Biker's Claim: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Contains bonus book Cocked!) (27 page)

I wanted to tell her about getting caught stealing cars by the Mexican police and how I spent two months in jail. Until one day, this American guy shows up and offers me a deal. He said I could work with them to try to infiltrate a notorious and dangerous cartel, or I could rot in jail for another few years.

He said he worked for the government, but he never said exactly how. I assumed he was CIA, but he never admitted to anything. He and a few others gave me money and tips and supplies, and I slowly infiltrated El Tiburon’s cartel, all because the American government needed someone on the inside.

That was how I met Trip. We were both working undercover, and our handlers eventually decided we should work together. And so for nearly four years we worked our way through the ranks, feeding information back to the Americans, and all the while they kept telling us we were almost done, just a few more months.

Until finally, one day I woke up and the old man was knocking on my door. He told me that I needed to leave town right away, that the cartels knew who I was. And then he was gone and wouldn’t speak to me again.

I wanted to tell her all of that. Everything I did in Mexico, every fucked up thing that ate at me from the inside, I did because the Americans wanted me to, said it was for the greater good. Once I was involved, there was no escaping, not from the cartel and not from the Americans. They owned me, bit by bit.

But they said that if I ever told anyone about their involvement that I’d be prosecuted for all of my crimes. They seemed to be everywhere and know everything. I couldn’t fuck with them, not yet, even though it seemed like they had turned their backs on me.

I never raped or murdered that girl. I killed for the cartel, but never an innocent person. Still, I could have saved her, could have saved so many girls, but I didn’t. I didn’t blow my cover, like a good operative.

They had me. Until one day, they didn’t anymore, and I was on the run.

“People get lost,” I said finally, unable to tell her any of that. “Let’s get out of here.”

She blinked and looked away as I flagged down the waitress and asked for the check. I paid in cash and we left. Lacey was back to being moody and silent, but I didn’t care. My brain was swirling with my past, with the things that had happened and the things that were happening.

I was a different person than I was when I last saw her. So much had happened, and I knew so much more about the world. Still, whenever I got around her, those old feelings came bubbling back into me.

I was going to have to let her think that I was still a liar. There was no other way.

All that mattered was keeping her safe.

I’d let her hate me a thousand times over if it meant she could live for another day.

I
didn’t know
what to make of his stories.

It seemed so human, so normal. He had an apartment, he had friends. He drank tequila with a crazy old sexist man.

And yet there was a darkness that he wasn’t talking about. I knew he was leaving out a lot of his day-to-day life. If he worked for the cartels, he had to have been doing something bad. It wasn’t the sort of organization you joined to sit at a desk.

On some level, I knew he had changed. He had grown, turned into something stronger and sleeker. And yet I still melted when he got near me. I wanted him to tell me what he wanted to do to me, but I also couldn’t stand to hear it.

I hated him and wanted him, and that made it all so much harder.

Lying in bed at night, I kept remembering the first day we all realized he was gone.

Dad and Lynn weren’t married yet, but I figured they would be soon enough. Dad got a call from Lynn early on in the morning, and he asked if I had seen Camden recently. I hadn’t, not for a day or two, but that wasn’t unusual. Camden came and went and wasn’t the type to give constant updates on what he was doing with himself.

Still, Lynn was worried. We stayed up all night calling and calling his phone, wondering where he was. I remembered the pit in my stomach, terrified that he was dead in a ditch somewhere. Dad figured he was just in jail and couldn’t remember anyone’s number to call. Which was typical, since we all rely on cell phones to stand in for our memories these days.

The next morning, we still hadn’t heard from him. Lynn called the police, but they didn’t know where he was, either. They put out a missing person’s report, but that didn’t do anything. The truth was, nobody wanted to look too hard for the local thief. Nobody cared that he had gone missing, aside from his family.

It was all the waiting that really killed me. It was the total silence. He never said goodbye or told me what he was going to do. One day he was there and things were fine, and the next he simply wasn’t anymore.

Part of me wished he were dead. At least if he were dead then we’d have a body and we could at least try to move on with our lives. It would have been devastating and horrible, but we could have healed if we knew the truth. Instead, he just went away, and from that moment on none of us were ever the same. The ambiguity made it so much worse.

It was like he was still there. He was both alive and he wasn’t. We couldn’t mourn him, because we had nothing to mourn. He left without a word and left us with nothing, just a gaping hole where he had once been.

I hated myself for a while. I hated that I wished he were dead and I hated that I missed him so much, and I hated that I didn’t try to save him from whatever it was that took him away. I knew that was crazy and there was probably nothing I could have done, but I still tortured myself to no end about it.

Because it was Camden. He was a mess and he was angry at the world for failing to live up to his expectations, but he was beautiful and smart and funny, and he was gone.

Which was what made sitting in a car with him feel so strange. It was him, but it also wasn’t the same guy that left me. He was all that and so much more.

We drove in silence for most of the day. I was still so angry and confused that the idea of small talk almost physically repulsed me, and he didn’t seem like he was going to try to drum up conversation anytime soon. That was fine, but typical Camden.

“Where are we?” I asked a few hours into the trip.

He checked a sign. “Somewhere in North Dakota, I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m not exactly using a GPS.”

“You do know where we’re going, right?”

He grinned at me. “We’re going north to Juneau.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, the roads we’re taking.”

“I have a map.”

I gaped at him. “You seriously don’t know, do you?”

He laughed. “Relax. I have the route generally planned out. It’s more or less the same road until we hit Washington, anyway.”

I shook my head and looked away as the night wore on. We stopped and got cheap food at a little deli right off the highway, but he insisted on eating in the car. We kept moving, pushing the speed limit every once in a while but not driving recklessly.

We were, after all, driving across the country in a stolen vehicle. While it was true, that thought didn’t make me feel anything. Frankly, I was beginning to get used to accepting hard truths and moving on from them. Maybe I was getting harder and tougher, too.

By the time Camden signaled that we were stopping for the night, my bladder was full and my legs ached. I was shocked by how tired I could get sitting in a car for hours at a time with nothing to do but listen to crappy music on the radio, but it really took a lot out of me.

My back ached as Camden pulled into the parking lot of an old, beat-up motel. I got out and stretched, looking at its dismal façade.

“This is the worst one so far,” I said.

“Yeah. It’s pretty ratty.”

“Why don’t we find somewhere else?”

“Because it’s almost midnight and we’ve been driving for something like twelve hours.”

“Fair enough.”

“By the way,” he said, tossing me my bag, “we need to ditch this car and get another.”

“Why?”

“Been driving in it too long. Cops could be looking for it, or the cartel could be tracking it.”

“How would the cartel track it?”

“They have more resources than you’d think.”

Without another word he stalked off toward the front office and I followed in his wake. Another pronouncement from Lord Camden. I’d either fall in line or else. I wasn’t sure he really cared if I believed him or wanted to follow him so long as I did it anyway.

“Room for the night?” the clerk asked us as we walked in. He was young, maybe our age or younger, but pretty overweight. A small TV in the corner was playing anime.

“Just tonight,” Camden grunted.

“Got two rooms left.”

“We’ll take the cheaper.”

“Both cheap.”

Camden paid up front and got the key from the night clerk kid. He gave me a little nod as we went to leave but quickly looked back to the TV.

We walked toward the back of the building and up a flight of stairs, unlocking the door. Camden pushed it open, turned on the light, and started laughing.

I looked inside.

“Hell no,” I said.

“You want to go ask for another?”

I stormed out, back toward the office. The kid looked surprised to see me again, like he had forgotten we existed. Probably a good policy in a place like this.

“You guys have anything else?”

“Just the one other room.”

“We’ll take it.”

He shrugged. “You can if you want, but it’s exactly the same.”

I groaned. “Come on, seriously? Anything but that.”

He looked utterly bewildered and shrugged again. “I’m sorry. We’re all full up.”

I left the front office with a huff, not bothering to look back. I walked back up the stairs, stormed into the room, and sat down on the one single queen bed.

“You’re on the floor,” I said.

“Hold on now,” he called out from the bathroom. “Why are you making the decisions?”

“Because I’m the girl.”

He leaned up against the doorframe and grinned at me. I looked up and my mouth nearly dropped open. He was shirtless, and his muscles were perfectly defined in the fluorescent motel light. I could make out a few scars along his side and his chest, and my staring only made him smile bigger.

“I never said I was a gentleman.”

“I know you’re not.” I looked away from his shirtless torso, realizing I was starting to breathe a little heavily.

“Come on. It’s a big bed. I don’t bite.”

“I do.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

“No. You’re on the floor.”

“You sure? Gets pretty lonely on the road, you know.”

“Save it.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have a warm body to cuddle up against.”

“Cuddle up against your own hand.”

He smirked and crossed his arms. I bit my lip and looked away as the image of his perfectly sculpted body pressed up against mine came to me completely unbidden. In that moment, I remembered all the times his mouth worked my soaking clit, all the times he made me come as if by magic.

But that was years ago. Well before he ruined our life. We were both very, very different people.

“Put a shirt on,” I mumbled, pulling up the covers and climbing into bed.

He laughed again and disappeared back into the bathroom and started to brush his teeth. I felt my cheeks get red and I decided to turn on the TV to try to distract myself from the thought of his body.

In the end, he made sure the door was locked, grabbed a blanket and a pillow off the bed, and slept on the floor. I tried not to dream about his lips, his mouth, his fingers along my spine making my back arch.

I woke up to the sound of the door closing.

It was early and light streamed in through the large windows. I grumbled as I sat up and looked around the half-lit room. For a second, I wasn’t sure where I was or what I was doing there, but quickly it all came crashing down on me.

Another day on the road. Another day stuck doing nothing in a car as I was torn away from my old life mile by mile.

“Rise and shine, princess.”

I looked over at the small table near the door and watched as Camden set up two coffee cups, two bagels, and some cream cheese spread.

“What’s that?”

“Breakfast.”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“Down the road.”

“What about the new car?”

He laughed. “You’re full of questions this morning.” He gestured at the food. “Coffee and bagels first. Come and get it.”

“Thanks,” I said. I climbed out of bed and walked over, sitting down at the table across from him. He took a large swallow of coffee and I sipped mine tentatively. It tasted amazing, bitter and strong and hot, and woke me up instantly.

“What’s the plan for today?” I asked him.

“Same thing we do every day. Try and take over the world.”

I stared at him for a second. “Was that a ‘Pinky and the Brain’ reference?”

“Sure was.”

“I’m the Brain.”

He laughed and took another sip of coffee. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I nodded triumphantly and nibbled at my bagel. “Seriously, how long were you gone for?”

“Not long. I procured us a new car and everything, though.”

“Productive morning.”

“I figured I’d let you sleep.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. You looked like such an angel sleeping soundly.”

“Creep. Don’t watch me sleep.”

“Hard not to when you’re snoring so loudly.”

I laughed. “I thought I was an angel.” I paused, frowning. “Do I really snore?”

“Like a lawn mower.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I actually don’t mind it. It’s too quiet out here.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Mexico City was loud. Always stuff going on, always street vendors open. Some of the best damn food in the world is on the streets of Mexico.”

“Really? It doesn’t make you sick?”

“Not at all. I mean, at first a little bit, but it’s incredible.”

“What about the water?”

“You get used to that, too.”

“Must have been hard.”

“It was pretty hard. But everything is hard at first.”

I wasn’t sure why I was buying into his bullshit, but I suddenly felt bad for him. I couldn’t imagine being alone in a new city, let alone in a city where I didn’t speak the language. Clearly he adapted, but those first few weeks must have been hell.

“Why did you leave us, Camden?” I asked finally after some silence.

“I thought you were too pissed off to care.”

“I am, but since we’re talking you might as well tell me.”

“Got caught stealing cars, but I think you knew that already.”

“I figured. But why run away? Why not just do the time?”

He smiled to himself and took a bite of his bagel to cover it up.

“That’s pretty smart.”

“Thanks. So are you just afraid of jail or what?”

“No,” he said slowly, shaking his head. “But I am afraid of violent gangs.”

“Seems to be your thing.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve been unlucky like that, I guess.” He sighed. “Apparently, I stole cars from some local gang’s turf, and they wanted to kill me to prove how hard they were. I decided I’d rather live than die shanked in a jail cell.”

We lapsed into silence again and I sipped my coffee some more. I still was having trouble seeing Camden working with gangsters, especially the Camden I used to know. This new man, this dangerous man, he was something else. He was hardened by a life of crime.

“Why didn’t you just run from Mexico?” I asked. “Why join the cartels?”

“You don’t know what it was like down there,” he said softly.

I sighed, frustrated. I could tell he wasn’t lying to me, but the truth was just so unsatisfying. There had to be something else, something I didn’t know yet.

Or else maybe it really was that simple. Maybe Camden really did just get unlucky. He never meant to bring the Mexicans down on us. He was a victim, in some ways. He was also being chased by violent criminals, though he kept being so frustratingly vague about what actually happened.

But it was also his choice to steal cars and to run away to Mexico to begin with. He had a comfortable life in Hammond. He didn’t have to throw it all away for a thrill.

Conflicted, I finished off my coffee and went to brush my teeth. Being around him was one wave of emotion after another. One second I wanted to run my fingers down his perfect abs, and the next I wanted to punch him as hard as I could.

Once I was finished, I saw that Camden had already packed our things. Wordlessly, we headed out into the parking lot, got into our new car, and hit the road again.

Four hours later and I could barely take it anymore. I had spent the last few days in a car doing absolutely nothing but watching the miles pass by. There was so much to do and see, thousands of amazing things just passing us by, and yet we were too busy running from a drug cartel.

Still, we hadn’t even seen the Mexicans. I wasn’t entirely sure they were real, though the look on my dad’s face kept running through my mind.