by Debra Kayn
"We earned our place," Shaver said.
Cam nodded and lowered his voice. "Now it's time to do more than push. We're going to annihilate every fucking gang within reach."
"Are you talking extortion?" Shaver whispered. "Prez, you don't have enough men on the outside to take that kind of risk."
Cam ran his hand down his beard, pulling the whiskers back from his mouth. "This time, we'll let the work happen on the inside."
"Fucking hell..." Shaver raised his arms, the handcuffs linking his hands together rattled against the stainless steel table. "Against Blues?"
"Blues, Reds, Los Li...all the motherfuckers." Cam grinned.
Shaver's jaw dropped before he recovered. Cam forged on, confident with his decision. He had a family of over two hundred members to provide for and he had one chance. At his age, he lived on borrowed time. Any day, someone younger would come along and challenge him to his position or take his life.
He thought the gun chain would be his saving grace, a way to leave his legacy behind.
He was wrong.
Moroad Motorcycle Club always held control over what happened on the inside. Cam would use that power to extort money from the opposing gang members in exchange for the safety of the lives inside the joint. If Blues came after Cam on the outside, Blues members would pay on the inside. One at a time, he'd have his men pick them off.
Miller would be useless to stop him, unless he wanted to watch his numbers dwindle until those on the outside were alone and powerless.
"I want you to spread the word around to the other Moroad members. Once everyone knows, let it be known Moroad will start taking out a member of each group, each week, unless the leaders of every fucking gang pays Moroad the amount I ask for. I'll be broadcasting tomorrow morning. You'll need to make all your contacts on the inside first," Cam said.
"What if they stop you on the outside?" Shaver's leg bounced under the table.
"Doesn't matter." Cam smiled, feeling free. "They could kill every Moroad member on the outside, but they can't touch you or the other Moroad members in prison. Moroad will continue to thrive, because we can control the prison system."
"Jesus Christ...," Shaver mumbled, a smile forming. "You're putting Moroad inmates to work."
Cam nodded. "The other gangs will have two options in response to our move."
"What?" Shaver asked.
"One, they kill me and everyone on the outside to try and get out of paying us. If they try, they'll learn my men will take out every son of bitch they have in prison. They can't stop us on the inside. It'll crush each of their groups. They'll disappear on the outside. Their families will suffer." Cam inhaled. "Or two, they pay us to keep our hands off their members in prison, and everyone lives. Moroad MC grows and remains safe. Most importantly, we prosper."
"Shit." Shaver rubbed his jaw with the chain on his handcuffs. "You're insane."
Cam pushed his hair back off his forehead and laughed. "Brother, you have no fucking idea."
"Brilliant," Shaver mumbled, shaking his head. "I thought with the chain you'd taken us a step further, but this...God damn, Cam. You'll have men inside here begging to turn their back on their group. Do you realize what this will do? The new infrastructure alone will make Moroad MC untouchable if it works."
Cam nodded.
"If it falls apart, you're dead. You want to take that risk?"
"Club first," Cam whispered. He had one shot, and he'd do the impossible to keep Moroad going and Christina in his life.
"Okay." Shaver exhaled loudly. "Everyone's packed in here, except at meals and during our one-hour exercise break. Most of Moroad has free time in the common area. Give me two hours and everyone will know their job."
Cam leaned forward. "One more thing. Who is the most intimidating Blues member inside? Is it still Reggie?"
"Yeah, that son of a bitch never backs off. He's got the guards in his pockets, probably giving them a blow every time he wants something," Shaver said.
"Take him out," Cam whispered. "Let's make a statement."
"Today?"
Cam nodded. "After dinner while the guards are doing walk-throughs. I'll let the other leaders know I'm sending a message and they'll hear about it soon. There's no way any of them on the outside can warn their members on the inside in time to stop us."
"Who do you want on the job?"
"Boo," Cam said.
"Cam, think twice." Shaver shook his head. "He's the last one anyone would think is capable of pulling that job. He'll nut up."
"Not with you watching his back. Make him do it, and get him out of there before he gets his ass caught. He's our weakest link. If Blues find out the man they use as their bitch can take them out, it'll make an impression." Cam glanced at the guard. "Is everything understood?"
"Yeah," Shaver said, nodding. "Times are going to change."
"Damn right." Cam spoke faster. "Thursdays are the cut off days. That's one week from today. I'll send a message through if any action needs to take place. It might take a couple examples of what our men inside can do to the others before they realize we're not fucking around."
"No problem."
Cam tapped the table finalizing the meeting. He stood. Once he walked out the door, it would be impossible to stop the progression of his plan. "It's been real good talking to you, brother."
"Ride safe, Prez," Shaver said, lifting his chin.
Cam walked over and stood at the door, not giving Shaver another look. When he heard the door close after the guard escorted Shaver back to his cell, Cam knocked and waited for his escort out of the secured building.
This time, he needed nothing from Pretaro. He strolled through the building without saying a word. He played every possible scenario of what could go down and planned accordingly. He'd instigated the biggest move of his life.
He'd learned long ago never to assume the actions of another man. Desperate men fought dirty. He could be dirtier.
At his motorcycle, he pulled out his phone and texted Christina. Leaving now. Ok?
He pulled out a cigarette and lit the end. Because he didn't allow Christina to ride with him to the prison, she stayed home under the watchful eyes of Gunner and Stache.
His phone vibrated. Christina: Fine. Ride safe.
He cocked his head. Her reply of fine could mean a hundred different things.
He texted her again. What R U doing? He waited, thinking he'd asked a safe enough question.
Missing you. Hurry home.
He pocketed the phone and started his bike. Unlike Christina, he never dreamed or wished for the good things in life. Nobody ever handed him the security of knowing what tomorrow would bring. He always slept with a gun at his side and remained ready for anything. His new plan for the club would keep him with Christina longer if he succeeded. No more riding across state lines in the dark. No dangerous meetings with those who wanted to take his life. No more Feds breathing down his back.
The only thing he had to worry about was facing men who lived by their guns, their brains, their smarts. As long as he kept one-step ahead of everyone else, his family would be safe and he'd be on the outside enjoying his freedom.
If he fucked up anywhere along the lines of his plan, it wouldn't matter. He'd be dead.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Cam rode into the yard, tearing a path through the lush grass, and parked in front of the porch steps. Christina pursed her lips. Cam's mouth curved in silent rebellion, and she shook her head in amusement. Sometimes, she swore he went out of the way to make sure she understood he'd never change.
Except, before he'd rode out with the others to pick up a delivery, he'd pleased her in ways that made it impossible for her to stay mad over him ignoring her no-riding-on-the-lawn rule.
One by one, the other Moroad members shut off their bikes in the driveway. She glanced at the cell phone in her hand.
"You were only gone thirty-five minutes," she said.
Cam stopped in front of her, kissed her
hard, and pressed a black zippered pouch the size of a loaf of bread into her hands. "I got work for you, baby."
She dropped her gaze to the bag and undid the zipper. Her good mood settled at the bottom of her stomach and she gasped for air. Handfuls and stacks of cash filled the pouch. "Where did this come from?"
"Moroad's new job." Cam stepped around her and sat in the rocker, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I need you to work up the books, divide the money, and have everything ready for distribution by four o'clock. The inmates are expecting their wages and it's important I get it to them before midnight."
"But you stopped going on runs." She sat down beside him, holding the bag as if someone would yank it away from her. "How did you get all this money?"
Cam angled his head and looked at her intently. "Your only job is to divide the money and keep track of it all."
"Cam, where did—"
"Baby. Don't ask." He hooked her neck, pulling her toward him. "You don't need to know. The only thing that's important is Moroad MC has money to support every person in the club, the families, and those incarcerated. I promised I wouldn't leave you and I'm doing what I need to do to make sure I don't end up back in prison or dead. The pressure is off my back, the threat against my family is gone, and Moroad is coming away stronger. Take what I've given you and don't question me."
She stood and hesitated. "Blues aren't coming after you?"
Cam shook his head.
"Am I on lockdown?" She studied him carefully. Unsure whether to believe in less than a week Cam settled his problems with those who wanted to hurt him or created new problems.
He shook his head again.
She clutched the bag of money tighter. Did she have a right to question where and how Cam got the money or should she take the good he'd handed her and accept he'd always take care of her?
"Well, then, I better start working." She walked to the front door. "Oh, and Cam?"
"Yeah?"
She gazed over her shoulder and smiled. "This is going to take me awhile. You might want to have one of the guys pick up pizza, because I'll be too busy working to cook or clean up the mess."
He grinned, raising his brows. "Sausage?"
"Yes, and don't forget the mushrooms," she said, strolling into the house lighter than she'd felt in a long time.
The normal emotions she continually chased and always seemed to elude her swirled around in her stomach. She held on to the good feelings tightly, and made the climb up the stairs to retrieve the Moroad books behind the picture of the town of Federal hanging on the wall in the spare bedroom. Unable to make herself stay indoors and miss the camaraderie and good times happening outside; she carried everything she needed to the resin table at the end of the porch to work.
Using the two books to hold the money in place from the slight breeze, she separated the bills, counted the total, and organized the cash from lowest to highest and put it all back in the pouch. She tapped her pen against the table and stared at the bag. Without looking at the last total accumulated before the run ended, she knew without a doubt Cam made more money tonight than when he was doing the runs.
Except, Cam hadn't gone anywhere except to pick up the money and to attend a meeting at the prison.
"Hey," Cam stood in front of where she stared into the yard. "Don't think, baby. You do the same job every week. We all get paid, and Moroad MC continues to thrive."
She nodded, keeping her questions to herself. When she'd agreed to work for Moroad, she'd gone through the same worry about how and where Cam earned enough to support so many people. No longer naïve enough to believe it came from doing good, she handled her job professionally without any emotions of attachment. Cam assured her if anything happened to the club, she'd never be implicated in an investigation. She believed him, because he kept all identifying information written in codes only he could read.
Yet, at night, she wondered how long she would be safe. Would others believe she performed her job honestly while sleeping with the president of Moroad?
Five or six years ago, a local business in Federal closed after the sheriff arrested the owners for tax evasion. The secretary remained free and now worked in the county courthouse. They found her innocent and concluded she only performed the job asked of her.
Cam hired her and paid her to tally the books and do payroll. He filled in the position of her boss, and she as his employee. She tapped out the first number on the calculator on her phone. She wasn't paid to know anything, but perform a job.
Three hours later, she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. A glass of lemonade on the corner of the table caught her attention. The dew from the ice ran down the outside of the glass, forming a puddle on the table. She looked up, caught Cam's gaze, and waved her thanks.
She drank deeply, quenching her thirst. The heat from midday warmed the porch, even though she sat in the shade.
Out in the yard, the men still gathered in small groups. Some members chatted. Others lounged in the grass with a beer bottle clutched in their hand. Cam stood fifteen feet from Jeremy, watching him work on Cam's old motorcycle Jeremy now claimed as his own.
She exhaled in disappointment. Cam held himself back, letting Jeremy make the first move toward mending their relationship. No matter how much she urged him to step forward and make the initial contact, Cam thought giving Jeremy space would work better.
If she were in Jeremy's position, she'd want Cam to fight for her, to grovel, to apologize, and prove he'd be honest from here on out. Where Cam excelled at taking responsibility of so many people, he lacked the emotional awareness of doing the right thing, the expected thing.
Jeremy held the oil can to the engine and dropped the funnel. Cam stepped forward, swooping the funnel off the ground and handing it to Jeremy. Christina braced her hands against the table, silently urging Cam to stay close and not walk away.
Cam pointed to the motorcycle and bent over to fiddle with something on the opposite side of Jeremy. Her pulse beat faster. Little moments would bring them back together again.
Merk walked over to Cam and Jeremy. Christina muttered, "No."
Merk asked Cam something she couldn't hear and pulled Cam's attention away from Jeremy. She groaned in disgust. Why would Merk interrupt them? They were finally doing something together for the first time since Jeremy returned.
Jeremy's head swiveled to the right, his gaze lingered on Cam and Merk walking away. A frown marked his serious face. She scooted her chair out to go talk to Cam and stopped. The last thing Cam would want her to do was force him to see what he unknowingly remained blind to. Somehow, he needed to figure out on his own how to move forward with Jeremy if they were going to have a relationship.
Cam nodded at something Merk said and backed up a few steps as if to return to Jeremy. Christina caught her lip between her teeth, holding her breath.
Merk continued talking and pointed down at the hitch on the trailer. Cam returned to Merk's side. She pursed her lips.
What was so important Merk needed to hog Cam's attention? He certainly didn't think of anyone else when he took out his pistol and shot Cam.
She dragged her gaze away from the activity in the front yard and put her attention on finishing the columns and distributing the Moroad members' wages. Needing envelopes, she went into the house and grabbed some out of the cabinet in the utility room, and returned to the porch.
Jeremy climbed the steps and stood in front of her. She smiled. "Hey, you."
"Hey." Jeremy shoved his hands down into his pockets.
"You know..." She held the envelopes in her hands. "I think Cam wanted to ask you a question about your bike."
"What about it?" Jeremy asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. I was only half listening, because I was thinking about all the work I needed to do. Maybe you should go over and ask him what he wanted."
Okay, she wasn't exactly staying out of their business, but Cam and Jeremy obviously needed her help. She failed t
o understand how two stubborn people would ever get over their problems if they both refused to talk.
"He knows where I'm at if he has a question." Jeremy stepped around her. "I'm going inside and calling Tiff. I left my phone in my room and she wanted me to call her after she got off work."
"Did she move back into the Sterling Building?" Christina glanced at Cam in the yard, wishing he'd turn around and come over while she had Jeremy's attention.
"No, she's decided to stay at her mom's place and help her out" Jeremy glanced away, spotted Cam walking his way, and escaped into the house without saying anymore.
Christina sighed and waited for Cam. Once he was close enough, she whispered, "Jeremy's in the house."
"So."
She rolled her eyes. "Go talk to him."
"About what?"
Clueless. Absolutely clueless. She needed an excuse. One Cam wouldn't see through and overthink.
"Someone needs to pick up the pizza in a little bit and Tiff's working in town again. Jeremy can pick her up and she can come back with him and eat with everyone," she said, smiling at the brilliant answer that popped into her head.
"Ring and Meese are taking the truck into town and filling it up with gas. They already said they'd pick up the pizza while they're in Federal." Cam hooked his finger in the waistband of her shorts and pulled her close. "Are you already done with the books?"
She held up the envelopes. "Not quite. I need to divvy everyone's wages out and make the pouch you'll need to go make the wire transfers."
He kissed her hard. "Get shaking, baby. I need to issue the money before the store closes."
Thwarted in her attempt to throw Cam and Jeremy together, she walked back to the table and got to work. She still had tonight to try to help. Once they both sat down to eat, she'd coax them to talk.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Cam removed the envelope from the first stack of letters Christina sent him in prison, before he'd decided to kidnap her.