After another long kiss, the two of them went around the entire house, finding everything locked tightly. Short of breaking a window or busting down a door, they weren't leaving. She hadn't been panicked at first, but now she was feeling like she was in the trunk of that car again, and she didn't like it.
“Since it looks like we’re here for the duration, maybe we should eat? Make coffee?”
Of course, Carter would mention coffee. “As long as you don't think we'll accidentally poison ourselves.” She nearly threw herself into a kitchen chair. “Do you think he's asking for ransom?”
“Again?”
“It didn't work last time, and now he's got both of us.”
He shook his head. “Honestly, I think we're insurance. They won't kill him if he has us hidden away.”
She couldn't help but gasp. “Kill him?”
“It's always a possibility when law enforcement go bad. He's likely to aim a gun at the wrong person and end up dead. If he has us squirreled away, maybe they'll hesitate to shoot him.”
“We should just break a window and get out.”
His gaze bounced around the room. “Let's wait a bit longer. I don't know from experience, but I'd say busting through a window is more difficult in real life than it is in the movies.”
She gestured to her chair. “I'd use this.”
“Rest up, Lark. This day is going to get a lot longer before we get another chance.”
~*~
“Wake up!” Carter yelled. “Do you smell that?” He was still groggy, but with every breath, the smell of rotten eggs permeated his senses. “We have to get out of here.”
“That's what I said.”
“You were right, Lark.” He grimaced. “When we're out of here, please make a note that I admitted you were right.”
She gave him as close to a chuckle as he could expect for the situation. “So, mister-admits-when-he's-wrong-in-a-life-and-death-situation, what's next?”
He closed his eyes for a moment as he thought. “Out the window. Let's find the one with the shortest drop down and go from there.” He searched her face. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she replied before turning down the hallway. “The kitchen windows have the least drop and will put us in boxwoods, I think.”
“I'll bust out a window, and I need you to gather towels or sheets. We'll need to lay something over the jagged glass before climbing out.”
She turned back toward the bedroom, and Carter found himself in the kitchen trying to bash a window out with a chair and failing. The glass was not giving way, and the gas smell was getting stronger.
Camryn appeared with an armload of bedding, her expression a mask of concern. “I don't know where the gas is coming from—the fireplace and the stove are both off.”
“It doesn't matter. We're leaving.” With his last statement, he threw everything he had into the chair, finally breaking out the window panes and setting off the glass break alarm, a shriek piercing the air. The windows in this house had to have triple paned, double-glazed glass like Taylor had installed in her store. He loved panes like this for Taylored Jewels, but it was not what he wanted now.
“Maybe that horrible noise will draw attention, and someone will come to help,” Camryn said as he worked against the window to enlarge the hole he'd started.
He nodded along with her assessment, swinging the chair until it fell apart, picking up another and another until a pile of wood sat at his feet and all three panes of glass were shattered into the bushes below. He held out a hand to her. “You ready?”
The stench of natural gas had gotten stronger as he'd worked, his head feeling somewhere between swimming and floating. If they didn't get out soon, they'd die here. “Cover the sill, Lark. Pad it and get the hell out.”
“Squeezing through tight spaces is my thing now,” she muttered as she crawled feet first through the window, Carter following close behind. As soon as he rolled out of the bushes, the house began to burn. If he'd had any doubt, it was erased. This was no accident. Sloane had locked them in and tried to murder them.
“The police will be here soon,” Camryn said, her voice calmer than his thoughts. “And this better be the last time I'm kidnapped.”
“God, I hope so,” he agreed.
They were sitting on the lawn of the burning house when police and firefighters arrived, followed by a dark blue SUV with very familiar faces inside.
He was halfway to the vehicle when Brandon and Chris exited, wearing expressions of both elation and concern. “Thank God for your damn Fitbit,” Chris exclaimed.
Carter raised his left arm. “This?” He'd completely forgotten it was even there.
“That thing has GPS, and with a little help from Tiffany and Caleb, we're here now.”
He chuckled. “Wish you'd shown up a few hours ago. We wouldn't have had to smash our way out a window.”
“You saved your lady and yourself. Call it a win.”
That sounded like a good idea to him. “Sloane brought us here.”
Davis nodded. “Kavanaugh is on it. He's a bastard.”
“We're taking you back and keeping an eye on your asses ourselves this time.” Chris's tone was steel.
“No arguments here.” He looked back at the burning house. “Where's here, anyway?”
“Littleton, Maryland,” Davis supplied.
He looked at this wrist, thankful for the little device he'd forgotten about. “Let's go.”
~*~
Camryn tried to stay awake, but the adrenaline drop, paired with finally feeling safe pulled her under quickly and made the trip back from the incredibly unsafe safe-house an easy one. When they arrived at Carter's house, this time with no shooting, or caltrops, or anything barring their way, she wanted nothing more than to drop into bed with Carter and sleep for a week. Instead, she found herself on edge, waiting to hear how an FBI agent, an assistant, a club owner, and a banker's son ended up connected to one another, and why she’d ended up being kidnapped and almost murdered more than once in the last few days.
Chris watched her eyeing his phone. “You can't will it to ring, you know.”
“Doesn't make me want answers any less, Detective.”
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his neck. “You and me both, Cam.” He sighed. “This case has been insane.”
“My family has a reputation to uphold,” she said with a smile. The police in both Tyler and Aylesford had to be more than tired of her family's penchant for trouble.
They both watched almost mesmerized when the phone in question lit up, vibrating against the glass top of the coffee table. “Talk to me,” Chris said when he picked it up. His lips pursed, and his eyebrows knitted. “I'm gonna put you on speaker.”
He placed the phone back on the table. “Tell them what you told me,” he directed.
At first, there was nothing, then a heavy sigh. “Who's there?” She recognized the voice as that belonging to Tiffany Morgan and leaned forward in her seat.
“Davis,” Chris answered. “Carter, and Camryn, too.”
“They shouldn't hear all this,” she protested, “so I'm going to pretend I don't know they're there.”
“Thank you,” Camryn found herself saying. Did she want to know whatever the officer on the other end of the phone was going to tell them?
“Kavanaugh found Sloane. He was almost out of the country, boarded on a chartered jet headed for South America.”
“So, that's it? He's in custody?” Davis questioned.
“He is, but evidently Kavanaugh was able to make him put all the pieces together. You'll never guess.”
“Don't leave us in suspense, Tiff.”
A huff of breath sounded before she explained, “Abby Reed was a pawn. She was targeted by Rob McClaren to act as a scapegoat at the request of Sloane. Abby was in a relationship with Tanner Jamieson earlier in the year, and Sloane was using her because of that connection.” She paused when Carter made a weird noise. “Jamieson boys like 'em young,
eh?” Tiffany quipped.
“Jesus,” Chris broke in. “Everyone is legal. Go on with the story.”
They waited for the other woman's laughter to die down before she went on. “Theo and Simon were involved with Rob McClaren and Sloane in the crazy hacker land deal, and Sloane is the one who killed Theo.”
Stunned, she sat forward in her seat. “What about Holden and his mom?”
“For whatever reason, Sloane toyed with that boy's emotions to make him think he had a sister.”
“To use him against me.” Camryn groaned. “Will he and his mom be okay?”
“They've committed several crimes a piece,” Davis answered.
“Still.” She slumped her shoulders, aware she had nothing compelling to say. Both Holden and Leslie Graves had taken more than one shot at her and Carter. “We're okay.”
Tiffany made a disgusted sound. “You're not dead, you mean.”
Dropping the argument, she asked instead, “What happens now?”
“Now you move on with your life.”
She had a lot to look forward to, with Carter's birthday party, a wedding to plan, and a nightclub to renovate and open, but she wasn't going to do any of that tonight. “Great. I'm going to bed. You all can see yourselves out.” She left the men in the living room huddled around Chris's cell phone and trudged up the stairs. It was over, and better yet, Abby wasn't a murderer obsessed with Carter.
~*~
“So, just like that?”
Chris nodded. “Federal case and the suspects all in custody or the hospital, so, yes, just like that.”
“What about Holden?”
“You know as well as we do that boy will get jail time.”
“He was coerced and manipulated. A good defense attorney could win his case easily.”
Davis cleared his throat. “You cannot represent him.”
“Doesn't mean I can't help.”
“Actually, it does. You're the victim. You and your firm need to stay away.”
He knew that, but he didn't particularly care. Camryn cared about this kid. No one said he couldn't pay for the boy's counsel. Leanne, maybe not. She’d never explained herself, aside from telling them she'd shot at them to ensure he and Cam sought protection. A phone call might've sufficed. Anything besides what amounted to attempted murder on not just the two of them, but his brother and Phil as well. He knew he was being hypocritical, wanting to help the boy who’d done the same thing twice, but he would do it just the same.
He was exhausted and just wanted this day to be over. “I'm with Cam. Let's talk about this in the morning, I need sleep.”
The following morning came early, no matter that he'd meant to sleep in. He made his way from the bed and the solace of Camryn's arms, made a press of coffee as quietly as one could while still using a coffee grinder and kettle, and sat at the gleaming mahogany table contemplating everything that had happened in such a short period of time. Cam had stumbled very accidentally into the middle of a huge conspiracy, and it had almost cost her life. He sighed. She was here, she was whole, and without the weirdness of the last few months, he'd never have broken his promise to Mason. As twisted as it sounded, he was thankful for the catalyst. He shook his head at himself. What a thought. He needed more coffee, and less time to think. He wanted answers but was sure the only ones he'd get were what Tiffany had divulged over the phone last night so he would have to settle for crumbs. As he poured his third cup of the vital dark brew, his Lark joined him at the table.
“Your birthday is in five days.”
“And good morning to you, too.”
She grinned, her eyes lighting up as she did. “After all the death and heartbreak, I want to throw you a party.” She cut him a look. “You can't say no.”
“I wasn't going to say no.”
“Doesn't matter.” She tapped her nails on the tabletop. “We'll have it at the club, prove that it's mine and I will do whatever I want with it.”
“Okay, then.” If he believed the FBI and both police departments, they were fine. “You do what you must, and I'll support you one-hundred percent.”
She grinned again. “You only turn thirty-five once.”
“Thank the good lord for that.”
~*~
The week went by in a blur, with family in and out, non-answers from two police forces and the FBI, and Camryn feverishly working to prepare for his party. He wasn't necessarily excited about celebrating his birthday, but this was as much Cam's coming out party as his own, so he went along for the ride.
“Ready?” the love of his life asked as she entered the room, a sapphire dress molded to her perfect curves, her rose gold curls gleaming, silver sandals on her feet. His suit was light charcoal, and his tie was a perfect match to her dress. She'd thought of everything for this party, and he smiled at the thought of Camryn planning their wedding.
“Let's go... Celebrate me being old.”
“You're not old,” she argued with a smile. “You're perfect.”
He happened to think she was the perfect one but didn't contradict her. “Lead the way.”
Epilogue
“You're gorgeous,” Cassidy told Camryn as she wiped a tear from her eye.
“You aren't allowed to cry,” she admonished her sister, “you'll make me cry, and we'll both mess up our makeup. I don't want to be gorgeous just for you.”
“Girls, you're always beautiful, but we've got to hurry,” Carolyn broke in. “I always knew you'd marry Carter one day,” she said with a grin. “And it's showtime, baby girl.”
She stared at herself in the mirror, a bride looking back at her. Her mother might have believed this day would come one day, but the last year almost seemed like a dream. After the craziness of the beginning of their relationship, with shootings and kidnappings and rogue FBI agents, the following months might've been classified as dull. She watched herself grin. Life with Carter was anything but dull—between her family and his, there was always something going on. She was now teaching full-time at the high school, and while she originally thought she'd want to return to the city and the Broadway stage, she found teaching more fulfilling than she'd ever dreamed. Coupled with performing at the club weekly and the other regular shows, there was more business than ever. Now, though, it was time to become the one thing she'd wanted since she was a teenager. Mrs. Carter Jamieson.
Her parents walked her down the aisle together, giving her away with smiles and tears, and she found herself face to face with the love of her life, perfect in his tux. They may have been living together for the last year, but now he would be her husband.
“Dearly beloved,” the preacher began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Carter Austin Jamieson and Camryn Ashley Everett in holy matrimony.” He paused to give them both a gentle smile. “Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but I have wondered when we'd finally have this wedding for many years, and I can't tell you how pleased I am to be here.”
“You and us both,” Carter added through a chuckle.
The preacher smiled again. “I'm told the bride and groom have prepared their own vows.” He gestured toward Carter.
It took her normally poised almost-husband a moment to compose himself. “Camryn, Lark, love of my life and mother of my future children, I never thought this day would come. At first, it was because you were too young—way too young, then you were old enough, perhaps, but you needed to spread your wings. Then, when we were in the same place at the same time, I was bound by my word to your brother.” He paused to look at Mason, his best man. “Your brother was right, but he always knew he couldn't keep us apart forever. You are my counterpart, my match, my Lark, even if you like sugar, cream, and vanilla in your coffee.”
It was her turn now. She blinked back tears before opening her mouth. “You have been my dream man since I was a teenager, and that's never changed, even when you were trying your hardest to ignore my sloppy seductions, pretending to dislike me, or actively flagellating yourself for lovi
ng me when you thought you shouldn't. You have always been my heart. Now, here with our friends and family, we are finally making almost all my dreams come true.” She stopped to dash away a tear. “When we have a family, my teenage dreams will be complete. Now it's time to begin our life together.” She paused. “Even if you are obsessed with coffee.”
“Not as much as I am with you,” he whispered.
“Do you have the rings?” the preacher asked Mason. Her brother produced a small box from inside his tux pocket and handed it to the older man.
“Carter, place this ring on Camryn's finger and repeat after me.”
The rings were exchanged, the final vows repeated, and Camryn was officially Mrs. Carter Jamieson. The future was bright, and she couldn't wait for it to begin.
About Hayden Braeburn
I've been writing since I could hold a pencil and string together letters. Right now, that means I'm writing between the hours of 7pm and midnight weeknights and whenever possible on weekends, although life has a tendency to get in the way of that on occasion.
I actually minored in English in college and have somehow been roped into editing at least half the younger cousins college papers for years. It seems there is always someone writing something and I am the sucker who gets to help.
In real life I write all day, but it's always technical, often legal, and always with a lot of math thrown in for fun. I am an avid reader—almost exclusively under the romance umbrella— everything from the occasional sweet romance to BDSM, paranormal, and everything in-between.
There are a ton of storylines and characters in my head, and I hope to get them all out and ready for primetime in the near future. There are plans for lots more in Aylesford, Tyler, and Ashford Hills.
I love to hear from readers. Find me on facebook, twitter, goodreads, my blog, or good ol' email!
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