Chapter 10 #2
The main room of the clubhouse has mostly cleared out, the Halloween party winding down, the late hour and the return of Cantlay's men having driven most of the guests home. A few brothers remain, alert and ready despite the costumes some still wear.
I find Shadow and Digger by the front entrance, both looking grim. "How many?" I ask without preamble.
"Three," Shadow reports. "Same guys as before, including Scarface. They're standing by their car just outside the gate. Say they won't leave until they talk to you."
"Any sign of Eric?"
Digger shakes his head. "Not with them. He could be in the car though."
I nod, considering my options. "Let's hear what they have to say. But we do it on our terms, not theirs. Have them come to the gate, no further. And I want six brothers backing me up."
Shadow grins—a cold expression that has nothing to do with humor. "Already arranged. Ace, May, and Cruz are waiting outside. Blaze and a couple other prospects are positioned with rifles, just in case things go south."
"Good," I say, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's get this over with."
We head outside, the cool night air a welcome relief after the stuffy clubhouse. Halloween decorations still adorn the compound. Beneath the pirate costume I still wear, I can feel the reassuring weight of my gun holstered at my back.
At the gate, Ace, Mayhem, and Cruz form a solid line, facing outward toward the three men standing beside a black SUV. I approach, positioning myself between Ace and Mayhem, Shadow and Digger falling in behind me. The message is clear: I may be the one they asked for, but I don't stand alone.
"You wanted to talk," I call out to the scarred man, who seems to be the leader. "So talk."
He steps forward, stopping just on the other side of the gate. Up close, the scar on his face looks even more brutal; a jagged line that runs from his left temple down to his jaw, puckered and white against his tan skin.
"Mr. Cantlay sends his regards," he says, his voice carrying a slight accent I can't quite place. "He's impressed with your... enthusiasm for protecting the woman and her child."
"Didn't come out here for compliments," I reply flatly. "What does Cantlay want?"
"To make a deal. Eric Mason owes Mr. Cantlay fifty thousand dollars, plus interest. Mr. Cantlay is willing to forgive this debt in exchange for certain considerations."
I raise an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"Mr. Cantlay has business interests that occasionally require... diplomatic intervention. The Fury Vipers have a reputation for effectiveness in such matters. He proposes an exchange of services."
So that's the play. Cantlay wants to use the MC as muscle for his loan shark operation. Not an unusual arrangement in our world, but not one we enter into lightly, especially not under these circumstances.
"And if we decline?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
The scarred man shrugs, a casual gesture at odds with the tension in his posture. "Then Mr. Cantlay will be forced to pursue his debt by other means. Starting with Ms. Fletcher and her daughter."
A cold rage sweeps through me at the thinly veiled threat, and I feel Mayhem tense beside me, ready to move if I give the signal. But I keep my expression neutral, my voice level.
"Let me make something very clear," I say, stepping closer to the gate. "Camryn Fletcher and her daughter are under my personal protection. Under the club's protection. Any move against them will be considered a declaration of war against the Fury Vipers. Is Mr. Cantlay prepared for that?"
The scarred man's eyes narrow slightly, measuring my resolve. "Mr. Cantlay has many resources at his disposal."
"So do we," I counter. "But unlike Cantlay, we're not businessmen. We don't calculate profit margins or weigh risks against rewards. We're bikers. We operate on principle. And one of our principles is that no one threatens our family."
"The woman is not your family," he argues. "She's not even your old lady."
"She's mine," I state, the words carrying a weight that surprises even me. "And that's all you need to know."
The scarred man studies me for a long moment then nods slowly. "I'll convey your position to Mr. Cantlay. But understand that this places you in a difficult situation. Eric Mason still owes a debt. Someone must pay it."
"We'll handle Eric," I tell him. "Your boss will get his money, but not from Camryn or through threats against her. Tell Cantlay if he wants to maintain his current business arrangements in this territory, he'll back off. Immediately and permanently."
It's a bold claim given that Cantlay operates independently of the MC, but not an empty one. We have alliances, connections that could make his life very difficult if properly leveraged.
The scarred man seems to understand this because after a moment's consideration, he nods again. "I'll deliver your message. But I can't guarantee Mr. Cantlay will be satisfied with these terms."
"Then he can come talk to me himself," I suggest, knowing full well it's unlikely. Men like Cantlay prefer to operate through intermediaries, keeping their own hands clean. "In the meantime, I don't want to see you or any of his other men anywhere near Camryn or her daughter. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," he replies, the word clipped and cold. He signals to his companions, and they begin to retreat toward their vehicle. Before he joins them, he turns back to me. "One more thing. Mr. Cantlay is curious why you're so invested in this woman. What makes her special enough to risk a war over?"
The question catches me off guard, not because I don't know the answer, but because I'm not sure I want to examine it too closely myself.
"That's my business," I say finally. "Not Cantlay's."
He accepts this with a small nod then walks back to the SUV. We watch in silence as they drive away, tail lights disappearing into the night.
"Think they'll back off?" Digger asks once they're gone.
"For now," I say, still watching the empty road. "Cantlay's smart. He'll weigh his options before making a move."
"And when he does?" Mayhem prompts.
"We'll be ready." I turn to Ace. "We need to reach out to Makenna Gallagher, see if the Irish have any leverage with Cantlay. And we need to find Eric. He's the root of this problem, it's time to pull it out."
Ace nods in agreement. "I'll call Makenna in the morning, set up a meeting with her. As for Eric, Cruz has been keeping tabs on his usual hangouts. We'll find him."
"Good," I say, already turning back toward the clubhouse. "The sooner we wrap this up, the better."
"Going back to your night fairy?" Mayhem asks, a hint of teasing in his voice.
I don't rise to the bait. "I’m going to make sure she knows what's happening. She deserves to be kept in the loop."
Mayhem's expression sobers. "You're right. She does. And Storm? For what it's worth, I think you're good for her. And she's definitely good for you."
"Thanks," I say simply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a conversation to finish."
I leave them at the gate and head back toward the clubhouse with purpose in my stride. The confrontation with Cantlay's men has only reinforced what I already knew: Camryn and Emily are in genuine danger and it won't end until we eliminate the threat completely.
But first, there's the matter of what was happening between us before Ace interrupted.
The memory of her in my arms, her lips on mine, her body pressed against me, sends heat coursing through my veins once more.
She was about to tell me what she wanted, and I'm very interested in hearing the rest of that sentence.
I take the stairs two at a time, anticipation building with each step.
When I reach her door, I knock softly, mindful of Emily sleeping inside.
Seconds later, the door opens to reveal Camryn, still in her black dress but with her face freshly washed, makeup removed.
She looks younger this way, more vulnerable, and even more beautiful.
"That was quick," she says, stepping back to let me in. "Is everything okay?"
"For now," I tell her, closing the door behind me. "Cantlay's men wanted to make a deal: use the club as muscle in exchange for forgiving Eric's debt."
"And?" she prompts, watching me carefully.
"And I told them that wasn't happening. That you and Emily are under our protection, and any move against you would be considered a declaration of war."
She sinks onto the couch, absorbing this information. "A war? Over us? Storm, that's—"
"Worth it," I interrupt, sitting beside her. "Don't try to tell me you're not worth protecting, Camryn. I won't believe it."
She shakes her head, not in denial but in disbelief.
"I just never expected any of this. A month ago, my biggest worry was Emily's science project and whether I'd finish my work presentation on time.
Now, there are loan sharks and bikers and threats of war, and somehow in the middle of all that.
.." She trails off, her eyes meeting mine.
"Somehow in the middle of all that…" I prompt, needing to hear her finish the thought.
"Somehow I found you," she says softly. "Or you found me. And despite everything, the danger, the violence, the fact that you represent everything I've spent my life avoiding, I can't seem to stay away from you."
My heart pounds against my ribs. "Do you want to?" I ask. "Stay away from me?"
She shakes her head slowly. "No. That's the problem. I don't want to stay away from you. I don't want you to stay away from me. Or from Emily."
The admission hangs between us, weighty with implication. "What do you want, Camryn?" I ask, echoing her unfinished question from earlier. "Tell me exactly what you want, and if it's in my power to give, it's yours."
She takes a deep breath, as if gathering her courage.
"I want to stop being afraid," she says finally.
"Of storms, of Eric, of letting someone in.
I want Emily to have stability and safety and as normal a childhood as possible.
I want..." She pauses, her eyes locked with mine.
"I want you, Storm. In my life. In our lives. Despite all the reasons I shouldn't."
The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs.
I reach for her, pulling her into my arms, my lips finding hers in a kiss that tries to convey everything I'm feeling: relief, desire, a fierce protectiveness, and something deeper; something I'm still afraid to name but can no longer deny.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, I keep her close, my forehead resting against hers. "I want you too," I confess. "Have since the moment I saw you. And I want to be in Emily's life, to keep you both safe, to give you both everything you deserve."
She pulls back slightly, eyes searching mine. "But?"
Of course she senses the unspoken reservation. Camryn Fletcher sees more than most, always has.
"But I need you to understand what you're getting into," I say seriously. "My life isn't simple, Camryn. The club, the things I've done, the things I will do to protect what's mine, it's a package deal. I can't separate one part of me from the others."
"I know," she says, her hand coming up to cup my face, thumb tracing the line of my jaw.
"I've seen the darkness in you, Storm. I'm not blind to it.
But I've also seen how you are with Emily; how you look at me; how you protect the people you care about.
Maybe the darkness is part of what makes you who you are.
Maybe I'm starting to understand that's not always a bad thing. "
Her acceptance, her understanding, reaches something deep inside me, something I'd thought was long buried. "You deserve better than me," I tell her, the words raw with honesty.
She smiles–a sad, beautiful expression that makes my chest ache. "Maybe. But I want you. And I'm tired of denying myself the things I want out of fear."
I pull her closer, burying my face in her hair, breathing in her scent. "I'm going to keep you safe," I promise against her skin. "Both of you. Whatever it takes."
"I know," she whispers, her arms tightening around me. "I believe you."
We stay like that for a long moment, holding each other in the quiet room, the only sound our breathing and the distant music still playing downstairs. Eventually, she pulls back, a small smile playing at her lips.
"It's late," she says. "And it's been a hell of a day."
I nod, understanding what she's not saying. Despite her admission, despite our mutual desire, tonight isn't the night to take things further. There's Emily to consider, and the emotional aftermath of everything that's happened.
"I should go," I say, though it's the last thing I want. "Let you get some rest."
She bites her lip, looking uncertain. "Or you could stay," she suggests quietly. "Just to sleep. I... I don't want to be alone tonight."
The request, simple and honest, affects me more deeply than any seduction could have. "Are you sure?"
She nods. "I'm sure."
I follow her to the bedroom, where I watch as she gathers pajamas and disappears into the bathroom to change. I strip down to my boxers and t-shirt and set my gun on the nightstand within easy reach; old habits die hard.
When she returns, wearing loose shorts and a tank top, her hair loose around her shoulders, she hesitates briefly at the sight of me in her bed. Then, with a deep breath, she climbs in beside me, switching off the lamp and plunging the room into darkness.
For a moment, we lie there awkwardly, neither sure how to navigate this new intimacy. Then I reach for her, pulling her gently against my chest, her back to my front, my arm draped protectively over her waist.
She sighs, her body relaxing into mine. "This okay?" I murmur against her hair.
"More than okay," she whispers back, her hand finding mine, fingers intertwining.
Downstairs, the Halloween party continues, muted sounds of music and laughter drifting up from below. But here, in this quiet room, with Camryn's warm body pressed against mine, her breathing slowly evening out as she drifts toward sleep, I find a peace I never expected.
There are still threats to face, battles to fight, a war possibly brewing on the horizon, but for now, in this moment, everything that matters is right here in my arms.
And I'll be damned if I let anyone take it away from me.