Chapter 9 #2
“Brian, they shot my tires, drove me off the road, attacked me and almost…” The memory sours my stomach.
Only the satisfaction of shooting that fucker’s dick off takes the edge away.
“These were not people to fuck with, damn it. I want nothing to do with this. You hear me. You tell them the truth. We haven’t been anything for years,” I emphasize.
“Your brother’s Forsaken. You’re fine, protected,” he dismisses. “I need them to watch out for me, Camille. Tell your brother to stop being stubborn and help his girl’s man out.”
“For fuck’s sake,” I rub my forehead. “The fact you had the balls to approach Styx,” I don’t use my brother’s name around Brian. Never. “Just tells me, you have a death wish. He knows we’re not together.”
“Stop fucking saying that!”
His scream is guttural. I even hear the spit that I know came out of his mouth. My chest grows hot and tight as anxiety palpitates.
“You owe me, Camille,” he growls. “I own that pussy, and you owe me it. If I find out someone else touched what’s mine.”
“You don’t own me, fucker. I swear, if you dare come near me again, you’ll wish Black Feral took care of your ass. My brother would skin you alive and only wait to kill you.”
Feminine rage at being spoken to, my body threatened in such a way only a woman could understand the fury when a man thinks he owns you and deserves anything of yours without consent.
“So, you did go back home,” he says so quietly, eerily. “See you soon, baby.”
Dead air.
I check the phone and confirm, call ended. My eyes well up. Not from fear but anger. I have tried getting rid of this asshole for over four years. His ass is lazy. I was confident that two hours and a mountain between us would finally keep him away. Too confident, maybe.
I pocket my phone and shake out my trembling hands.
I’m being watched, day and night. Even if he came to Eden Ridge, he’d never get near me.
I close my eyes and take deep breaths and exhale slowly before I put on a happy face and rejoin my parents downstairs.
“You didn’t tell me you made your loaded potato casserole, Ma.”
Styx’s voice booms through our hallway before he and West exit to the backyard. Mom and Dad gave up after carving one pumpkin. I’m on number three. They sit, cuddled by the fire pit with more tea.
“You already made yourself a plate before saying hello?” my mother teases. “I see where I stand when it comes to food.”
Styx holds a plate with half of the huge serving of the casserole already in his mouth. West grins, watching me as if I were wearing a revealing dress or lingerie, not in black jeans, a maroon chunky sweater, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, hunched over a pumpkin, carving it.
“West, what a pleasure to see you,” Mom hugs him in greeting before narrowing her eyes at my brother.
Knowing the drill, he bends his long legs so he can kiss her cheek hello. “Hey, Ma. Delicious, as always.”
“Did you even offer any to West?” Her hand lands on her popped-out hip.
“He did,” West saves my brother. “I decided to wait. I won’t say no to taking some home with me.”
“Good luck,” Styx says around another bite. “I doubt there’ll be any left by the time we leave.”
“Let me go wrap some up before it’s too late,” my mother says, shaking her head, entering the house.
“Wrap up some for me, too,” Styx calls. “Please.” He remembers his manners.
“Mr. Lane, good to see you,” West shakes Dad’s hand.
“You’re a man now, not a boy. Call me, Stan, son.”
“I’ll work on that,” West grins.
“Holy shit, Cami. Still got it, huh?” Styx kneels down, balancing his plate, taking in my two finished pumpkins.
Mom’s request was a whimsical forest with winding branches, hallowed bases for light to come through, a path, and a gnome at the end. Something she saw on social media. Dad wanted something creepier. I made a haunted house with scary jack-o-lanterns, a big moon, and bats.
They’ll be putting fairy lights inside to make every layer glow, enhancing the designs.
“What’s this one going to be?” West asks, kneeling as well but keeping a safe distance between us.
“This one, I won’t finish tonight. It’s more intricate. It's going to be a pumpkin witch. The hair and frame are going to be a pain, but so worth it. Speaking of, I’m gonna wash my hands and help clean up before we head out.”
I brush pumpkin shavings off my lap and wobble to get up. West’s hand automatically takes mine and helps me stand.
“I’ve been sitting in this position for hours,” I laugh. “My legs are jello.” West squeezes my hand before letting go, and I head inside.
Once the backyard is cleaned up, the leftovers have been distributed, and Dad takes Styx aside—I’m sure to ask why one of his MC brothers has been watching the house—we head out.
“You’re with me,” West says casually. I glance at my brother, putting on his coat. “Styx is heading the opposite way to the club, so I offered to drop you off at Nora’s.”
“That works.” Play it cool. “Make sure Drew doesn’t steal your leftovers.”
“He’s lucky he gets any at all.”
“I’ll think of you with every bite,” West waves the tupperware, taunting Drew.
Drew holds up his. “I got the bigger portion, fucker.”
“Language, Drew, please.” My mother wraps herself in her shawl.
“Love you, Ma,” Drew says, kissing her cheek, exiting the house.
I hug them goodbye. Mom stops me with her hand.
“West has really turned into a good, solid man,” she says.
Uh oh.
“Um,” I look over my shoulder at West, waiting by his car. “I mean, it’s been a while since we’ve really seen each other, but yes, he seems to be doing well for himself. All the Hunter brothers have.”
“You two seem close. For just reconnecting.”
“Mom. Come on. I grew up watching him and Drew have fart contests. Please.”
Oh, God. She’s so on to me. Why am I great at lying until it comes to that man?
“Hmm. Well, you too have a lovely evening.”
“He’s just dropping me off. Love you. Good night, Mom.”
“Love you, Sweetheart.”
I join West, and he opens my door. Drew hops on his bike, and we all drive off, parting directions at the end of my parents’ driveway. Thank God, my watchdog rides off with him.
Guilt makes my stomach queasy, knowing my brother won’t see reason at first. It’ll only feel like a betrayal. And West will pay the most for our secret.
I study his profile, strong, like a Greek god. I reach over and fingercomb back his hair. His chest rumbles in pleasure. I keep my hand at his neck, my thumb running back and forth behind his ear. His large, warm hand rests at my thigh with a light squeeze.
I’m falling. Hard.