by May Archer
Damon cleared his throat, and Cain shook himself out of his thoughts.
“Listen, we need your help,” he began.
“So you said when you called.” Drew ushered them over to the table. “You want anything to drink?”
“Not a social call,” Damon growled, and Drew shot him a glare.
“Right,” Drew snapped as he resumed his seat. “Okay, then. What do you need?”
“A car.” Cain slid into the seat to Drew’s left.
From across the table, Bas blinked, then smirked. “Time for an upgrade, Shaw?”
“Leave him alone,” Damon said, grabbing the seat next to Cain and pulling it out fully so he could stretch out his leg as he sat. His position brought his entire injured leg to rest along the length of Cain’s, and Cain had to stifle a gasp at even that casual contact. Jesus.
Bas narrowed his eyes at Damon, who ignored him. “My sister called this morning,” he explained instead.
“Chelsea?”
“Yeah,” Damon told Bas. “Someone broke into her apartment last night.”
“Shit.” For the first time, Drew looked at Damon with something other than dislike. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She and her daughter are fine. For now.” He glanced at Cain and repeated, “For now. But we need to get her out of town, fast. And we need a car to do it.”
In a few words, Cain explained the threat that Chelsea had received. “Someone knows Damon is alive,” he concluded. “They’re harassing his sister in their attempts to keep him quiet. We have limited options.”
“Fuck.” Drew sighed. “I wondered how long we’d be able to keep that under wraps.”
“What do you mean?” Cain demanded.
“Damon is a human being living his life.” Drew shrugged. “He didn’t move to Alaska to hide out, so it makes sense that he’d be seen at some point.”
Damon nodded, like he’d expected that. Apparently, Cain was the only one who hadn’t realized Damon would eventually be discovered.
“It was never going to be a long-term solution,” Bas said, giving Cain a significant glance. “Which is why we need a way to make Damon safe permanently.”
Cain rubbed a hand over his scalp in frustration.
“Not now, Seaver,” Damon said, making a slicing motion with his hand. “That’s an issue we can figure out later, and Cain and I have some ideas.”
“You and Cain?” Bas scoffed. “You and young Shaw here are, what? A team now?”
Cain swallowed hard and focused intently on the wood grain of the table, waiting to hear what Damon would say.
“How about for once you stop being a dick,” Drew told Bas in a low voice.
“Me?” Bas crowed, leaning into Drew’s space. “That’s rich, coming from a man who generally only relates to people by being a dick or kissing ass.”
“You use peoples’ feelings as ammunition against them!” Drew fumed. “Christ.”
He pushed his chair back from the table with a loud screech and stood up, stalking toward the kitchen. He stood by the island for a second, taking a deep breath like he was composing himself, then turned and opened a cabinet door, taking down a ring of keys.
“Here,” he said, handing Cain a key chain with a tag shaped like a Crayola-blue sand dollar. “You can take my Acura. Leave your truck in my garage.”
“Camp Burgess?” Cain said, reading the clumsy black letters inscribed on the tag.
Bas frowned. “Let me see that.” He leaned across the table to grab the keys from Cain’s hand.
Drew crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s from that summer camp we went to when we were thirteen.”
“I made this,” Bas accused, staring at Drew. “I painted it in that stupid arts and crafts class.”
“If you say so,” Drew said dismissively, like he didn’t remember one way or the other, but even Cain could tell he was lying.
“You kept this for… twenty years?” Bas demanded.
“Apparently,” Drew challenged.
Silence fell as Bas and Drew stared at one another, and tension thickened the air around them.
“We need to go,” Damon whispered in Cain’s ear, and Cain stood. He was more than ready to leave anyway.
Sebastian took one last long look at the keychain, then placed it in Cain’s palm. “Uh. Be careful,” he said without meeting Cain’s eyes.
“Yeah.” Cain agreed. He walked to Drew and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the coiled tension in the other man’s frame. “Thanks.”
Drew nodded. “No worries.” He seemed to collect himself and frowned at Damon. “I want a text from one of you every day, letting us know you’re okay.”
“You gonna call out the cavalry if we fall off the map?” Damon joked, but Bas nodded seriously.
“Yeah. You’re not alone anymore. Cort is my family now, thanks to my stubborn brother, and that means you’re family too.”
“I don’t want Cort involved in any of this,” Damon said. “That’s why I didn’t go to him for help. He’s too close to me. Last thing I need is somebody fucking with him the way they fucked with Chelsea.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “You do recall that Cort is an FBI-trained security expert, right? He can probably take care of himself better than you.”
“He’s also my kid brother,” Damon reminded him, and Drew nodded reluctantly.
“Fair enough. But he’s going to want to know where you are,” he warned. “If you’re gone for longer than a day or two.”
“I’m not going to lie to him,” Damon agreed. “I did enough of that. You feel free to tell him what you know, if he asks. Just don’t volunteer anything.”
Drew nodded, a small smile curling the edges of his mouth. “I can do that.” He reached out and clasped Damon’s hand. “Take care.”
“Will do.” Damon lifted his chin in acknowledgment. Drew ushered them out a side door from the kitchen to a three-bay garage, where a silver Acura SUV was parked alongside a cherry-red Dodge Charger and a half-restored classic car that sported a patchwork-quilt of various colors.
Damon and Drew stepped through the door, but Sebastian held Cain back.
“He’s been through enough,” Bas warned, tilting his head toward Damon. His voice was low and his blue eyes anything but friendly. “Whatever you’re thinking, whatever idea you and your dad are planning? Think again. I will ruin you both.”
Cain pulled his arm out of Bas’s grasp, sudden fury suffusing him. He was tired of this bullshit. Sebastian Seaver had no grounds to judge him. Fuck that.
“Suddenly you think you’re Damon’s defender?” he hissed.
“He’s family,” Bas said again. And you’re not was left unsaid, but couldn’t have been clearer.
“Let’s get one thing straight. Damon has been through enough, partly because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut after the crash. Who worked up the media? Who wanted his pound of flesh even from a man he thought was dead?” He watched in satisfaction as Bas’s face flushed. “Yeah, that’s right. And I am well aware that my father is an asshole, but don’t you dare lecture me about the choices we make for the sake of our families before you take a long look in the mirror, Sebastian Seaver.”
Bas’s eyebrow twitched. “So you’re not totally incapable of finding your balls when you need to stand up for something? That’s comforting, Shaw.”
Cain shook his head. He couldn’t believe he’d tortured himself over Bas’s opinion of him when the guy was fucking clueless. “Once again, Seaver, look in the mirror. I have no clue what’s going on with you and Drew, but how about you man up and stop dicking him around?”
Bas’s chin went back and his jaw set.
“Cain? You coming, kid?” Damon called from the garage.
Cain’s gaze swung in his direction. Kid. Really? Again? Cain was in a temper, and Damon had been warned.
“Yeah, Big Daddy,” he said sweetly. “I’ll drive.”
Chapter 6
“Wh
at did Bas want?”
Cain glanced over at Damon. The man looked deceptively calm sprawled in the passenger seat of Drew’s Acura, with his long legs stretched out and his leather seat tilted back, unless you noticed his hands. His right was coiled into a fist and digging into his injured leg, while the left beat a relentless rhythm against the center console.
The dashboard GPS Damon had programmed showed they were about twenty minutes into the forty-minute drive to Chelsea’s house, and Damon had been silent the entire way. But Cain felt the man’s tension building, much the way he’d watched thunderstorms brewing in the heavy clouds on the far side of the mountain back at his parents’ cabin - he wondered when it would break, and whether he would be in the path of destruction when it did.
Cain considered his response for a second as he shifted into the left lane and poured on the speed. Damon had told Chelsea an hour, and they were running late.
He really didn’t want to tell Damon all the shit Bas has spouted. Cain was pretty sure Damon had doubts about him already - all those pointed remarks about Cain’s loyalty this morning had made that abundantly clear - and he didn’t want to fuel the fire. But he also recognized he couldn’t show he was trustworthy by lying.
“He warned me that I’d better not be planning to mess things up for you,” Cain said simply.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Damon’s head tilt back. “What?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. You heard him earlier. You’re family now.”
Damon shook his head. “I do not understand that guy.”
“It’s not real complicated, Big Daddy.” Cain smirked as Damon’s head twisted in his direction.
“You’re not calling me that. That’s never going to be a thing.”
Cain hummed thoughtfully. “Too late. Pretty sure it’s already a thing.” When Damon didn’t reply, he shrugged and continued, “Bas feels bad for the way things happened after the accident. He’s decent at the core, even if he seems like a total asshole.”
“I guess,” Damon said dubiously. Then a minute later, he added, “And what did you tell him?”
“That he needed to stop being a hypocrite and pull his head out of his ass when he’s dealing with Drew,” Cain admitted. He grinned and glanced at Damon again. “It felt really good.”
Damon’s lips kicked up. “I bet. So Cain Shaw lost his temper and the world didn’t end? That’s twice in one day,” he noted.
Cain opened his mouth, then shut it again, grateful when the GPS reminded him to take the next exit so he could concentrate on driving and not have to reply. The truth was, it did feel really good. Not because he’d lost his temper, but because he hadn’t. He’d stood up for himself and he’d stayed in control the whole time.
He’d no sooner had that revelation than his phone began to ring from the holder on the dashboard.
Mom calling.
He glanced at Damon, who’d obviously read the display. He’d missed two calls from her already when they were at Drew’s house, but he really didn’t want to have this conversation while Damon could hear him. Phone calls with his mother always followed a certain script, and this was not going to be pretty.
“I’ll take that later,” Cain said.
“Take it now,” Damon disagreed. “You don’t know when you’ll get another chance.”
True. Cain licked his lips. “Okay, I can put it on speaker while I’m driving, but… she can’t know you’re here. You have to stay silent.”
Damon flipped his hands out, as if to say this was obvious. Cain took a deep breath and accepted the call.
“Cain Edward Shaw,” she said, before Cain even had a chance to say hello. “I’d like an explanation, young man.”
Cain could feel Damon’s gaze on him and his face went hot. Kid, kid, kid.
“Good morning, mother.” He forced himself to sound calmer than he felt. “I’m feeling much better this morning, thanks for asking.”
His mother’s snort of disbelief resonated through the speaker. “You were no more sick than I was! And you have no idea what you put your father and me through when we couldn’t find you.”
“I texted to let you know I’d gone back to the hotel,” he reminded her. “You couldn’t have been worried for long.”
“I most certainly was! There was a security incident at the fundraiser just after you left! Some… big thug tried to force his way into the party.”
Cain and Damon exchanged a glance. “That sounds awful,” Cain told her. “Did the security people arrest him?” Did they tell you I helped the man get away?
“No! They let him go, and no one even mentioned it until after the fact. Your father is very upset!” she cried. “Very upset. You know how hard he works to keep us safe.”
His father liked to keep himself safe, that much Cain could agree with. He made a non-committal sound that his mother took for agreement.
“I think we’ll all feel a bit more relieved when he’s finally eligible for Secret Service coverage,” she sighed. “Real professionals who understand how security should work.”
Cain lifted a hand from the steering wheel and ran it over his forehead, imagining a world where his father was a presidential candidate. He’d never survive it - figuratively and possibly literally, as well.
“But none of this excuses your behavior, Cain. I’m very disappointed in you. We didn’t provide you with that phone so you could ignore my calls, and we didn’t provide you with your education so you could abandon your father when he needed you.”
Cain felt a familiar curl of humiliation and anxiety in his gut. Even after nearly a quarter of a century of dealing with his parents, even knowing the terrible things his father had done, hearing his mother speak like that triggered something that compelled him to soothe, to please.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I really wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t want to ruin the evening for everyone, or to make anyone question why I was acting strangely. It was better that I left.”
His mother would never admit he was right, but he could tell she’d been somewhat mollified when she continued, “You know these gatherings aren’t just for your father’s sake. They’re an opportunity for you to meet influential people, to grow your own name so you can be just like your father someday.”
Be just like your father someday. He could feel Damon flinch at those words, could almost sense when he began to withdraw into himself, to sever the easy connection they’d had. His own chest clenched. But what could he do? What could he say without making things worse, without giving things away, without his father getting back at Jesse?
His mother sniffed. Having successfully completed the angry portion of the call, he predicted she was about to move into the guilt-inducing phase instead. The part where she laid out exactly what he’d do if he wanted any hope of erasing his mistake.
He wasn’t disappointed.
“I didn’t even have a chance to finish telling you all the details about Mr. Fassbender’s ski party.”
Oh, God. Skiing with the Fassbenders. If he could bang his head on the steering wheel while still navigating down the two-lane highway, he would.
“Mr. Fassbender has a daughter, Penny, you remember?”
His mother’s eager voice made his stomach flip, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damon shaking his head in disbelief.
“Remember I told him you’d attend and gave him your number? They’re leaving Monday morning. I’ll text you his information, and you can contact him to make arrangements. It’s the least you can do, after disappearing so rudely before I’d even introduced you to Penny.”
Anger and self-loathing churned in his gut, but what could be do? “I’ll call him,” he whispered.
“Do it soon,” she instructed. Then, apparently pleased by the outcome of the call, not that there had ever been any doubt she’d get her way, she said fondly, “I am so pleased that things are turning out so well, Cain. You and Cady working alongside your father and I for the good of our family,
knowing that we’re all safe after everything that happened with Jack Peabody, and now knowing that you’re making just the right sort of friends, socializing with young people who’ll be good influences on you, like Penny Fassbender.”
Cain swallowed, though his throat was dry. “I didn’t think you’d met her until last night.”
“Oh, but you can just tell about a person. Just like I could tell Camden Seaver was never a good friend for you, and that Jesse person would be a troublemaker.”
He ground his teeth together. Jesse hadn’t been the troublemaker, not ever. Without thinking, he snapped, “Just how much is Penny’s father donating?”
Beside him, Damon snorted quietly, but his mother didn’t catch his sarcasm.
“He’s a huge supporter of the party!” she said happily. “He pledged a hundred thousand to various candidates and PACs just last night, and there’s more where that came from!”
This explained Penny’s charm.
“I’ve got to run,” she told him. “I’m taking Marnie Fassbender to hot yoga with me. You’ll call Mr. Fassbender?”
“Said I would,” Cain muttered.
“Oh! Before I forget!” Cain could hear a muffled crackling as his mother moved the phone around. “Your father wanted me to ask if you’d been in touch with the Seavers recently. Cam and that man he’s been seeing.”
“I haven’t seen Cam in weeks,” he told her honestly. “And he hasn’t contacted me.”
“Ah. I didn’t think so, but I wanted to be sure. Will you let me know if you speak to him?”
“Why?”
“Because he’s being very rude in not answering your father’s calls. I think he forgets that your father is his godfather and feels an obligation to help him!”
Right. No doubt that was why. “I don’t expect him to call me, but I’ll let you know,” he agreed, trying to end the conversation.
“Turn left in two hundred feet,” the GPS informed him, and it was too much to hope that his mother wouldn’t hear through the speaker.
“What’s that? Where are you?” she demanded.
“Out. Running errands. I’m nearly at the store. Gotta go.”