Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
camryn
"Mommy, can I wear my butterfly shirt today?" Emily asks, bouncing on her toes beside me as I pour her cereal. Her dark hair is still tangled from sleep, and there's a smudge of toothpaste at the corner of her mouth.
"Of course, baby," I say, reaching down to wipe away the toothpaste with my thumb. "But remember to brush your hair after breakfast."
She nods solemnly, taking this instruction with the gravity only a seven-year-old can muster, before digging into her Cheerios.
I watch her for a moment, my heart swelling with love and fear in equal measure.
After yesterday's encounter with Eric, I barely slept.
I kept jumping at every noise coming from outside, convinced he was coming for us in the night.
The storm didn't help. It raged until the early hours, each crack of thunder jolting me from the half-sleep I'd managed to sink into.
By morning, I was exhausted, my nerves frayed, but I forced myself to go through our normal routine.
For Emily's sake, I need to at least pretend everything is fine.
My phone buzzes on the counter. A text from Blaze: Be there in 20 with help.
I frown. When I called him last night, I hadn't expected him to bring anyone with him. I'd just wanted advice, maybe an extra pair of eyes to watch the house while I figured out what to do. But knowing my brother, "help" means someone from the motorcycle club.
Great. Just what I need; some leather-clad, tattooed biker bringing his chaos into our carefully ordered life.
"Who's that?" Emily asks, oblivious to the milk dribbling down her chin.
"Just Uncle Blaze," I tell her, handing her a napkin. "He's coming to visit this morning."
Her face lights up. "Uncle Blaze? Can we go for a ride on his motorcycle?"
"Not today, honey," I say, ignoring the pang of guilt I feel at her disappointed expression. "He's just coming to talk to Mommy about some grown-up stuff."
She wrinkles her nose. "Grown-up stuff is boring."
"You're not wrong," I agree, ruffling her hair. "Why don't you finish your breakfast and get dressed? Maybe you can show Uncle Blaze your new drawing when he gets here."
This perks her up. She nods enthusiastically before shoveling the last few bites of cereal into her mouth and racing off to her room. I watch her go, wondering not for the first time how something so perfect came from something so terrible.
I'm clearing the breakfast dishes when I hear the rumble of motorcycles outside. Not just one, but at least two. My stomach twists with anxiety. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that these are Blaze's friends. If he trusts them, I should at least give them a chance.
Still, I check my appearance in the hallway mirror before opening the door.
My long brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I'm wearing jeans and a simple blue t-shirt.
I look tired; the shadows under my eyes testament to my sleepless night, but presentable enough.
Not that I care what some biker thinks of me.
The doorbell rings just as I finish my inspection. I square my shoulders and open the door.
Blaze stands on my porch, his prospect cut making him look harder than the little brother I grew up with. Next to him stands one of the most intimidating men I've ever seen.
He's tall, at least six-foot-three, with broad shoulders and arms corded with muscle beneath a black t-shirt.
Dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard frames a face that seems permanently set in a scowl judging by the lines on his face, he has a huge skull tattooed on his neck.
But it's his eyes that hold my attention; piercing blue and assessing me with an intensity that makes me want to step back.
"Hey, Cam," Blaze says, breaking the silence. "This is Storm. He's gonna help us with the Eric situation."
Storm. Of course his name is Storm. As if the universe wants to remind me of everything I fear in one neat package.
"I didn't ask for help," I say, aware of how ungrateful I sound but unable to stop myself. "I just wanted to talk to you."
"Yeah, well, you're getting help anyway," Blaze replies, pushing past me into the house. Storm follows, his massive frame making my entryway feel cramped.
Up close, he smells like leather, motor oil, and some kind of subtle cologne that's surprisingly not unpleasant. He moves with a fluid grace that belies his size, like a predator comfortable in its strength.
"Nice place," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
"Thanks," I mutter, closing the door behind them. "We can talk in the kitchen."
I lead them through the living room, so aware of Storm's presence behind me. In the kitchen, I gesture for them to sit at the table while I pour coffee.
"Black?" I ask Storm, not looking at him.
"Yeah," he replies.
I set the mugs on the table and take a seat across from them, wrapping my hands around my own cup for warmth despite the mild morning.
"So," I say, fixing my eyes on my brother, "what exactly is the plan here?"
Before Blaze can answer, Storm speaks. "First, I need to know exactly what happened yesterday. Every detail."
His tone is all business, which I appreciate. No pity, no patronizing concern, just straight to the point.
"I ran into Eric at Harrison's grocery store," I begin, keeping my voice steady. "He said he wanted to see Emily—"
"Uncle Blaze!" Emily's excited voice interrupts me as she barrels into the kitchen, nearly colliding with my brother as he rises to catch her in a hug.
"Hey, squirt!" Blaze says, swinging her around. "Look at you, getting so big!"
Emily giggles then turns her curious eyes to Storm. "Who are you?" she asks, with the direct honesty only children possess.
Storm's face transforms. The hard lines soften and a small smile tugs at his lips. "I'm Storm," he says, his voice gentler than before. "I work with your uncle."
Emily's eyes widen. "Storm? Like thunder and lightning?"
He nods. "Exactly like that."
I tense, waiting for my daughter to show fear, to associate his name with the thing that terrifies me most. But instead, she grins.
"That's so cool!" she exclaims. "I love storms! They're so powerful and beautiful."
The irony isn't lost on me. My daughter, conceived during the worst storm of my life, loves the very thing I can't bear.
"Emily, honey," I say, finding my voice, "why don't you go play in your room for a bit while the grown-ups talk?"
Her face falls slightly, but she nods. "Okay. But can I show Uncle Blaze my drawing first?"
"Later, squirt," Blaze promises. "We've just got some boring adult stuff to talk about first."
This satisfies her, and she skips out of the kitchen, pausing only to give Storm one more curious look before disappearing down the hall.
"She's beautiful," Storm says once she's gone. "Looks just like you."
The compliment catches me off guard. "Thank you," I say, meaning it.
"Now," he continues, all business again, "tell me about yesterday."
I recount my encounter with Eric, not sparing any details: the threat to take Emily, his admission that he's been watching us, the fear that's been choking me since.
"He has no legal claim," I finish. "He's not on the birth certificate. He's never paid a cent in child support. He's never even met her."
"Has he tried to contact you before yesterday?" Storm asks, his fingers drumming lightly on the table.
I shake my head. "Not once in eight years. I honestly thought, hoped,he'd forgotten about us."
"Men like that don't forget," Storm says, his voice hardening. "They just wait."
The accuracy of his assessment sends another chill through me.
"So what now?" I ask, looking between them. "I can't exactly file a restraining order based on one conversation in a grocery store."
"No," Storm agrees, "but you can protect yourself. Start by changing your routine. Different routes to work and Emily's school. Always have someone with you. And get a security system for the house."
"I can't afford a security system," I admit. My job as an administrative assistant pays the bills, but just barely. There's not much left for extras.
"I can," Blaze says immediately.
I start to protest but Storm cuts me off. "This ain't about pride, Camryn. It's about keeping your daughter safe."
The way he says my name, like he's testing how it feels in his mouth, makes me pause. He's right, of course. Emily's safety comes first, always.
"Fine," I concede. "But I don't see how changing my routine helps in the long run. I still have to go to work. Emily still has to go to school."
Storm and Blaze exchange a look that makes my stomach knot.
"What?" I demand. "What aren't you telling me?"
Blaze sighs. "Cam, this guy sounds dangerous. If he's been watching you, he knows your patterns, your vulnerabilities. We think... maybe you need more than just a security system."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you need someone with you," Storm says bluntly. "Someone who can handle themselves if Eric decides to escalate."
I stare at him, realization dawning. "You mean like a bodyguard? I can't afford that either."
"Not a bodyguard," Blaze says. "A boyfriend."
For a moment, I think I've misheard. "Excuse me?"
"A boyfriend," he repeats. "Or at least, someone who looks like one. Someone Eric would think twice about crossing."
My eyes dart to Storm, who's watching me with that intense gaze. "You want him to pretend to be my boyfriend?" I ask incredulously.
"It makes sense," Blaze argues. "Storm's respected. Feared, even. If Eric thinks you're with him, he'll back off."
"This is insane," I say, pushing back from the table. "I don't even know him!"
"You don't have to know me," Storm says calmly. "You just have to be seen with me."
I shake my head, pacing the small kitchen. "And what about Emily? How am I supposed to explain to my seven-year-old that Mommy suddenly has a boyfriend she's never mentioned?"
"Kids are adaptable," Storm says. "We can tell her I'm a friend who's staying with you both for a while."
"Staying with us?" I repeat, my voice rising despite my effort to stay calm. "Now you're moving in?"
"Just temporarily," Blaze interjects. "Until we figure out what Eric's planning and how to stop him."
I press my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache coming on. "This is too much. There has to be another way."
"There might be," Storm acknowledges, "but this is the fastest, most effective option we've got right now."
I look at him, really look at him, trying to gauge his motivations. "Why would you do this? You don't know me. You don't owe me anything."
His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his eyes. "I know what it's like to need protection and not have it," he says simply. "Besides, I don't like men who threaten women and children."
There's a story there, I can tell, but now isn't the time to ask. Instead, I turn to my brother. "Can you give us a minute? I want to talk to Storm alone."
Blaze hesitates then nods. "I'll go see that drawing Emily wanted to show me."
Once he's gone, I sit back down across from Storm. "I need to know something before I agree to any of this."
He waits, silent.
"Are you dangerous?"
The question hangs between us. He doesn't answer immediately, seeming to weigh his response.
"Yes," he finally says, his honesty surprising me. "But not to you or your daughter."
I study him, looking for any sign of deception. "I've spent eight years building a stable life for Emily. The last thing I need is to invite chaos into it."
"Sometimes chaos finds you whether you invite it or not," he points out. "Eric's already disrupted your life. I'm just offering to help you deal with that disruption."
He's right again, which is starting to annoy me. "If, and that is a big if, I agree to this, we need ground rules."
He nods. "Name them."
"Emily comes first, always. If at any point she feels upset or confused by your presence, you're out."
"Agreed."
"No club business in my house. No drugs, no weapons where Emily can find them, no... women coming over."
A slight smile quirks his lips. "Wouldn't be much of a boyfriend if I was bringing other women around."
I ignore the flutter in my stomach at his smile. "This is just for show. Just until Eric backs off."
"Crystal clear," he says.
"And Blaze mentioned someone staying with us, but I don't think that's necessary—"
"It is," Storm interrupts. "If Eric's been watching your house, he'll know if I'm just stopping by occasionally. For this to work, he needs to believe I'm a permanent fixture in your life."
I close my eyes briefly. The thought of sharing my space with this intimidating stranger makes my pulse race with anxiety. But then I think of Eric's threat; I'll be seeing you both soon, and I know I can't take any chances with Emily's safety.
"Fine," I say, opening my eyes to find him still watching me. "But you sleep on the couch."
He dips his head in acknowledgment. "Whatever makes you comfortable."
"I'm not comfortable with any of this," I admit. "But I need to keep Emily safe, and if pretending to date a biker is what it takes, then I guess that's what I'll do."
"You could do worse," he says, that slight smile appearing again.
Despite myself, I feel a reluctant smile tugging at my own lips. "I could definitely do better."
He actually chuckles at that, a deep, rumbling sound that somehow makes him seem less intimidating. "Fair enough."
"When do we start this charade?" I ask, already dreading it.
"Right now," he says, rising from his chair. "Pack a bag for you and Emily. You're staying at the clubhouse with me while Blaze installs the security system here."
I start to protest, but he holds up a hand. "Just until the system is installed. Then I'll move in here, like we discussed."
Before I can ask any questions, Emily's excited voice echoes from the living room, followed by Blaze's deeper tones. I sigh, accepting that my life has just become infinitely more complicated.
"Let me talk to Emily first," I say, heading toward the door. "I need to prepare her."
Storm nods. "Take your time."
As I leave the kitchen, I can feel his eyes on me, assessing, calculating. I wonder what he sees. A scared single mom in over her head? A burden he's been saddled with because of his loyalty to my brother? Or something else entirely?
I push the thought aside. It doesn't matter what Storm thinks of me. This arrangement is temporary, purely practical. He'll help keep Eric away, and then he'll go back to his life, and Emily and I will go back to ours.
Simple, clean, uncomplicated.
So why does it feel like I've just struck a deal with a storm that's about to sweep away everything in its path?