Camden

by Xio Axelrod

  Skinner ignored the taunt. "Do you really think you slipped, or do you think Kaine meant to hurt you? Was getting you to breach your contract really that big a deal?"

  All the moisture wicked away from her throat. "I...don't know. If I breach, he gets control of everything. Even the stuff I haven't released yet."

  Skinner nodded as if weighing the evidence in his mind.

  "Where are you staying?"

  "What?" Being the focus of his attention was unsettling.

  "Where are you sleeping?"

  "Oh, uh." Shit. Should she tell him the truth? Lie? This was suddenly way too real. "I've been crashing at motels along the way."

  He nodded with what looked like approval. "Do you have a room for tonight?"

  No. "Yes."

  He smiled, showing pearly white teeth, and Yara had to look away.

  "Yer lyin' to me, lass."

  That accent, barely there before, was suddenly on full display. He was toying with her.

  Fuck that.

  Yara straightened her shoulders and faced him.

  "Skinner, you don't know me well enough to know when I'm lying, so don't presume anything."

  He tipped an imaginary hat, still smiling, but his edges seemed to soften.

  "I'm sorry, love. I only want to make sure you're safe, is all. I'm so damned glad to see you. Thank Christ you got away. That you came here. To me."

  Yara bit her lip. This was not going the way she'd imagined. Skinner was too calm. Too nice.

  "Who are you?"

  He tilted his head, pondering her question.

  She had no idea where it had come from, but it was suddenly imperative. For someone she'd thought so heartless, he seemed to have an awful lot of heart.

  He looked her in the eye. "I'm a man who's done a lot wrong who now wants to do something right."

  "So help me."

  The corner of his mouth curved up. "I'd planned to."

  "Oh."

  Yara propped her chin on the barrel gun, not really registering what she was doing. Her thoughts were a jumble.

  Cam groaned, unfolded his arms and reached toward her. "Jesus, give me that. Will ye?" He took the gun from her fingers and shoved it behind him, presumably into the waistband of his jeans.

  The move was a little too smooth to be foreign to him, and Yara's wariness ramped up again.

  "You're welcome to crash at my place."

  Yara barked out a laugh. "Yeah. Right."

  "Or," he continued. "You can let me put you up in a hotel. Someplace with good food, good beds, and decent showers."

  It sounded like heaven.

  It sounded too good to be true.

  "Why would you do that?"

  He lifted his chin. "How much money have you got? A couple o' hundred?"

  She cringed. "Uh..."

  "Jesus." Skinner ran a hand over his face. "Look, it's the least I can do. I won't sleep if I don't know yer safe. Alright?"

  "Why should I care if you lose sleep? Besides, I haven't slept in weeks. I think I'm getting used to it." Yara's voice betrayed her on the last word, and Skinner leaned closer.

  "I can only imagine how tired you are," he said, his voice soft and soothing. Lulling. So dangerous. "There are a couple of bed and breakfasts around here. Small. Discreet. They won't bother you, and you won't run into a lot of people in the lobby and such. Let me get you a room, get you some food. A change of clothes."

  Yara nearly swooned at the thought of new underwear. She'd been washing the same two pair over and over. She didn't want to think about how long she'd been wearing her jeans. There hadn't been much time to grab stuff from her apartment before she disappeared herself, afraid she'd be spotted.

  "Why?" She could barely eek out the word, her throat was so tight.

  "I'm so sorry that you've been through this hell. I'll make it right," he swore, his eyes full of determination. "I'll do right by ye if you let me. Please."

  Yara was tired. That was the only explanation she had for why she nodded. For why she let him take her bag, and then her arm, and pull her out of the chair. The only reason she could think of for why she followed him out of the bar and into the night.

  He hadn't been lying when he said the B&Bs were just around the corner. The first one they stopped at was full, but the second had three rooms available. Skinner was on a first name basis with the owners of both places, and they sure seemed fond of him. There had been nothing but smiles and handshakes.

  "Carl, this is my friend, uh..."

  Skinner turned to her, his eyes widening slightly. They probably should have talked this through.

  "Marie," she supplied, smiling at the proprietor. He was a tall, thin man with ivory skin and short, platinum blond hair. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

  "Nice to meet you, Marie," he said, shaking her hand. He was dressed in loose sweatpants and an Edvard munch t-shirt. "Any friend of Cam's is a friend of mine."

  Skinner's smile was easy. "Thanks for coming down so late. Or early."

  "Darling," Carl purred, eyeing him appreciatively. "You can call me anytime."

  Skinner winked and smiled wide at the obvious come on. The flirtation surprised the hell out of her. Then again, everything about the man had surprised her thus far.

  "How long will you be crashing here at chez Ben Franklin, Marie?"

  She and Skinner shared a look. "I'm not sure. I'm sort of winging this trip."

  "Marie and I haven't seen each other for an age," Skinner supplied.

  Carl frowned. "Why isn't she crashing at your place, then?"

  "I didn't want to impose. Besides, you know how Cam is. Never know when he might have some company."

  Carl laughed. "Uh, Cam? I wish. Boy's all backed up if you catch my drift. Can't remember the last time anyone turned his head."

  Yara thought she saw a blush rise up the big man's neck, but it must have been an illusion.

  "Stop spying on me, Carl."

  A current of humor ran underneath the admonishment. These two men clearly had a rapport which Yara found intriguing.

  "Hard not to when I can see your bedroom window from my own." Carl winked at Yara, and she felt herself smile. "Anyhoo, let's get little miss here settled into..."

  He looked at Cam.

  "I was thinking the Hamilton Suite. You still have my card on file?"

  Carl's grin deepened, revealing dimples. "I do, indeed."

  "Excellent."

  Ten minutes later, Yara found herself standing in the opulence of an eighteenth-century bedroom, complete with heavy brocade curtains, a four-poster bed, and an antique Persian rug. The en suite had a claw foot tub that made her want to weep when she caught sight of it. She took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

  "You alright?"

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Yara felt him move in front of her. Big hands landed on her shoulders. Softly. Cautiously. He gave her plenty of time to react, to step away, which she didn't. In fact, when he touched her, she swayed on her feet.

  Six weeks.

  It had been six weeks since she'd last had any meaningful, physical contact with another human being.

  To her horror, a sob escaped her throat.

  Skinner pulled her into his arms, slow as molasses. She let him.

  Yara turned her head to rest her cheek against his chest. He was warm and solid, and his arms felt incredible around her.

  "I think I hate you," she mumbled into his shirt.

  "You're well within your rights to do so," he replied, his lips against her hair. It was too intimate for strangers, but she couldn't summon any outrage. Not when he felt so fucking good. "But I hope you'll still let me fix this."

  All she could do was nod. She was suddenly so tired. It was as if all of the stress, all of the fear, all of the rage of the last month and a half came down on her at once.

  Her knees wobbled, but Skinner was there.

  Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the
bed where he laid her down.

  Yara had the vague sensation of her shoes being removed before he brought a light blanket up to cover her.

  "Sleep," he commanded.

  And she did, for the first time in what seemed like forever.

  Six

  The gold lettering on the frosted glass door was the only indication that the place existed.

  SKIN

  That one word conjured up a host of memories, both good and bad, and Camden pushed through them all as he opened the door and stepped inside. It was the last place he wanted to be, but if he was going to help Yara Bujold claw her way out of the grave, he'd have to sit in the chair one last time.

  "I knew you'd be back."

  "It's temporary." Cam walked past his brother and through to his old office, which had been left untouched. Like it was waiting for him. "I need everything we have on the Marcus Kaine case."

  “Christ.” Pierce slicked his hair back from his forehead. "Not that again. I thought you left to get away from that shit. It's the only reason I agreed to let you go."

  "Let me?"

  "And you're still obsessing over a dead girl that you didn't even know."

  Cam rounded on him. "One, when did you become such an insensitive prick? And two, she's not dead."

  He sat down at his desk. Firing up the PC, Cam tapped his fingers impatiently as it awoke from its slumber.

  "Come again?" Pierce stood over him on the other side of the desk.

  Cam cocked an eyebrow at his brother's incredulous expression. "Yara Bujold walked into Skinner's last night."

  Pierce gaped at him. "Have you completely lost the plot?"

  "She's been in hiding since the night she disappeared. What happened on that boat isn't what went down. Marcus may have tried to take her out."

  "A pop singer."

  "A pop singer worth millions, look at this."

  Cam spun his monitor around to show Pierce the latest Billboard charts where Yara concurrently held the number one, two, and three spots on the Hot 100.

  Pierce hummed.

  "Okay." He sat on the edge of the desk. "What do we know so far?"

  "We know that he paid us a lot of money to make her look like a flake so that he could take control of her catalog. He wanted to declare her incompetent, right?"

  "Seemed that way, but she was going to counter-sue."

  "Exactly, but on what grounds?"

  "Why don't you ask her?"

  "We can both ask her."

  Pierce's eyes went wide. "She's coming here?"

  "Don't worry, no one will recognize her."

  "Uh, guys?" Rory Skinner stuck his head in the door, his unruly brown hair flopping over his eyes. "I think Yara Bujold just walked into the office."

  Pierce snorted.

  Cam groaned. "Did anyone else recognize her?"

  "No. She's pretty well disguised."

  "Then how did you?"

  Rory shrugged his massive shoulders. Their cousin was a good guy. Solid, dependable, a bit of an enigma but a good egg.

  “Not sure, but it's her."

  "Bring her in, will you? And we're going to need you in on this."

  "No shit," Rory replied, chuckling as he scratched at his beard. Every time Cam saw the guy, he seemed to be covered in more hair. And tattoos.

  "Anytime someone comes back from the dead, you need me."

  "One time," Pierce moaned. "It was one time."

  "Two, now," Rory countered as he left.

  "Listen," Cam said to Pierce, lowering his voice. "We're a big reason why Yara is in this situation. We fucked up, taking on Kaine as a client. He lied to us. Fed us false information and we ran with it."

  Pierce scowled. "It's not our fault we're the best at what we do."

  "And what is that, exactly?"

  "Your Yara may be one of the few innocent lambs left in this world, or she might not be. Don't get your head turned around by a pretty face and a great ass."

  "Oh, for fuck's sake, Per."

  "You wanted to believe she was alive, she's alive. It's a bloody miracle." He threw his hands in the air in mock praise. "It would take another one for her to be squeaky clean. Kaine was just looking after his investment."

  "She's not a bank account, she's a human being. One he likely tried to dump at the bottom of Biscayne Bay."

  "Allegedly," Pierce shot back. "We should be calling the police."

  Cam slashed his hand through the air. “No police, not yet."

  "No cops."

  Both Pierce and Cam turned around at the sound of Yara’s voice.

  First thing in the morning, Cam had dropped by Jo's to borrow clothes for his "cousin." The black yoga pants, gray hoodie, and pink t-shirt shouldn't have registered at all for him, but Cam was dumbfounded.

  How anyone could look that good with six hours of sleep wearing borrowed clothes was beyond him.

  She removed her sunglasses, gave him a curt nod, and then turned a decidedly chilly gaze onto Pierce.

  "You the other brother?"

  Pierce nodded. "Ms. Bujold. It's good to see you’re…er…alive."

  Yara narrowed her eyes, unimpressed.

  Rory, the only man in the room with any sense, offered her a seat.

  "Thanks," she said, watching the trio warily.

  "Did you sleep okay?"

  "If I said I slept like the dead, would it be too soon?" Fire flashed behind her eyes. Cam was glad to see it.

  "Ha!" Rory's belly-laugh cleaved the tension in two. "I like her. Coffee?"

  To Cam's surprise, Yara smiled up at Rory.

  "Please." She turned back to him, suddenly shy. "Thanks for the room and for the, uh, clothes. Or should I thank your...wife? Girlfriend? Secretary?"

  "Friend,” he offered too quickly. “Just a friend that lives nearby."

  "Just a friend that lets you borrow her clothes, huh? Okay."

  Yara was chipper after a good night's rest. Cam liked this side of her.

  "I thought you'd be more..." Pierce waved his hand, searching.

  "Pissed off? Bitchy?"

  Pierce blinked. "Uh, yeah."

  She turned her gemstone eyes on Cam and his stomach wavered. Christ, she was something.

  "Cam and I worked through most of that phase last night."

  It was the first time he'd heard her use his first name, and it did something to him. Unlocked a door he'd have to keep closed for his own sanity. He needed to keep his head on straight.

  She turned back to Pierce. "Why do you do it?"

  He frowned. "Do what?"

  "This job. Is it just for the money? Is that was gets you off?"

  Pierce turned to Cam, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  "You were right, she's an angel."

  "Don't talk about me like I'm not here," she snapped, drawing both of their attention. "How much did Marcus pay you to screw with my life?"

  Pierce met her gaze, his eyes hard. “Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

  The color drained from Yara's cheeks.

  Pierce smirked.

  Cam sent invisible daggers his way.

  "Why don't you tell us your version of what's going on?" Pierce lowered himself onto the sofa against the wall. "Just so we know what we're dealing with."

  Yara glanced at Cam. "You're twins?"

  He nodded.

  "Fraternal?"

  "Yeah."

  "Huh," she said, looking back and forth between them. "You're nothing alike."

  "We're more alike than you think," Pierce countered.

  Yara narrowed her eyes at him. "Less than you think, though. Cam looks at me and sees someone who needs help. You look at me and wonder how you can help yourself."

  "She's got your number," Rory said as he returned with a tray of steaming mugs. He set it on the desk with an oddly practiced grace, especially for a big bruiser like him.

  Cam imagined the three of them were a study in contrasts.

  "Coffee for the lady." Rory handed
her a cup.

  "Thanks."

  "Brought tea for you lads." He grabbed his own mug and left the brothers to their own devices.

  Pierce stood and moved to the desk, turning his back on Yara while he prepared his tea.

  "You were going to tell us your story?"

  Yara took a sip from her cup and stared at it. For a minute, the room was silent. Pregnant with anticipation.

  "I don't know how much research you did into your...client," she began. "But Marcus Kaine is a predator."

  "In what way?" Rory settled onto the other end of the sofa.

  "He has a stable of girls like me, singers. All looking to become stars. He finds us, woos us, promises us he'll make us famous or whatever."

  "Is that what you wanted? Fame?"

  She turned to Cam and shook her head. "No, not really. I just wanted to sing. Write." She shrugged. "It probably sounds like a cliche, but I wanted to touch people with my songs."

  "Baby I'll give you what you want, give you what you need? Do it where you want to baby, got me on my knees?" Pierce quoted Yara's biggest single, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Asshole. "That's...touching, alright."

  Yara huffed out a laugh. "I didn't write that, and I didn't want to record it, but Marcus insisted. He said it would be my big break, and he was right."

  "But it wasn't the image you wanted to portray," Cam guessed.

  She offered him a small smile. A sad one. "No."

  "But the album went triple platinum,” Pierce countered. “You sold out shows all over North America. I'm sure the money softened the blow to your artistic sensibilities."

  Yara's laugh was sardonic. "What money? I never saw a damn dime from any of that."

  That got Pierce's attention. "Tell me you're kidding."

  "Nothing?" Rory sat forward, his elbows on his knees. "Where did it all go?"

  Yara arched an eyebrow at him. "Where do you think?"

  "Geez, this sounds like a fucking made-for-TV movie," Cam thought aloud.

  "Those movies exist for a reason," Yara pointed out. "You think I'm the only one? I'm not even the only one contracted to Marcus. I'm just the one that hit big first. He's got others. He's grooming them."

  "Okay, so, help me wrap my head around this," Pierce said, suddenly interested. "Kaine is some sort of Svengali character. He snatches up young, pretty little things like you, promising the moon, and what? You sign on the dotted line?"