Something Right (Exile Ink Book 2)

by Skylar Hill

  He could feel that familiar tension building at the base of his spine as he pumped into her and his hand fell between their bodies, rolling her clit between two of his fingers, giving her the fast and hard pressure she craved. Her pussy began to pulse around him, and as her inner walls gripped him, he had no choice but to follow. Her name on his lips, he thrust once more into her, and came. His hands buried in her hair, his mouth pressing sweet little kisses against her collarbones as he tried not to crush her, his entire body awash with endorphins and pleasure.

  It took a good minute before he had the brainpower to pull out and roll away, getting rid of the condom, before gathering her in his arms and carrying her to bed. He turned the lights off, climbing into bed next to her. He hooked his arm around her, cuddling her close, so her back was pressed against the hot length of his body. Unable to stop touching her, his fingers traced down her arm, along her waist and thigh, to where the bright splashes of color were inked into her skin.

  “I love these,” he murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “The first time I saw them… I’ll remember it until the day I die.”

  Her hand found his on her thigh, their fingers lacing together. “They’re for my mother,” she said softly.

  He stayed silent, his fingers pressed over the colors he knew were there, but couldn’t see.

  “Her name was Poppy,” she continued. “My grandmother was Ivy.”

  “Plant and flower names were kind of a thing for you ladies,” James said and she snuggled closer to him. He kissed the back of her neck. “Camellia,” he said softly, her full name tripping off his tongue like a prayer.

  “Evie being the exception, as always,” Cam said, the smile apparent in her voice, even though he couldn’t see it. She pressed a kiss to the inside of his arm, a soft, casual smack that made his heart thump a little more than it should. But he didn’t care. He had the woman he loved in his arms, showing him the beautifully jagged pieces of her that had been hidden until now. His heart could thump all it wanted. “I always thought,” she said softly. “That maybe, if I had a little girl someday, I would call her Poppy.”

  If his heart was thumping before, it was practically tearing out of his chest now. She tensed up, like she was afraid she had said the wrong thing, but then he scooped her curls off her neck, kissing the exposed skin. “Poppy would be perfect for a girl,” he whispered against her ear. “I always wanted to name one of my boys after my Dad. Jacob.”

  She was quiet for another long moment, and then, whispered so soft, he almost didn’t hear it, “Poppy and Jacob.”

  He stroked her hair, his curls wrapping around his fingers. In the darkness, he was bold enough to say, “They kinda go together, don’t you think?” and hold his breath until her quiet “Yes, yes they do” filled the room.

  He drew her close, and they lay there, entwined, quiet, basking in just being there with each other. There was nothing between them, now.

  And there was nothing but the future ahead—whatever it held.

  Chapter Fourteen

  James

  Weston Security was sleek and discreet, with an entire floor of frosted glass offices and top-of-the-line designer furniture.

  “Is it just me, or does everyone in this office look like a model?” Cam muttered to James.

  He shot her a grin. “I didn’t want to say it. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m looking at other women.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I’ll ever have a problem with you looking at other women.”

  “Why would I when I have you?” he asked and she giggled. He was grateful for the sound, for her lightened mood, considering where they were.

  “Ms. Ellison, Mr. McGowan, Mr. Weston is ready to see you now,” said the receptionist, a tall, Amazon-like blonde who looked like she could bench-press Cam.

  She led them to the back office, a room with large windows and pictures of a sweet looking redhead and a golden retriever on the enormous desk. A man—who had at least an inch on James—rose from it, beaming at them.

  “Cam! And you must be James. It’s great to meet you.” Russ held his hand out and James shook it, instantly liking this warm, almost puppy-dog-like guy. He was enormous, but seemed to emanate a trusting, happy energy. “I’m really glad you guys called me. Normally, I’d have you two sit down with our entire team, but since Cam’s family, I figured it’d be better to just meet with me today.”

  “Thank you,” Cam said, looking like she couldn’t take a crowd today. James settled a hand between her shoulders and she leaned minutely into his touch, her eyes shutting for a second before focusing back on Russ.

  “So, since you’re here, I’m assuming Cam’s explained the situation to you,” Russ said.

  James nodded.

  “After you and I had lunch the other day,” Russ said to Cam. “I put some calls in to get the ball rolling.”

  “Calls to where?”

  “I have connections inside the prison,” Russ explained. “I like to keep my bases covered,” he said when he caught the look on James’s face. “I’m not a cop, James. While we follow the law, Weston Security’s first priority is to protect our clients. Keith Fawcett was dangerous when he went into prison. But there’s only two ways it goes for an ex cop—even a dirty one—in prison: either he’s prey or predator. And unfortunately, Keith’s become an even bigger predator.”

  James felt Cam stiffen next to him and he stroked his thumb up and down between her shoulder blades, worried at the tight, stressed expression that settled over her beautiful face. “What did you find out?”

  “Keith climbed high in the prison hierarchy over the past eight years,” Russ said. “But he did it sneakily. He comes off as a model prisoner—probably because at this point, he’s got some of the guards working for him, too. Which means he has power. In prison, power comes from what you can get people or what information you have—and on who. According to my sources, he was protecting this white-collar criminal who’d embezzled a ton of money. Turns out, he was only protecting the guy so he’d tell them where he put the money. The second Keith knew where the money was, he turned over the location to the Feds in exchange for a parole hearing. Normally, turning over that sort of information would get you released, time served, but considering the charges, they couldn’t do that.”

  “This is disgusting,” James growled, anger spiking inside him. “He turns snitch and they practically hand him the key to the cell?”

  “It’s screwed up,” Russ said. “But unfortunately, it happens. The Feds weigh the costs, roll the dice. They’re probably hoping the parole board won’t give it to him.”

  “What about them?” Cam asked. “What do they want?”

  “That’s where things get sticky,” Russ said. “I got a look at Keith’s call logs for the last six months. He’s been making a lot of calls to old buddies—guys who are still on the force, or who retired honorably. I think he’s calling in his favors. If there’s one thing a parole board loves, is a redemption story. If he’s got a bunch of retired cops on his side? It won’t matter if they were dirty when they were active. The parole board isn’t going to see that.”

  “So you think there’s a chance he’ll get out,” James said.

  “Because of his connections, yes,” Russ said. “I think he’d present a convincing case to the board.”

  “Oh, God,” Cam said, her voice small. She was shaking, minute little tremors that he could feel through the soft fabric of her sweater dress.

  “It’s gonna be okay, honey,” he reassured her, moving his chair so his was closer to her. He looked back to Russ, knowing his face was bordering on pleading, and not caring. He couldn’t stand the broken look in Cam’s eyes, the hopelessness, the defeat. It was like the thought of her father getting out was seconds away from shattering her. “What can we do?” he asked Russ.

  Russ pressed his hands together, in an apologetic gesture. “Cam, you are going to hate this,” he said. “But you’re going to have to go and
speak at the hearing. I don’t think a letter will be enough.”

  Cam’s eyes filled with tears and she didn’t even try to hold them back. Russ pushed a tissue box across his desk and James grabbed it, handing her a few.

  “And if Evie came as well—“ Russ started.

  “No!” It came out of her, so fierce and loud, that both men jumped in their chairs. “She is never going to be in the same room with him again. I promised her.”

  “Okay,” Russ said, backing off immediately, much to James’s relief. They would’ve had a big problem if he didn’t understand this fundamental thing: Evie was off limits.

  Fuck. Every time James thought about it, he got angry. Evie had been in middle school. She had been a kid. What kind of sick, sick asshole would do what Keith Fawcett did to his family? How could a man have everything, a loving wife, two beautiful children, and instead of loving them, he beat them and terrorized them and eventually tried to murder them? It horrified him, the violence that had filled Cam and Evie’s childhood. Keith had taken everything away from them, and the successful, amazing women they were now had grown strong only because they had stuck together, no matter what.

  And James was going to make sure nothing ever hurt them again.

  “Do you think you’d be able to speak at the hearing?” Russ asked gently.

  Cam nodded. “I’ll speak. Evie stays out of it.”

  “I understand,” Russ said. “I can arrange for you to meet with a specialist who can prep you for the hearing.”

  Cam frowned. “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I’m going to get ugly and blunt here right now,” Russ said, his blue eyes very serious. “I’m going to do that because I know you know what’s at stake here, and I want to do everything we can to keep him in prison, so we don’t have to move to Plan B. But you want to craft your statement to make it as effective as possible. A specialist can help you with that. And she can help you with what not to say and how to react when you see him.”

  “So… I need to put on a dog-and-pony show for them is what you’re saying,” Cam said shakily. “Cry about all the broken bones and the blood on the kitchen floor and my mother’s dead body and the fact that I haven’t slept a full night since it happened? Basically give them victim porn so they’ll actually keep him locked up where he belongs?”

  “Oh, Cam,” Russ looked down, at a lost for words.

  James’s stomach sank, knowing her harsh words were nothing but the truth. It was disgusting that the authorities were even considering letting him out on parole. Neither Cam or Evie should have to go through this. No woman should have to fight to keep her abuser behind bars. Keith should have been put in prison the first time he laid his hands on Cam’s mother. Instead, over and over, people chose to look away.

  “Honey,” James said, and he got out of his chair, kneeling in front of hers, his back to Russ, so it was just the two of them. “Please look at me,” he said gently when she refused to meet his eyes.

  She rolled hers, taking a shuddering breath in and wiping at her cheeks, before she finally did as he asked.

  “All you have to do is tell the truth,” he said. “Tell the truth like you told me. I know it’s hard. But you’re so strong, baby. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  She was quiet for a long moment, her lips pressed together like she was gritting her teeth. “I hate this,” she whispered.

  “I know, me too,” James said, cupping her cheek. “But I love you. And we’re going to get through this. You, me, Evie. Together.”

  “I love you, too,” she said softly and he couldn’t help but relish those words, let them seep into his heart like something that was missing. She took another shaky breath, wiping her tears away again. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s talk about what we do if he gets out. Let’s talk about Plan B.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cam

  By the time Cam and James left Weston Security, she felt a little like she’d been hit by a bus. Her eyes kept drooping as James drove her to his place.

  “You okay?” he asked as they rode up to the loft in the elevator.

  She nodded. “Just tired,” she said softly.

  But her brain wouldn’t stop leaping from scenario to scenario. Russ had laid them all out: leaving the state, moving to a more secure building, getting restraining orders, buying a gun, moving Evie from the dorms back in with her, getting a bodyguard.

  Getting a few Hell’s Angels to “talk” to him, James had added, with a grim smile that told her that he wasn’t really joking. Russ had raised his eyebrow at that, but had held his tongue.

  Her head was spinning, her entire world was spinning, and then James took her hand and pressed a kiss to it and things slowly, blessedly came to a halt.

  “I know this is bad,” he said. “But we’re going to get through it.”

  “I don’t know how to tell Evie,” Cam confessed as the elevator doors dinged open.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he assured her as they got inside the loft. He flipped the lights on, and the soft glow filled the room. Cam lay down on the couch, closing her eyes and trying to breathe. Her chest had felt tight for days now, the pressure growing with each minute that ticked by.

  “We’re going to have to tell the artists,” James said, finally. “Plus Aiden.”

  “And Lydia,” Cam added, groaning. “She’s going to be mad I didn’t tell her.”

  “She will not,” James said. “She doesn’t hold grudges. Unless the grudge involves my brother.”

  “Starting to see why those two just need to sleep together and get over it?” Cam asked, arching an eyebrow at him, her eyes still closed. She didn’t have to be looking to know he was grinning at her. She felt a little lighter, just talking about something frivolous for a moment.

  “Maybe,” James said.

  Her eyes popped open in surprise at that.

  “Wow, don’t look so surprised you changed my mind,” he said, his twinkly eyes laughing at her as she stuck her tongue out at him.

  “You were so insistent at dinner the other night there was nothing between them!”

  He shrugged. “I guess you and Tasha had a point.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you just trying to distract me?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Maybe.”

  She couldn’t help but smile foolishly, unabashedly, lovingly at him. “I love you,” she said, marveling that she could just say it now, whenever she wanted. Would his eyes always do that flashing thing they did, like he just wanted to revel in the words for a moment, every time she said it? She hoped so. She hoped that in sixty years, he still looked at her like he looked at her now.

  He shifted over her, so his legs tangled with hers, holding himself up slightly so he wouldn’t crush her. He kissed her, sweet and slow, until she was sighing into him, her hips pressing into his. “I love you too,” he said. “And I’ll never let anything happen to you. No matter what.”

  The promise in his voice filled her, buoying her above the wave of panic and fear she’d been riding on since all this started.

  “Evie’s coming over tonight,” she said, cuddling close to him. “It’s our weekly dinner we do. I’m going to have to tell her.”

  “Do you want me to be there when you do?” he asked.

  She bit her lip, thinking. “For me, yes,” she said. “But… for Evie? I think it’ll be better for it to be just the two of us.”

  “I understand,” James said. “Why don’t I come after later? I’ll bring you two some dessert. Gelato, maybe?”

  She smiled at the sweet gesture. “That sounds perfect,” she said, though she wasn’t sure any of them would be in the sweets mood after she told Evie.

  “I’m so tired,” she whispered against James’s beard.

  “Sleep then, sweetheart,” he said, holding her close. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  She closed her eyes, breathing in the sense of being surrounded in his love, in their love. She drifted
off, knowing she was safe.

  When she woke, she found herself in James’ bed, snuggled deep in his dark gray linen comforter. She heard voices in the kitchen, and when she got up and went to find James, she found him with Aiden, cooking in the kitchen.

  “You’re going to turn that garlic bitter,” James was telling Aiden as he peered in the frying pan.

  “I know how to make grandma’s lasagna,” Aiden shot back. “I’m not the one who deviates from the recipe and uses crushed tomatoes instead running whole ones through the food mill like she always did.”

  “Are you a lasagna purist now?” James laughed.

  “Absolutely,” Aiden said with a grin. He glanced up from sautéing the garlic chunks and saw Cam standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching them. His grin faltered for a second, turning softer. She knew then that James had told him everything. “Hey, Cam,” he said.

  She appreciated he wasn’t using the careful “Oh gosh, she’s a victim” voice that she knew, all-too-well. Before she and Evie had moved to Portland, they’d been stuck in a town where everyone knew what happened to them. It hadn’t been pleasant, all the pitying looks and hushed whispers.

  “Hi,” she said. “It smells amazing in here.”

  “I filled him in,” James said, gesturing to the tall stools set on one side of the kitchen, where a glass of red wine was set, waiting for her. She smiled when she saw it, settling herself down and taking a long sip.