Property of Mountain (Kings of Anarchy MC: Ohio #2)

Chapter 1 Mountain

“Baking Contest Winner Camille Parker Lands New Bakeware Deal.” I stare at the news headline, frustration tightening my shoulders and neck.

Every time I see an article or a story about Cami, it evokes the same reaction.

It doesn’t matter if I hate that she’s gone or if I admit I’m the reason.

She’ll never come back to Raven’s Crest now that she’s a celebrity.

At least, not to stay. Our small town doesn’t have all the glitz and glamor she can find in L.A.

It pisses me off. She should be here. Baking in Butter Bliss with her Granny Jo. Taking her daily jog through the familiar streets. Staying where I can watch over her, my ax ready in case of trouble.

I scrub my hand down my face and over the stubble on my jaw. Cami Parker is a pain in the ass, has been since the day I met her. She’s opinionated. Independent. Headstrong. And. . . my fucking kryptonite.

All it took was one taste of her, and now I can’t get her out of my head.

My gaze sweeps over the photo they’ve used for the promo.

It’s a synthetic, plastic shot that shows nothing of the passionate, stubborn woman I know.

Sure, she’s a fucking knockout with curves that make my whole body ache with want, but the image doesn’t do her justice.

It’s some studio-produced bullshit that doesn’t showcase the light freckles across her nose when she’s been in the sun a little too long.

Or the dimple in her left cheek when she finds something amusing.

There’s no emotion. Nothing that reveals the real Cami.

The years of separation don’t change the facts. I haven’t forgotten. I know her in ways those fools in L.A. never will.

Fuck. I’ve never been this hung up on a woman.

And the worst part? She fucking hates me.

I know it. It’s my fucking fault.

Folding over the article, I place it in the box where I keep all the articles, newspaper clippings, and information I either print or find on Cami.

It’s become an unhealthy obsession—a ridiculous, possessive way to remain close to her despite the distance.

I spend way too much time scanning the internet, hungry for anything I can find on her accomplishments.

Camille Parker is the one who got away.

Bitterness sweeps through my chest, and I shove the box up high in my closet, pushing it far back because this time, dammit, I’m not going to add to the collection.

I need a fucking drink.

As I leave my room, I lock the door. It’s a habit more than a necessity.

There’s not a single brother in the club who would fuck with anyone’s shit, steal, or enter their room without permission.

Even the hang arounds and club girls know better than to tempt fate like that.

Our rooms are private and off-limits. Always.

I drop my keys in the pocket inside my cut.

My first stop is the bar. On nights like this, when I don’t want Cami consuming my thoughts, I need whisky.

The strongest we’ve got. A few shots and I’ll be feelin’ much better.

I can shove away the intrusive thoughts that blame me for losing Cami and fucking up my life.

I pick up two shots from the sweet butt behind the bar, forgetting her name as I thank her, and join my pres, Scythe. “Hey.”

“Mountain,” he greets me, using that discerning gaze that tells me he sees more than he mentions, including the dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep. “Everything good?”

“Sure.”

“How did it go with Cami?”

I recently took a trip to California just to check on her when I saw an article about some crazed fan who tried to enter Cami’s hotel room. She didn’t appreciate my interference.

We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet.

“She’s good.” My voice is too tight when I answer.

“You don’t have to tell me your business, brother, but I know when something is bullshit.”

It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him. I just don’t want to talk about Cami or any of the reasons I’m not with her.

There’s no humor in my voice as I answer, tossing back my shot of whisky like it can chase away my bad choices along with my bitterness and frustration. “Yeah. I know, Pres.”

“Is she coming back to Ohio?”

“Fuck no,” I snarl. “She’s too caught up in being a celebrity. Cami forgets I know her.”

He stares at me, cataloging my reaction, like I’m not hiding the way I truly feel at all. I want to punch a fucking wall.

“That’s rough. Give her time,” he suggests.

Time? That won’t make a bit of difference. Not when the issue is me.

I open my mouth to respond when my phone begins ringing. Scythe’s goes off at the same time with a text. There’s only one reason that happens. It’s club business or an emergency that affects both of us.

I swipe across my phone and answer the call. It’s my brother. All I hear are the words “fire” and “Granny Jo” as I listen. Rage and fear collide as the news sinks in. “I’m on my way!” I announce before I hit end.

“Fuck,” Scythe curses, shooting to his feet.

I swallow the shock and growl the news to everyone in the bar, already striding away from the bar and heading for the door. “Someone just set the Butter Bliss on fire, and Granny Jo is inside.” Fuck!

“I’m going with you!”

I nod at Scythe. I expect his answer.

He shouts orders for the club to get their asses moving. We need help because I can’t let the Butter Bliss burn down. It’s been in Cami’s family for generations. Urgency spurs me on as I hop on my bike and pull back on the throttle.

I’ve got no idea if Granny Jo is okay. My knuckles grip the handlebars tighter as I ride through the fall-themed streets, passing by the Fear Farm and the carnival, and arrive to find a large crowd surrounding the exterior of the bakery.

Granny Jo is more than Cami’s grandmother.

She’s family to me, too. The patient voice when the past overcomes the present.

The holder of my secrets. Someone I love and trust as much as my club and brothers.

Whoever did this is gonna pay.

I’m off my bike fast, rushing into the chaos as firefighters try to douse the flames. Smoke billows from the broken front windows, and I feel my heart squeeze.

I’m already too late.

“Granny Jo?” I ask as I push through, swallowing as I find my youngest brother as he aims a hose at the roof.

Braden volunteers as a firefighter because Raven’s Crest is so small.

We don’t have more than a few guys full-time.

With only four thousand residents, it’s not needed.

Arson isn’t usually a problem. My brother works in the family business, putting in hours at the lumber mill unless he’s needed for an emergency like this.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him put on this uniform.

I don’t want to think about the last time I saw flames as they rose into the night, the soot and smoke staining everything around us.

“With Emily,” Braden shouts. “Check on her.”

A paramedic. Shit!

I spin around and find the ambulance, rushing up to Granny Jo. She’s wearing an oxygen mask, and her clothes smell like smoke. There are a few holes where the fabric is charred. Soot stains prove she barely escaped. Ash covers her face and body in a gray powder.

“Granny!” I shout, pushing through the paramedic to get to her.

She holds up a hand and waves me away. “I’m okay, Rex. Gonna take more than that to take me out.”

I don’t think it’s funny. “You’re hurt.”

She snorts, but it doesn’t have the same effect as she intends since she’s got that mask over her face. There’s blood on the side of her forehead and a gash that looks deep. My fingers curl into fists. Did she stumble? Or did something fall on top of her during the fire?

I open my mouth to ask questions, but I’m quickly denied.

The paramedic, Emily, shoots me a glare. “She needs rest. Her lungs were exposed to a lot of smoke, Rex. Once she’s been triaged, you’ll be able to see her. I need to take her to Oak Valley.”

Oak Valley Hospital is located at the west end of the closest town, near Willow Wood Falls. It’s almost an hour away.

I blink, then notice that Emily is bandaging Granny Jo’s arm. “A burn? How bad is it?”

She glances at her patient. “The wound needs treatment.”

Granny Jo shakes her head and rests against the gurney. She looks exhausted and in pain.

Fuck.

“Call Cami, Rex. I need her.”

I nod, knowing she’ll be devastated to learn her Granny is in the hospital, but it’ll be worse since I’m the one delivering the news.

Emily gestures for me to move out of the way before she helps push the stretcher into the ambulance, climbs inside, and reaches for the doors. “We need to go! You can meet us there, Rex.”

Most of the town knows me as Rex Coleman. One of five brothers who co-own the Coleman Lumber Company. It’s been in my family since the founding days of Raven’s Crest. Roots that bury as deep as Cami’s family, the Parkers. The same roots that some say began in Salem, Massachusetts.

“I’ll see you soon, Granny Jo!” I holler as Emily closes the ambulance doors and it pulls away, the sirens blaring to alert anyone nearby of the emergency.

I feel a hand clamp on my shoulder and turn to Voodoo.

“I’m ridin’ with ya. Let’s go.”

My gaze swings to the smoldering building to my left, taking in the blackened interior of the bakery.

It’s fucking ruined. No more pink and white walls and table décor or glass display cases filled with dozens of baked goods.

Instead of butter, sugar, and vanilla, there’s a deep, chemical, tar-like stench saturating the air.

This isn’t an accident.

Why the fuck would someone want to burn down the bakery?

I follow Voodoo to my bike and swing a leg over the seat. If I wasn’t so concerned about Granny Jo, I’d stay and talk to Braden. He has to have theories about how the fire started.

As I sit on my bike, I dial Cami’s number.

I’ll have to explain why I have it and why I’ve never deleted it.

She won’t like it. She’ll probably be pissed.

I don’t know why, but the thought makes my dick hard.

It’s got nothing to do with her Granny or the bakery.

I’m not an asshole. It’s about me and Cami and all the shit left unspoken between us.

The fight that I can sense is coming. And maybe.

. . It’s the tiny spark of hope that she’ll come home, take over the bakery, and I can finally claim her.

Because Camille Parker has been mine since she kissed me.

And I’ll prove it.

When I dial her number, it rings six times and goes to voicemail. No surprise. I call back. It takes three more times before Cami answers with more than a little attitude.

“What do you want, Rex?”

“Darlin’, I need you to breathe. I’ve got news about Granny Jo.”

I don’t have to stand beside her to know her expression when she hears this. Her voice cracks as she responds. “Tell me.”

I’ve always called her Blissy Girl. It’s been her nickname since high school. It’s a rotten time to show her that I remember it, that I remember everything, but I need her to focus and not lose her shit when she’s alone. “I’ve got her until you get here, Blissy Girl. Okay?”

“Rex.”

All she says is my name—just one word.

And I know I’d give my life for hers.

It was true three years ago, and it hasn’t fucking changed.

I don’t think it ever will.