His Crime

by Debra Kayn

  "Good," she whispered on an exhale.

  She leaned against him. He took her weight and tilted his head back, gazing at the ceiling. He'd never get used to experiencing the release she gave him when he'd done something right. Her breathing slowed, her body warmed, her voice softened, and she gave him everything. To have her hand him her freedom, her love, her trust, made his struggle to stay on the outside bearable.

  No matter how many threats came his way or who wanted to kill him, he'd fight to keep her in his life.

  He lowered his chin. "Now, kiss me right."

  She moved her hands up to his face, grabbed his beard, and tugged him down. He growled at the force, letting her control him. Her soft lips skimmed his mouth, not kissing, not tasting, not doing anything but tickling the whiskers and giving him a fucking hard-on.

  "I love you," she said, the vibrations of her words curling around his heart. "Make sure you come home."

  He took possession of her lips and dipped his tongue. His balls ached in pleasure. He couldn't let her go on thinking any differently.

  She moaned, squirming against him. He pulled away with small kisses, leaning his forehead on hers.

  "I need to leave," he said, not wanting to go.

  "Stay."

  He growled. She always asked. He always left.

  "Willy and Bear are camping out on the porch tonight." He kissed her once more. "Text me if you hear from Jeremy."

  "Okay." She followed him through the house.

  He held her hand, thumbing her ring. "What's it say?"

  She smiled. "That you love me."

  "Right." He nodded. "Lock the door behind me."

  Eight hours later...

  Cam surveyed the general visiting room, watching the other inmates take him in with weary gazes while affectionately greeting their visitors. No warmth surrounded his visit today. He wasn't here to bolster the prisoner. He came for answers.

  Shaver, serving his last year of a seven-year sentence, sat on the other side of the table, cuffed and keeping his voice low. Cam peered around. There were at least twenty inmates present during common visiting hours. Each prisoner eyed him, knowing exactly who he was, and wondering why he was here.

  "You're taking a chance, man." Shaver's Adam's apple protruded.

  "You think I have a target on my back?" Cam arched his brows, making light of the situation.

  Any time he'd been in the same room as Reds and Blues, he'd been an inmate. Now he sat on the outside. Any one of them could take him out. The handcuffs on each one of them meant nothing. He knew, because he'd started many fights in the common visitor's room, locked securely to the table and deemed safe to enjoy the longer visits with those who posed no threat to society.

  "I know you do." Shaver sniffed. "They've segregated us, but I still hear things."

  "Shit," Cam mumbled. "They've separated everyone already?"

  Shaver nodded, his brown hair falling forward over his shoulders. "For the last couple of weeks, we've had a power shift. Reds are talking big, bragging about taking control on the inside."

  "Any evidence to prove it's nothing more than talk?"

  "Yeah." Shaver's gaze moved around the room. "They got enough black sand in here to have one hell of a party. It makes making friends a lot easier, if you know what I'm saying."

  Cam leaned forward. "Any of my men?"

  Shaver nodded. "Moroad, Blues, Baldies, Los Li, and Cats, we're all doing time with them in the yard, walking away smiling, and making it reek in the cells. Guards look the other way. Feels like someone's setting us up to turn on each other. Desperate men are always looking for the rainbow, man."

  "Yeah." Cam blew out his breath and glanced at the clock on the wall. "The chains been compromised."

  Shaver frowned. "Seriously?"

  "My whole fucking life went into making sure nobody took the chain away from Moroad. I want you to let everyone know I won't tolerate someone threatening to take what's mine. I want you, Carl, and...who the fuck do I have in there I can trust?"

  "Eagle, man. Up and up," Shaver said.

  Cam took three seconds to think over the suggestion. The ratio of time Eagle spent in prison exceeded his time spent in society. "I want you three to make sure Moroad members stay clear of any conversations and trouble. I want Reds to hurt."

  Shaver grinned. "Done. I can make them cry."

  "Good." Cam scooted his chair back.

  "Wait." Shaver lowered his voice. "Sorry about your kid?"

  The hair on Cam's arms stood up. "My kid?"

  Shaver shrugged. "We heard you lost him."

  "Who's talking?" Cam's muscles ached with tension.

  Nobody on the inside would know Jeremy took off. They'd hear about Merk taking a shot at him, Merk getting out of prison, and about the chain. But, no one talked about his family. Someone got too comfortable and decided to open his mouth, and he wanted to know who it was.

  "I heard it from Garrison." Shaver flinched. "He said Reds bragged about taking Moroad out one by one and they'd already started with Jeremy."

  Garrison belonged to Blues. Cam stood, changing his mind on how to move forward. Nobody fucked with him, and they'd get no warning. "I don't want you to make them cry."

  "You want me to pull back?"

  "No." Cam gazed at Shaver intently, willing his anger not to show. "I want you to kill as many assholes who wear a Reds tattoo as you can."

  He pushed in his chair, turned around, and walked across the room. At the door, he picked out each Reds member in the common visitor area and stared him down. Every one of the motherfuckers would die if they had a hand in harming Jeremy. Nobody messed with his family or took what he owned away from him.

  The buzzer rang. Visiting time was over.

  The guards moved forward to unchain the prisoners and guide them away from their loved ones. Cam, standing taller than the women and men waiting to return to their happy lives on the outside, never broke his gaze from the most lethal Reds member in the room. His message loud and clear. Now all he had to do was wait and be ready.

  Reds wanted war. He'd give them a fucking war.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cam's boots, jeans, and shirt littered the floor in the living room. Christina opened her mouth to lecture him about the mess, and he sucked her displeasure away.

  Shocked at the aggressiveness of his firm lips, she sighed when his tongue dipped inside. Confident, skilled, and far too fast, he gave her no time to think. He'd stormed into the house and attacked.

  She distantly registered the fact her feet left the floor and now her back pressed against the cushions of the couch. She'd lost time between point A and point B. Cam's attention to her now after closing himself off after arriving home last night from his visit to the prison threw her off kilter.

  He cupped the back of her head with one hand and grabbed the curve of her ass with the other one. "I'm not stopping."

  "You don't have to." She pressed against him, pleasurably aware of every hot, hard inch of him.

  He straightened, pulling her shirt over her head, undoing the front clasp on her bra. She lifted her hips and fumbled with the snap of her jeans. She groaned in frustration. Her fingers failed to find the tab on her zipper.

  Cam dipped his head, and bit the metal tab on her jeans between his teeth and ripped it down. She sucked in her breath, caught in a spiral of pleasure. He often wanted fast sex, hard sex, hot sex, and she'd never tell him no. His violent hurry aroused her.

  His breath hissed out of him. "Put my cock inside you."

  She ran her hands down his broad chest. Her muscles strained with the urge to lift her pelvis and impale herself on him, but she couldn't move pinned under his weight. Her fingers found his thick, erect hardness. She squeezed, feeding off the way he pressed himself into her hand. She held his pleasure, wanting to see how far he'd let her go. The desire to tempt him, tease him, play with him the way he always manipulated her too enticing to stop.

  "Now," he ordered.


  She could never deny him. For how much she wanted to experience having him at her mercy, she also craved the way he made her lose control. Selfish and needy, she wanted all the emotions he refused to show others. There was nothing better than having her body filled and all Cam's devotion on her.

  She placed the head of his cock at the entrance of her pussy and stared into his dark, aroused eyes. She caught her lip between her teeth, wet with need. Prepared for the penetration and impatient for him to take over, she begged.

  "Please," she said. The airy request sounded foreign to her.

  Cam thrust into her slowly. Her back bowed, her hips strained, and she clenched eagerly around him. He drove her crazy, holding back, showing her the power he held over her. She'd do anything. Anything.

  "Cam," she said on a moan.

  Her hips circled blatantly. She dug her fingers into the cushion, afraid she'd come before he even started. Her mindless need to have him connected to her instead of wandering around the house, stuck in his own thoughts, and pushing her away from him.

  Sweat dotted Cam's forehead. He got off on holding back, making her squirm, knowing he held her imprisoned as much with his body as he had in his locked bedroom.

  Everything inside her tightened, tension building. She let go of the couch and clutched her breasts to ease the deep ache in her hardened nipples. Nothing helped.

  He continued his slow thrust and withdrawal. She hummed, unable to utter the plea for more. He held himself above her and stared down into her eyes as she grew weaker to control the pleasure building up inside of her.

  Cam chest heaved. "Don't do it, baby."

  He asked for the impossible. She cried out. He rode her emotions skillfully, knowing what drove her wild.

  "I need..." She swallowed loudly, panting for her next breath. "You."

  He went still. She grabbed his arms.

  "Only me?"

  She nodded frantically. "Yes."

  He thrust all the way into her, taking her breath, plunging over and over, wiping any need for her to move away. She lay there possessed by him, relying on him fully to take her for a ride.

  She climaxed on a cry. Her fingernails gauged in his skin. Her mind blown on emotions, hormones, and submission.

  His gaze locked on to hers. Riveted by the fierce accomplishment etched on his face, she nodded in agreement. Yes, she relied on him and in that moment, he understood how powerless she became without him.

  Through the roar of blood in her ears, she barely heard him grunt his release. Then he dipped his head, his tongue flicked her nipple, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. He slipped out of her, and laid his heavy weight between her legs. She held his head at her breast and gulped to fill her lungs. His lazy sucking caressed the violent reaction he'd brought out in her body.

  Boneless, she closed her eyes and sighed in contentment.

  Whatever problem he'd ran into at the prison yesterday and forced him to stay strong and responsible for everyone in the club finally broke loose. She stroked his hair. He'd come to her for comfort and she gave it to him.

  Cam continued to suck at her breast. A tear leaked out of the corner of Christina's eye and trailed a wet path to her hair. She no longer needed to know the difference between good and bad, right and wrong, because being with Cam felt perfect.

  When she connected with him, she received the good. No matter how others viewed him as bad, he became a better person because of his love for her. She blinked, drying her eyes. She wasn't responsible for his transformation when they were together. Good had always resided in him. He only needed to feel secure in letting it out.

  She understood his need for her to rely on only him. When she succeed in pleasing him, he became the man he never thought he could be. A man who walked a criminal path without any guilt and desperately wanted love...from her, only her.

  A knock followed by Bear calling Cam's name pulled her out of her newfound testament. Cam growled, slipping off her breast and raising his head.

  "I'm going to kill him," he muttered.

  She grinned. "No, you won't."

  He kissed her hard. "Get dressed before that asshole decides to walk in the house."

  She scurried out from underneath him, grabbed her clothes, and rushed to the bathroom. At least the Moroad members had learned to knock first.

  She washed, dressed, and walked out of the bathroom. Her sensitive nipples pulsed against her bra. The lack of Cam between her legs made her eager to go outside and be with him before the men pulled him away again. It seemed like lately, every time she turned around, Cam told her to run an errand or go in the house. Tired of Cam keeping her in the dark, she wanted to know what was going on.

  She stepped out onto the porch. Cam grabbed her, hauling her back into the house. The heels of her sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floor in protest.

  "What are you doing?" She held on to his arms to keep from falling.

  His hands on her hips dug into her. "Merk spotted Jeremy."

  "What?" She rose to her tiptoes in excitement. "Where is he? Let's go get him."

  "Calm down. We have to wait. Merk texted me. He's trying to talk to the kid, and see if he's willing to come back."

  She shook her head. "Merk can't tell him the truth, Cam. Jeremy's had too much information already to process all alone. If Merk tells Jeremy he's his uncle, we'll lose him."

  "He won't." Cam hooked her neck, bringing her close. "I've made it clear he's to bring Jeremy to you, and together we'll tell him the whole story. Meese and Jacko are there, too. They'll make sure Merk follows the rules."

  "What if they decide to kill Jeremy?" she whispered, afraid one of the others would overhear her and act on her fear.

  "He's safe. I've made sure of that."

  "What if—"

  "Stop." He kissed her forehead, keeping his lips on her skin. "Let me do what needs to be done."

  She closed her eyes. This is what she wanted, but she feared Moroad MC when it came down to rules and honoring their president. Merk already tried to kill Cam.

  "Don't make me stay in the house," she said. "Please let me wait with you."

  He clamped his lips together and led her outside. "Keep it together. There's nothing we can do until I hear from Merk, and there's no use worrying until we know what's going on."

  The other Moroad members glanced away from Christina. Her stomach churned. Were they for or against her?

  Lola, Jess, Tina, and Katie stepped up on the porch, surrounding Christina. She reached out and took Lola's hand. Jeremy's unique relationship with Lola meant a lot to him. The red-rimmed eyes and blotched complexion from crying showed Lola's feelings toward Jeremy. While other Moroad members used Lola for sexual favors, Jeremy sought her out as a friend and someone to talk with. She lifted her chin and braved the crowd. They all supported each other and would wait for Jeremy's return.

  More than ever, she understood the basic needs of the club. The men needed each other to survive. The Moroad women, in their own ways, needed the validation of belonging, whether that came from one man or all of them, a touch, an ear, a companion, helped make living a little easier.

  An unconventional relationship appealed to her more than living life alone. She understood what kept each one of them clinging to Moroad, because she'd been the girl all alone, until she wrote a letter to an inmate and found love.

  Cam reached across his stomach and ran his hand along his side where he'd been shot. She studied him. The lines remained deep at the corner of his eyes and he held his mouth tight.

  She stroked his thigh. "Are you okay?"

  He stared out into the yard. She caught Lola's gaze and motioned with her chin for the girls to leave the porch. The women walked in front of Cam without him noticing.

  She scooted her chair closer to his rocker and laid her head against his chest. He looped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her tight against him.

  "What are you thinking?" she asked.

  He shook his h
ead. "Life's a lot easier when I'm serving time."

  "You don't mean that." She reached up and twined his fingers with hers.

  He continued to look out at his men. Her heart hurt. At a loss of how to help him, she wished he'd tell her what to say, how to act, what to do. No matter how hard she catered to his needs, he always seemed distracted or thinking two steps ahead of everyone else. Not a day went by where he fully relaxed and accepted whatever happened.

  "When I was Jeremy's age I would've given anything to have someone give me a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and a slap upside the head once in a while. I'm fighting to keep the kid alive and he's fucking around with me at each step. I don't understand," Cam said.

  His low, pained voice sent goosebumps down her arms. To know Cam's parents pushed their son away broke her heart. She'd lost her parents, but if they'd stayed alive, they would've supported her, loved her, and welcomed her to live with them until she forged out on her own. She would've had their continual support, no matter the decisions and mistakes she made along the way.

  "In time, he'll realize this is home and he's got a family who loves him."

  Cam inhaled sharply. "I was the one who wrote the club rules. Those rules are in place to protect each one of us. I'd kill my own brother, if I had one, to protect the club. Yet, I'm the one who signed Jeremy's future away by bringing him into the club, urging him to sign for life. I never fucking imagined going against my club, so I can save him."

  She sat straighter and gazed at him. "Why are you saving him?"

  "I ask myself that same question every day."

  She waited. He never spoke of love when it came to her, Jeremy, or the club. He used the excuse of protecting them and keeping his feelings private, away from those who could hurt him. He showed her often through simple acts of covering her with a blanket when they went to bed, staying beside her when he took her to town, and holding her when she needed reassurance. The ring she wore on her left ring finger with the inscription Dear Christina, I love you, Prisoner #18974 spoke the words he wouldn't let the rest of the world hear.

  Maybe the words even allowed him to believe.

  His left leg bounced with a nervous tic. "I don't care if the kid isn't my blood. He's mine. He's my son."