His Crime

by Debra Kayn

  Cam soaked in the pureness of her strength. She came from love, and he'd thrust her into a hard life with criminals. Yet, she tried to protect him.

  Cam turned to Merk, motioned for him to follow, and walked to the front door. He waited for Merk to walk out first.

  On the porch, Merk stopped and leaned against the railing. Cam studied him. Merk held up to his promise to keep quiet while he listened to Christina, though he'd never seen him shed the mask of indifference since he'd walked out of prison. Until tonight.

  Christina's contempt rattled Merk. Cam slid his fingers into his front pockets. Merk deserved his own kind of punishment from Christina.

  "I hope I don't have to remind you to stay away from her," Cam said.

  Merk raised his head and stared out into the yard. "I gave you my word."

  "Yeah." Cam sighed. "That doesn’t mean much to me anymore."

  Merk turned to him. Cam waited. Whatever hand Merk dealt him, he'd handle without involving the club or Christina.

  "I'm going to bed early. Let me know what Gunner says when he contacts you." Merk walked around Cam and headed for the steps.

  "You're not going to wait around?" Cam raised his brows, challenging him.

  Merk stepped out into the yard. "You seem to have everything under control."

  Making sure he kept control over his club, his men, and his family kept him alive. He wouldn't give the power to anyone else, because he trusted no one.

  Cam whistled drawing the men's attention. "Beer is in the truck. Bring the pizza up on the porch."

  He returned to the house and found Christina in the kitchen. He leaned against the doorway. She sat at the table, shredding a paper napkin into tiny pieces.

  "Hey," he said.

  She lifted her gaze. "When will it stop?"

  Having interrupted her thinking, he had no clue what she talked about. She'd dealt with Merk, Jeremy, the club, and him. A day never went by without her dealing with a problem she never asked for.

  He walked over, scooted the chair she sat on away from the table, and cupped her chin. "What do you want me to stop for you?"

  "The constant fear of losing you," she said.

  He inhaled swiftly, not expecting to hear her confession. He squatted down, winching when his knee protested the movement and the skin along his side stretched. "You'll never lose me."

  "You tell me all the time, but my head reminds me constantly what kind of lifestyle you live. There are threats from gangs, your criminal activities could send you back to prison, and even your men could turn on you for the simplest thing." She stroked his whiskers. "Sometimes I think I'm crazy for staying. Maybe I am, because I can't imagine not fighting for more. I need you, and I can't stop you from being who you are, yet you drive me nuts."

  "I never lied about who I am," he said.

  She tilted her head, her mouth softening. "No, you haven't. You answered my letters and walked into my life, taking everything I have and giving me more. You hold my heart, honey."

  "I'll protect you."

  She leaned forward and kissed him. "Promise?"

  He nodded. "Better?"

  "No, but I'll be okay," she whispered.

  "Good." He straightened on a groan.

  She reached for him, and he looped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's go outside and get you a piece of pizza."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Stop arguing. You're going to eat." He walked her outside.

  A quick search around the yard and he relaxed. He patted Christina's ass, taking her to the table. With Merk in his trailer, Christina could enjoy herself. She took the pizza and talked with Stache. While his men kept her distracted, he pulled out his phone. Gunner still hadn't messaged him. He looked out to the road. He should've heard something by now.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The nozzle of the hose leaked, dripping a steady stream of water down Christina's arm. She moved back a step from the window she rinsed off and tossed the hose to the ground. One more window to clean and she'd be done with her chores for the day, unless she squeezed in mopping the kitchen before dinner.

  She carried the bucket filled with soap to the utility room window and dragged the hose with her. Standing underneath the glass, she sighed. Because of the slope of the land, she could only reach the bottom foot of the window without a ladder.

  Cam didn't own a ladder. She scooped the soapy rag out of the water, dumped the bucket, and turned it upside down. Testing the stability, she stepped up on the bucket and stretched to reach the middle of the window. The added height still wasn't enough, but at least half the window would be cleaned until she could get Cam to help her when he got back.

  "Christina, get down," Merk said.

  She jerked around, lost her footing, and jumped to the ground. "Get out of here."

  Nobody came in the backyard. Shocked over him making contact, she stood glaring, willing him to leave. Cam's strict rules forbid Merk to talk with her alone.

  "Don't worry. I'll go back to the front yard. I didn't know you were out here." He picked up the bucket and carried it away from her.

  She hurried after him, grabbing the wire handle, and tugged. "Give me my bucket back."

  Merk refused to let go. She shook her arm, trying to knock the bucket loose from his grasp and failed.

  "What's your problem?" She let go and planted her hands on her hips.

  Merk frowned, looking down at the bucket. "You could've fallen."

  "Wow, falling off a bucket into the grass. Maybe if I was seventy years old the risk factor of climbing a foot off the ground would matter to me." She scoffed in disgust. "Just get out of here."

  She walked back to the window to spray the soap off the window and pick up the rag she'd dropped when Merk startled her. His judgmental attitude sucked. What could he have done if she'd fallen? Claim she wasn't a fit person to parent Jeremy? God, she hated Merk.

  He lived in a trailer. She had a nice house. It might be old, but she'd painted and kept the inside and outside clean.

  He killed people. She never hurt anyone. Although she'd thought about hurting Merk for what he'd done to Cam.

  Any judge would view her as a responsible person who created a homey atmosphere. Merk owned nothing and lived on Cam's property. He was a felon. She was a—

  "Christina?" Merk interrupted her again.

  She shut off the nozzle and dragged the hose past Merk standing in the yard. "You're not supposed to talk to me."

  He walked behind her. "Yeah, I've never been in the habit of letting others tell me what to do."

  She stopped and turned around. "You have no right to be here, and should be locked up in prison for what you did to Cam. You almost killed him."

  "You're right."

  "Damn right, I'm right." She poked her finger in his direction. "I won't let you get another chance at hurting him. I know what you're doing, and I'm not going to allow you to fool Cam and every other Moroad member into thinking you're doing what's best for the club when all you want is Jeremy. I won't let you take him from us."

  "What?" Merk's gaze narrowed.

  "You heard me. You're not good enough to be in Jeremy's life." Her jaw locked and yet the words forced their way out of her mouth. "I wish Cam had killed you."

  Merk looked away, hiding his reaction. She walked away, each step stronger the farther she took herself away from Merk. She'd wanted to say the truth to Merk's face since the nurses wheeled Cam out of surgery on a gurney and told her he'd survive. To her, Merk was no different than the man who murdered her parents. Worse, because he came back and planned to take Jeremy away from her and Cam.

  She rounded the house and threw the hose under the porch. Each toss stronger and angrier, until she put the yard back in order and everything had its place. Her head suddenly pounded and she marched to the steps of the porch before Merk tried to talk with her again.

  "Whoa, baby." Cam grabbed her wrist, bringing her to a stop. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." She gr
abbed her forehead. "I didn't hear you come home."

  Her past mistake of telling Cam about Merk stepping over the line came back to haunt her. She wanted to tell him to get rid of Merk, and she had no doubt he would. He'd do anything to make her happy. Right now, they needed to stay focused on finding Jeremy.

  "Did you have any luck following Jeremy's trail?" she asked.

  "Yeah, he's definitely staying in Spokane." Cam reached around and tugged on her ponytail, tipping her face, and lowered his voice. "Gunner was right. There's nowhere for him to go in Silver Valley where we wouldn't find his location."

  "What would he be doing in Spokane?" She slipped her fingers into his belt and held on to him.

  "That's what I'm trying to figure out." He gently massaged her neck. "What's got you so tense?"

  "Nothing." She shrugged, needing something to distract him. "I've been washing windows."

  "Again?" He squinted. "You washed them a couple of weeks ago."

  "There's motorcycles racing up and down the road constantly sending road dust everywhere." She spotted Merk walking into the front yard. "I'm going to go inside and get a glass of water. Do you want something to drink?"

  He dropped his hand. "I'll take a beer."

  ""Kay." She hurried into the house.

  Alone inside, she leaned against the door. Her heart raced and guilt invaded, leaving her stomach in a rolling mess. She wasn't sorry she told Merk the truth. But, she feared Cam finding out what she'd said and going after Merk again before they found Jeremy. While she wanted Merk gone, she feared losing Cam to prison, his second home.

  She couldn't say why her fear overwhelmed her. He'd shown her how hard he tried to keep away from trouble while protecting the club. She pressed a hand to her stomach and inhaled deeply. She loved him without question. Yet she walked around each day thinking it'd be her last day to share with him.

  Usually the excitement, the high, the need to make the most of their final time together made her forget what tomorrow would bring. New threats came every single day to a motorcycle club full of felons. The hazard of loving a criminal, a killer, a biker set on continuing a lifestyle that would either put him back in prison or get him killed overwhelmed her at times.

  She obsessed over him. She held him close as if he alone had the ability to keep her alive. Until she'd met him, her mundane life after her parents' were killed never had a hint of danger. Not real danger. Not the kind of danger that came with loving Cam Farrell.

  Shit.

  She should've kept her mouth shut and not spoken to Merk. Her rash behavior would come back to kick her ass. Cam's ability to know every aspect of her life, even when he wasn't near, mystified her. He would find out. She couldn’t keep anything secret around the members of Moroad.

  Sometimes she wondered if he knew her better than she knew herself.

  She retrieved a beer out of the fridge, drank a glass of water, and washed her face under the faucet. Patting her face dry with the clean hand towel, she took a deep breath to calm her upset stomach. Cam expected her outside, and she'd go out there and act normal.

  No one would know she wanted to throw herself on the bed, wrap up in a blanket, and ignore the world around her. At least with Cam around, Merk would keep his distance. For tonight, Cam wouldn't know what she'd done.

  She went outside, found Cam at the end of the porch, phone to his ear, and handed him the opened beer bottle. He took the drink and scowled at her.

  "Who the fuck told you?" he said into the cell.

  Christina stepped back at the anger rolling off Cam, but stayed close enough to hear the one-sided conversation. Every time the phone rang, she hoped it was Jeremy or someone who knew where to find him.

  "Jesus Christ." Cam set his beer on the railing and ripped out the leather strip holding his hair at the base of his neck. "We'll act on the warnings, but I need the chain up and running. If I have to visit every fucking Reds member to guarantee my men's safety, I will. You can pass the message on."

  Cam paced in front of her, unaware of his limp. The lines on his forehead deepened the longer he listened to the other person on the phone. She jumped out of his way when he turned abruptly and said, "Keep me posted."

  He shut off the phone and shoved it in his back pocket. She watched him carefully. Lost in his thoughts, he almost knocked over the beer in his agitation.

  "Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing the bottle and chugging half the contents.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  He rubbed his thumb against the glass bottle. "Go in the house."

  She placed her hand at the base of her neck. "Is it Jeremy?"

  "No, baby." He lifted his chin. "I need to call a meeting."

  She stepped forward and put her hands on his stomach. "Is it bad?"

  He kissed her hard. "The chain's compromised. There will be no run tonight. I need to discuss what's going on with the men."

  "You mentioned Reds..." She held on to his vest. "Is this dangerous?"

  "Don't ask questions." Cam set her away from him. "You won't like the answers. Now, get in the house, so I can take care of business."

  She hurried into the house, went straight to the living room, and pulled a chair over to the open window. If she got lucky, Cam would hold the meeting on the porch, and she'd find out what caused the club to shut down the chain.

  She swallowed hard. God, the chain.

  Cam relied on the money coming in for the twice-weekly run to support his club members inside and outside of prison. It's what paid her wages for taking care of the books for Moroad. It put food on the table, clothes on their back, and allowed her the freedom to love Cam.

  A knock startled her. She jumped out of the chair, muffling her scream.

  "Christina?" Cam spoke from outside on the porch.

  She pinched the curtain pulling it to the side and found Cam standing in front of the window screen. "Yes?"

  "Go in the bedroom." Cam leaned closer. "Now."

  She let the curtain fall and walked to the bedroom, disappointed she couldn't eavesdrop. His need for privacy only worried her more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Moroad MC members sat around the fire in the front yard. Beer bottles stood in the grass beside them forgotten. All eyes focused on Cam over the serious matter at hand. Not one of them spoke, and instead listened to their president.

  "Blues received an anonymous tip from inside prison that Reds had men spread out along the chain. Their intent to compromise the chain or take possession away from us has always hung over our heads and I'm taking this new information as a threat. Yesterday, Miller sent his teams on a dry run to look for anything suspicious." Cam pushed the nearest log on the fire with his boot, sending sparks into the air. "They found signs of Reds in every state, except Idaho."

  "What kind of signs," Gunner asked.

  "They've bent the left bottom corner of street signs and tagged public buildings along our route. If that wasn't enough, they'd staked each exchange site with a piece of red litter. A red Solo Cup. A red pack of cigarettes. A red T-shirt. You name it, if it was red; they used it to show their presence." Cam stepped back from the fire.

  "Let's change it up then. Meet them where they don't expect. Hell, we could have the drop off right here at your place. No one would know. Even if the Feds had this place on their radar, which I'm sure they do, they can't question one damn car coming to the house. We'll use the darkness out here to cover our ass." Johnson leaned over the arm of the lawn chair and picked up his beer. "Just make sure you shut off the damn flood light."

  Cam refused to think about the suggestion. "Not going to happen."

  He'd made the house into a home for Christina. He wouldn't put her at risk or gamble his house away. They needed to get rid of Reds and keep the gun chain going.

  "I want to know how Reds found out where we had the exchange sites." Gunner stretched out his legs and clasped his hands behind his head. "We know Jeremy's in Spokane. That's Reds territory. He knew the route, he k
new the schedule, he knew every fucking detail."

  The warmth from the fire and the allegations heated Cam. He reached for his beer and chugged the rest of the drink. Did his men think he hadn't thought of the possibility of Jeremy turning on them in an attempt to hurt him for the crime he committed?

  "Until we learn more, everything else stands. We find Jeremy and bring him back. Any of you make an independent decision toward the kid, you'll be treated like a traitor." Cam tossed the bottle behind him. "I'm going to take off tonight and head to the prison. I want to be there first thing in the morning and talk with Shaver."

  "Why Shaver?" Stache asked.

  Cam wiped his arm across his mouth. "Because he's desperate to get out and will give me the information I'm looking for if it's there to be found."

  He left the men at the fire and walked into the house. A quick look around the living room and he headed to the bedroom. While he'd grown lenient about some of the club business when it came to Christina knowing what went on, tonight's information would cause more damage than good. She needed to continue to believe Jeremy was coming home. Until he found out differently, he'd keep the threat of Reds away from her.

  He opened the door and found Christina sitting in the middle of the bed painting her fingernails. "Hey."

  She put the brush back into the bottle and came toward him with her hands out to her sides. "Is everything okay?"

  "Yeah, it will be." He hooked his finger in the waistband of her shorts. "Give me a kiss."

  She pressed her lips to his mouth. Her concern overrode her passion and she pulled back. He cupped the back of her neck and sprawled his hand on her lower back, jerking her hard against him until there was no space left between them. He nipped her bottom lip, opening her mouth. He sucked her lip, nibbled, and drew back without letting her go.

  "I need to leave," he said.

  "To go where?"

  "The state pen." He held her tighter when she stiffened.

  "To visit, right?" Her brows pinched the skin on her forehead.

  Shit. She thought he'd made the decision to do a crime that'd land him back in prison. He nodded. "Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow, late afternoon."