by Debra Kayn
"He cares about you." Cam wanted to shake Boo and get his mind off everything, but the message he needed to remember. Hell, a shout or fight breaking out could distract Boo long enough he'd forget his job. "Listen to every word, Boo."
"Okay. I'm ready." Boo snickered and leaned against the table. "Tell me."
"Nine, nine, three," Cam said.
Boo frowned. "Nine, nine, three?"
"Right. That's all you have to tell him." Cam coughed, needing to test Boo before he put his faith in him that he'd remember the three numbers tonight. "There will be money in your account tonight. I might even add an extra twenty in there. You'll have more smokes than anyone on the floor."
"I'd like that." Boo strained against his handcuffs. "I'll have some left over after Tyrel takes them from me."
"Tyrel's got nothing on you. Remember that." Cam slid forward in his chair and caught the guard's attention. "It's been good talking with you, Boo."
"Yeah, Cam. I still can't believe you came back to visit me. I never get visitors."
"I'll have to change that." Cam bent at the waist and braced his hands on the table, lowering his voice. "What's the message I gave you?"
Boo lowered his brows and glanced down at the table. "Nine, nine,..."
Tension gripped the back of Cam's neck. He inhaled and said, "Nine, nine, three."
"I remember." Boo nodded, smiling.
"Say it."
Boo cleared his throat. "Nine, nine, three."
"Again."
"Nine, nine, three."
"What's your prisoner number, Boo?" Cam asked.
"Oh." Boo tucked his chin, trying to read the number on the front of his one-piece orange jumper.
"No, don't look. What's your number?"
"Two, one, six, six...uh, four, zero."
Cam nodded. "What was the message I gave you?"
"Nine, nine,..." Boo's mouth puckered in frustration.
"Three, Boo. It's nine, nine, three." Cam's jaw ached. Jesus Christ, he needed more time with Boo.
"Time's up," the guard said.
Cam straightened. "One more time, Boo."
"Nine, nine, three."
Cam smiled. "Keep repeating that in your head. Don't forget."
"I won't."
Cam turned and knocked on the door. Pretaro let him out, and he walked down the hallway. The odds played against him. If Boo forgot the message, Pretaro would only have half the numbers. There were at least a hundred men in the state penitentiary with the same three numbers. He needed the whole message delivered.
Pretaro slowed his steps and quietly said, "Your men are waffling. Reds are out for blood inside."
"Yeah, I'm going to fix that soon." Cam, thankful for the full beard to hide his lips from the camera, stared straight ahead.
"How?" Pretaro unlocked the next security door and swung it open.
Cam stepped through, passing Pretaro. "I need you to report something to your superior."
"Fuck," Pretaro whispered on a hiss. "I'm not getting messed up in your shit."
Cam refused to move until Pretaro agreed to help him.
Pretaro sighed. "What?"
"I have a link to the gavel banger's suicide." Cam walked forward.
Three more yards and Pretaro stopped. Cam turned. Every step they made through the hallway recorded on the cameras lining the ceiling.
"I don't—"
"You will." Cam moved forward. "I have three numbers for you to write down. Tonight, someone else will hand you three more. Put them together in the order you receive them and do your research. Take that number higher up and tell them they'll find the person who visited Cranley."
"Jesus Christ, Cam." Pretaro took out his keys again to open the last door. "They're going to ask me where I got the information."
"Tell them you overheard talk while doing your rounds by a group of inmates, and you can't be sure who said it. Have them investigate if it's true." Cam lifted his chin.
Pretaro's jaw twitched. "You owe me."
"Yeah, I will, only if you make this happen." Cam walked out the door and never looked back.
His reason for visiting the prison complete, he strolled out the door, the gate, through the parking lot, and got on his motorcycle. There was no turning back. He'd set the last step into action, and he hoped like hell Boo came through for him.
Christina wanted him with her, and he had to do everything possible to make sure he stayed. By tomorrow night, he'd be one-step closer to covering his past and living the here-and-now with his woman. For her, he'd make the sacrifice. For her, he'd make sure nobody threatened what she wanted. For her, he'd lay down his life.
Chapter Thirty
A warm breeze blew against Christina's ass. She reached behind her, slapped the short material of her sundress down, and caught Cam lifting her dress with his booted foot.
"I'll never finish getting the books done so your men get paid if you keep distracting me." She leaned over to write in the ledger balanced on the porch railing. Only a few more numbers and she'd be finished for the week.
His hand slid up the back of her leg and he squeezed her butt cheek. "They can wait another day."
She laughed, letting him have his feel. "They might, but I can't. You have a run tomorrow night and I told Jeremy I'd pick him up a couple new pair of jeans tomorrow morning. I think he's worn holes in every single pair he owns."
The house door slammed. Christina jumped, straightening her dress, and spotted Jeremy stomping out of the house.
Jeremy kicked the old coffee can filled with sand she kept on the porch for the men to toss their cigarette butts. Christina grabbed on to Cam to stop him from touching her.
"Hey," she yelled, getting Jeremy's attention. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Jeremy bit off, raking his hand through his hair.
"When Christina asks you a question, you answer her, kid." Cam wrapped his arms around Christina from behind.
She sank back against Cam, hating that she couldn't help Jeremy more. In her experience, Jeremy had only lost his cool a handful of times since coming and living with Cam. Normally, he hid his feelings from everyone. Lately, the more she pushed, the quieter he became.
"Is somethings wrong?" she said.
Jeremy shook his head. "It's Tiff."
"Is she okay?" she asked.
"I don't know what's wrong with her. First she tells me she needs space, and I gave her that—"
"Are you still watching over her?" Cam stroked Christina's arm.
"Yeah, but nothing is happening." Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets. "She doesn't talk. She barely looks at me, and she's hanging out with a group of her friends that are no good for her. All they want to do is talk her out of going to the community college. I told her she's too smart to think she'd be happy cleaning rooms at Silver Girls full time."
"I agree. She should take classes, even if she wants to continue working at Silver Girls." Christina laid her hand over Cam's fingers. "What does she say when you try and support her?"
"That's just it." Jeremy walked over and sat on the steps of the porch. "She won't talk to me in person, but she texts me all the time. It's the same bull shit. She wants me, but she's scared. Then she says there's something she needs to tell me and I have to listen."
Christina shivered. "Honey, it's her age. She's going from a high school girl to a woman. That's a lot of changes happening in her life, and you're...well, you're like your dad. You expect her to accept you fully. You're out of school, you're in a motorcycle club, and you keep most of your life from her to protect her. She doesn't understand, because all she wants is to know she's the most important thing in your life."
"She is," he muttered. "But, I'm a Moroad, too."
Cam's chest vibrated against her back in amusement. She inhaled, slapping at Cam's hand to make him stop. "Do you want me to talk to her?"
"No," Jeremy said. "I just don't get why she can't talk to me in person. I hate texting."
"I can under
stand why she's scared."
"Of me?" Jeremy's gaze snapped to hers.
Christina shrugged. "Maybe, but I have a feeling she's more frightened of caring for you so deeply she can't trust herself to be around you."
"That doesn't make sense." Jeremy braced his elbows on his knees. "What does she think I'm going to do to her?"
"She's afraid you'll break her heart." Christina moved out of Cam's embrace and sat down beside Jeremy. "You might not mean to hurt her and if it happens it might not even be within your control to stop it, but when one man, the only man she has scary feelings toward, breaks her heart, it will shape her for the rest of her life. So, think hard about what direction you want to push her. Either way you decide to go with her, forward or back, the experience will remain a part of her for the rest of her life. You can make her world good for her or you can end up being a reminder of how she failed, even after she moves on and finds someone else."
Jeremy ran his hands over his face and inhaled deeply. "Okay, I get it."
She smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "I knew you would. You'll do the right thing."
"Thanks." Jeremy stood. "I'm going for a ride and clear my head."
"Hey, kid." Cam walked over to the steps. "Make your own damn mind up first. Once you have that under control, don't let anything stop you. As a man, you do need to listen to your woman, but it's up to you to take care of her and know what's best. Sometimes, she won't know what to do and you need to make the decisions for her. That's part of being a man."
Jeremy nodded, walked over to his motorcycle, and rode out of the yard. She rubbed her hands in worry. Maybe following his heart was asking too much of a young man on the verge of deciding his own life.
Cam slid his hands under her armpits and pulled her to her feet. She turned and buried her face in his chest, glad she no longer struggled with whether loving Cam was right or wrong.
She lifted her gaze. "He'll be okay, right?"
"He'd be better off if he kidnapped Tiff and didn't put up with her bull shit."
She pushed away from him laughing. "That's not even funny."
"Would you have given me the time of day if I hadn't locked you in the bedroom?"
Would she? Her stomach fluttered. No matter how much she loved Cam and how each day brought her closer to believing they could survive the trouble hanging over them both, a part of her needed the fear and uncertainty of Cam's love. She needed Cam's constant reassurance more than his freedom and his club. Somehow, kidnapping her, threatening her, and pounding in the fact he'd never let her go filled her irrational need.
"No." She sighed and shook her head. "You knew what was best for us."
He hooked the back of her neck, bringing her closer. "Keep believing that."
She stretched, kissing his lips. "I will."
He brought her left hand up to his mouth and kissed her ring, gazing intently in her eyes. She sighed in contentment at the realization of how many times he said he loved her without words.
"I need to finish the records." She stepped back, squeezing his hand, not letting go until distance pulled them apart.
Cam walked off the porch and talked with Merk in the yard. She glanced at the two men, noting their differences. Merk tended to show his feelings in the way he held his body, whether stiff with tension or relaxed with a clear mind. The opposite was true for Cam. Cam never relaxed. Even in sleep, his body twitched, jumped, and held her as if someone would steal her from his life. In the daytime, he never wavered or showed any weakness. Always ready for anything to happen and finely tuned to his surroundings.
Cam glanced back at her. Her skin warmed. He always stayed aware of her, taking care that nothing hurt her. Even when she stood on the porch of his home, perfectly safe.
She dipped her head and went back to work. The Moroad members needed paid their weekly allotment. She marked off the column and finished payroll for the week.
Picking up the pouch of envelopes containing each member's pay and Cam's club pouch, she crossed the yard. If Cam allowed her to put the information on her laptop, she'd cut the hours she had to work on keeping the money moving in half. Though she understood his concern. With the method she used now, she remained clueless on where the money came from and why certain members received more than others did.
Cam and Merk turned at her approach. She held out the pouches. "All done."
"I'll take them." Merk reached toward her.
Cam took them from her hands before Merk. "I'll do it. Gunner's passing out the money to the men, and I need to go get money orders and wire them to the prison."
Merk glanced at Christina before facing Cam. "I'll take mine now then."
"You'll wait and get your envelop from Gunner like the rest of the men, so we don't have any problems." Cam lifted his chin toward Christina. "I'll be back in a few. Go put the books away."
She grabbed his vest. "Can you keep an eye out for Jeremy while you're in town?"
"Yeah." He kissed her. "Get going."
She smiled at Merk and went back up on the porch. Gathering the three binders, she searched for her pen. Looking down at her feet, she spotted the silver end between the slats on the porch. Damn it.
That was her favorite pen. She hurried into the house, planning to come back outside and crawl under the porch for the ink pen before she had to start supper.
Upstairs in the spare room, she removed the picture of the town of Federal off the wall, loosened the cedar board, and put the books in Cam's hiding spot. She put everything back exactly as Cam wanted and peered at the wall. Nobody would guess all the information about the Moroad MC hid in the wall of the spare bedroom.
She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, and returned to the porch. A cloud of dust floated in the air. She waved her hand in front of her face and walked the length of the porch until she spotted the pen. On her hands and knees, she stretched her arm, pulling at the weeds growing under the deck, to reach the pen.
The ground slid away. She screamed, and found herself lifted and plastered against Merk.
"God, you scared me." Her heart raced.
"You shouldn't be digging under the porch." Merk held on to her hips.
"I was getting my pen." She stepped back, and he pulled her tighter. "What are you doing?"
Merk widened his stance and held her tight. The musky malt scent of alcohol rolled off his breath. She pushed against him. "Let me go."
Merk's fingers dug into her sides. His gaze intensified despite the hazy alcohol induced expression. Until Cam came back, she'd never seen him drink more than three or four beers. Now he spent a lot of his free time drinking.
"Merk, let go of me," she said, her pulse pounded in her head.
"He's going to leave you." Merk's gaze dropped to her lips. "Then who will he ask to watch over you, since he doesn't trust me anymore?"
Cold washed over her. "What are you talking about?"
"You think he's changed." Merk's lips hardened. "All this time you waited, believing the best in him. He doesn't deserve you."
"You don't know what you're talking about." She shoved, breaking away from him. "You're drunk."
Merk scoffed, shaking his head. "Stop living in a fucking fantasy, sweetheart. You're married to a murderer. Yeah, he does a good job of keeping you away from everything. That doesn't change shit. He's living on borrowed time, and they'll come for him."
She wrapped her arms around her waist to keep from falling apart. "Who is after him? Reds are no longer a threat."
"Reds?" Merk ran his tongue over his teeth. "He has no fear of Reds."
Her thoughts circled. She couldn't keep up with what Merk tried to tell her. "He's not leaving me."
Merk stared at her.
She shook her head. "He's not."
"Are you going to visit him when he's sitting on death row?" Merk stepped closer.
She gasped. "What?"
His mouth softened and he reached for her. She backed away. He wasn't making any sense. Th
e alcohol made him talk.
She whirled around and hurried to the porch. Her heart raced and she panicked. She needed to talk to Cam, because it sounded as if Merk was going after him.
"He'll leave you, Christina. I've never lied to you or pretended. When he's gone, remember who was here for you," Merk said.
She shut the door. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she called Cam. His voicemail kicked on and she hung up. Her fingers shook moving over the keys, sending a text.
Come home. Please.
She picked up her purse with her pistol in it and walked into the bedroom. Inside the room, she opened the top dresser drawer and removed the pile of letters Cam had sent her during his last stay in prison. The first stack, during the time he wrote her back before she'd met him in person sat on the shelf in the closet. The last bundle stayed where she could reach them and read them when she felt like giving up. She pulled out one well-worn envelope and took out the letter.
Christina,
You're looking for pretty words, and all I have to give you is the truth. I'm not going to leave you. I keep telling you and one of these days, you're going to have to believe me. Whether I'm serving time for my crime or I'm right beside you, I am with you. Take a deep breath and think about where you're at right now. You're in my house, in my bed, and in my club. You're not alone.
I think it's a good idea to go out shopping with the women. You need friends. Hell, buy yourself something sexy for when I get back to the house. You're free now, baby. Nobody is going to hurt you. I gave you that, and I want you to take everything that makes you happy. All you have to do is look around, and I'm there. Soon I'll be in our bed. It's only a few more months, and then I'll be back with you. I'm doing okay. I miss you, and I'm holding on to the fact that you're mine.
You belong to me, and I won't let anything take you from me, including yourself. I answered your question, so here is mine.
What's the first thing you want to do when I get back to the house?
Cam
She carried the letter over to the bed and wrapped the blanket around her to stop the shakes that left her weak. She stared out the window at the road, waiting for Cam to come home.
