by Debra Kayn
Half of the girls hurried past her to escape down the back hall, and the music changed. The girls left out on the floor joined the men at the tables. Weight settled on her chest when she figured out what was going on. The women lap danced and the men paid for their attention.
The thought of Cam paying the women to rub their body against him, forcing them to turn him on, sickened her. She blinked several times, unable to look away from the erotic scene. Why would he want her to be here with him if he enjoyed watching other women?
She stepped away from Cam, realizing she'd been holding on to him, pressing her breasts against his side, and practically doing the same thing as the women were doing to the customers, and she was enjoying his hard, solid body next to her.
She rubbed her arms and then brushed her hands down the thighs of her jeans, backing away. Cam moved forward and she panicked. She'd taken the situation from bad to the worst thing imaginable.
She hurried past another biker she didn't know, and out the back door. Set on escaping a bad situation, she jogged down the sidewalk.
"Christina," Cam said, raising his voice.
She kept going. All this time he'd taken care of her, introduced her to the lifestyle he led, made her believe everything was normal, and she'd fallen for it all. There was nothing normal about how she was feeling. Not once had she forgotten he'd kidnapped her. Yet, she'd talked herself into liking Cam's attention. She even enjoyed sleeping with him at night. That didn't mean she was ready to show the world how incredibly stupid she was for having feelings for Cam.
She held on to her purse and hurried across the street. The only reason she leaned on him inside the building was because he'd brought her pleasure for the first time in a long time. He'd confused her, and made her remember how much she enjoyed flirting with boys and having a good time with her friends.
Cam grabbed her elbow and brought her around to him. She pushed away, hitting out with her other hand.
"No..." She slapped his shoulder.
"Sh." He full-body hugged her, holding her arms down at her side. "You're okay."
She realized she was crying and sucked in air. Her body shook and she couldn't stop the tremors from making her teeth chatter. "I need to go. I-I can't be with you."
"I'm not letting you leave me."
She bucked her body in frustration. "I can't do what they're doing. I can't be who you want. I can't trust you not to treat me like those women. I won't let you touch me. I'm so angry with you. I hate that you were my friend. I hate that I gave you every thought in my head and you're using that against me. I hate that you kidnapped me. I hate how you're nice, and I hate your lifestyle. I can't—"
"Fuck." Cam shook her. "Listen to me."
She cried out, "I don't want to."
"Walk." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the sidewalk. At the end of the block, he stopped again. "Now, talk."
"No." She walked away, tugging him behind her because he refused to let go of her hand.
The need to get away from him outweighed her desire to tell him what she was thinking. She led him to the corner, turned right, and kept the faster pace. Her old apartment was ahead of her, across Main Street, and the sight of her familiar surroundings gave her energy.
Cam slowed her down. She tugged on her arm, but he refused to let go and continued walking with her.
At the next block, she stepped off the sidewalk and Cam brought her up short. She inhaled deeply. They were on neutral ground. His club wasn't at his back. She was away from his home. She could scream and someone in town would notice her and call the sheriff. That's how small town's worked. She was safe and someone, even one person, would notice if he hurt her.
"You were enjoying yourself," he said. "Tell me why you freaked out."
She refused to agree. "You're going to hurt me."
"Have I hurt you?"
She glanced down at his hand, fingers twined between hers. "You will. When I fight you and I will, you'll kill me."
He reached inside his jean vest and removed a pistol. She rocked back a step and stopped when the tension in her arm burned from him not letting her run away. He placed the gun in her hand, curled her fingers around the handle, and stepped back from her until he was out of arm's reach. "Unless you kill me first."
She stared down at the heavy weapon clutched in her hand. A shudder vibrated her body and she held the pistol out in front of her. "I don't want it."
"You need to know you're in control and become stronger." Cam glanced down. "Put the pistol underneath the waist of your jeans in the back and pull your shirt out to cover it. You might never use it, but you'll know it's there."
Because she couldn't hand it back and wanted the violent weapon out of her hand, she hid the pistol on her body. She looked up at him, shaking her head. He confused her again. With the gun, she could walk away. She could go to the sheriff right now and tell him everything that'd happened to her. She could go back inside the Sterling Building and beg someone to help her leave town and she'd never have to deal with Cam again.
He held out his hand. She slipped her fingers into his, and walked back at a slower pace to the Sterling Building. She kept glancing at Cam's profile. He stared straight ahead, leaving her to her thoughts. Thoughts that empowered her.
Chapter Sixteen
The state penitentiary still smelled of decaying bodies. The muscles in Cam's shoulders knotted at the base of his neck from the tension of wanting to turn around and walk back out the door. The only thing keeping him going forward was his planned talk with the V.P of Moroad.
Led by Dale Pretaro, warden at the state penitentiary, Cam walked behind the locked doors to the visitor's area. At the vacant table, Cam caught Pretaro's gaze, nodded, and sat down to wait. Somehow, Pretaro had forged the application and gained clearance for him to make contact with Merk, and he wasn't going to question him on how he'd accomplished something that was against the law.
The chair scraped against the hard linoleum squared floor. Cam rested his elbows on the surface of the table and clasped his hands together. Today's meeting was instrumental to continuing the chain.
The door opened. Merk shuffled out of the door, his ankles chained together. Cam took in the steely ice-cold gaze. Merk showed no surprise at finding Cam sitting here in the visitor's spot, and that answered the question on who called in the meeting.
Merk folded his six-foot, four-inch body into the chair and placed his handcuffed hands in his lap. Cam waited until the guard took his position in front of the door, away from hearing distance.
"The outside treating you right?" Merk's cheek twitched.
"Same bull shit." Cam paused. "Whether I'm in or out, there's always someone targeting my back. I'd like to make this quick before someone realizes they made a mistake and they put me back on that side of the table."
Merk glanced to his right, toward the one window set high on the wall. "Reds have a beef with Moroad. Apparently, Blues came and offered them a cut if they wanted in on the chain without asking Moroad. Because of the circumstances of you being on the outside, Moroad retains the spot but Reds are talking about retaliating. The leader of Reds is out on parole on the tenth. I've heard he's not open to a talk, and he's been sending messages to the outside. He says he's taking Moroad out, starting with you."
Cam let that bit of information settle. "I need you to spread the word that if anyone comes after Moroad, they'll have a full scale war and they'll lose their protection on the inside."
"I can do that," Merk said.
"Tell our guys to watch their back. We can't lose any more members to the mother fuckers."
Merk nodded once. "Tensions running high since you left and with the threats coming from Reds, this place is not a good place to be, brother. The Reds leader will be out in two weeks. Blues stepping up and we have the Mexicans standing around with their ears to the ground. One of our brothers is already in the keep, because he stepped forward."
"Who?"
"Kota."
Merk shook his head. "Wrong day, wrong time, wrong guard."
"What happened to him?"
"Got waxed by Reds with the help of Los Li. He danced on the pavement, and they sliced him from throat to belly. The guards walked up on him afterward before he could bleed out. Los Li's scrambling to make their voice known on the outside." Merk shrugged and his chain rattled. "There's no worry about the Mexicans. Reds are keeping them quiet and Los Li doesn't have enough supporters in the states to retaliate."
"Fuck," he muttered.
"Hang tight and watch your back, my brother." Merk stood.
The guard came over and escorted Merk out of the room. The door shut, and Cam left the table and met Pretaro. Pressure mounted on both sides of the fence, and he needed to make sure his club remained safe.
After passing through the three security doors, Cam lifted his chin at Pretaro in thanks and pushed his way outside. It wasn't until he'd stepped out of the fenced off area and headed toward his motorcycle that he realized what Reds planned to do. If they could take him out, Moroad had no protection with their V.P. inside. Reds could pick up the members left straggling and sanction the two clubs, making Reds the most powerful.
There'd be nothing Moroad could do to stop the merger from happening. The freemen, the women—including Christina, and Jeremy would be at the hands of someone else. Inside the pen, Reds would have the majority. His hands clenched. He couldn't let that happen. The chain had to continue, for all their sakes.
He rode toward the highway, took the exit for the interstate, and headed home. One of the reasons he survived prison terms was his lack of worry about returning to prison. Whether he was inside or out, life never mattered to him. He could work deals and support his men from either side.
It'd taken him seven years to put together something bigger than lifting cars, doing hits, and scrambling for change that would give his men something to keep them free. The gun shipments were their golden tickets. The benefits that came with the expansion gave him something worth caring about.
He needed more time to make sure everything stuck. Once the chain was going strong, he'd work on his club, and have Christina completely. He was so fucking close to having Christina in his hands. He could practically taste her sweetness.
He'd given her time after handing over his pistol. The power was in her hands whether to stay or go. Hell, she could shoot him in his sleep if she wanted to, and he had no doubt she'd contemplated putting a bullet in his head many times since he gave her the gift.
Except she hadn't killed him.
Her mood improved more every single day.
In the mornings, she woke up half on top of him and moved before he allowed her to know he'd been awake for hours. He enjoyed those times when she stopped worrying and put her guard down. He wanted more.
After a week of letting her feel her independence, he'd given her the keys to the old truck and had her run into town and grab pizzas for the club. The others had entertained themselves while they waited at the house for dinner. He'd paced the living room, worried she wouldn't come back. He'd returned her purse, her fake driver's license, and enough money for a tank full of gas and a week's stay at a cheap motel. She had everything she needed to start over without him.
For forty minutes, he'd regretted his decision to test her loyalty. He blamed his lack of confidence in her making the right decision on not having sex for the last six weeks. The tension in his chest eased, remembering what happened.
She came back, and the minute she was safe in his house, he disappeared outside and had a smoke to calm down and wipe the giant fucking smile off his face.
He'd trusted her and despite his second thoughts, she'd done exactly what he wanted her to do.
Tonight, he wasn't going to lie in bed like a fucking boy scout. He was going to make her his woman.
Eight hours later, he pulled up at home and parked. A quick glance around the yard without finding Christina, he headed in the house.
Metal music, that probably became popular while he was serving time, blared from the speakers in the living room. He tossed his gloves on the chair and not finding Christina in the living room, walked to the bedroom. The light was off, and she wasn't there.
He went back through the house, checked the kitchen, and finally climbed the steps to Jeremy's room. He banged on the closed door.
Jeremy poked his head out. "Yeah?"
"If you're not downstairs turn off the fucking music," he yelled.
"Whatever. I didn't know you were home." Jeremy slipped by him and ran down the stairs.
Cam followed at a slower pace. In the foyer, he asked, "Where's Christina?"
"I don't know." Jeremy flopped on the couch and grabbed the remote control for the television.
Jesus. He strode over, ripped the control out of Jeremy's hand, and shut the television off. "What do you mean you don't know where she is?"
"You told everyone to give her space." Jeremy sat up straighter. "Why?"
"Fuck this." He pointed toward the kitchen. "I'm going out and looking for her. Get in and make some dinner, so she can eat when I bring her back."
He grabbed his gloves and knife off the chair and went outside. Gunner leaned over his bike, working on the brake cable. Cam whistled to get his attention.
"Have you seen Christina?" he asked, not breaking stride.
Gunner shook his head. "I got here a couple of hours ago and the truck was gone, and I knew you went to talk to Merk. I figured she was doing whatever women do. Is there a problem?"
Cam threw his leg over his motorcycle. "Yeah. I don't have time for details, but Reds are after me. I need to find Christina and get her back to the house."
Halfway to town with Gunner, Cam spotted the truck at the side of the road. Behind the truck, an older sedan sat half on the road, half on the shoulder. Cam reached down to his boot and removed his knife, placing it between his legs. A quick warning glance at Gunner, and he'd done the same.
Using the truck as cover, he pulled over, toeing his kickstand down. He thumbed his get-back whip, releasing it instantly from the handlebar. In his other hand, he held the knife. From the front bumper, he found the cab of the truck empty. He motioned for Gunner to take the driver's side and he stepped around the passenger side. They met at the sedan.
"She's not here," Gunner said.
Cam searched the area, looking up and down the road. "Check the inside of the car and see who it belongs to."
He had a bad feeling he already knew who drove the car and why Christina was nowhere around. He walked off the edge of the road, the dry grass brushed against his jeans leaving their seeds clinging to him. The motherfuckers acted faster than he thought they would, or Merk was late getting him the information.
"Nothing inside," Gunner said behind him.
A feminine scream came from in front of him. His chest seized. He motioned for Gunner and charged forward, damning his knee for holding him back.
"Up ahead and to the left. Your side. There're two men." Gunner's shoulder brushed Cam's arm on his way past him.
Cam broke into a hobbled run, throwing his leg out in front of him on every step, keeping up with his MC brother. The view of Christina on her knees with her back toward the men gave him hope he wasn't too late.
Ten yards from them, he grabbed the men's attention away from Christina.
He slowed down, widening the distance between him and Gunner. If Reds started shooting, they'd up their chance of one of them surviving.
"Look who finally showed up. Cam, our old friend from Moroad MC." Seven, a Reds runner half of Cam's age, stepped forward. "Last time I saw you, Corporal was making you his bitch."
Cam came to a stop a few feet away from Seven. "Corporal's dead."
"Yeah. Tough shit, that one." The other Reds member chuckled. "I expected you sooner. I've had a lot of time to get to know your girl...damn, she's fine. I have to give you respect for teaching your woman
not to open her mouth. I always hate when a woman goes on and on, and it takes a good beating to get her to shut the fuck up."
Out of his peripheral vision, Christina shifted. Without taking his gaze off Seven and without moving the knife in his hand, he said, "Gunner, why don't you take her back to the road and let me talk with our friends alone."
"Not so fast." Seven walked closer. "We have a problem to discuss. Your girl is here to make sure you listen."
"Christina?" Cam ignored Seven and talked loud enough for her to hear. "Don't move. Don't look. Don't say a word. Remember what I told you."
Her shoulders shook. Cam's muscles tensed. He'd promised to keep her safe. That nobody would hurt her if she stayed, and the first day he was gone for sixteen hours, shit blows up. That was Reds fault, and he'd make them pay.
It didn't matter if Seven and the other man hadn't physically hurt her. They touched her. They scared her. They emotionally abused her. They took what was his.
The two Reds members stood straighter at attention, noticing his annoyance. Cam looked at Gunner, taking Seven's gaze off him, and swung his arm around, letting the lead ball at the end of his whip catch Seven in the temple. At the same time, Gunner's aim missed any vital part on the other man, but he managed to wrap the whip around the man's free hand and the shot went wide.
Cam and Gunner sprang forward. Cam got to the conscious man first and wrapped his arm around his neck, putting his knife at the man's side.
"One thing you should learn. I never talk with assholes," he said, wrestling the man to the ground.
"I'll fucking kill you." The man threw his head back, clipping Cam's chin.
Cam struggled to contain the man's wild thrashing to get away. "Gunner, get Christina out of here. Take her to the road."
"What about—"
"I'll do him." Cam punched the man repeatedly in the temple until his body went limp. "Get her out of here. Now."