Chapter 9 #3
I shift in my seat, again. And of course, Cam catches it from across the table, letting out a knowing chuckle.
I shoot him a glare. Don’t even fucking start.
Raven doesn’t notice. She’s too busy psyching herself up, trying to convince herself she’s still in control.
She’s not.
I watch her drain the rest of her water, fidgeting in her seat. She’s thinking about backing out, but she won’t. That would mean I win. And there’s no way in hell she’s letting that happen.
I lean back, stretching my arm along the back of the booth, watching her squirm.
While we wait for our food, Cam tosses out random questions that send the girls into a battle of ridiculous retellings. They argue over details, each version more absurd than the last. Their voices overlap as they fight over the real version.
Rachel waves her hands around like a dramatic reenactment is necessary. Raven, on the other hand, is all razor-sharp wit until she gets into it, and suddenly she’s fully invested, defending whatever point she was trying to make like it’s a blood sport.
My cock is really straining to make a reappearance, so I shift in my seat, grateful that so far my struggle has gone unnoticed. I’d rather not have to explain that over dinner.
But listening to them, I can’t ignore the thoughts that creep in. They’re wild. Unpredictable. And they attract chaos like it’s second nature. It's got bad news written all over it.
The second the food hits the table, the energy shifts and everyone digs in, everyone except Raven. Her usual confidence is cracking just enough for me to notice. It’s amusing, and I’ll admit, kind of cute.
But if I so much as chuckle right now, she’ll definitely back out. And I’m not about to let that happen.
Rachel’s already pulled out her phone, and her camera's aimed like she’s about to document history.
“It’s not that bad. You’re being a big baby,” Rachel teases, her grin stretching ear to ear.
Raven shoots her a glare, then looks back to me. I grab my fork, loading a decent bite, but not enough to make her panic. I know if I hand it to her, she’ll refuse or stab me with it. And honestly? I wouldn’t bet against either possibility.
So I don’t give her the chance. I raise the fork to her mouth watching for a reaction.
Fire flashes behind her eyes. She’s stubborn as hell. But she doesn’t back down.
A smirk pulls at my lips as she leans in, and the second her lips wrap around the fork, her eyes lock onto mine.
Fuck.
Heat slams through me as I drag the fork out slowly. Yeah. This was a fucking terrible idea. Because now I’m thinking about those lips wrapped around something else entirely.
I tighten my grip on the fork, clenching my jaw to keep from reacting, because the thoughts running through my head are not safe for dinner conversation.
I can’t stop picturing her on her knees, wondering if she’d keep eye contact then, too.
Little shit.
The moment vanishes as quickly as it came. Her expression shifts, bracing for impact, afraid to let the taste spread across her tongue. It’s almost comical how invested I am in this, but I can't look away.
I see the exact moment the flavor hits. Her brows pull together, and she chews slowly, analyzing it like she’s mentally breaking it apart, layer by layer.
And then there’s a flicker or something else. Curiosity? Maybe even the smallest hint of approval.
I press my lips together to keep from grinning, bracing for whatever bullshit she’s about to come up with.
“Oh, my hell, just swallow it, you know you’ve had worse things in your mouth,” Rachel chimes in, while Cam laughs beside her.
I barely hear them, because watching Raven swallow is now the top of the fucking list of my favorite things she’s ever done.
And my body reacts immediately.
Hard. Again.
This night is going to be a damn problem. No question about that.
She stares down at her plate like it’s personally betrayed her. Then, her eyes finally lock onto mine, her expression pained like this confession might actually kill her.
“Okay, fine,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that bad. But don't let it go to your head, though.”
Too late. She shoots me a look meant to wound, but the fire burning behind her eyes has already gone straight to my head. Both of them.
There she is again, fighting a losing battle with her pride. She clearly hates losing, and that’s an interesting little fact I’m tucking away for later.
I lean back in my seat, draping my arm lazily across the back of the booth, enjoying every second of watching her suffer.
Cam and Rachel erupt into laughter, instantly breaking the tension and Rachel launches into a series of dramatic reenactments of all the times she’s tried, and failed, to get Raven to try new things.
Each story is more ridiculous than the last, and suddenly, Raven's stubbornness is the night’s main entertainment.
I should be listening. But I’m not. I’m too busy thinking about how much I want her.
When dinner winds down, Cam and I push to our feet, motioning for the girls to do the same. Raven doesn’t even argue.
That alone feels like a victory.
We step out of the restaurant and Cam pauses to whisper something to the hostess before falling in beside me, leading the girls toward the car.
My properties aren’t publicly listed. In fact, they’re only available through an internal network, reserved for specific referrals. Rachel? Maybe. But my gut tells me otherwise.
Raven is connected or, at the very least, she’s connected to someone who is.
And I want to know who.
I glance at her in the passenger seat, watching as she stares out the window, completely unaware of the questions stacking up in my head.
It would take me less than an hour to get answers. One call and a few keystrokes. But I’d rather see how much she’s willing to give.
Cam slips into tour guide mode. “Thank you for a charming day, ladies,” he announces smoothly, as we pull up to their house. “We hope you enjoyed your exclusive VIP experience with Cam’s Highland Adventures. Five-star service, guaranteed. Tips encouraged.”
They both laugh, and Raven opens the door like she can’t get out fast enough, then turns back to say, “That was fun. Someone actually recommended that place to us the other day, and they weren't wrong, it was amazing. Night, guys.”
Rachel chimes in, just as bubbly. “It really was! Maybe a cold shower will do the trick, Kane. See you guys later!”
Cam’s already slouched in one of the chairs, looking downright miserable. His usual energy is nowhere to be found, and he’s staring off like he's miles away.
I grab a bottle off the shelf, twisting the cap off with one hand. “You doing all right over there?” I ask, pouring myself a glass. His whole demeanor’s off, and I don’t like it.
Cam exhales, rubbing his hand over his face. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
Ah. So that’s where we are tonight. We both know some things are better left unsaid.
There's a beat of silence. Then, “Sorry, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”
The laugh I let out is dry and humorless. “Aye. That’s the problem.”
Cam doesn’t answer, just glances at me with a look that says he knows damn well I’m in the same boat.
Touché.
I pour us both a drink because we clearly need it. Getting my head on straight is proving to be harder than I anticipated. No matter how much I try to focus, all I can think about is Raven and it's starting to piss me off.
“Want to go a couple rounds?”
I drain my glass and his head snaps up. He studies me for a second, then a slow, knowing grin spreads across his face.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
We head to the elevator, taking it down to the basement. The second the doors slide open, the lights flicker on automatically, illuminating the hall as we step inside.
The basement is more than just a gym, it’s my own personal training center.
One side is dedicated to the boxing ring, surrounded by weights and enough training gear to keep me occupied for hours. The other side is for training. Complete with mats and racks of gear, along with dummies.
Cam and I move like we’ve done this a thousand times, because we have. He shrugs out of his jacket, stretching his arms, then he rolls his neck.
I do the same, rolling out my wrists, letting my muscles loosen. My body’s still coiled too damn tight, but this is definitely what I needed.
There was a time when he wasn’t the guy standing across from me now. When he was the one getting knocked down instead of throwing the punches.
When we were younger he used to come over with bruises and scrapes like they were badges of honor he never asked for. And one night, one bad fucking night, I wasn’t there when I should’ve been.
I remember the way my stomach dropped and the way my hands curled into fists at the sight of him. That feeling still sits in my gut all these years later, making my blood boil.
But that night he was a fucking mess. Bruised, bloody, and barely standing.
I got him back to my place and patched him up myself because he refused to see a doctor. Stubborn bastard.
We were inseparable after that. I taught him how to fight, and damn, was he a quick learner.
There’s nothing that clears my head quite like this.
I go through the motions of wrapping my hands and step into the ring. I keep my mind zeroed in on the routine. The scent of sweat and canvas steadies me. And still, she creeps in. Slipping past my defenses like she’s got a damn key.
I've been on my best behavior, keeping my distance even though it takes every ounce of control I have not to close the gap and touch her. The temptation is there, with every glance and every laugh. And my dick is a relentless reminder of everything I can't have.
Before I can sink any deeper, Cam lands a sharp jab to the side of my face.
The impact snaps my head to the side, pulling me out of it.
“Fucking hell, man,” I mutter, shaking it off.
Cam just grins as his eyes light up with that familiar challenge. “Where’s your head at?”
He knows exactly where my head’s at.
I exhale slowly, rolling out my shoulders. “You know you’d never land a blow like that unless I was distracted,” I taunt, throwing a punch of my own.
This time, he doesn’t dodge. The hit lands, and while he laughs it off, I know that one stung.
“Just because Rachel isn’t into you, doesn't mean you two can’t be friends,” I circle him, aiming another swing.
He wipes his mouth, spitting out blood, and flashes that cocky grin like he didn’t just take a solid hit to the jaw. “Yes, I'm aware,” he says dryly. “And ow.”
He’s not taking it personally, he never does. Cam knows what this is. We’ve always settled things like this. No holding back, no sugarcoating. Just fists, sweat, and a chance to clear the air.
“Cry me a fucking river,” I mutter, stepping back into the fight.
Cam’s laughter echoes off the walls while our fists meet flesh. The familiar rhythm of violence does wonders for shaking the tension loose.
I just needed to hit someone a few times and already the fire burning in my gut is beginning to settle.
“You know,” Cam says, slipping past my guard with frustrating ease. “You can just be friends with Raven, too.”
I freeze for half a second, and it's just enough time for him to land a shot to my ribs that forces a sharp exhale from my lungs.
He grins. “Doesn't have to be all or nothing. Just think of her more like a sister. Then maybe you won’t want to bend her over the nearest surface every time she fucking smiles at you.”
Wrong move.
The second the words leave his mouth, I swing, fast and hard. Cam dodges, barely, and his grin only widens.
“Interesting.” he taunts, sidestepping another punch.
I narrow my eyes. “Stop talking.”
“Or what?” He dodges again, still bouncing off his feet like this is all just a game. “You gonna hit me harder? Shit, I should’ve brought popcorn.”
I lunge and finally land a clean shot to his shoulder. His grin falters, but only for a second.
“See?” He coughs, rolling out his neck. “I’m practically doing you a favor.”
I grit my teeth and I can feel the irritation rolling through me in waves. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right.
As we trade blows, my focus sharpens, forcing me out of my own fucking head. One slip and I’ll take a right hook to the jaw. Cam’s not holding back, and that’s exactly what I need right now.
The rounds blur together, our bodies moving on instinct, but my muscles are screaming. I haven’t done this in a while, and I can feel it.
“All right, fuck it,” I finally pant, rolling back on my heels as sweat drips down my back. “It’s a tie.”
He's barely winded, the bastard.
“Getting soft on me?” He taunts, wiping the blood from his lip.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “No, just don’t feel like walking around looking like I got the shit beat out of me.”
Cam chuckles, tossing his towel down. “Unless you think Raven will nurse you back to health?”
My grip tightens around the ropes. That little fucker.
Cam spits out more blood, shaking his head with a grin as he heads toward the fridge. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
I shoot him a glare but can’t hide the smirk tugging at my lips. “You’re really trying to die today, aren’t you?”
Cam raises his water bottle in a toast. “Just keeping you honest, man.”
“Yeah, keep talking,” I mutter, grabbing a towel. I toss my water bottle at him, then drop on the bench, rubbing the towel over my face.
He takes a long swig before saying anything. “So how do you want me to handle the job?” His tone shifts, no more taunting, no more games. Just all business.
I sigh. “What’s the latest?”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Client’s still panicking. They want an update. Says they can add more money if they need to. Looks like they're getting desperate.”
I exhale through my nose. “Still no confirmation?”
He shakes his head. “No body, no proof. But they’re certain something’s off.”
That’s the problem with these types of jobs; there’s never a clear answer until it's too late.
I lean forward, resting my elbow on my knees. “We need more intel before we commit. I’m not walking into this blind.”
Cam nods. “Already on it. We should have something soon.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “And you? What’s your take?”
He drags a hand through his hair, his expression stays unreadable. “Something’s not right. Feels like we’re only getting half the story.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
Silence stretches between us, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Cam and I have been doing this long enough to know when something doesn’t add up. And this smells like a set up.
He exhales, shaking his head as he tips his water over his face. “What are we going to do?” His voice is edged with frustration, but there’s something darker.
I let the question hang between us for a beat while my mind moves ten steps ahead.
“Invite the boys over.” I stand, tossing the towel. “Time to get some answers.”