Haunted By the Storm (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

camryn

The moment I see him, I freeze.

Time stands still as my heart pounds against my chest, threatening to break through my ribs. He hasn't noticed me yet, but it won't be long before he does. I should run. I should grab my cart and get the hell out of here. But my feet are glued to the linoleum floor.

Eric.

It's been almost eight years since I last saw him and yet the sight of him still makes me sick to my stomach. My hands shake as I grip the metal shopping cart tighter, my knuckles turning white. I close my eyes for a brief moment and take a deep breath, focusing on slowing my racing heart.

When I open them again, his eyes lock with mine from across the produce section. I watch recognition flash across his face, followed by a slow, predatory smile that sends ice through my veins. He starts walking toward me, and I have to fight every instinct screaming at me to run.

Act normal, Cam. Just act fucking normal.

"Well, look who it is," Eric says as he approaches, his voice like oil slithering over my skin. "Camryn Fletcher. It's been a while."

I clench my jaw, keeping my expression neutral. "Eric. I didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm full of surprises." His piercing gaze travels down my body before settling on my face again. "You look good."

I resist the urge to cover myself, to shield my body from his gaze. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he still affects me.

"What do you want?" I ask, proud of how steady my voice sounds despite the tremor in my hands.

His smile falters for a moment before returning, sharper this time. "What, no small talk? We used to be so close."

I can't help but scoff at that. "We were never close."

The smile drops from his face completely now, replaced by something harder, colder. "I want to see her."

My blood turns to ice, and for a moment, I can't breathe. "No."

"She's my daughter too, Camryn."

"No, she isn't." My voice is steel now, all traces of fear buried beneath a mother's fierce protection. "You have no rights to her. None."

"That's not how the law works," he says, stepping closer to me. "I'm her biological father. I have rights."

"You lost any right to call yourself her father the night you—" I cut myself off, aware we're in the middle of a grocery store. "Stay away from us, Eric. I mean it."

He chuckles, and the sound makes my skin crawl. "Or what? You'll call the cops? And tell them what? That the father of your child wants to be part of her life? I don't think they'll see the problem with that."

"You don't want to be part of her life," I hiss. "You just want to hurt me."

His eyes gleam. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to know my daughter. Emily, right?"

The sound of my daughter's name on his lips makes me want to vomit. "Don't you say her name. Don't you ever say her name."

"I've been watching you," he says, ignoring my words. "Nice little house you've got. Emily looks like me, doesn't she? Same eyes."

My heart stops. He's been watching us? Fear claws its way up my throat, threatening to choke me.

"Stay away from my daughter," I warn, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "or I swear to God, Eric, I will end you."

He laughs, clearly amused by my threat. "Always so dramatic, Camryn. I just want to talk; get to know her a little. Maybe take her out for ice cream."

The thought of him anywhere near Emily makes rage burn through my veins, hot and fierce, momentarily overshadowing my fear. "Touch her, and I'll kill you. That's not a threat; it's a promise."

Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. "We'll see." He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and I have to fight not to flinch away. "I'll be seeing you both soon."

With one last smirk, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there, shaking with fury and terror. I abandon my shopping cart where it is and rush out of the store, not caring about the items I'm leaving behind. I need to get home. I need to get to Emily.

The drive home is a blur. My hands tremble on the steering wheel, and I check my rearview mirror every few seconds, paranoid that Eric might be following me. By the time I pull into my driveway, my shirt is sticking to my back with cold sweat.

I rush inside, relieved to find Mrs. Mickelson, my elderly neighbor who watches Emily after school, sitting at the kitchen table helping my daughter with her homework.

"Mommy!" Emily exclaims, her face lighting up when she sees me. She jumps off her chair and runs to me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

I hug her tightly; perhaps too tightly, because she squirms in my grip. "Hey, baby," I whisper, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You're home early," Mrs. Mickelson observes, rising from her chair. "Everything okay?"

I force a smile. "Yes. I just finished what I needed to do faster than expected."

She gives me a curious look but doesn't push. "Well, Emily's done with her math. We were just about to start on her spelling words."

"I can take it from here," I say, grateful when she nods and begins gathering her things.

Once Mrs. Mickelson leaves, I double-check all the locks on the doors and windows. I draw the blinds closed, peering through them first to make sure no one's watching the house. My paranoia is in full swing, but after what Eric said, I can't be too careful.

"Mommy, why are you locking everything?" Emily asks, watching me with curious eyes; eyes that, despite what Eric said, look nothing like his. They're all mine, a deep hazel that shifts between green and brown depending on the light.

"Just being safe," I tell her, forcing another smile. "How about we order pizza for dinner? Would you like that?"

Her face lights up. "Yes! Can we get pepperoni?"

"Anything you want, baby."

Later, after Emily is tucked into bed, I sit on my couch in the dark, jumping at every noise outside. Rain begins to fall, softly at first, then harder, pelting against the windows. A flash of lightning illuminates the room, followed by the low rumble of thunder.

My breath catches in my throat as the storm intensifies, and suddenly I'm not in my living room anymore.

I'm sixteen years old again, pinned down on a bed in a strange room. The thunderstorm rages outside, each crash of thunder drowning out my cries for help. Rain lashes against the windows, blurring the world beyond, isolating me in this nightmare.

"Stop fighting," Eric growls, his breath hot against my face, reeking of alcohol. "You know you want this."

"No," I gasp, struggling against his weight. "Eric, stop. I said no!"

Lightning flashes, briefly illuminating his face twisted with anger and lust. "You've been teasing me all night. What did you expect?"

Thunder booms so loud it seems to shake the room. Or maybe that's just me, trembling with fear and fight. I claw at him, scratch, bite, anything to get him off me. He slaps me hard enough that I see stars, and in that moment of disorientation, he pins my wrists above my head with one hand.

"No one can hear you," he says, his voice almost swallowed by another crack of thunder. "It's just you and me."

I scream anyway, the sound tearing from my throat as the storm rages on, uncaring, drowning out my cries with its fury. Tears blur my vision as I realize with sickening clarity that he's right, no one can hear me. No one is coming to help.

The storm becomes the soundtrack to my nightmare, every flash of lightning burning the scene into my memory, every roll of thunder punctuating the violation. By the time it's over, the storm has begun to subside, as if satisfied with what it has witnessed.

A particularly loud crash of thunder jolts me back to the present. I'm huddled on my couch, arms wrapped around myself, tears streaming down my face. The storm outside continues, oblivious to how its presence rips open old wounds.

I hate storms. I’ve hated them ever since that night.

The sound of thunder, the flash of lightning; they're triggers that send me spiraling back to the worst night of my life.

A night that, despite all my efforts to move forward, left a permanent mark on me.

A mark I see every day in my daughter's face.

I love Emily more than my own life. From the moment I knew I was pregnant, despite the circumstances, I loved her. She's mine; my daughter, my heart outside my body. Not his. Never his.

But now he wants her. After all this time, he wants to come into our lives and take her from me. I can't let that happen. I won't.

With shaking hands, I reach for my phone. I need help, but I don't trust the cops. They didn't believe me eight years ago; why would they now? No, I need someone else. Someone who can make Eric stay away. Someone who can protect Emily and me.

I scroll through my contacts until I find my brother's number.

Blaze is my only real family left after our parents died.

He's been riding with the Fury Vipers MC for a while now, trying to earn his patch.

I don't approve of his lifestyle, but right now, I need the kind of protection only people like him can provide.

The phone rings four times before he picks up.

"Cam?" Blaze answers, the music and voices in the background telling me he's at the clubhouse. "Everything okay?"

Lightning flashes, making me flinch. "No," I admit, my voice breaking. "I need help. Eric's back."

There's a pause, then, "I'll be right over."

"No," I say quickly. "Not tonight. Emily's asleep, and I don't want to scare her. But tomorrow... I need to figure something out. He's been watching us, Blaze. He knows where we live, what Emily looks like... He wants to take her."

"That ain't happening," my brother growls, his voice hard with promise. "I'll talk to the guys. We'll figure something out."

"Thank you," I whisper, relief washing over me despite the storm still raging outside.

"Lock your doors, Cam. I'll call you in the morning."

After we hang up, I check all the locks again then peek in on Emily. She's sleeping peacefully, unaware of the danger lurking outside our little sanctuary. I brush a strand of dark hair from her face, so like mine, and press a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll keep you safe," I promise her, my voice barely audible over the storm. "No matter what it takes."

I settle into the armchair in the corner of her room, unwilling to leave her alone tonight. The storm continues outside, each thunderclap making me tense, but I force myself to focus on my daughter's peaceful breathing instead.

Tomorrow, I'll figure out what to do about Eric. Tomorrow, I'll be stronger. But tonight, I keep watch, a sentinel against the storm both outside and the one brewing in our lives.

As lightning flashes again, illuminating Emily while she’s sleeping, I make another silent promise: Eric will never touch her. I'll die before I let that happen.