For Life

by Debra Kayn

  "No, it doesn't work that way." He turned his attention back to the paper. "If you look here, crime stats went up in March and April, because more men were living on the outside."

  "But I don't recognize any of the names from the other papers. Who's doing the crimes?"

  "The list of names you went through were known members of organized motorcycle clubs. That just tells me it's not bikers putting pressure on Moroad. It's also not the MCs that are committing the crimes. It's the gangs, Reds and Blues specifically," he said, straightening the pile of papers and slipping them all back into the envelope. "We're narrowing it down."

  "But, I thought you knew Reds were the problem," she said, getting to her feet and following him across the room to the stage. "Right?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, I know they're responsible. I just need to cover every area."

  She scraped her lip against her teeth. None of this made sense. If he already knew the group responsible for the attack on Moroad, what did he learn today?

  "Thanks, man. I owe you." Cam shook Ink's hand.

  "No debt." Ink folded the envelope and shoved it in his back pocket. "Bantorus MC wants to keep Federal clean and if that's your priority, we'll help if we can."

  "I appreciate." Cam stepped backward.

  "Congratulations again, Ink. Please pass on my happiness to Lilly," Christina said.

  "I will. Thanks." Ink turned and went back to work on sanding the corner of the stage.

  Cam led Christina out the back door and stopped beside the bike. "What was that about?"

  "They're adopting one of the babies in the Silver Valley foster care system." She smiled, excited a child would have a real home, real parents, and a real chance to grow up without any of the baggage of how he came into the world. "I'm shocked they were approved. Don't get me wrong, they're lovely people and I think they do great for the community, but Ink is huge into his biker club and Lilly runs an adult business...not exactly occupations that'll get them voted for parents of the year. Yet, I can't help being excited for them. A stable home for Tanner with two parents he never has to leave is a gift."

  Cam handed her the helmet. "Listen to what you said."

  She latched the strap under her chin. "What do you mean?"

  "The only difference between their kid and Jeremy is that our kid isn't a baby." Cam mounted the bike. "Hop on. I need to think and if it's safe, we'll stop by the river on the way home."

  She climbed up behind him and hugged his waist. Stunned by his proclamation, she couldn't reply if she'd wanted to. Was the situation between baby Tanner so similar to how Jeremy came to live with Cam? Was he insinuating Ink and Lilly paid off someone higher up to put the adoption in their favor? Was he judging her, because she had confidence Ink and Lilly would do right by the child and she blamed him for bringing Jeremy into Moroad MC and giving him a family, even though that family consisted of criminals that had no desire to change?

  The cars parked along Main Street blurred in her vision. No, she judged Cam's actions. She'd formed her own opinion prior to knowing he was Prisoner #18794 and believed the stereotypes about bikers. In his case, he lived up to every single one, but she'd witnessed the growth in Jeremy. He blossomed under the strict rules of the MC and Cam's unconventional parenting.

  She lifted her chin and watched the viaduct as Cam rode under and turned right at the first road. Her spine tingled and she hugged Cam tighter. He was right.

  Jeremy's life was better than what he had in foster care and he'd found the strength and desire to mature within the family. While she couldn't change her opinion on what was morally right and wrong, she could admit Jeremy benefited from having Cam in his life, the same way she benefited. The same way baby Tanner would benefit from Ink and Lilly.

  If only the danger toward Moroad MC would stop, she'd believe life was close to perfect. She propped her chin on Cam's shoulder. He reached down and rubbed her thigh. The connection, the love, the support she gained from him finally returned. They'd both adapted. He'd adjusted to living on the outside again, and she believed in him and their future.

  Cam pulled off the road onto a gravel strip leading to the river. She looked behind them. Her stomach quivered in excitement. No one followed. They were safe to enjoy some private time together.

  The motorcycle rolled to a stop and Cam cut the engine. She slid off the back and the moment he stood, she jumped into his arms and kissed him.

  She pulled back and blurted her thoughts before she changed her mind. "You're right. I'm wrong. Sorta wrong, but not all the way."

  "You're sure about that?" His lips twitched in amusement.

  She shrugged. "Yeah...I guess."

  "You guess?"

  She laughed. "I'm good with everything up to this point."

  "I'll take that." He set her down on her feet and motioned to the water. "Cool off if you'd like. We're not going to stay long."

  Cam walked over to a boulder and sat, picking up a rock and tossing it in the river. Christina, too content to sit, walked to the water's edge and peered into the clear, almost green, depths at the pebbles lining the bottom of the riverbed.

  The sun beat down on her bare shoulders, heating her body. She leaned over and dipped her hands in the water, rubbing the wetness on her arms. The water chilled her instantly.

  "I'll be taking off late tonight, so I can be at the prison in the morning," Cam said.

  She lifted her gaze to him. "But you have a run tomorrow night. You won't have any time to sleep."

  "I'll be fine." He stretched out his leg and rubbed his knee.

  She hated how he pushed himself, not admitting every step caused him pain. His knee would never be the same after the attack in prison. Though she'd tried to convince him to see a doctor in hope someone could re-break the bone and set it straight, he adamantly refused to seek medical care. He seemed set on living with the pain, which she couldn't understand. He had enough money to see a doctor even without insurance.

  "Can I ask you a question?" she asked, stepping over the rocks to reach him.

  "Shoot," he said.

  She glared. "That's not funny."

  "Not trying to be, baby." He pulled her down on his lap.

  She looped her arms around his broad shoulders. "You've told me Reds are coming after Moroad to take possession of the business you do on the runs you go on. Since I do the books, I know the runs are what bring money to the club. What I don't know is what you're doing on the runs?"

  "I'm not going to tell you." He lifted his hand and put his finger on her lips to stop her from talking. "I don't want you to know. I have no desire to share that part of my life with you, or make you understand the inner workings of Moroad. It's none of your business."

  She leaned forward and placed her forehead on his. "Because I won't like it?"

  "It has nothing to do with whether you agree with what I'm doing or not. It's something I've set up for myself to make a living and support my members. It's our livelihood whether we're on the inside of the cell or outside. It's a life that won't touch you."

  She could argue the point that she'd already been touched by the dangers directed at the club. Anything that had to do with Cam influenced and affected her.

  "We better get back to the house." He scooped her up and carried her to the motorcycle.

  After she sat behind him, prepared to ride, she said, "Why don't you ever say 'home' instead of always calling it the house?"

  He paused with his hand on the key. "Because a house has four walls and a door that locks, the same way a cell inside the prison surrounds me. I don't know what home even means."

  The engine started. Her heart broke for anyone who never grew up in a loving home or received unconditional love, security, and roots. Even as a child, Cam lacked any kind of normal home life. He ended up with abusive parents who thought more of themselves than the child they'd given birth to and then neglected.

  Would she be able to provide the atmosphere of a loving home and give him what he needed?


  She had a feeling Cam's prison, whether in the state pen or at the house, was his way of protecting himself. His bars reached too high and were too strong for her to break down.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Behind the Plexiglas at the prison, Jacko sat at the table, laughing his fucking head off, and ignored the guard locking his leg to the chair. Cam stared at the incarcerated Moroad MC member. He could only guess what travesty Jacko committed to get behind the glass.

  Cam was one of the few people who knew Jacko's insanity plea was bogus. Jacko had more brains and mental stability than anyone he knew, including him.

  Unable to wait while Jacko yacked it up for the guard's pleasure, Cam lifted the phone off the wall and pointed through the glass for him to pick up the damn earpiece on his side.

  "You're fucking crazy," Cam said the moment Jacko picked up on a 'yo'.

  "Pure entertainment, my friend." Jacko winked. "It keeps the boys away and the girls think it's sexy."

  "When's the last time you've seen a set of tits?"

  Jacko raised his brows. "Last night. Laundry. She said her name was Julia."

  Cam shook his head. He figured Jacko had his own way of working the system and prison employees were fair game if you could catch them all alone. Between the lunchroom, the laundry station, and night check, there were enough females if you got desperate.

  "Listen close, because I got shit to talk about." Cam glanced at the guard behind Jacko, turned, and let his beard hide the movement of his lips. "It's getting hot, man. I think we need more guys taking the walk for a while."

  He hadn't brought up the idea to the members yet but if a few more men from Moroad went inside, he could keep Reds from walking out and threatening the chain. Moroad would make sure Reds were written up, taking away any chance of parole.

  Jacko shook his head. "No need, man. Numbers are way down and the cells are overfilled with willing Moroad members waiting for permission to cause a little trouble with Reds."

  "Are you feeling the power shift inside?" Cam asked.

  Like a fucking nail in my foot." Jacko laughed, slapping the table. While he continued to bang away, he whispered, "Pretaro's loaded."

  "Now?"

  "Yeah." Jacko calmed down from distracting the guard. "I cushed on a job a couple of days ago and got the lingo you were speaking about last time. Names and answers, brother."

  Cam gripped the phone tighter. Somehow, Jacko came through for him. He needed to find out who let all the Reds members out and stop anymore from going free. If he could keep the numbers to his advantage, he'd disassemble the threat on the outside. Hell, he'd love to keep every Reds member locked up and let them deal with the Moroad members on the inside.

  "I'm fucking glad to hear that." Cam moistened his lips. "I need one more thing. Have you heard any talk about my kid?"

  Jacko shook his head. "Not a word."

  Cam exhaled. As far as he knew, he'd eliminated the problem when he'd killed Ferris. Except, desperate men enjoyed spreading their secrets to protect themselves in case anything happened. Favors inside prison were given away more freely than money at a strip show. Sometimes the only thing standing between an inmate and freedom was the information exchanged at the last moment. Divulging secrets to the enemy became an inmate's golden ticket to the street.

  "I'll deposit extra in the depository for you," Cam said. "Maybe even convince Katie or Lola into writing you."

  Jacko's gaze intensified. "Skip the women. I need something else from you."

  "Anything."

  "There's a number on the paper you'll be getting. Call it and tell the person on the other end it's time." Jacko's eye twitched. "I'm up for parole in a year and I'm not going to make it much longer on the inside, man. I need out."

  "I'll do my best." Cam nodded. "Anything else?"

  "No, man. It's time to change sceneries before I lose myself and the chunks start slipping me little white pills." Jacko chuckled, and the sound came over the phone pained. "It's time."

  "I hear you," Cam said. "If the pressure gets too much have one of the other Moroad members use their daily phone call to get ahold of me. I'll do what I can, brother."

  "I know you will." Jacko's shoulders widened. "Ride safe."

  "Stay strong." Cam hung up the phone and watched Jacko signal the guard.

  Not wanting to hang around and witness his MC brother leaving, and in a hurry to find out what Pretaro had for him, he stood and walked to the door and rang the buzzer.

  A guard he didn't recognize opened the door. He stepped through and waited in the hall to follow the guard out of the building. Sweat broke out in his pits. He'd expected Pretaro.

  God damn it. Jacko told him the information would come from Pretaro, so where the hell was he?

  Every visit to the prison came about because Pretaro could get him inside without anyone knowing any differently. His forged visitation paperwork protected Pretaro's job, but if someone stopped him at any stage of walking through the locked doors and found out his identity, he could forget about getting back to Federal. They'd slam him back inside before he could get away.

  At the last door, the guard stopped and studied him. Cam lifted his chin, nothing more, nothing less.

  The guard spoke into the intercom, flashed his employee badge, and the door swung open. "Go ahead and walk out, the gate to the parking lot will open for you."

  "Thanks." He walked away, forcing himself to take longer steps instead of hurrying.

  The three minutes it took to walk out of the fence and half way across the parking lot let reality soak in. He'd wasted a trip. Either Jacko bull shitted his way through the meeting and had no plans to pass Cam the information he needed or someone caught Pretaro leaking info to the outside. Fuck, Pretaro would call out every Moroad MC member to save his own ass.

  Tension strung his muscles tight and he dreaded the long eight-hour ride back home. He inhaled deeply and slowed his pace, giving his knee a rest. He couldn't believe Jacko would screw him over, not when he wanted a favor in return. It'd be impossible to make another visit to the prison without raising suspicions.

  He dug out his keys and stepped up to his motorcycle. Going home without knowing who helped Reds members obtain early release, changed nothing. The threat against the chain would continue. He'd keep Christina in lockdown at the house, and watch his men for anyone who had the idea to betray him by ratting him out.

  Hell, he controlled what happened on the outside better from inside the state pen. He had too much to fight for with Christina and Jeremy in his life. He couldn't afford another sentence, because he'd be locked up for life. The state of Idaho never went easy on repeat felons.

  He rode out of the parking lot and down the long road leading off the prison property. He turned onto the old highway road and rolled his shoulders, easing the tension. Even his body knew the second he left sight of prison. His muscles relaxed and in place of the stress, weakness left him disillusioned.

  A silver crew cab with darkened windows sat parked on the right side of the road a quarter mile ahead. He peered into his side mirror and instantly went in awareness mode. His pistol sat hidden in a mailbox three miles down the road where he stored it during his trip to the inside. The odds stacked against him.

  He'd turned down the offer for escorts on his trip, because he wanted everyone back in Federal in case Christina needed help. He punched the throttle and picked up speed. He'd need to outrun whoever sat in the truck and hope he could lose them.

  Thirty feet from the truck, the door of the vehicle opened and Pretaro stepped out of the driver's seat and held his hand up in the air. Cam locked the back brake, skidded to a stop beyond Pretaro, and turned his motorcycle around. He rolled to the side of the road, toed his kickstand, and got off his bike.

  Pretaro met him at the front of the truck and held out a folded paper. "You don't know where you got this information."

  "Yeah." Cam frowned and shoved the paper into the inner pocket on his club vest
. "What's up with meeting me here and not having my back while I was visiting Jacko?"

  Pretaro glanced down the road, adjusted his baseball cap, and said, "Because if I'm caught with the information I handed over to you, I'll end up dead. I have a wife, kids, a house payment to take care of and without me, they'd suffer."

  "What kind of information are you talking about?" Cam wanted to know now if Jacko came through for him and Pretaro stayed loyal to Moroad.

  "Names. Something big is going down on the inside. New guards are coming in, old ones not showing up for work. The supervisor has hinted at segregation within the cells. They want the Reds separated from the blue, and Moroad on the third level by themselves."

  "The reason?"

  "They want us to believe we'll have more control over the inmates and the men will stop fighting. The change will give gang members the chance to bond again." Pretaro's gaze jumped all over the area the longer he talked. "Those names you've got...they're using the incarcerated Reds members for their dirty work in exchange for early parole."

  "What names?" Cam asked, hyperaware of the dangers of someone else leading the inmates around and Moroad losing control.

  "They're all there in the papers." Pretaro rubbed the back of his neck. "Every fucking one."

  Cam's thoughts went to the long-range goals for Moroad and why the chunks would restructure the whole fucking prison. He patted his vest, assured he held the answers. "Are these names coming after Moroad?"

  Pretaro knew nothing about the gun chain or how Moroad worked on the outside. Cam suspected Pretaro only picked up clues on the inside from inmates talking, and that's the way Cam wanted to keep their relationship. Everyone had a price and the information Pretaro delivered came on an as-need basis at a thousand dollars a pop.

  Pretaro shook his head. "Reds are scratching backs with the power on the inside. They have their own agenda and keeping tight control over keeping their dealings private. I couldn't even give you a guess, except a few of them have talked to Blues inside and walked away alive, so something is up. But, no, I haven't heard if any of the names on that paper having a target on Moroad."