by Hamel, B. B.
Suddenly, a black pickup truck came around the corner and pulled over in front of Camden, pulling me from my thoughts. I watched as three men climbed out and approached. I felt my heart beat faster, nervousness flooding me.
Camden smiled and gestured. The men said something, moved slightly closer. They looked tough, but that could have just been my mind playing tricks. I was too far to get a really good look at them. Camden held his hands out and the men stopped moving. They were talking, but I had no clue what they were saying. I couldn’t read lips.
Camden didn’t look scared, and the men didn’t look aggressive. The more I stared, they looked normal, actually, like they were fishermen. One was middle aged, going to fat a little bit, but had a full head of dark hair cut short. He wore a sweater and jeans and a dark jacket. The other two were younger, though not by too much more. The longer I watched, the more I saw a resemblance, and I realized that they were probably related.
The older man was doing the most talking. The one younger guy was wearing a red vest, and he stood off to the side, his arms crossed. The other young guy had a hat on with a bunch of different colors in the weave, and he was more active in whatever they were saying. Camden seemed to ignore both of the young guys, only looking at the older man.
My heart was hammering in my chest and throat. I felt almost sick and trapped in the car. It had become almost like a second home for a while there, but suddenly it was like a coffin.
I wanted to get out. I wanted to open the door and breathe the fresh, cold air. Instead, I stayed where I was, because Camden had told me to.
What’s taking them so long? I thought.
I wanted whatever was going to happen to happen already. The waiting was the worst part. I was sick of waiting, sick of traveling, sick of being in limbo. I wanted something solid.
I was practically itching with anticipation and worry.
And then Camden looked right at me. My breath caught in my throat as his gaze pierced directly into the front windshield.
The two men followed his eyes. Camden nodded and gestured, drawing me out.
I stared at him. The men didn’t move, just watched. Camden gestured again, this time clearly wanting me to come over.
Slowly, I climbed out of the car. My heart was racing. I could barely breathe.
I began the long walk over.
It was happening. These men, these dangerous men, whoever they were, they might be deadly.
But I had to trust Camden.
And as I left the relative safety of the car, I realized that I did. I trusted him with my life, with my everything.
I sat squished in the front seat of the truck. Camden was against the window and I was between him and the older man. His name was Mikhail, and the two younger guys were Tomas and Brent. The two boys were cousins, and they were all Russian immigrants as far as I could tell, though I didn’t exactly ask.
“How far is this place?” Camden asked Mikhail.
“Not too far,” he said, his Russian accent obvious but not overwhelming. “Maybe twenty more minutes.”
The two boys were sitting in the back flat bed, and I realized they must have been freezing with the bitter wind created by the moving truck. I glanced back at them and neither of them seemed to mind. They just sat there gazing out at the woodland as we drove by, their hair waving slightly in the wind.
“Don’t worry about them,” Mikhail said, smiling at me. “They’re strong boys. They will be okay.”
“It’s cold out there,” I said simply.
“Always cold here. But not as cold as Russia.”
Camden laughed. “Russians always say that.”
“It’s true! Your Alaska is nice place. But Russia is big and bold and always fucking freezing cold.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said.
“It is.” Mikhail smiled at me again.
Camden nudged my leg and rolled his eyes. I stifled a laugh.
We continued driving through the forest down a small dirt road. We’d left the main highway ten minutes back and were traveling toward what looked like a string of mountains. Mikhail said the house was nearby, not quite at the mountains, but they seemed so close, almost like I could touch them already. They must have been absolutely huge.
“Is Trip meeting us there?” Camden asked.
“Trip isn’t there right now.”
“But he will be?”
“Yes, yes. He will be tomorrow.”
“Where is he?”
“Getting supplies. Cold here. Need lots of fuel. Lots of food.”
“What about our parents?”
“They are good, very good. We treat them as good as possible.”
“My mom is okay?”
“Your mom sings every day and takes long, hot baths.”
Camden was silent and looked back out the window. His expression had briefly turned confused, but it was gone. I glanced at him but had no clue what was going on inside his head.
“What about my dad?” I asked.
“He takes long walks. And drinks vodka with us after dinner.”
I laughed and shook my head. I wasn’t surprised that he was taking to life in the wilderness, especially the part about the drinking.
Back in Juneau, as soon as I approached the group, Camden had explained what was going on. Mikhail was the leader of a small Russian mob contingent out in Alaska, mostly running drugs in and out of Canada. Apparently Trip had been a good business partner back in the day, and he was paying them a good deal of money to shelter everyone until the Mexican cartel lost interest.
Mikhail, Tomas, and Brent were members of the mob. Mikhail was clearly the leader, though Tomas seemed like he was second in command. Brent didn’t say a single word, and he actually creeped me out a bit. I avoided looking at him for too long.
But Mikhail was nice enough. Maybe a little rough and gruff, but he didn’t seem dangerous at all. In fact, he seemed like just another old fisherman or hunter, not at all like he was some kind of dangerous mobster. Maybe looks could be deceiving, but I immediately liked Mikhail. The tension that had been dogging me ever since we’d left Hammond was beginning to slightly release, and I was excited to finally see my dad again.
The plan was for the three of them to drive us up to a small cabin near a lake where we’d be staying. He said that a few of his men took turns sleeping at the place to keep watch, but that we had the run of it for the most part.
And that we’d be staying there for a while, out in the middle of nowhere.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
On the one hand, it meant I didn’t have to stress about the Mexicans catching up with us again. On the other, it was probably going to be pretty damn boring out in that cabin with nothing to do.
Nothing to do except Camden. I felt a thrill run through me as I imagined all the different things he could do to me out in the wilderness. I wanted to fuck him in the forest, up against a tree, or down on the rough dirt. I knew it wasn’t the best place to fantasize about fucking my stepbrother, especially when we were on our way to see our parents, but I couldn’t help it.
I was soaking wet, my panties useless, as I glanced over at Camden. I hoped that Mikhail wouldn’t notice, but I knew that was a crazy thought. Nobody would suspect that Camden and I had something going on between us. After all, stepsiblings didn’t usually want to sleep with each other as badly as we did.
Then again, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Now that the danger was behind us, and I felt myself beginning to relax, I knew there was a deep well of unresolved and unexamined feelings bubbling below the surface when it came to Camden.
Every time I looked at him, it was a struggle. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry.
The truck’s heater was on full blast, and I felt good, safe, and happy for the first time since everything had happened. We were on our way to see our parents. We didn’t have to worry about the cartel catching us.
And yet Camden didn’t look happy. He looked downright conc
erned, though he seemed to be making an effort not to show it. As we continued to drive in silence, Camden simply stared out the window, the frown on his face deepening with every minute.
I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.
“Here we are,” Mikhail said, turning onto yet another dirt road. Up ahead, smoke was curling up through the trees, and Mikhail was angling for it.
“Back here?” I asked.
“Da, da, back here. Very beautiful cabin. Very beautiful area.” He grinned at me. “But you be careful of bear.”
“There are bears here?”
“Sure, big scary bears. The kind that will eat you up if you don’t run very fast.”
“He’s messing with you,” Camden said.
“No, never mess with pretty girl.”
“I can handle a bear,” I said.
Mikhail laughed loudly. “I’m sure you can. I believe you are very strong.”
The truck pulled through a break in the woods, and up ahead was a large house. It wasn’t at all what I expected. In my head it was a log cabin, basically nothing more than a little shack. But this house was the opposite of that.
It was big. Not enormous, but bigger than most houses I knew. It had satellite dishes on the top and a four-car garage attached to the side. It looked modern, or at least modern enough, with a corrugated tin roof and tan stucco. There was one other truck parked out front, and smoke curled from the chimney, but otherwise the place looked empty.
Camden put his arm around me. I looked at him and smiled, excitement filling me. I wanted to kiss him, but I knew it would be weird in front of Mikhail. I loved the contact and hoped he knew that I felt the same way: we were finally somewhere safe. We didn’t have to run anymore.
But the look on his face suddenly terrified me. He was deadly serious, almost blank, and he wasn’t looking at me.
“Stop the car,” Camden said.
“What is wrong?” Mikhail asked.
“Stop or I blow your fucking head off.”
Mikhail was silent. Then he glanced at the hand that was on my shoulder. I looked too and realized that Camden was holding a gun pointed right at Mikhail’s face.
“What is this?”
“I said, stop the car. And tell your boys to stay where they are.”
“You shoot me? I help you.” Mikhail seemed outraged.
“My mom doesn’t take baths, and she doesn’t fucking sing. Stop the truck.”
After half a second, the truck slowly came to a halt. We were about fifty feet from the front of the house.
“Roll down the window. Tell your boys to relax.”
Mikhail rolled down the window and yelled something in Russian. The two boys perked up but didn’t move.
“If you speak Russian again, I’ll kill you,” Camden said.
“What’s your goal here?”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out of the truck,” Camden repeated.
Mikhail looked at me and I stared back, fear jolting through me. I had no clue what was happening, but I was trusting Camden.
“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” he asked me.
“Talk to her again and I kill you. This would be easier if you were dead, you know.”
He glared at Camden for a second and then began to move. He unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and slowly climbed out of the truck, keeping his hands in sight at all times. He stood just outside the door.
“Slide into the driver’s seat,” Camden said to me.
I did as he asked. He kept the gun pointed at Mikhail.
“Tell them to get out,” he said.
Mikhail motioned at the boys and they both climbed off.
“Shut the door.”
Mikhail slammed it shut.
“Reverse out of here,” Camden said to me.
“Camden, what’s—”
“Fuck, do it now, Lacey!”
I jammed the truck into reverse and slammed on the gas. It shot back, scattering the three men. I saw the boys draw weapons seemingly out of nowhere and aim at us.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack from somewhere toward the house and a loud bang from the truck. The steering suddenly felt strange, like I was having trouble controlling the car. There was a loud flapping and banging sound coming from underneath the truck as I continued driving.
“Shit!” Camden said.
There was another crack and another loud bang. The truck started to swerve.
“Camden!” I yelled. He grabbed the wheel and tried to stabilize the truck, but we were out of control.
“Brake!” he yelled over the sound of grinding gravel.
I slammed the brakes but it was too late. The back of the truck fishtailed and we began to skid. Finally, we slammed into a tree.
The airbag deployed, a white blur slamming into my face as I was thrown forward. I heard a sickening crunch and felt blinding pain roll through my body. The whole scene suddenly went into slow motion as smoke curled up from the car’s engine, filling the cabin.
I heard a ringing in my ears and managed to look up, groggy. Camden was wedged up against the windshield and the dashboard, blood running down his forehead. I tried to say something but couldn’t. He wasn’t moving.
I looked up. The house seemed so far away. I grabbed for the door handle, terrified and desperate.
Why did Camden do this? kept running through my mind.
As I pushed open the door, rough hands grabbed me. They pulled me out into the cold air. It felt good, being out of the car.
“Camden,” I said. The arms gathered me up, lifting me off the ground. Someone said something, but I couldn’t understand. The ringing in my ears was so loud, and I was really dizzy.
“Camden,” I said again.
Nobody answered. I tried to look around, but I couldn’t find him.
I realized that I was slung over Mikhail’s shoulder, and they were carrying me toward the house. I looked over and saw Camden held between the cousins, his head dangling limp as blood from a cut on his head trickled down into his eyes.
I tried to struggle but couldn’t. My head was pounding, but at least the ringing and the dizziness was starting to abate. Mikhail kicked open the front door and carried us inside.
The house was sparely furnished. I didn’t get a good look, though, because I was practically upside down and not thinking right. We went through another door and down some steps, around a few more corners, and I was finally deposited down onto a chair in a tiny room.
Camden came in after me and was shoved down onto the chair beside me. The cousins began to duct tape our hands and feet to the chairs, and finally wrapped tape around our mouths. I looked at Camden and felt relieved to see that he was gazing back at me, sadness and fury in his eyes. But he was alive and conscious.
Mikhail stood in front of us, smiling.
“You should have done this the easy way,” he said.
Camden tried to say something and struggled against his bonds. Tomas punched him in the gut, making him stop.
“Don’t struggle, Camden,” Mikhail said. He gestured at the boys, who both left the room immediately.
I looked around. There was no window and the walls were made of cinderblock. I had no clue how everything had suddenly changed without warning, my whole world shifting again. One second I was happy for the first time since everything had happened, and the next I was duct taped to a chair and shaking with fear, my head still spinning from the crash. I inspected my surroundings some more, trying to get my bearings. The door was thick wood with several locks on the outside. There was a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling and a little grate in the floor toward the back corner. It felt damp and uncomfortable, though that was probably because I was duct taped to a chair.
Mikhail stood there grinning at us for another minute. My head was pounding, but I was able to think more clearly with every passing minute.
“Well, here you are,” he said. “Welcome to salvation.” He laughed
softly to himself. “Trip will be seeing you both soon, I’m sure.”
He turned to leave, but he stopped and looked back. His eyes were shining with joy, like he was thinking of the funniest joke in the world.
“And by the way,” he said, grinning wickedly, “El Tiburon says hello.”
He slammed the door and was gone.
14
Camden
I was so fucking stupid to not see it coming sooner.
I knew something was strange about the guys. The way they carried themselves didn’t make them seem like they were normal civilians, but then again they were up front about being mob. I figured that was all there was to it. But I didn’t put it together until it was much too late.
El Tiburon worked with people up north to help distribute the product. It must have been Mikhail and his people; otherwise, why would the Russian mob be working with a random Mexican cartel? I knew it seemed odd at first that Trip knew some Russian mobsters, but their story seemed like it made sense.
But I didn’t put that together until we were almost to the safe house. By that point, there wasn’t much I could do.
And then when I finally did make my move, it hadn’t worked. I put Lacey in danger and I didn’t even get us away.
Anger and pained lanced through my body. I looked over at her and saw the anger reflected in her eyes. We were stuck to the chairs, alone in the basement room. The duct tape itched and was cutting off the circulation to my hands, but I didn’t care.
To come so far, only to get caught by another random mob.
But this proved it beyond a measure of a doubt: Trip had betrayed us. I didn’t know why, but Trip clearly wasn’t who he said he was. Or at least he had motives I didn’t understand.
Question swirled through my mind. Why hadn’t he just killed me sooner? Who had blown our cover?
And most importantly, what happened next?
The room was damp and cold as time slowly ticked past. I wanted to tell Lacey that it was going to be okay, but the tape over my mouth made sure I wasn’t speaking anytime soon. I had no clue how long we were down there before someone finally came to the door. It was Mikhail again with Tomas in tow.