by Dakota Black
Camden sat in his car, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He’d recently purchased the older Camaro, a smart red baby that he’d found on the internet housing an engine that could blow away almost any newer model. Even Mitchell didn’t know. He snorted at the thought. Mitchell would no doubt say he was having a mid-life crisis. Purchasing a sports car. Going to a sleazy bar to consider a one-night stand. And excessive drinking. Yeah, he was running on all cylinders.
You’re a loser. You’re a liar.
The ugly voice lingered inside his head, creating a serious of nasty visions. He couldn’t run away from the truth any longer. Nightmares had plagued him for a solid two months, swirling images of the past, of truths he’d refused to face, secrets that haunted his every move.
And he was sick inside.
The reporter had called again, expecting that Camden would make time to see her. When Hell froze over. His head ached, more from the secrets threatening to explode than anything else. He couldn’t do this any longer. Lie to his friends? Lie to Mitchell in particular? A deep laugh penetrated the dense space. If only he’d come clean before. There was no way to right the wrongs, fix the broken man inside. He was lost.
He glared out the window at the neon sign, the flashing turquoise blue lights indicating a damn good time. He’d been here once before, drinking alone until the last call. He was in the mood for company tonight and from what he could tell, he’d have a few choices. The woman didn’t have to be beautiful, just someone he could talk to.
And fuck.
Disgust settled into the pit of his stomach, but he hadn’t been with a woman in almost two years. Two freaking years. Because you don’t deserve a moment of happiness. Fuck the angry little voice. He was going to have a damn good time. Grabbing the keys, he ventured onto the street, shoving the wad into his pocket. When he walked inside, a couple of the women sitting at the bar glanced in his direction, even one with some interest. He found an open spot at the bar and within seconds had ordered a beer with tequila on the side. Might as well start off right.
No one bothered him as he finished the first round, moving to the second. He was content sitting alone, watching whatever game was on the shitty overhead television. This was his quiet time, reflection into what he was doing with his life. He had to laugh to himself. He had no freaking clue. He’d been thrilled to accept the position of CEO, but he’d come to terms with the fact he was a much better Vice President.
Then again, maybe he was a better rancher. He loved his ranch, his horses and the entire experience, but he hadn’t ridden in months. Months. There’d been no time given the deadlines. The new building and the legal issues. The concept of the offshore rig and working with the various government officials, including OSHA and the oceanographers that had been assigned to the project. He was in over his head without so much as the thought of a life raft. Maybe he should turn the reins back over to Mitchell. The man seemed to have his shit together. Then again, Danielle had helped smooth the man’s rough edges.
If only he had someone in his life. Yeah, truth be told, he hadn’t bothered to look, but he was no longer certain there was a single woman alive who could tolerate his moods or his dark needs. The thought remained daunting, a haunting that never allowed him to sleep the night through.
“Looking for company?”
The tone of the woman’s voice was melodic, sensual and as he looked in her direction, he was pleasantly surprised at her appearance. The majority of the women in the joint were what he’d consider rode hard and put away wet. Wasn’t that a nice sentiment. “Depends on who is asking.”
“A tough man. I like that.” She held out her hand. “Margaret Collins.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
She laughed as he shook her hand. “My grandmother’s name. Go figure. Why couldn’t my mother find a sexy name like Brandy or Alexandra?” She leaned against the bar. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Just stopping by for a drink or two,” Camden said and gazed down the length of her. Long legs and a thin waist, voluptuous breasts and a killer dress, hugging her curves in just the right way. “Would you like to join me?” The handshake was firm. Interesting.
“I believe I would.” Easing onto the stool next to him, she slid her purse on top of the bar and turned in his direction. “And you are?”
“Camden Dane.”
“Well, Camden Dane. I don’t want to drink alone,” she purred.
He glanced at his almost empty shot of tequila and held up his glass. “Bartender, please give this lovely lady anything her heart desires and I’ll have another.” He noticed the obvious glare coming from the bartender and rolled his eyes. He could handle his liquor.
“So, what do you do, Camden?”
“I’m in oil.”
“Oil. Sounds fascinating,” Margaret said as she leaned in closer.
“Boring as fuck if you want to know the truth.” The statement brought a chuckle. “Really is.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Money. Isn’t that the obvious answer? Money and security.” Sounded like some damn movie line. Camden polished off his drink and slid the glass across the bar. The liquor was going down way too easily.
“Money isn’t everything. I’ve learned that the hard way.” Margaret sighed and crossed her legs. “I prefer enjoying what I do.”
“And what do you do?”
“Let’s just say that I work with various businesses, making certain they know what they’re doing.”
The answer gave him a smile. They didn’t need to know each other’s story. They were simply here to have a good time. “Good for you.”
As the drinks were brought and they began to talk, Camden realized she was an excellent listener, homing in on everything he said, her eyes never leaving his. After the next round came, he was relaxed, even in a much better mood.
“I like you, Camden. Quite a bit.” She eased off the stool and winked. “I’ll be right back. Just need to freshen up.”
“Yeah, of course.” He watched her walk toward the back, her hips swaying back and forth and damn if his cock wasn’t aching. He fiddled with his glass and pounded back the shot before sliding off the stool. There was nothing wrong with a taste now. Grinning, he tried to be nonchalant as he moved through the crowd. When he reached the darkened hall, he debated before slipping inside the ladies’ room.
There was no one else inside and he patiently waited, folding his arms and leaning against the counter until the stall door opened.
Margaret seemed surprised, her eyes opening wide. “What are you doing in here?”
“I thought we could have a little alone time.” He tipped his head, giving her a seductive smile.
“I don’t think we should do this.” A slight smile crossed her face.
“But you’re a bad girl. Aren’t you?”
Exhaling, she allowed her hand to slide down her neck to the cleft of her breasts. “Me? A bad girl?”
“Yes, you.” Inching closer, he inhaled and had to admit, her perfume was intoxicating, creating a thrumming in his already stiff cock.
“I’m a very good girl,” she mewed and licked her lips.
Camden closed the distance, cupping her face, gently rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “And what are you good at?”
She rubbed her hand down his arm. “Everything.”
Capturing her mouth, he allowed the kiss to be gentle at first, savoring the flavor of the combined tequila. When he thrust his tongue past her lips, all bets were off. His hunger burst through the surface and he wrapped his arm around her, yanking her to the heat of his body.
She moaned into the kiss, her body undulating, her pelvis grinding against his.
The kiss became passionate, almost savage as he French kissed her, his tongue darting, exploring, entwining with hers. Grunting, he eased both hands down to the hem of her dress, riding the material up.
Margaret wiggled again, one hand moving on top of his.
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He continued the crawl until he was able to cup her naked ass. The feel of the G-string in between her ass cheeks was a definite turn on. The woman was kinky. Just the way he liked them.
She managed to slip her hand between them, rubbing her fingers back and forth across his crotch.
Electric current shot through every muscle in his body and he was on fire, almost tense, his left leg shaking. He broke the kiss and nipped her bottom lip before growling and rubbing his lips across her cheek to her neck. “Do you know what bad girls need?”
“Mmm… Why don’t you tell me?”
Camden’s mind was filled with wicked ideas, kinky thoughts and he wanted nothing more than to let go, to have a fantasy fulfilled in the dirty bathroom. Easing back, he narrowed his eyes before taking her arm and pushing her waist against the counter. “A hard spanking.”
“What?”
Crack! Pop!
“What are you doing?” Margaret demanded.
“Spanking you. That’s exactly what you need.”
Smack! Slap!
She gripped the counter, her face pinched, her mouth going slack. “I don’t...”
Whack! Pop!
“Yes, you do.” Grinning, he peppered her ass with hard smacks, hissing when the door opened, and two women walked inside. “Get out!” He heard the tone of his voice, the demanding, nasty baritone, but he didn’t give a shit.
“Camden, I…” Margaret whispered.
“Jerk off!” One of the woman snarked as she backed out.
He laughed and pressed his hand on the small of her back. “Stay in position.”
Crack! Slap!
“Camden. No.” Shifting, she managed to take a side step away, turning around and adjusting her dress. “I like you but I’m not into pain.”
“All women need a hard spanking.” Was he slurring his words? Camden blinked several times and ran his hand through his hair.
Margaret held up both hands. “No, some of us don’t. In fact,” she said as she smoothed down her hair, “some women prefer to be the aggressor. I enjoyed tonight, but let’s just go back and talk. Okay?”
“Talk?” He lunged forged, moving to within an inch of her.
She nodded, her smile remaining, her eyes darting back and forth. “Yes. Talk. I have the distinct feeling you need to.”
Snorting, he gave her a harsh glare. How dare she assume what he needed. “I don’t want to talk. I want more.”
Placing her hand on the door, she shook her head. “That’s fine. I think I should be going.”
“What? We were just getting started,” Camden insisted, but he knew he’d crossed the line.
The moment she opened the door, a man stepped just inside. “Is there a problem, miss?”
“No problem. I was just leaving. Nice to meet you, Camden.” Margaret moved around the larger man without giving him another look.
“Buddy. We don’t want any trouble in here. You got it?”
Camden laughed. “Trouble? I’m a damn paying customer.”
Snarling, the man pointed to the hallway. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“I haven’t finished my drink.”
“Yes. You. Have. Now, get out or I’ll call the cops.”
Incensed, Camden shot the man the bird. “Fine. I’ll get out.” He’d crossed so many lines he wasn’t certain where he was going with this. He half expected the bouncer to drag him outside and beat the shit out of him. Keeping his head low, he walked out into the crowd, cognizant the same two women were glaring in his direction. He moved back to the bar and the bartender shook his head, yanking the bottle of beer.
“Leave.” The bouncer’s voice was just behind him.
“Fine. Just freaking fine.” Camden backed away and walked outside. Margaret was nowhere to be seen. As he walked then stumbled to his car, he knew he had to get control of himself. This shit wasn’t going to fly anymore.
Making a promise to himself, he slipped inside and started the engine. Maybe taking a week off was a good idea. He could figure out if he wanted to do this shit any longer. Resigned, he eased away from the curb. For some reason he wasn’t angry, just sad. Bitter. He hated what he’d become. As he wiped away a single tear, he decided to grab his phone. Mitchell would certainly be a damn good ear.
The second he looked back up, he realized he’d shot through a red light. As several horns beeped, he slammed on the brakes, skidding to the left and right. Everything around him slowed down as the Camaro went into a hard spin. Around. And around. And…
Bam!
“Yes, I’m Mr. Dane’s attorney.” Zach stood in the background, holding out his credentials.
Camden leaned against the cell wall. His heart continued to hurt like a son of a bitch, the scrapes and bruises the least of his worries.
The officer gave Zach a once over before nodding and unlocking the cell. “He’s all yours, Mr. Goodman. You’re lucky the judge was in a good mood.”
Zach remained just outside, his expression bland. “Do you have any idea what I had to promise that judge? Any at all? I hate pulling a damn favor. And you’re damn lucky to be alive.”
“Yeah, I know.” Every muscle in his body aching, he limped toward the door. “Thank you for bailing me out.”
“I have nothing to say to you right now. Nothing.” Zach headed for the main door, waiting as the officer unlocked.
Camden trailed behind him, making the stop at the desk, waiting as the attendant grabbed an envelope, doling out his meager belongings. “Does Mitchell know?”
“He does, but so far we’ve been able to keep this out of the press. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
He grabbed his watch, snapping the clasp and shoving his wallet into his back pocket.
“Did they take you to the hospital?”
“I refused,” Camden half whispered.
“Of course, you did. Let’s get out of here.” Zach guided him to the exit. “Wait. Let me make certain I wasn’t followed.”
To think that any reporter would give a shit about his DUI wasn’t something he’d thought of until now. If Tawny Smith got wind of this, he could only imagine her piece in the next Dallas Times edition. He was shaking, adrenaline pumping and was surprised he hadn’t thrown up.
“Come on. Let’s get you home. I guess.” Zach grumbled as they walked out into the parking lot. The moment they were behind closed doors, he let Camden have it. “Of all the stupid ass things you could have done! What the fuck is wrong with you? Drinking and driving? That’s not like you. That’s not like anyone with a conscience.”
“I said I’m sorry. I was dealing with some shit,” Camden insisted.
“Then you should have kept your sorry ass at home.” He jammed the key into the ignition and huffed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I doubt I can do anything with this shit. First time offenders don’t count for anything any longer. Do you hear what I’m saying? I have no more favor cards to play. I repeat. Do you at all hear what I’m saying?”
“Loud and clear.” Camden shrunk back into the leather, clenching both fists. They remained quiet as Zach drove away from the precinct. He gazed out the window, watching the scenery, unblinking for a full minute. There needed to be a change in his life and there were few choices.
“What is wrong? What? At least you can confide in a friend.”
Wringing his hands, he glared out the window. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Zach exhaled and grumbled under his breath. “You can say that again.”
“You don’t understand.” The words, the admittance was on the tip of his tongue. Do it. Do it! If he did, his friendship was all but destroyed.
“Then enlighten me.”
The bile in Camden’s throat was thick. “I just…”
“Oh, for the love of Christ. Just sleep this off. Or get some help. Take a vacation.”
He shoved a knuckle into his mouth, as if the gesture would hold back the dam threatening to break. If he had any co
urage, he’d call Mitchell. No, he wasn’t going to destroy the man’s life.
Fifteen minutes later, Zach pulled down the long driveway leading to Camden’s ranch. When he spoke, his words were laced with concern. “I’m worried about you and so is Mitchell. You haven’t been yourself for two months, maybe longer.”
“I know.”
“You seem to know everything but you’re going to take some damn advice.” Zach continued driving, his hands clenched around the steering wheel.
Camden closed his eyes until he felt the car slowing. When he opened his eyes, he’d never been so cold in his life. “You had to bring Mitchell here.”
“You know what? I did. You actually have a couple people who give a damn whether you’re dead or alive.” Zach shoved the gear into park. “And you’re going to listen.”
He waited in the car until Zach was already inside his own house. Then he slammed his hand on the dashboard. “Fuck!” Breathing in and out, he had no other choice than to go inside. He struggled to get out of the car and his feet remained heavy as he walked up the stairs and inside. Shoving his hands in to his pockets, he headed for the living room.
Mitchell turned to face him and shook his head. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it,” Camden whispered. Why was he having difficulty looking into his best friend’s eyes? You know. You know! Anger boiled within him as well as the same intense sadness derailing his entire life.
“You could have been killed or murdered someone else. Do you get that?” Mitchell continued.
“I know. I’m not an idiot.” Camden couldn’t look the man in the eyes.
“Yes, you fucking are.” Mitchell paced the room.
“Let’s all calm down,” Zach suggested. “He’s alive and other than the death of one bright red Camaro, everyone is okay.”
Hearing about his car didn’t surprise him but reality settled in, creating another wave of nausea. “I didn’t use good judgment.”