by Debra Kayn
A part of her wanted nothing to do with what was happening around her. She inhaled a shuddering breath. Her heart refused to listen to her mind. She needed to know what went down tonight and why Cam wasn't coming back. Was he dead? Was he arrested? Was he on the run? Had he left her?
Her need to keep herself safe and protect Jeremy pushed her out of her comfort zone. She needed to know what was expected of her now that Cam wasn't here to order her around.
"What happened?" she asked.
Her question brought Jeremy back to the present. He thrust his hands in his hair and paced back and forth in front of her. "It's my fault."
"Jeremy, what happened?" she repeated.
"We were almost home after a good run." He shook his head and stopped. "Next thing I know, Cam fell back in line and told me the other guys were going to split apart from us, because there was a car following us. I thought the car would follow the others, but it kept going down the road behind us."
Christina closed her eyes for a few seconds to brace herself against the idea the man responsible for the current threat against Cam caught up with him. She opened her eyes. "Go on, honey..."
"Cam was...I don't know. He was different. He wasn't mad or scared. He told me to throw my pistol away and I tried, Christina. I couldn't reach around behind me and keep the bike straight on the gravel. Every time I tried, the bike would lean. I was afraid of crashing. Then I finally got the pistol and I dropped it. I dropped the fucking gun."
The door burst open and Stache and Gunner stepped inside, searching Christina's face. She held up her hand, stopping them from interrupting Jeremy. She had to know what happened, not some bull shit story that it was club business.
Jeremy's anguish consumed him. He doubled over, panting hard. She pressed a hand to her chest, not knowing the end of the story. Had the gun gone off? Had the men threatening Cam come after him or had the police caught Cam killing someone?
"I crashed my motorcycle." Jeremy hung his head, letting the tears fall. "Cam should've kept going. He should've escaped..."
Her fears boiled to the surface and dizziness hit her. She struggled to draw enough air into her lungs. "Honey, tell me what happened to Cam."
"He stayed with me." Jeremy straightened. "The sheriff arrested him."
Oh, God, he was alive. She hugged her waist. "For what?"
"The sheriff found my pistol in the road where I dropped it and asked who owned it." Jeremy scrunched up his face, confusion etched his forehead making him appear older, more tired. "Cam wouldn't let me talk. H-he told the sheriff it was his gun, and it was really mine. I was the one who dropped the pistol, not him. The next thing I know, the sheriff wanted to take me back to foster care and Cam tells him that his attorney has papers giving you custody of me if something happens to him. Is that true?"
She looked to Gunner, and he nodded. She sucked in her breath. Cam hadn't told her what he'd done to protect Jeremy's future.
"We'll find out, honey." Christina stepped closer. "Where is Cam now?"
Please let him be okay. Please.
"I don't know. The sheriff put him in handcuffs, arrested him, and took him." Jeremy wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
"Okay." She reached out for him, and Jeremy finally walked into her arms.
Jeremy curled his almost six foot tall slender body and put his head on her shoulders. She rocked him from side to side, rubbing his back. The comfort she gave, she desperately needed herself. How many times had she told Cam not to leave her? She sniffed, catching herself. Now was not the time to fall apart. Jeremy already lost one parent, and faced losing his dad.
She pulled back and held Jeremy's arms, shaking him. "Listen to me. Your dad is okay, right?"
He nodded.
"Right." She inhaled deeply, trying to hold it together. "I-I'll go to town and...and talk to the sheriff. He knows me. I'll find out what we need to do to bring him home, and you said Cam has an attorney?"
"That's what he said." Jeremy rubbed his face.
She stepped around him and grabbed her purse off the coffee table. "Good. I'll go into Federal and—"
"Christina." Stache stepped forward, blocking her from leaving the living room. "We can't let you leave."
She laughed bitterly, losing control. "Cam's not here."
"He's given us orders." Stache's gaze softened and he lowered his voice. "We can't let you leave the house without him giving permission and letting us know the danger is off you."
She shook her head and pointed her finger toward the door. "He needs me," she said, her voice breaking.
Stache dropped his gaze. She stepped forward and Stache grabbed her arms. "Let me go."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Stache said.
Her legs crumbled realizing they weren't going to let her go to Cam. Stache caught her, holding her weight. People talked around her, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. She reached out for Jeremy, grabbed his coat, and refused to let go.
Jeremy's mouth moved as if he was talking, but she couldn't hear the words. Her head roared and her heartbeat filled the silence. Lifted off the floor, she sat in Stache's arms as he carried her backward. Deposited on the couch, she wanted to get up and leave, but she couldn't move. Gunner held a bottle to her lips and she drank only because if she didn't he'd spill the liquid on her, the couch, the floor, and she'd cleaned earlier. She'd dusted, and swept, and folded all the laundry. She'd done all the chores, because she wanted extra time to spend with Cam after his run. That's what she always did on the nights he left her, because it made time go faster.
"Breathe," Gunner ordered.
She gasped, sucking in air. Jeremy moved closer and kneeled beside the couch, grabbing her hand. She squeezed his fingers, wanting to tell him that she was okay. They had to remain strong for Cam. Somehow, she'd find a way to bring him home. The sheriff made a mistake. That's all that happened. Cam cared about her. He protected her, and made her feel whole after losing her parents. He'd do anything for her.
"Oh, God," she whispered.
He said he'd never let her leave, and yet he left. He left her home without him.
Jeremy was right. Cam had saved Jeremy from a life of heartache. Cam could've ridden away, he could've let Jeremy take the consequences for his actions, but as his dad, he'd stepped forward and protected his son.
"Are you okay?" Jeremy asked.
She stared down at her hands. "I will be."
"I'm sorry," Jeremy said. "This is my fault."
"No." She ran her hand down Jeremy's soft cheeks, barely roughened with his first whiskers. "Honey, your dad would do anything for you. Tonight, he proved it, and we have to accept his choices."
Gunner and Stache wore matching frowns. She ignored their opinion, and what they believed was best for the club. Tomorrow, they could deal with the ramifications. Tonight, Jeremy needed to know his world wasn't going to fall apart because Cam wasn't here.
"You've had a long day and night." She brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Why don't you go upstairs and go to bed. In the morning, we'll be thinking clearer and know more about what we can do to help your dad, okay?"
Jeremy hesitated. She nodded. "I'll be fine, so will you."
Inside her chest, she wasn't so sure her heart would survive. The constant ache told her she was still alive, because if she had died, she wouldn't have this much pain.
Jeremy accepted the hand squeezes from the other two Moroad riders and went upstairs. She stood, swaying on her feet, and waved Gunner away from her. If one more person looked at her with pity, touched her in concern, or tried to order her around, she'd end up taking her pistol out of the bedroom and shooting them all dead.
"Christina, we'll hear what—"
"No." She held up her hand. "I want you two out of my house. I don't want to talk about what Cam did tonight or what this means to his life with Jeremy, the club, or me. I don't want to know anything."
She walked toward the bedroom. In the hallway, she stopped and without turning sai
d, "Lock the door on your way out."
In the bedroom, she shut the door and removed her pistol from the nightstand. She slid the weapon under her pillow. Without taking off her clothes or shoes off, she wrapped the blanket around her and laid down, tucking the edges tight underneath her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the musky sent of Cam on her pillowcase. A sob broke free and once she found the relief, she couldn't stop the tears. She muffled the sound with the blanket, curling herself into a ball.
The safety she usually found in Cam's bed escaped her. The loneliness tore her apart, one little piece at a time. She never asked to fall in love with a convict, a man who ruled his life by his choices, and the hell with everyone else.
She needed Cam's hand on top of her head to fall asleep and escape tomorrow. She needed him to put the gun in her hand and give her permission to shoot him. She needed him in her life.
Without him beside her, she wasn't really living.
Chapter Thirty Two
Dear prison inmate #18794,
Permission to correspond with you finally came four days ago. I realized after waiting two months since I watched you walk out of the courtroom and not speak with me that I deserved to make up my own mind on whether or not I'd write to you during your eighteen-month sentence. The truth is after I read the letter you gave your attorney for me after your hearing, I was never going to see, write, or talk with you again. Finding out about Jeremy, knowing what you did to keep me in your life...I thought I was crazy for even thinking about writing to you. You put me right back in the position of wondering if my thoughts were insane.
Maybe I am, because here I am writing words that I wish I could tell you in person, hoping that you'll write me back.
It's been hard to justify what I'm doing. I rely on the one thing I've learned, thanks to you, is I can't judge a person without knowing the reasons behind their actions. I do know that Jeremy has grown since he came to live with you, just as I have. He respects you. He appreciates what you've done for him, but he feels guilty for how things turned out for you. I've tried to show him that he's a child and it's a parent's job to take care of him, but he's never had a parent do that...until you. I'm still trying to wrap my head around believing that good can come out of something so bad. I'm not sure I believe it's possible. I've chosen not to tell Jeremy the truth. That information must come from you when you're released.
I also received the message you gave Jeremy for me the night of your arrest. All I can tell you is, I keep something under my pillow every night, and I will use it when I see you next.
Everyone is doing okay. Jeremy is now in school and has a 3.25 grade average. He still sees too much of Lola, but he went to the pizza parlor in town with a girl from school the other day. He swears they're only friends, and he needs friends. The club is helping me around the house. Your vice president showed up last week and cleaned out the travel trailer. He's been staying there ever since. I don't think he likes me, but I really don't care. He keeps his distance, and I ignore him.
With this first letter, all I want to know is if you've ever hurt so bad that it felt like a part of you is dying? Maybe when you've had to walk away from someone you've grown close to in the past or you miss something so much you'd do anything to get that person back. You don't have to answer in detail. A simple yes or no will suffice.
Christina
Four days later, Christina shut the door to the bedroom, curled up in the recliner, and covered herself with the blanket. She'd waited all day to open Cam's reply to her first letter. Not wanting to read it around Jeremy or Merk or Gunner, she'd carried it in her back pocket until everyone left and Jeremy went to sleep.
Christina,
You know my answer. You knew it before I left, and I think you asked in your letter because you doubt me. Yes, oftentimes I feel like I'm dying inside and then I think about you. We can survive together, because I'm not letting you leave my life.
Thanks for the updates on everyone. Tell the kid to do maintenance on his motorcycle every day. That bike comes before any girls. Merk's keeping me posted on the club, and you can tell Jeremy I've okayed Merk to hand him more responsibilities as long as the kid clears it by you first.
By now, you've heard the news that I don't want you to come and visit me. This is for your safety, and not because I don't want to see you. I miss you. I miss you more than I want, and I'm trying hard to lie low in here and keep my head, because fifteen months, three weeks, four days is too fucking long when I think of you alone in my bed.
I had a dream the other night. The first I can remember since I was a kid. You were in it. I walked into the bedroom and you were wrapped up tight in a blanket. You smiled and in my dream the blanket disappeared and you were in my bed naked, holding your arms out to me. That's what I think about every second I'm in here.
Write back if you want. If not, I'll get my information from Merk when he visits.
Cam – stop the bullshit with writing prisoner #18794 on the letter. I think we both know we're past being anonymous.
Chapter Thirty Three
Eighteen months later—
Dear Cam,
This is my last letter I'll be writing to you.
I'm nervous and feel sick. I can't eat or sleep. I can't even lie on the bed anymore. Instead, I spend the nights sitting in the recliner. I'm afraid to close my eyes, because I worry that someone is going to tell me I've fabricated the last one and a half years in my head.
How do I know it's real?
I haven't seen you, touched you, heard your voice in so long, and yet I can still smell you when I hold your jean vest to my nose. I think I hear your voice out in the yard when the bikers gather on Friday night before they take the Moroad women into town and I go outside, searching for you in a sea of faces, and you're not there. I can still remember what it feels like to have your hand on my head.
I'm scared, because there are times you don't exist for me. You've gone back to being that man in my head that I confide in, that I lean on to survive, and I catch myself doubting how I'm feeling because you're not here.
Then I remember how patient you were with me at the beginning, and how you made me believe in myself. My stomach is rolling, half with excitement, and half with worry. I can't wait to see you next week. Having you ride up on your motorcycle and walk into the house will be unreal and wonderful.
You asked me in your last letter if I still sleep with the blanket wrapped around me. Yes, I do...because you're not here for me to wrap myself around.
Come home to me, to Jeremy, to your club.
Love, Christina
Coming Soon
For Life, book 2 in the Moroad MC series, continues Cam and Christina's story. Readers who would like a sneak peek at the next book will find the first chapter included after Debra's "Dear readers" letter...
Dear readers,
When I ran my idea for this story past a few of my closest author friends (and swore them to secrecy), they asked me if I believed readers would be interested in reading a romance book, a series, that had bikers who were all ex-convicts and convicts.
My answer...
Considering that last year there were over 1.57 million people in prison in the United States and over 12 million people in county jails, I believe there will be enough interested readers for a series. That's more prisoners than there are billionaires (1,645 in the world), and we all know how billionaire stories sell!
Love, Deb
Sneak peek — FOR LIFE
Book 2, Moroad Motorcycle Club series
Chapter One
The steel door in the holding area of the state penitentiary slid open. Cam shoved the package of letters he'd received from Christina during his eighteen-month stay into his back pocket. Besides his jeans—that were now loose, belt, T-shirt, and boots, he had nothing else in his possession.
Pretaro, a guard who worked for the state and offered favors to the prisoners on the side, nodded. "The guard at the gate has your clearance. You're free t
o go."
Cam stepped over the threshold into freedom. He didn't stop to look at the sky. He didn't stop to smell the air. He didn't stop when his shoestring on his boot came undone. He walked the one-hundred feet to the gate, slowed for the electric fence to slide to his left, and squeezed through the opening.
Only when he heard the gate close behind him and he was on the outside of the Cyclone fence running the perimeter of the prison did he search for Merk. He spotted the V.P. of Moroad Motorcycle Club on his motorcycle parked at the back of the visitor's parking lot. He scanned the parked cars around the bike, making sure Christina obeyed his orders to wait for him at the house in Federal, Idaho.
His flat-gray Harley came into view and he walked faster, ignoring the extra weight of his boot pulling on his knee. It felt good to be back in regular clothes and on the outside for an old injury to bother him today.
He reached Merk and stopped "Thanks for bringing my bike."
"You can thank Stache and Willy. They brought your Harley yesterday and left it parked overnight. We figured you'd want to straddle the seat." Merk tossed him his vest and the key to his motorcycle. "Good to have you out, brother."
"Christina?" Cam slipped his arms inside, threw his leg over the bike, and sat down.
For the last week, he'd thought nothing else of getting back to his woman and making sure Christina was waiting for him. He fingered the key. Not one moment during his sentence had he fully believed Christina would be there for him when he returned. But, he was certain if he had to kidnap her again, he would.