionship into her life, wanting her to excel and become a good person. Cam loved her in his own way. A compulsive, overwhelming love all women dream about and rarely find. She'd never take his gift for granted.
Merk gave her friendship that made her want to be a better person. The two different relationships came with different feelings, and after going years without a support system, she'd recently learned she craved both kinds of love. Cam's kind of love she wasn't willing to walk away from, because she became him. He became her. They needed each other. Without Cam, she lived an empty life. With him, she experienced an excess of every emotion.
