Biker's Claim: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Contains bonus book Cocked!) (23 page)

I fingered the gun in my waistband, feeling its reassuring heft and hardness.

Only a matter of days. I had to make sure they were going to be safe. Even if they hated me for it, I was going to keep Castillo away from my family.

I leaned back farther, preparing myself for a long and boring evening.

I
rolled
out of bed early the next morning, eyes bleary from not sleeping well.

I couldn’t get him out of my head. The way he looked, so confident and cocky, yet still so handsome, drove me insane. It was like he had shed any bit of youthful uncertainty and had turned into this totally different man.

He both was and wasn’t the Camden that left four years ago. I wasn’t sure if Lynn saw it or not; she was probably just too happy that he was alive, and wasn’t looking too deeply into the situation. But there was definitely something new and intriguing about him, as much as I hated to admit it.

Why was he back? Sure, he had a story, but I didn’t believe it. I’d been suckered by his lies too many times in the past to just accept what he said at face value. I wanted to believe he was telling the truth, wanted desperately to believe that he got out of jail and decided to come right home, a changed man. But there was something else in him, something that couldn’t be explained by a long stay in a prison.

I wasn’t sure exactly what that was yet. But I had a feeling I was going to find out sooner or later. Say one thing for Camden, as infuriating as he could be, he rarely disappointed.

I rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom, starting to get ready. A quick glance at the clock told me that I was running a little behind schedule and had to hustle.

Back in high school, I worked part time at a used bookstore. As luck would have it, the owner was looking for a little extra help during the summer. Since I needed something to do, I applied and was hired on the spot.

I had to admit, after all the craziness of college life, the bookstore was a nice change of pace. It didn’t get much traffic, and the owner was a really decent guy, which meant that I had plenty of time for reading between stocking and running the register. He wasn’t creepy, either, which was more than I could say for most of my bosses in the past.

I dressed and headed downstairs, grabbing a quick bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. Lynn and Dad had both already left for work, which meant the house was eerily quiet.

Caffeinated and fed, I quickly left the house, hustling over toward my car. It was parked in the street so that Dad and Lynn could get out of the driveway easily. I walked through the grass, frowning at the morning dew that stained my sneakers.

As I got to my car, an unusual motion across the street caught my eye. I looked up just as a figure stepped sideways, disappearing behind some shrubs.

What the hell? I thought. The person looked so damn familiar.

Curious, I decided to cross the street and check. Any thoughts about being late disappeared into the back of my head. There was a bus stop at the corner, and people were always sitting on the bench or generally waiting around for the bus, but the guy seemed so strange. As I crossed the street and angled toward the bush, I saw him.

“Camden?” I said.

He smirked at me. “’Morning, Lace.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Hanging out? You’re stalking us, aren’t you?”

He laughed. “Not stalking. Just waiting around for the bus.”

I looked him up and down, frowning. He was wearing the same outfit from the night before and looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept for hours. Still, despite that, my heart fluttered slightly as I took in his confident smile and his muscular body.

Memories of that body threatened to overwhelm me, but I ignored them.

“You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I’ve been busy.”

I sighed. “What are you doing here, really, Camden?”

He stared at me for a second, his face suddenly serious. He took a few steps closer and I felt a thrill run down my spine. It was half fear and half something else.

Truthfully, even after all this time, I still couldn’t help but remember the guy I was close with in high school. But that dangerous edge was still there, even if buried under expensive-looking clothes and a new confidence.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” he said.

“Try me.”

“You’re just going to have to be patient, Lace.”

“You’re full of crap,” I said, turning away. “You always have been.”

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm.

I felt the tinge of electricity as soon as his skin touched mine. It wasn’t crackling static or anything like that, but more like a tingle that spread from my head down my spine. It made my heart beat faster and my breath come deeper, like a drug or something. I felt like such a cliché, getting excited at an innocent touch, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been so long. Instantly, I wanted more.

“I don’t feel like playing games with you anymore, Camden,” I said softly.

He released his grip on my arm. “I get it. You hate me.”

I looked at his face, his beautiful, cocky face. “Do you blame me?”

“Not really. But something is happening and I don’t have time to deal with your stubbornness.”

I rolled my eyes. For a second, I thought he was going to be a decent guy, but there he was again. The same cocky asshole.

“I don’t care what you think is happening. If you really wanted to do us a favor, you’d just leave again.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. You’re pretty good at it.”

I heard him grunt, frustrated, as I turned and started to walk away again.

“You’re all in danger.”

I paused and looked back. “What did you say?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said more softly. “You’re all in danger.”

“What did you do?”

He shook his head. “It’s too complicated to explain here.”

“You keep saying that, and yet I keep thinking you’re a liar.”

“Come on.” He started walking back toward the house. I moved fast to catch up.

“I have work.”

“I’ll drive with you, then.”

“Not a chance. Just tell me what’s happening.”

“In the car,” he said brusquely.

With a sigh, I unlocked the doors. He climbed into the driver’s seat and I gaped in at him.

“Are you joking?”

“I’m the better driver.”

“Did a lot of driving in your Mexican prison?”

He grinned. “More than you’d think.”

I tossed him the keys and walked around to the passenger’s seat, not wanting to fight him anymore. Plus, I was definitely late for work and needed to get going.

He started the engine. “Where to?”

“The Salty Whale.”

“You still work at the Whale?”

“For this summer, yeah.”

He laughed and pulled out of the driveway. “I remember visiting you there.”

“Great. I’m not in the mood for reminiscing.”

“You looked so fucking cute buried in all your books. I thought you were such a nerd, but it got me hard as hell anyway.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said, lying. I felt myself remembering and knew I was on the verge of soaking through my panties already.

“Yeah, you do. Like the time I went down on you behind the philosophy section? You practically toppled the whole shelf. Your ass had words imprinted on it for hours.”

I smiled and crossed my legs. “I also remember a customer walked in on us just as we were getting dressed.”

He laughed loudly and nodded. “Scared the shit out of that old lady.”

I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell.”

“Probably thought she was losing her mind.”

I remembered that day very, very well. I had thought about it many times over the years. His tongue had felt incredible between my legs, and the fear of getting caught only heightened it. He had pushed me down onto a pile of books and had torn off my panties, eating my soaked-through pussy like wild.

I’d had to bit down on a paperback to keep from moaning. I wasn’t sure if he remembered that part, but I wasn’t going to remind him, either.

“Enough stories. Why did you say we’re in danger?”

He got suddenly serious as he turned onto Main Street, a few minutes out from the store.

“I can’t tell you everything,” he said. “Not yet at least,” he added quickly.

“I’m getting really sick of this mysterious act.”

“I got into some trouble in Mexico. That part is true.”

“Not surprising.”

“I got mixed up with a big drug cartel down there.”

“Camden,” I said softly.

“They’re no joke. I may do dumb shit sometimes, or at least I did, but those guys were on a whole different level.”

“What happened?”

“I started working for them. For the past few years I’ve been in their crew.”

I blinked, shocked. “How could you get involved with people like that?”

“I had no choice, Lace. You don’t understand how it all works.”

“Of course you had no choice. It’s never your fault, is it?”

“This was my fault,” he said darkly. I was taken aback all over at how serious he was. “And I take full responsibility for it. I’ve been paying off this debt for a long time. But it wasn’t my choice.”

“What does any of this have to do with us being in danger?”

“Something happened down south.”

“You didn’t bring them here, did you?”

He looked at me. “Not yet. But they’re coming.”

Fear stabbed through my chest as I stared back at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I were.”

“What the fuck did you do, Camden?” I said, trying to bite back the panic welling up in me but failing.

“I did what I had to do. None of this was supposed to blow back on you guys.”

“What are you even saying?”

I looked up and saw that we were pulling into the bookstore’s parking lot. I couldn’t believe the drive flew by like that, but it had.

He cut the engine and looked at me. “As much as I hate it, you’re all in danger. I’m here because I need to protect you.”

“I don’t understand. Protect us from what?”

“The cartel is coming, Lace.”

I stared at him, his face hard and intense. I couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was just too crazy. There was a Mexican drug cartel out there hunting us down that wanted to hurt us? I couldn’t imagine a world where that was the truth. We were normal people that did boring, normal things. We didn’t get involved with drug cartels.

“Lace?” he asked.

“I have to go.” I opened the door and climbed out.

“Wait,” he said, getting out. “I’m not lying to you.”

“For once in your life?”

I saw his jaw clench. “You don’t understand.”

“Just leave, Camden. Just go away. I don’t know why you’re making this crazy story up about drug cartels, but I’m not buying it.”

He shook his head. “I’m not lying. You’re all—”

“In danger,” I said, cutting him off. “I get it. Just go away, Camden.”

I turned and left, walking into the bookstore.

It felt like I was tearing open an old wound walking away from him like that, but I needed to process what he was saying. It was true that I found his first story completely unbelievable, but the second story was equally implausible, if not more so. Still, why would he make up something so outrageous?   

His eyes, at least, didn’t seem like he was lying. In fact, he looked like he was pleading with me, begging me to listen.

I couldn’t though. He was like a ghost to me still.

I had thought he was dead. I had mourned and I got over it. But now he was back, and I hated him more than ever.

Worse, I wanted him more than ever.

T
he look
on her face nearly tore me in half. I watched as she stormed into the bookstore, clearly pissed beyond belief and probably convinced that I was insane.

But she had to believe me. One way or another, I was getting her and our parents out of the state and up to Alaska. Maybe I was going to have to drag them at gunpoint, but I would if I had to. We’d be protected there, or at least hidden away until things blew over.

Dangerous men were coming. Men that were far more dangerous than me. And my old handlers couldn’t protect us anymore.

I turned away and began walking back toward Main Street. The hotel was just a few blocks away, and I needed some sleep. Trip would switch out with me and take a turn watching over the house.

As I walked, memories of the town came rushing back. Hammond had been my home for more than half my life. Though what happened in Mexico dominated my thoughts and shaped me as a person in the last few years, Hammond was my childhood. I learned everything I knew from Hammond, and then some.

The hotel was a run-down chain place. I went into the lobby and found the elevators, riding them to the third floor. I knocked on the door to our room.

“Yeah?” Trip’s voice came, muffled by the door.

“Special delivery,” I called.

“Camden?”

“Let me in.”

The door opened and Trip peeked out. “Hey, man.”

“It’s really me, and alone.”

He nodded, closed the door, unlocked the chain, and let me in.

“You’re getting more and more paranoid,” I said to him as I flopped down on the bed.

“Can’t hurt, being careful.”

“Listen, I need to sleep. You okay watching over the house for a few hours?”

“Sure thing. You tell them yet?”

I frowned. “I told Lacey.”

“Your sister?”

“Stepsister.”

“Whatever. How’d she take it?”

“About how I expected.”

“So she thinks that you’re a lying piece of shit.”

“Pretty much.”

He laughed. “You must be pretty used to that by now, though.”

“Unfortunately.”

“It’s cool, man. We’ll make it work.”

He grabbed his gun from the dresser and slipped it into his waistband. Without another word, he walked out of the room and was gone.

I stared at the doorway for a minute, exhaustion overwhelming me. I’d barely slept for more than a few hours since our close-as-fuck escape from Mexico. Our handlers basically hadn’t done shit, and it seemed like they had no intentions of helping us out. Even with innocent civilians in danger, they were nowhere to be seen.

They probably told themselves that they were avoiding an international incident. Basically, it was really just some bullshit excuse to get rid of some low-life criminals. But I wasn’t easily gotten rid of, and neither was Trip.

I lay back against the pillows and let my mind drift. I found myself remembering the night, years ago, when I decided that I couldn’t be with Lacey anymore.

It was the day before I disappeared. I had just found out from a friend about the Bloods and the stolen cars, and it had fully sunk in that I was either dead or I was gone.

I chose gone, as badly as that hurt. And I chose to break the heart of the one person that really gave a shit about me only a couple of months after I had finally given in to how I really felt.

We knew our parents were dating at the time, but we didn’t care. At least I didn’t. I’d been desperate for her for years, even though I was too cool to do anything about it. I was too busy getting high and stealing cars, right up until the end.

I just couldn’t see Lacey for what she really was. Every day in Mexico I missed her smile and the way she laughed at my jokes. I missed the way she touched my arm and the way she frowned when she was angry.

And I missed the way she tasted. I missed her firm ass, her nice tits, and her sweet fucking pussy. Shit, that day in the bookstore was incredible, and even more amazing for the fact that she’d refused to actually sleep with me.

I smiled to myself softly. We did other stuff, plenty of other amazing shit, but she wanted to wait until we had graduated high school. I never understood that. I’d never been the type to wait.

But that was one of my biggest regrets. Not getting her pussy while I really had the chance.

Now, things were too fucked. We’d be lucky if we lived through the week.

I felt myself spiraling into sleep and embraced it. A few hours of oblivion would be nice before I tore my family to shreds.

I woke up with a start. It felt like no time at all had passed, and I was still wearing all my clothes. A quick glance at the clock said it was around four in the afternoon, which was surprising.

It was the first time since leaving Mexico that I had slept for more than a couple of hours at one time.

I rolled out of bed, yawned, checked my phone for messages from Trip, and then showered. It felt good to let the hot water rinse the grime from my face and my body.

The memory of our escape from Mexico came flooding back. The old man knocking on my door and telling me that I needed to get out. No other information, nothing. He just walked away. I still didn’t know why he did it.

I didn’t hesitate. If I had, I would’ve been dead, and my whole family would’ve been slaughtered as a message to the whole cartel: don’t fuck with El Tiburon.

There was no time. I threw some clothes into a bag, grabbed my piece, grabbed my doctored passports, and got into the car. My only stop was to pick up Trip, but other than that we basically drove straight across the border and up to Hammond in a couple of days.

I still had no clue what happened. I had no clue how my cover got blown. I know I didn’t make any mistakes, I was more than careful. El Tiburon liked me, gave me the good jobs, and there was even talk that I was getting promoted.

Then suddenly, without warning, I was on the run.

It wasn’t like I wanted Castillo to like me. But in order to achieve my mission and have my slate wiped clean, I had to get close to him. My handlers insisted that they have a man on the inside as close to the top as possible before making their move. They couldn’t risk things going south, or else there would be political repercussions. After all, the United States doesn’t officially meddle in another country’s affairs like that.

My fucking handlers. The same men that abandoned Trip and me when we needed them most.

After the shower, I shaved and put on some clean clothes. I slipped the gun into my waistband and headed out, figuring I could relieve Trip for a few hours.

I got lucky and caught the bus out toward my mom’s house with only a few minutes of waiting. I watched as the old familiar streets and houses passed by, and I wondered at all the new additions.

That was how it happened. Things changed gradually in a town, and if you lived among those changes, you barely even registered them. But if you left a place and came back years later, those changes seemed sudden and jarring, and you couldn’t help but take note of it.

Hammond felt the same and different. I didn’t try to get used to it, since I knew we’d be leaving soon, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

What had happened to the world since I left?

The bus pulled over and I climbed out. I leaned against the side of the bus stop, looking around the area.

Trip should have been pretty easy to spot. We had scouted out the house and the area yesterday and agreed on a few watch points, but I couldn’t see him standing at any of the agreed on places.

I took a quick walk around the perimeter, figuring maybe he had just gone for a short hike to stretch his legs, but Trip wasn’t anywhere. I’d worked countless jobs with him and never once had he left his post for any reasons. He’d been one of the most reliable guys I knew.

Something clenched in my stomach. It was the same feeling I got whenever something bad was about to happen, like my animal instincts kicked in and knew something about the world that my normal human mind hadn’t figured out yet. That feeling had gotten me out of a lot of situations, and I had learned to trust it.

I moved quickly and silently, keeping as hidden as I could, toward my Mom’s house. I crouched down behind some bushes across the street and watched the house for a minute.

There was no movement near the windows that I could make out. It seemed quiet, like a normal suburban house during the day. Then again, my Mom’s car was in the driveway and Jeff’s motorcycle was in the street, which meant they were both home early from work. The phrase “quiet, too quiet” rang through my head, and although I knew it was a cliché, I also knew there was some truth to it.

I moved closer to the house, keeping low. As I got nearer, my heart sank as I noticed the front door.

It was left slightly ajar. Not by much, but it looked like someone had pulled it shut behind them in a hurry and hadn’t made sure it had caught.

I stared at it, wracking my brain, trying to remember if that was a common problem or not. I couldn’t remember a single time that it had happened to me in all the times I had been in and out of that house. Then again, it wasn’t my childhood home, so I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not.

I pulled the gun from my pants and flicked off the safety. I slipped a silencer from my pocket and slowly twisted it into place. Our handlers did one thing right, I thought ruefully. At least they fucking armed us well.

I crept up the driveway, keeping low behind the car, and slipped along the wall toward the front door. I stopped just outside of it, straining to hear something.

There were voices inside, but not nearby. I guessed they were toward the back of the house, in the living room. I couldn’t make out any words, but they were hushed and insistent.

My heart thudding rough in my chest, I pushed open the front door and stepped inside, moving silently.

There was nobody in the front hall or within my sightline. I pushed the door closed behind me but left it slightly ajar again, making sure it made no noise to tip them off.

Where the fuck is Trip? I wondered. I needed some backup, especially considering I didn’t know what I was walking into. There was no way this should be happening, not with him watching the place.

And yet, as I got farther into the house, creeping along the hall, the voices became more distinct.

My mother was crying softly. Jeff kept saying something, over and over, and it sounded like he was trying to be reassuring.

And above all of that, most important of all, were two male voices, both speaking Spanish.

“Where the fuck is he?” the one man said.

“He’ll be back.”

“That fucker better be right.”

“He’ll come. He can’t stay away.”

I slowly, agonizingly slowly, looked around the corner and cringed at what I saw.

Jeff and my mom were sitting on the couch. Their hands were bound in front of them with duct tape. My mom was crying softly, and Jeff was doing his best to keep her calm, speaking quietly into her ear.

Standing in front of them, one looking at his phone and the other looking out the back window, were two Mexicans. I recognized both of them: muscle for El Tiburon. They weren’t particularly high up in the organization, and were definitely nowhere near my level, but two of them were a problem.

I took a deep breath and moved across the hall, getting into the kitchen. I needed a better angle on them if I was going to take them out without hurting Jeff and my mom. I waited for a minute as the one started talking on the phone, probably reporting back to the cartel. They didn’t seem to hear me, so I crept forward, crouched low behind the counters.

I slowly raised myself, gun held forward, hands braced on the countertop. I had a clear angle on the guy with the phone. Juan, I remembered suddenly as I lined up the shot. He was ten feet away, an easy distance for me. But I needed to be fast if I was going to get them both.

Just as I was about to squeeze the trigger, my mom looked up at me.

Her eyes were shocked. Jeff followed her gaze and looked equally surprised.

I fired, the bullet piercing Juan’s temple. He crumpled to the ground without another word, blood spraying onto the wall behind him.

The other guy moved fast. I lined up my next shot and fired, the gun jumping in my hand as the bullet exploded toward him. I missed my mark and hit him in the shoulder, spinning him backward toward the sliding glass door. I fired twice more, missing both.

“Mother fucker!” he yelled.

“Drop the gun, asshole,” I called back in Spanish.

He was suddenly firing back, the loud roar of his pistol filling the small space. I shot back, one bullet shattering the glass behind him. My mom and Jeff immediately dropped to the floor, my mom’s screams filling the short silences between gunshots.

I dropped down into cover, cursing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Having a fucking shootout in a suburban house was pretty much the perfect way to get us all caught and fucking murdered. If the cops got me, I was going to get shanked in prison, and my family was going to get lynched not long after.

They couldn’t protect them from El Tiburon. Castillo had money and men everywhere. His reach was long and powerful. Only I could fix everything.

I came up again, firing. The guy was using the couch as cover but was shooting wildly, barely aiming. He must have been in pain because his shots all went way wide of their mark. I carefully put two bullets into the couch, right near his face, forcing him back and down.

And then three more shots rang out, and the shooting was finished.

Standing near the broken back, glass sliding door was Trip, his gun smoking.

“Clear,” he called out, coming into the room and sweeping the space.

I stood and came out from behind my cover.

“Where the fuck were you?” I yelled.

“I was taking a piss. I swear I wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes.”

I put the gun away, back into my waistband, and ran over to Jeff and my mom.

“Camden?” Mom said, her eyes wild. “What’s happening?”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded.

“We’re okay. Who are they?” Jeff asked, angry and terrified.