CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A sher still couldn’t believe Cameron had hung up on him.
He’d been tempted to drive across town and storm into the man’s office to make sure he hadn’t been kidnapped or murdered. Natalie, however, had insisted that might be interpreted as slightly crazy.
Thankfully, he’d only had to wait fifteen torturous minutes before Cameron had texted him to say he was okay, and that Asher should meet him at his place later. No details. No explanation. Crazy had started to sound pretty damn good at that point.
Instead, he’d dropped Natalie off at her car, driven home, packed an overnight bag—laptop included—and did as he’d been told by driving to Cameron’s house in Mission Grove. He had even stopped to pick up deli sandwiches and brownies on the way.
Despite his many detours, he still managed to arrive before Cameron.
Asher let himself in, growling obscenities under his breath the entire time about the lack of security.
As always, Cameron hadn’t even locked his damn door.
Anyone could walk right in off the street.
Asher had made a career pondering the what-ifs of life, and his imagination supplied enough scenarios to that unlocked door to fill one of his long-winded books.
So, by the time he heard Cameron pull into the driveway just after sunset, Asher had abandoned reason and worked himself up to one hell of a mad.
He didn’t give a damn if Cameron had known every person in town for most of his life.
He didn’t care if the crime rate for Mission Grove was practically non-existent.
A drifter needing money, a tourist looking for a thrill, someone from his past with a score to settle—anything could happen.
Feet planted, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, scowl in place, he stood ten feet from the offending door when Cameron strolled through it. “Where the hell have you been?”
Cameron stopped, one hand still on the doorknob while the other gripped his keys. It only pissed Asher off more. He estimated the ring held about six different keys in various sizes. Surely one of them fit into the lock on the front door, which meant surely , Cameron could use the goddamn thing.
Whatever Cameron’s reaction to the less-than-warm welcome, he didn’t show it.
“Work,” he answered calmly as he closed the door, then walked past Asher to the kitchen, dropping the keys onto the counter with a muffled jingle.
“One of our clients needed a security update which ended up taking longer than I expected. ”
A perfectly acceptable answer, but it did little to appease him. “That’s not what I meant, and you damn well know it. Who was at your office today? Why did you hang up on me?”
Sighing, Cameron motioned to the brown paper bags on the table in the breakfast nook. “Do you mind if we eat while I talk about it? I missed lunch today.”
His fair skin seemed paler than usual, and the shadows under his eyes appeared harsh in the fluorescent lighting.
Tension tightened his neck and back, apparent in the slight rounding of his shoulders and the stiff way he held himself.
Asher had never met anyone more put together than Cameron Stone, but right then, standing there in his wrinkled khakis and rumpled, black button-down, he was a thorough mess.
Seeing him like that finally broke through Asher’s irritation. With an echoing sigh of his own, he relaxed his defensive posture and reached out, hooking two fingers between the buttons on Cameron’s shirt.
“Come here.” His heart and mind settled as he wrapped his arms around Cameron, holding him close to his chest while cradling the back of his head. “I was an ass, and I’m sorry.”
Cameron buried his face in the side of Asher’s neck and nodded, his lips moving up and down the sensitive skin. “I understand why you’re angry. I would have been, too. ”
Asher blew out a long breath, releasing with it all his pent-up irritation and worry. “I got sandwiches from that deli you like, and I picked up brownies from Half-Baked.”
Pulling away, Cameron lifted his head and smirked. “You know, I did win a year of free cupcakes. ‘Free’ being the key word.”
The cupcakes at the bakery were amazing. Asher wouldn’t deny that. They weren’t Cameron’s favorite, though.
“I’ll remember that next time.” Ushering him to the table, he waited for Cameron to sit before taking the chair opposite him.
“Turkey and bacon on whole grain,” he said, pulling the sandwich from one of the bags, “with Swiss cheese, baby spinach, and honey mayo sauce.” He slid it across the table and waited, but Cameron just stared at it, his eyes soft and a little glassy. “What? Did I screw it up?”
“No.” Cameron shook his head quickly. “It’s exactly right. Thanks for remembering.”
Unsure how to respond, Asher nodded and went to the refrigerator while Cameron unwrapped his dinner. “Water, lemonade, iced tea, or soda,” he called over his shoulder, listing off the drinks on the middle shelf. “Which one?”
“Water’s fine.”
Asher grabbed two bottles and returned to the table. “How is it? ”
Cameron bobbed his head while he chewed, making happy little humming noises, which Asher took to be a good sign. Grinning, he unwrapped his own sandwich—roast beef and Provolone on white bread, no condiments, no veggies—picked up one of the triangular halves and took a large bite from the corner.
“Kyle came to my office today.”
He’d suspected as much, but it still made his skin crawl to have Cameron confirm it. “Did he hurt you?” Asher would kill that fuck if he’d laid a hand on Cameron. “Did you call security?”
“No and no.” Cameron worried his bottom lip between his teeth while he picked at the label on his water bottle. “He seemed jittery, really worked up, but he wasn’t violent.”
Asher dropped his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his fingers as he sat back in his chair. “What did he want?”
“He wanted me to tell you that things have changed. You have three days to get him the money, or he tells everyone what he knows.”
Clenching his fists on the top of his thighs, Asher cursed under his breath. “Did he say what changed?”
Cameron bit his lip again and shook his head.
“What?” he demanded when Cameron continued to stare down at the table .
“Nothing.” Slumping lower in his chair, Cameron rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and smoothed down his collar with the other. “I, uh, I just, well, I kind of think…”
When Cameron didn’t continue, Asher did his best to work out the fragmented thought. “You think I should give him the money?”
Cameron’s head snapped up, and he stared at Asher with wide eyes. “No. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”
“Okay.” He was going to need a little more to work with if he wanted to participate in the conversation. “I’m too tired for guessing games, Cam. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
Angling toward him, Cameron took one of Asher’s hands and clasped it between both of his own. “The story is going to get out there. I’m sorry. I wish there was a way to stop it, but it’s inevitable. Now, it’s just a matter of when.”
Unfortunately, Asher agreed. Giving Kyle the money might buy him some time, but it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t stop Kyle from going public with what he knew. Or demanding more money. Or both.
“We could kill him,” Asher offered.
Cameron chuckled, just like Asher had hoped. “You couldn’t even kill that spider on your balcony. Besides, murdering a guy to protect your reputation might be a little counterproductive.”
“Hmm, good point.”
Cameron squeezed his hand. “I think it’s time to for a plan, Ash. We need to decide what we’re going to do once this goes public.”
The we part of that statement sounded damn good, and it made dealing with everything else a little easier. “Any suggestions?”
~
Ever since Kyle had left his office, Cameron had been trying to think of ways to minimize the damage. Public relations didn’t really fall under his job description, though. They were going to need help.
“Well, first, we probably need to discuss worst-case scenario. If everything falls apart, what will you lose?” He hated to ask, and he didn’t want to think about that actually happening, but he had to know exactly what they were up against.
“Luke asked me something similar, so I’ll tell you what I told him. The absolute worst thing that can happen is that I never sell another book.”
Cameron didn’t like the sound of that at all. “That wouldn’t stop you from writing, though, would it? ”
“No.” Asher ran his fingers through his hair, making the dark locks stick out all over his head. “I can self-publish. I can writer under a pen name. There’s no guarantee that I’ll have nearly the same success, but I do have options.”
A small, selfish part of him wanted that. Not for Asher to lose his agent, or for his publisher to drop him, but he wanted Asher to have more control over his career. He wanted him to be able to write what he loved, what made him happy. Not what sold the most copies.
“Well, if you end up broke and desolate, you can always sell that fancy house and move in with me.”
He’d said it flippantly, trying to lighten the mood, but the panic in Asher’s eyes had him fighting back a sigh. Obviously, it was too early in their relationship for any kind of talk about cohabitation, but Asher didn’t have to look like he’d rather swallow broken glass than live with him.
Still, he’d come a long way from the guy who never fucked anyone twice and kept everyone at arm’s length.
“Money is definitely an issue,” Asher said after a long, awkward silence, “but not for the reason you think. The only reason I got away with not being on social media or attending book signings is because I convinced Becca—who, in turn, convinced my publisher—that the air of mystery would work in my favor. ”