Chapter 6 #2
Shadow's lips twitch in what might be a smile. "Uh-huh. Respect. That's what that was upstairs."
I narrow my eyes at him. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugs, infuriatingly casual. "Nothing, brother. Just making an observation."
Before I can respond, the clubhouse door opens and Mayhem strides in, looking grim. "We got something," he says without preamble.
I straighten, instantly alert. "About Eric?"
Mayhem nods, dropping into a chair at the nearest table. Shadow and I join him, setting our drinks aside.
"Cruz found him," Mayhem says. "He’s living in a shithole apartment in Queens and works as a bartender at some dive called The Red Door. But here's the interesting part: he's been asking around about Camryn, telling people she owes him money."
My brow furrows. "Money? For what?"
"That's the thing, the story keeps changing. Sometimes it's a loan, sometimes it's rent, sometimes it's that she stole from him. He's definitely looking for cash, and he's getting desperate about it."
"Gambling debts?" Shadow suggests. "Could be he owes someone and is trying to use Camryn to pay it off."
"That tracks with his behavior," I agree. "Showing up out of nowhere, threatening to take the kid... He's using Emily as leverage to get what he wants."
Mayhem nods. "Cruz is watching the bar tonight, seeing who Eric talks to, if he meets with anyone. Digger's got a contact in Queens PD running his record, checking if there's anything useful there."
"Good work," I say, my mind already racing ahead to how we can use this information. "I want to talk to Camryn in the morning; see if she knows anything about why he might be after money specifically."
"You think she'll know?" Shadow asks.
I shake my head. "Probably not, but she might remember something about his habits, who he hung out with. Anything that could give us an angle."
"And when we see him?" Mayhem asks, the unspoken question hanging in the air.
I meet his gaze, making sure he understands exactly what I'm saying. "Then I'm going to have a little chat with him. Make sure he understands that Camryn and Emily are off-limits. Permanently."
Mayhem nods, satisfied with my answer. He knows what "having a chat" means in our world.
"I'll take first watch tonight," Shadow offers. "You look like you could use some sleep."
I start to protest but he cuts me off. "No offense, brother, but you look like shit. Get some rest. I'll wake you if anything happens."
He's right. I'm running on fumes after the day we've had, and I need to be sharp tomorrow. "Alright. Wake me in four hours. I'll take over."
Shadow nods, and I drain the last of my whiskey before heading back upstairs. My room is at the far end of the hall from Camryn's room, which is both a relief and an annoyance. Close enough to respond if there's trouble but far enough away that I'm not tempted to check on her again tonight.
As I pass her door, I pause, listening for any sign of distress. Nothing but silence. Good. Maybe she's actually getting some sleep.
In my own room, I strip down to my boxers and drop onto the bed, not bothering with the lights. The ceiling fan spins lazily above me. My body is exhausted, but my mind refuses to shut down, replaying the events of the day on a loop.
Camryn's face when she opened the door during the storm, fear and vulnerability warring with determination not to show either.
The weight of Emily's small body as I carried her to bed.
The feel of Camryn's hand in mine, her fingers clinging to mine during the loudest thunderclaps despite her obvious embarrassment at needing comfort.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to clear the images away. This is a job, I remind myself. Protection detail. Nothing more.
Except that's bullshit and I know it. The moment I saw Camryn, something clicked into place, like recognizing a part of myself in someone else. She's a survivor, just like me. Someone who's been through the fire and come out the other side scarred but unbroken.
And then there's the kid, Emily, with her bright eyes and endless questions. She looked at me without fear, despite knowing I could be scary. She worried about her mother during the storm, trying to be brave for Camryn's sake.
I haven’t been around kids much. Never wanted to be. My own childhood was a nightmare, and I figured I'd just fuck up any kid unlucky enough to have me in their life. But Emily... she makes it seem easy, natural. Like maybe not all parent-child relationships are doomed to dysfunction and pain.
A soft knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. I'm on my feet instantly, grabbing my gun from the nightstand before approaching the door.
"Who is it?" I call quietly.
"It's me," Camryn's voice answers, equally soft. "Camryn."
I set the gun aside and open the door, finding her standing in the hallway in sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks younger this way, more vulnerable.
"Everything okay?" I ask, suddenly very aware that I'm only wearing boxers.
She wraps her arms around herself, looking uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just... I can't sleep, and I thought maybe..."
She trails off, and I wait, giving her space to find her words.
"I thought maybe you could tell me more about the security measures," she finally says, though I suspect that's not what she was going to ask originally. "Just so I know what to expect. For Emily's sake."
I nod, stepping back to let her in. "Give me a sec."
I grab a t-shirt from my dresser and pull it on, offering her the room's only chair while I sit on the edge of the bed.
"The compound has cameras covering every angle," I explain. "There are motion sensors along the perimeter and guards at all entrances twenty-four-seven. No one gets in without us knowing about it."
She nods, but I can tell she's only half-listening; her eyes darting around the room like she's looking for something.
"That's not really why you're here, is it?" I ask gently.
She meets my gaze then looks away quickly. "No," she admits. "I just... I didn't want to be alone. The storm's gone, but I still feel on edge. And I didn't want to wake Emily."
Something in my chest tightens at her honesty. "You can stay here for a bit, if you want," I offer. "We can talk, or just... be."
She offers a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."
We sit in silence for a moment, but it's not uncomfortable. There's a strange ease between us that I can't explain, like we've known each other much longer than a day.
"Can I ask you something?" she finally says.
"Sure."
"When did you know you wanted to be part of the MC?"
It's not a question I was expecting. "I was eighteen," I tell her. "Felt like I was losing my way. I had a woman, but we were both too fucking young for how serious we were. I loved her, I did, but it wasn’t enough. The shit I’d witnessed even at that young of an age did damage. I pushed her away, hurt her in doing so. She didn’t have it in her to stay and I didn’t have it in me to fight.
I needed something, something that would help me find a path.
It didn’t take long ‘til I met Cruz. He was a patched member and he told me about the club.
I came and hung around the clubhouse, did odd jobs.
Felt like I belonged somewhere for the first time in my life. "
"Because of the brotherhood?"
"Partly," I say, considering my words carefully. "But also because they didn't try to change me. They didn't tell me I needed to be less angry or become someone I wasn’t. They saw my anger as an asset, not a problem."
She nods thoughtfully. "And is it? An asset?"
"In my line of work? Yeah. Controlled anger can be useful."
"And what about uncontrolled?" she asks, her eyes shrewd. "Is that why they call you Storm?"
I shift, uncomfortable with how perceptive she is. "Something like that."
She doesn't press, which I appreciate. Instead, she glances around my room again, taking in the sparse furnishings. Unlike some of the brothers, I don't keep much personal stuff around. No photos, no mementos. Just the essentials.
"It's late," I say eventually. "You should try to sleep."
She sighs. "I know. I just... every time I close my eyes, I see him. Eric. Standing in that grocery store, telling me he's been watching us."
My jaw tightens. "He won't get near you or Emily again. I promise."
"You can't possibly promise that," she says, but there's no accusation in her tone, just weariness.
"I can," I counter. "And I am. Whatever it takes, I'll keep you both safe."
She studies me for a long moment, then nods, seemingly satisfied with whatever she sees in my expression. "I should go back to my room."
I stand as she rises, fighting the urge to touch her, to offer more tangible comfort than just words. "If you need anything, anytime, my door's always open."
"Thank you," she says softly. "For everything."
As she slips out into the hallway, I resist the urge to follow and walk her to her door like some kind of gentleman. Instead, I close my door and lean against it, listening until I hear her bedroom door close.
Only then do I return to my bed, knowing sleep will be even more elusive now, with the scent of her lingering in my room and the memory of her vulnerable strength etched into my mind.
Tomorrow, I'll focus on finding Eric, on the practical steps needed to eliminate the threat he poses. But tonight, I'll allow myself to acknowledge the truth that's becoming harder to ignore with each hour that passes:
Camryn Fletcher is getting under my skin in a way no woman has in years, and I'm not entirely sure what to do about it.