by Lita Stone
ALWAYS
ALWAYS
A Wolfe Brothers Novel
Lita Stone – litastone.com
Copyright Lita Stone 2014
Published at Smashwords
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ALWAYS
To hell with reading, writing and arithmetic. In health class, Cam had learned the answer to the question that had haunted his waking and sleeping thoughts. He had found peace. No more restless nights, stomach cramps and blinding headaches. The answer to the puzzle hid within a simple statistic. More than eighty percent of alcohol-related boating accidents resulted in death by drowning.
Cam stood on the edge of Lake Raven, a remote pond nestled deep in the forest of Huntsville State Park. A hundred yards off shore empty cans bobbed around Tony’s aluminum boat.
From a Styrofoam cooler Cam grabbed a can of beer, cracked it open and guzzled.
Tony had always fished alone but not by choice. Repeatedly, he’d invited Sam an elderly neighbor and Larry a co-worker from the packaging plant. Not once had either accepted.
Unlike Tony, Cam wanted no friends. His six-foot frame and nearly two hundred pounds proved useful in keeping people at a distance. Not many other fourteen-year-olds measured up. He was a freak-of-nature the school bully had teased, until Cam knocked three of his teeth loose, earning him the nickname The Tooth Reaper.
Cam needed little out of life, save the one thing he had obsessed over for the past few months.
Tony.
Dead.
Cam’s six-inch height advantage wasn’t enough. He needed bulk too, otherwise Tony might overpower him, even kill him. Mom was timid. She’d never challenge Tony and Cam’s younger brother Ajay would be left to fend for himself.
Blood raced through Cam’s veins. Sweat bubbled on his forehead. A flash of heat swept over his body. With balled fists, he closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, slow and deep.
The Panthers’ tight-end had taught him this technique after he had complained about the side effects of the damn steroids. The drug drove his temper to borderline uncontrollable levels. Despite the side effects, the desperation to increase his size and do it quickly, kept Cam the tight end’s most loyal customer.
Six months of H.C.G. and working out in the high school weight room had earned Cam an extra twenty-two pounds. He was finally ready to rid their family of the bastard.
Ajay lay on his stomach by Cam’s feet. He pushed a toy car through the dried pine needles. “It’s getting dark.” He glanced up at Cam. “You think we might go home soon?”
Dried blood covered the crack on Ajay’s bottom lip. The purple on the apple of his cheek had darkened but, at least the swelling had gone down. Last night’s beating had left obvious marks. Tony was getting careless.
Cam crouched beside Ajay. “What were you thinking, bringing a knife to school?” He lifted Ajay’s shirt. Between his shoulder blades where Tony had burned him with a cigarette, a blister oozed puss. “If you stop screwing up, maybe Tony would get me one of these nights instead of you.”
Ajay shrugged as he glided the miniature corvette over a rock.
“Shithead,” Tony bellowed from the middle of the lake. “Beer.”
“Want me to go this time?” Ajay asked.
Cam rubbed the black hair on top of Ajay’s head. “You take enough shit from him already. I got this.”
“Now!” Tony’s gruff voice echoed off the dense greenery of the secluded campground.
Cam pulled Ajay’s shirt down. Gently, he gripped his brother under the arms and turned him until his back was toward the lake. He pulled his sweat-drenched shirt over his head, folded it and set it on a boulder.
Ajay glanced over his shoulder. “What you gonna do?”
“Bring Tony his beer.”
Chapter One
19 years later
The solitude of the Texas campground hadn’t dimmed Maggie’s anxiety like she’d hoped, but the five beers sure as hell did. She might even be drunk enough to pee in one of the nasty outhouses.
She chugged her beer and set the can between the ribs running along the bottom of the canoe. Grabbing another from the cooler, she shifted her weight, rocking the boat. Empty cans rolled and clattered. Water splashed over the gunnel.
Tilly sat across from Maggie reading a paperback. She set her book down and tilted her oversized sun hat until it cast a shadow over her pale legs. “I think you’ve had enough.”
Maggie cracked the can open and took a sip. “I’m just getting started.” She glanced over her shoulder at the bow of the canoe where she’d stowed her gun. The .38 snub-nosed revolver made for a lightweight and easily concealable weapon, or at least that was what her older brother had said the day he taught her how to use it.
She braced her palms and leaned backward, stretching her body, hoping her emerald bikini hid little from the last of the day’s sunshine.
Tilly lifted her chin, gesturing toward the embankment. “I’ve seen him somewhere but I can’t place him.”
A tall man stood on shore. He wore black hiking boots and faded jeans. A navy blue T-shirt stretched smooth over a well-muscled chest.
Maggie turned to get a better view. The bow dipped. Water seeped into the canoe. “You know him?”
Tilly shrugged. “Maybe I’ve seen him at Chase Industries.”
Maggie snickered. “He doesn’t strike me as the computer-geek type.”
When Maggie planned this getaway, staying drunk was the only task on the itinerary. Not getting laid. The five beers she had drank must’ve warped her already demented mind. She needed a distraction and she needed to feel good. And he looked like he could make her feel great.
Tilly covered her mouth and gasped. “That’s no rifle he’s holding.”
Maggie’s head spun. She gripped the seat, trying to steady herself but lost her balance. Her body swayed. The trees surrounding the lake blurred in a drunken haze.
The canoe tilted and Maggie’s grip slipped. Head first, she toppled into the lake. Darkness surrounded her. She flailed and kicked but where was the surface? Had she swam up or down? Her lungs tightened, begging for air. The pounding of her heart rang in her ears. She was going to die.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled.
# # #
Warm lips pressed against her mouth. Maggie opened her eyes.
A man was knelt beside her. “Thought you needed CPR. But all you need is a strong cup of coffee.”
Water dripped from his short black hair and bare chest. His jeans were soaked. A gold ring dangled from a thick chain circling his neck.
A pungent flavor of spoiled fish lingered on her tongue. Bile rose in her throat. Gagging and coughing, she twisted and vomited. A string of saliva trailed from her bottom lip. With the back of her hand, she wiped her mouth.
Tilly stood behind him, her drenched blouse plastered to her petite frame. “Is she gonna be okay?”
The man said, “Anybody ever tell you that boating and drinking is a good way to get yourself killed?”
Maggie propped herself on her forearms and glanced across the water. The canoe floated upside down, surrounded by cans and floatation cushions. Fog clouded her vision and her head spun. She palmed her forehead. “One beer too many.” Maggie rolled to the sid
e and patted the ground, scouring the pine needles and dried leaves. “Where’s my gun?”
As the man’s arm circled her waist, she scented bourbon on his breath. He scooped her up, one arm under her legs, and the other under her back.
“Probably at the bottom of the lake,” he said.
An enormous stranger had her cradled like they were longtime lovers. His lips curled into a crooked smile, a smile any sane girl would find terrifying, but she found mildly disturbing, and at the same time, sexy as hell.
He turned from the water’s edge and traipsed along a worn path through the woods.
“We appreciate your help.” Tilly followed closely. “But I can take it from here.”
They came to an empty campsite. He set Maggie down at a picnic table and glanced at Tilly. “Take her to the hospital. Just to be sure.” He turned back toward Maggie.
Black, empty, doll-like eyes drilled into her. A smirk formed on his unshaven face. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, before turning and disappeared the way they’d come.
Tilly knelt before Maggie and brushed a damp strand from Maggie’s cheek. “You scared the crap out of me. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Is he coming back?”
“Let’s put some distance between us and him and if you’re up to it, we’ll head back to your cabin.”
“You go,” Maggie said. “I’ll catch up to you.” She stood and staggered toward the greenery where the mysterious stranger had disappeared.
Tilly gently grasped both Maggie’s arms and forced her to sit back down. “No way.”
“What?”
“Are you insane? Tell me you’re not thinking of bedding that man.”
Maggie laughed. “No. I plan on fucking him.” Again she stood but Tilly pushed her back down.
“You’ve done some stupid stuff but this is over-the-top . . . even for you.”
Maggie scowled. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem? I’ll tell you what my problem is.” Tilly’s voice pitched and Maggie resisted rolling her eyes. Tilly continued. “That man is not to be trusted. How about a little common sense? He looked as if he was ready to kill somebody.”
Maggie sighed. “I think you’re overreacting just a bit.”
“And as usual you’re under-reacting. The guy’s huge, like Guinness Book huge and there’s something else.”
“I thought you said you knew him.”
“I said he looked familiar,” Tilly said. “Big difference. I could’ve seen him at the grocery store or in a restaurant or on America’s Most Wanted.”
Maggie pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “Well, he’s probably long gone by now anyway.”
Tilly’s hands went to her hips. She scowled. “Before the canoe capsized I saw him—.”
The man strode from woods toward them. When he looked at her, Maggie almost detected a smile. His olive skin, sculpted jawline and six o’clock shadow gave him a rugged, bad boy look—and bad boys were her weakness. Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. A shirt covered his chest. He held hiking boots and a Glock—not her revolver. Maggie sighed in disappointment.
He inclined his head at Tilly. “Get her to a hospital.”
Maggie watched him walk toward the road, a wide dirt path that connected all the camp sites. “Hey!” she said.
He stopped walking but never turned, keeping his back to her.
“I’m Maggie.”
Shaking his head, he continued walking.
Strange. Most men would have made small talk or flirted. Maybe he was gay.
At the end of the site a lanky man ran toward her mammoth of a rescuer. His blond hair stretched half way down his back. “Cam!”
“Fuck!” Her rescuer ran back to Maggie and placed the gun in her palm, grip first. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. We never met.”
Chapter Two
Cam strode past the women to head off his stepbrother and drag him back to the cabin they’d rented. Otherwise, Jags would introduce himself, shake their hand and read their future. Attempting to fill in the gaps of his vision, he’d ask a shitload of questions, making this one hell of a long night.
“I was coming to—.” Jags laughed, eyeing Cam’s soaked clothing. “You could’ve borrowed my suit.” He peered around Cam. “Who are your friends?”
“Don’t know ‘em.” Cam grasped Jags’ elbow and tugged him in the opposite direction. “Let’s go.”
“Tilly!” Jags twisted out of Cam’s grasp, danced around him and sprinted toward the blonde. When he reached her, he scooped and twirled her.
She let out a clipped laugh. “Hello, Jags.”
“So good to see you.” He lowered her to her feet. “Where’s your husband?”
“Nate’s not here. I’m here with Maggie.”
Jags turned toward the sexy redhead still sitting at the table. With a shit-eating grin, he strode toward her. “What’s a sweet thing like you doing with a gun? Cam has the same model. Gen4?”
She looked at Cam and he shook his head.
“Where's my manners?” Jags cupped her hand in both of his. “Nice to meet you.”
Cam clasped his hands behind his head and broke into a brisk pace. The little shit was, no doubt, reading her future. Fuck!
Jags stumbled. His arms swiped through the air as if blind. He tripped and fell into the table. Regaining his balance, he felt his way along the worn wood and sat beside Maggie.
With his head back and his fists balled by his side he released a guttural scream. “Argh!”
Maggie hugged herself and stepped away from the table. “What’s wrong with him?”
Cam rushed to Jags. He gripped his upper arms and gently shook him. “Why do you do this to yourself?”
Jags brushed past Cam. With careful steps, as if approaching a skittish animal, he neared Maggie and cupped her chin. “So much pain.”
A twinge of possessiveness sparked Cam’s temper. His face flushed. His hands trembled. A flash of heat swept through his body. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Cam shifted his weight and shook his head. She was just some random girl. What the fuck!
“He won’t give you the end that you seek,” Jags said.
She shuddered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My brother has been alone too long. You don’t know how happy I am to meet you.”
Tilly tapped Jags on the shoulder. “He’s your brother?”
Keeping his eyes on Maggie, Jags said, “Yes.”
“I must have seen him at Chase then visiting you. I thought I recognized him.” Tilly grimaced. “Didn’t you have a vision of what your brother just tried to do?”
“I rarely subject myself to Cam’s chi. Too painful.”
Cam rolled his eyes. And there it was. The freaky voodoo crap.
Jags glanced to each of them. “You’re all soaked and I don’t think it’s because you went swimming, since Cam is dressed and so is Tilly. I’m guessing there’s an intriguing story to tell.” Jags turned toward Tilly, a mischievous smile on his face. “So the question is what did my brother just try to do?”
Cam glared at her. “Don’t.”
“Hold it,” Maggie said. “Am I missing something?”
“He tried to kill himself.” Tilly pointed. “With that gun.”
Jags’ head whipped around. The moment their eyes locked, the color of Jags’ eyes shifted to silver. His brows lowered and the goofy smile on his face turned down. “Bastard!” He stormed toward Cam, finger wagging like a father scolding a toddler. “I’m not going to let you kill yourself, and I’m prepared to haunt you night and day to stop you.”
“Really?” Cam said. “Shocker.”
Jags gave Cam a dismissive wave, took the gun from Maggie and bowed. “Ladies. I bid you farewell.”
Cam walked.
Jags followed.
Yup. One hell of a long night.
# # #
Cam whipped the screen door open and stormed into the cabin. Pla
nting his palms on the far wall, he hung his head between his arms.
Jags’ boots clicked on the wood-planked floors. With the thud of each step, Cam’s rage soared and the familiar symptoms surfaced. His hands shook. Beads of sweat speckled his neck and forehead. A white light pierced his vision. A monster migraine slammed behind his eyes.
Jags’ footsteps stopped.
“No psycho-babble bullshit,” Cam said. “Not tonight.”
Silence.
Cam glanced over his shoulder.
Jags stood in the center of the room. No smile. No scowl. Jags without a hint of his usual animation and goofiness, traits Cam found comical and sometimes maddening.
Jags stepped forward. His leg whipped out and swiped Cam’s feet from beneath him.
He landed on his ass. “What the hell!”
With a booted foot, Jags stomped onto his chest.
The air whooshed from Cam’s lungs. He stared in disbelief. They’d fought many times, but this was different. Their fights consisted of punches and kicks. Nobody was ever hurt and by the end they both laughed. And not once, had Jags used his martial arts training against him.
Cam grunted as he tried to catch his breath. “I thought you hated violence.”
“The few times I’ve been forced into violence were because of you.” He removed his boot from Cam’s chest. “Sometimes I really hate you.”
Cam climbed to his feet, slammed Jags against the wall and gripped him around the neck. Saliva sprayed from his clenched teeth. “Don’t fuck with me.”
A steeled fist rammed into Cam’s gut. He stumbled backwards. “Shit. I’d hate to think—” He clutched his gut, gasping. Jags walked toward him, Cam held up his hands, palms out. “—how’d you’d be if you loved violence.”
Jags backed Cam against the wall. “Start talking.”
Talk. Not Cam’s favorite pastime. He slugged Jags across the jaw, a move he could have easily blocked but for some reason chose not to.
Stepping backwards, Jags glided a finger over his cut lip. He slid a pack of gum from his pants’ pocket and leaned his back against the parallel wall. “I’m listening.”