Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
storm
Her lips taste like coffee and something sweet I can't name.
I shouldn't be kissing her. Not now, not when she's vulnerable and seeking comfort from a storm that terrifies her. But the moment she walked into my room, eyes wide with fear and something else, something that looked dangerously like need, I was lost.
Now, with her pressed against me, fingers tangled in my hair, mouth opening under mine, I can't remember why this was such a bad idea.
All I know is the softness of her skin beneath my palms, the quiet sounds she makes when I deepen the kiss, the way her body fits against mine like it was made to be there.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, I keep my forehead pressed to hers, unwilling to let her go too far. "I've got you," I whisper against her lips. "You're safe with me."
The words are a promise I intend to keep, no matter what it costs me.
The storm continues to rage outside but Camryn doesn't flinch anymore. She stays in the circle of my arms, eyes closed, breathing steadier now.
"I should check on Emily," she says after a long moment, though she makes no move to leave.
"Probably," I agree, equally reluctant to break this connection.
She looks up at me, those hazel eyes clear and direct. "What is this, Storm? What are we doing?"
It's a fair question and one I don't have a good answer for. "I don't know," I admit. "But it feels right."
A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. "It does, doesn't it? Which probably means it's trouble."
"Darling, I've been trouble my whole life," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Never felt like this, though."
Her smile widens slightly. "Like what?"
I consider the question seriously. "Like I'd burn the world down to keep you safe."
Her smile fades, replaced by something more solemn. "That's... intense."
"I know," I acknowledge. "Too much?"
She hesitates then shakes her head. "No. Just... unexpected."
I want to kiss her again, to show her with actions what I'm struggling to express with words, but she's right. We should check on Emily, make sure she's still sleeping peacefully through the storm.
"Come on," I say, reluctantly releasing her. "I'll walk you back to your room."
The hallway is quiet as we make our way to her door. Inside, Emily is indeed still asleep, curled around her stuffed rabbit, oblivious to the thunder and lightning outside. Camryn stands in the doorway watching her daughter for a long moment, her expression so tender it makes my chest ache.
"She looks so peaceful," she whispers. "I envy that—the ability to sleep through storms."
"You're getting better," I point out. "You made it through this one without hiding."
She glances back at me, a flicker of pride crossing her face. "I did, didn't I?"
"Progress," I say with a small smile. "One storm at a time."
She closes Emily's door softly and turns to face me in the dimly lit living room. "Thank you," she says. "For... everything today."
There's a wealth of meaning in those words: for confronting Eric, for helping her through the storm, for the kiss we shared.
"No need to thank me," I tell her. "Protecting what's important to me is what I do."
Her eyes search mine, looking for something, reassurance, maybe, or sincerity. Whatever she finds seems to satisfy her because she nods slightly.
"Goodnight, Storm," she says softly.
"Goodnight, Camryn," I reply, forcing myself to turn and leave before I can talk myself into staying.
Back in my room, I sit on the edge of my bed, replaying the events of the day in my mind.
The confrontation with Eric. The storm. The kiss.
It's the confrontation I keep circling back to; the rage I felt when I finally came face to face with the man who hurt Camryn, who threatened her and her daughter.
My hands clench into fists at the memory...
Shadow, Digger and I sit on our bikes across the street from The Red Door, watching the entrance. It’s a shabby bar, with blacked-out windows and a neon sign that flickers even in daylight.
"You sure he's working today?" Digger asks, checking his watch.
"Cruz confirmed it," I reply, eyes never leaving the door. "Said he starts at noon."
It’s just past eleven, giving us time to scope out the location before making our move. The bar is in a rough neighborhood, the kind where people mind their own business and security cameras mysteriously malfunction with regularity. Perfect for what we have planned.
"Remember," Shadow says, "we need information before anything else. Who he owes, how much, and what kind of deadline he's facing."
I nod, already knowing the plan: get Eric alone, extract information, and make sure he understands the consequences of going near Camryn or Emily again. Simple.
Except there is nothing simple about the rage simmering in my veins or the need to make this man pay for what he's done to Camryn. She was sixteen, a fucking child, when he attacked her, then left her pregnant and terrified. And now he’s back, threatening to take Emily, watching their house, making Camryn look over her shoulder with every step.
The thought of it makes my vision blur with fury.
"There he is," Digger says suddenly, nodding toward a figure approaching the bar.
Eric is younger than I expected, maybe thirty, with generic good looks that have probably served him well with women.
He’s of average height and has dark hair, and he’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket despite the warm day.
There’s nothing particularly threatening about his appearance, which makes him all the more dangerous.
The worst predators never look the part.
"Let him get settled inside," I say, tamping down the urge to confront him immediately. "We want privacy for this conversation."
We give him fifteen minutes then cross the street. The bar is nearly empty, just a couple of daytime drinkers nursing beers at the far end. Eric is behind the counter, wiping down glasses, his back to the door as we enter.
The three of us spread out, Shadow moving to block the exit while Digger takes position near the other patrons. I approach the bar and slide onto a stool directly in Eric's line of sight, just as he turns around.
"What can I get you?" he asks automatically, then freezes when he sees my cut, the Fury Vipers patch prominent on the leather.
"Just a conversation," I say, keeping my voice casual despite the rage building in my chest. "About Camryn Fletcher and her daughter."
His face pales then flushes with anger. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I smile, and I know the expression isn’t conveying amusement. "Sure you do. You've been watching her house. Following her to the grocery store. Threatening to take her daughter. Ring any bells?"
His eyes dart toward the exit, where Shadow is standing like a stone wall, arms crossed over his massive chest; then to the other customers, who are now being encouraged by Digger to finish their drinks elsewhere.
"Look, man, I don't know who you are—"
"I'm the guy who's going to make you regret ever looking at Camryn again if you don't start talking," I cut him off, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. "And I'm in a real hurry today, so let's skip the part where you pretend not to know what I'm talking about."
He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I have rights. She's my—"
"She's not your anything," I growl, leaning forward. "And the only right you have is to live through this conversation, if you tell me what I want to know."
The bar is empty now, just the four of us. Eric's eyes flick between us as he calculates odds that are getting worse for him by the second.
"I need a cigarette," he finally says.
"Outside," I agree, nodding to Shadow to follow us.
Eric leads the way through the back door into an alley behind the bar. The moment the door closes behind us, Shadow grabs him and slams him face-first into the brick wall.
"What the fuck!" Eric shouts, struggling against Shadow's iron grip.
"Here's how this works," I say, stepping closer. "I ask questions. You answer them. Every lie, every bullshit story, every time you waste my time, there are consequences. Understand?"
He glares at me over his shoulder, defiant despite his position. "Fuck you."
I nod to Shadow, who twists Eric's arm behind his back and applies pressure until something pops. Eric's scream echoes in the alley.
"First question," I continue, as if nothing has happened. "Who do you owe money to?"
"I don't—agh!" His denial is cut off by another sharp twist from Shadow.
"Let's try again," I suggest. "Who do you owe and how much do you owe them?"
Eric's face is contorted with pain, sweat beading on his forehead. "Jesus Christ, alright! It's a guy named Cantlay. A loan shark. I owe him fifty grand."
"Gambling debt?" I guess.
He nods, wincing as the movement jostles his injured arm. "Started small. Got out of hand. The interest is fucking killing me."
"And you thought you could extort the money out of Camryn by threatening to take her kid from her?" The absurdity of it almost makes me laugh.
"Not all of it," he says quickly. "Just enough to buy some time. I figured if I threatened to go for custody, she'd pay me to go away."
The casual way he admits to blackmailing Camryn sends a fresh wave of fury through me. I step closer, invading his personal space.
"So you thought you'd terrorize a single mother and threaten to take her child, all to cover a gambling debt. That about right?"
He has the sense to look ashamed at least. "I was desperate, man. Cantlay's people don't fuck around. They already broke two of my fingers as a warning."
I glance at his hands, noting the splints on his left one. "Looks like you didn't learn your lesson."
"I'm trying to stay alive here!" he protests. "Cantlay said if I don't have the money by the end of the month, they start taking body parts. I figured custody threats were the fastest way to get cash out of Camryn."