by Debra Kayn
Merk lied to her.
Cam wasn't going to leave her. He'd promised.
Chapter Thirty One
Parked underneath the viaduct, Cam passed Gunner the pouch with the Moroad member's wages. Cam kept his back to the concrete pillar and gazed toward Main Street. After sending the money to the inmates, he'd rode through town looking for Jeremy. There was no sign of the kid's motorcycle parked at Silver Girls or Tiff's mom's house, so he assumed Jeremy followed through with riding the river road to get his head on straight.
Gunner lifted his vest and put the pouch under his belt. "Most of the guys are riding up Nine Mile to meet me for the exchange."
"At what time?" Cam asked.
"Five o'clock. That gives the Moroad members who work in the mine time to swing by on their way home." Gunner pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Cam.
"Thanks." Cam lit up, inhaled, and pulled out his phone to check in at the house. "Fuck."
"What's wrong?"
"No signal."
Gunner pointed up. "The concrete blocks the signal."
"Yeah. Hang on a second. I need to check on Christina, and then I want to talk to you." Cam walked off toward the river.
Once out from underneath the viaduct, he checked his phone. His messages icon blinked at the same time his phone vibrated with an anonymous incoming call. He answered the call first, hoping Pretaro came through for him.
He pushed the button. "Yeah?"
"It's done," Pretaro said.
Cam glanced back at Gunner. "When will everything go down?"
"At quarter to six. Today." Pretaro lowered his voice and said, "They investigated me all day yesterday..."
"And?"
"I don't know. First, they chalked it up as rumors, and then the next thing I know they were flying in every official on the commission board, and I was called into a conference. Judge Roseberg shook my hand, told me good job, and left. I thought for sure he was giving me my walking papers and firing me," Pretaro said.
"You're protected." The phone vibrated in his hand as another call came in. "I'll make sure you're well paid for what you've done for Moroad."
Pretaro sighed. "No more favors, Farrell. I can't do it."
"Right." Cam pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at the screen. Christina already hung up. "I need to go. I'll be in contact."
He disconnected the call and swyped the screen, bringing up his messages.
Christina: Come home. Please.
Christina: Where are you?
Christina: I need you.
His jaw ticked. She'd tried to get ahold of him for the last hour. He replied by text, typing as he walked.
Leaving town now.
According to Pretaro, he only had an hour before everything fell into place. Nothing could go wrong.
He jogged over to his motorcycle, gritting his teeth against the pain in his knee. "I need to get back to the house."
"Problem?" Gunner asked.
"I don't know, but we've got a change of plans. I need you and Stache staked out on our road and make sure nobody driving alone will see you. If anyone besides Moroad MC members come toward the house, call me, and make damn sure you're in a location where your phone will work." Cam started his motorcycle. "Get ahold of Bear and have him pick up the money. You won't have time to meet the others. I need you now."
"Got it." Gunner walked toward the river, pulling out his cell phone to make the calls.
Cam took off, rolling through the stop sign, and headed out of town. His hands itched to break the speed limit. Christina rarely texted him, and never asked him to come home when he rode to town. If Pretaro gave him the wrong information and hell broke loose at the house before Cam got there, she'd be scared to death.
He glanced in his side mirror and behind him in the sky. His unease increased. He hoped Christina had gone inside the house and locked the door. Around the last bend on the gravel road, at the spot where the sheriff hauled him off for being a felon with a loaded weapon, he opened up the throttle. If hell broke loose at the house, he needed to protect Christina.
In view of the house, he scanned the yard. Only Merk's motorcycle and Cam's old truck were there. He rode right to the steps of the porch and jumped off the bike as soon as his kickstand hit the grass. Skipping the stairs, he leapt up on the porch and pushed his way through the front door.
"Christina?" he yelled. "Baby, where are you?"
He walked through the living room. The bedroom door opened. Christina peeked around the door and flew out of the room. He caught her in the hallway, holding her close. His heart pounded against his rib cage and he sank his fingers into her hair, palming her scalp.
He'd had enough time to note the makeup rubbed off her eyes and the flushed cheeks before she threw herself into his arms. "What's wrong?"
"I thought you'd left me." She held on to him tighter. "You didn't answer your phone or answer the texts I sent. I couldn’t get ahold of Jeremy to find you. I thought you were gone."
He pulled her away from him and held her face. "Why the fuck would you think I'd leave you?"
"Merk said—"
"What the hell did he do?" Cam's muscled constricted.
"H-he said you were leaving me, and going to prison..." Christina grabbed his vest when he pulled away. "Where are you going?"
Cam grabbed the pistol from the back of his jeans and cocked it. "To take care of a problem. Stay inside the house. Do not come out."
"Cam, no. He's drunk." She pulled on him, following in his wake. "You can't kill him, you'll go to prison."
"Nobody is allowed to hurt you." He opened the door and blocked her from going outside. "I can look on your face and see what he did to you."
"But you're here. I'll be okay." Her eyes begged him to stay.
He hooked her neck, kissed her hard, and said, "Stay inside."
He shut the door behind him, walked over to Merk's trailer, and beat on the door. "Get your ass out here."
The flimsy door swung open and Merk stepped out. Cam raised his arm and pistol-whipped Merk across the face, laying him out. He waited for Merk to get up.
Merk pushed to his feet and spit blood out of his mouth. "You turned her against me."
"She was never yours." Cam stepped forward, ready to hit him again.
Merk pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Cam's chest. The gun registered only enough to stop Cam from coming closer, but he wasn't going to let Merk get away alive.
"You want it all and the hell with anyone else." Merk swayed on his feet. "You turned the club against me."
"You had one job and failed." Cam stepped sideways to keep the road in his view behind Merk. "One fucking job and you caused more hurt than good."
"She needs to know the truth."
"What truth?" Cam raised his arm, running out of time.
"You have no intent to let her go. She's as much a prisoner here as you were in the pen." Merk pointed the pistol at Cam's head. "You've lied to her this whole time about Jeremy, the judge, the guns. You're on borrowed time and she needs to know you're going to leave her."
The phone in Cam's pocket vibrated. He stepped to the right, assuming the call meant time was near for his plan to finalize. Fuck, he had to end this now.
The low rumble of cars caught his attention. Two minutes, and he'd run out of time.
Merk's gaze jerked over his shoulder at the noise. Cam exhaled and let the muscles in his hand relax. It was too late.
Merk turned his suddenly sober gaze to the reality of the situation and raised his arm, until the pistol aimed at Cam's head. "You, motherfuck—"
Cam squeezed the trigger. The blast from Merk's pistol deafened Cam's shot. White, hot, pain burned Cam's stomach. He looked down and watched the blood pour out of him. His knees unlocked and he sank to the ground, sitting on the heels of his boots. A wave of pressure consumed his chest, and he raised his gaze.
Merk stood in front of him. I missed.
His insides seized a
nd the pistol fell from his hand. Screaming pierced his head and Christina appeared beside him, pressing her hand into his stomach. He couldn't hear over the sirens.
He tried reaching for the gun and blackness invaded the edges of his vision. "The gun. Pick up. Hide."
He closed his eyes and his chin dropped to his chest. He had no idea if he spoke or if she could hear him. "Christina?"
Why couldn't he hear her answering?
He'd planned everything to make sure he never left her again. He had to protect her, keep her safe. Why wasn't she answering him?
"Baby?" he said.
His next breath never came.
Chapter Thirty Two
The machine beside Cam's hospital bed beeped every two seconds. Christina held his hand and stared at the green lines going up and down, praying they'd never stop. After surgery, the doctor informed her Cam could breathe on his own now that they'd repaired his lung where the bullet went through. They'd removed the breathing tube and admitted him into a hospital room on the third floor.
The monitor recorded Cam's breathing and would alert the nurses' station if he relapsed.
She leaned against the bed railing and kissed each of his thick, rough fingers. The last twenty-four hours broke her of her hysteria at seeing Cam shot. She'd tried hard to obey him and stay in the house, but when he never returned, she'd looked out the window and found Merk aiming a gun at him. Everything happened so fast, she still didn't understand what happened.
The FBI showed up immediately along with the Sheriff. Sheriff Colby pulled her away as an ambulance loaded Cam on a gurney. While her life erupted all around her, all law enforcement officers aimed their weapons at Merk and one angry agent continued to ask her questions she didn't know the answers to.
At that point, she thought Cam was dead.
There was so much blood.
He'd had the same blank look on his face her parents had when she'd found them murdered. She shivered and squeezed her eyes closed. God, she never wanted to see that much blood again.
"Baby?" Cam whispered.
She opened her eyes and stood, leaning over him. "I'm right here. You're going to be fine."
"Not leaving you," he said, licking his bottom lip.
She held her breath to stop the tears. "You almost did."
"Promised you."
She inhaled a shaky breath. "I'm going to hold you to that promise."
"Drink?" He smacked his dry lips.
Relief flowed through her. "I'll find the nurse. I don't know if they'll allow you any water. She wanted me to get her when you woke up. You had surgery late last night, so try not to move. I'll be right back."
His hand gripped hers. "No. Not yet..."
She glanced behind her at the open door. Caught between doing what he asked and getting him help, she tried again. "Please, Cam. You're in the hospital. I need to tell them you woke up."
"Merk?" he whispered.
She closed her eyes, gathered her strength, and faced him. "He shot you, and...and the sheriff and FBI showed up and arrested him."
Cam opened his eyes. At the sight of his lazy gaze, she covered her mouth, trying not to cry. When she'd heard the shots and witnessed Cam falling, she'd thought she'd never see his gorgeous, dark eyes again.
"Baby...what happened to Merk?"
"They arrested him." She inhaled swiftly. "Stache said the agents have evidence he killed some judge a month ago and of course, they will charge him for trying to k-kill you. Oh God, Cam. I thought—"
Cam closed his eyes. "Good. It's over."
She brushed his hair off his forehead. "What's over?"
"Doesn't matter. I'm not leaving." His breathing deepened.
She looked at the monitor. The green lines continued to teeter-totter. Inhaling a breath of relief, she let go of his hand, walked out of the room, and found the nearest nurse.
"Excuse me." She pointed to Cam's room. "Cam Farrell woke up for a few minutes and wanted a drink of water, but he fell back to sleep."
The blonde haired, petite nurse took her stethoscope off her neck and smiled. "That's positive news and what we were hoping he'd do."
"So, it's good?"
"Very good." The nurse walked into the room. "My name is Laura, and I'll be here for the next six hours."
Laura listened to Cam's chest and nodded. "His lungs are clear. Doctor Stein is the best surgeon on staff. I'll go ahead and give him a call to let him know his patient is coming around. He'll be here shortly to talk with you."
"If he wakes up again, can I give him water?" Christina touched her own lips. "His mouth is dry."
"Let's wait until we find out what the doctor will allow." The nurse walked over to the cabinet under the sink and removed a washcloth, and ran it under the faucet. "Go ahead and wipe his mouth and wet his lips with this washcloth. The moisture will help keep him comfortable until we know more."
"Okay. Thank you." Christina returned to the bed.
Running the corner of the wet cloth over Cam's lips, she looked back to the door and found the nurse gone. She forgot to ask if she could use the phone in the room. Gunner had brought her a change of clothes last night, but forgot to bring her cell phone she'd sat on the dresser in the room beside her purse.
While Gunner informed her the other Moroad members wouldn't visit the hospital while the federal agents questioned her, she gave him strict orders to stay at the house, and help Jeremy get through the shock of hearing his dad got shot. She'd expected Jeremy to come to the hospital and he never showed. It was after three o'clock in the afternoon.
"My gun?" Cam said.
She leaned closer. "I hid it and put it in the house before I rode with you in the ambulance."
He opened his eyes. "Cops?"
"There's nobody here, but me. The nurse is getting the doctor. Just rest," she said.
"The run...tell them to go." He stared into her eyes. "Call Gunner."
"Honey, I don't have my phone and—"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Farrell." An older man dressed in blue scrubs walked into the room. "I see you've decided to wake up. I'm Dr. Stein."
The doctor picked up the strip of paper hanging out of the beeping machine. "Looks good. Your breathing is regular and consistent."
Cam continued to gaze at Christina. She smiled in support, her stomach in knots. Cam would get better and survive. Moroad MC could wait.
"How are you feeling?" Dr. Stein listened to both sides of Cam's chest. "You've got a bit of wheezing in both your lungs, but you can blame that on smoking. The repair to your right lung sounds and looks good. We took you off the ventilator an hour after surgery. Your blood pressure is a little low, so we're going to get you some water, and later when we unhook you from all these machines, you can take a trip to the bathroom. Right now, you have a catheter in, so you don't have to worry about moving, and if you're thirsty, you can take little sips. Make sure you have a nurse with you when you do get up, until your pressure goes back up to normal. We don't want to have you passing out. Do you have any questions?"
Cam continued to look at Christina and said, "When can I get out of here?"
The tears she'd held back flowed unchecked down her cheeks. She squeezed his hand. Already he fought the confinement of the room and the restraints of lying in bed.
"Because you were lucky and the damage to your lower lobe in your lung was minimal, you can probably go home in two days if you continue to do well, which I expect it will if you follow orders." Dr. Stein moved to the end of the bed. "Now, there are some men who claim to be from the FBI sitting out in the waiting room and they're anxious to talk with you. I'll inform them you're awake and—"
"Please. He just woke up. Can't they wait?" Christina asked, her heart racing.
"I'm afraid not. The hospital's policy allows them access to the patient once he's stable if there's been a crime." Dr. Stein glanced between her and Cam, who hadn't stopped watching her. "They only have ten minutes and then he'll need to rest."
Wh
en the room cleared, she turned to Cam and held his hand to her chest. She had no idea what went down between him and Merk, or his involvement with Merk's crime.
"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "Let me call your lawyer."
Cam's mouth softened. "It'll be okay."
The patter of shoes stopped any further conversation. Christina glanced over her shoulder and sucked in her breath. She needed her damn phone before Cam said something to incriminate himself.
"Mr. Farrell, I'm Agent Bronson and this is Agent McNeil, we're investigating the crime that took place on August twenty-sixth at your residence. Can you tell me who shot you?"
Cam's gaze went to Agent Bronson. "I don't know."
"From our records, James Tarmerk aka Merk, a member of Moroad Motorcycle club, was the only one outside with you at the time of the shooting, is this correct?" Agent McNeil held his pen to the paper in his notebook.
Cam cleared his throat. "He lives on my property in a...trailer. I was going out to my motorcycle and heard cars coming up the road. I turned to see who was coming to visit and... That's all I remember."
"Understandable." Agent McNeil closed his notebook. "Let me tell you what we're working with, considering this took place on your land. We arrived at your residence to bring in James Tarmerk for the murder of Judge Cranley out of Coeur d'Alene. We'd received a tip that placed Tarmerk at Judge Cranley's home the morning he was murdered. Upon further investigation, we found gloves with his prints on the inside and Judge Cranley's DNA on the outside near Judge Cranley's residence. We've already matched the bullet from Tarmerk's gun to the one that went through you. With or without you as a witness, Mr. Tarmerk will pay for his crimes. Our concern is your involvement in the shooting at your residence. You're a career criminal, recently let out of the state penitentiary. We've talked to Tarmerk and he's refusing to discuss what happened."
"It's not against my parole to be shot," Cam said, his voice weakening.
Christina lowered her gaze to their linked hands. There were two shots. She'd caught the poof of smoke coming from the end of Cam's pistol aimed at Merk. She remembered flipping the safety switch on when she took the weapon in the house to hide from law enforcement.
