Biker's Claim: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Contains bonus book Cocked!) (32 page)

I felt strangely calm. This was what we had driven so far for. Whatever was going to happen was coming, and I’d finally find out whether Trip could be trusted.

I would make it work out. I had to.

There was no other choice.

I
hated being so far away
from what was happening.

But he had a good point. He had to protect me and also somehow navigate what was about to happen, and having me nearby probably wasn’t going to help. Still, I wished he had given me a gun at least, something I could use to help if something bad happened. I would probably shoot myself in the foot, but still.

As I sat down lower in the car, watching as Camden casually leaned up against the pay phone, it hit me square in the chest: when had I become the kind of person that wished she had a gun? Only a few weeks ago, I was appalled by the mere sight of a weapon and never in a million years wanted to own one. Suddenly, though, I was wishing that I had one in my hands, ready to fire if necessary.

That scared and excited me. I didn’t want to be a violent, dangerous person, but maybe I needed to be. Maybe I needed to grow up and start sacrificing for those I loved.

For all his faults, Camden was certainly ready to do what it took to keep everyone safe. It was his fault, or it was mostly his fault, or maybe he was a victim as much as we were. I couldn’t really tell. The story about the CIA, or whoever they were, really threw a wrench into my feelings. Before, it had been so black and white. But now it was anything but simple.

I wanted to hate him. I wanted to despise him and never, ever see him again once everything was over. But as time went by, I began to see things in him. I began to see the old Camden I knew, buried under the layers of the intense and almost scary person he had become, but still there.

He was cocky and funny and strong. He was dangerous and always looking for a thrill. But he was also protective of us and would do anything for me.

I didn’t plan on having sex with my stepbrother. That’s not exactly something you wake up in the morning and think, oh hey, I should totally bang my stepbrother today. It just happened, and I didn’t regret it one bit.

Because I wanted him. I wanted him more than anything. His strong, ripped body, his heart-melting grin, his passion, it all made me want to kiss his full lips as hard as I could.

He fucked up. He put us in a terrible position. But he was trying to fix it.

I watched him the whole time, never took my eyes off him. I couldn’t. It had been the longest in the past few days that I had gone without him being right by my side. I felt almost naked.

But he looked confident. Sure of himself. Like nothing could possibly go wrong. And maybe in his head that was the truth. Maybe, somewhere inside him, he couldn’t imagine failing.

The longer I was with him, the more I began to think that way, too. Like he was invincible.

But there was still that darkness. That need to sacrifice himself, like he was some kind of martyr.

Suddenly, a black pickup truck came around the corner and pulled over in front of Camden, pulling me from my thoughts. I watched as three men climbed out and approached. I felt my heart beat faster, nervousness flooding me.

Camden smiled and gestured. The men said something, moved slightly closer. They looked tough, but that could have just been my mind playing tricks. I was too far to get a really good look at them. Camden held his hands out and the men stopped moving. They were talking, but I had no clue what they were saying. I couldn’t read lips.

Camden didn’t look scared, and the men didn’t look aggressive. The more I stared, they looked normal, actually, like they were fishermen. One was middle aged, going to fat a little bit, but had a full head of dark hair cut short. He wore a sweater and jeans and a dark jacket. The other two were younger, though not by too much more. The longer I watched, the more I saw a resemblance, and I realized that they were probably related.

The older man was doing the most talking. The one younger guy was wearing a red vest, and he stood off to the side, his arms crossed. The other young guy had a hat on with a bunch of different colors in the weave, and he was more active in whatever they were saying. Camden seemed to ignore both of the young guys, only looking at the older man.

My heart was hammering in my chest and throat. I felt almost sick and trapped in the car. It had become almost like a second home for a while there, but suddenly it was like a coffin. 

I wanted to get out. I wanted to open the door and breathe the fresh, cold air. Instead, I stayed where I was, because Camden had told me to.

What’s taking them so long? I thought.

I wanted whatever was going to happen to happen already. The waiting was the worst part. I was sick of waiting, sick of traveling, sick of being in limbo. I wanted something solid.

I was practically itching with anticipation and worry.

And then Camden looked right at me. My breath caught in my throat as his gaze pierced directly into the front windshield.

The two men followed his eyes. Camden nodded and gestured, drawing me out.

I stared at him. The men didn’t move, just watched. Camden gestured again, this time clearly wanting me to come over.

Slowly, I climbed out of the car. My heart was racing. I could barely breathe.

I began the long walk over.

It was happening. These men, these dangerous men, whoever they were, they might be deadly.

But I had to trust Camden.

And as I left the relative safety of the car, I realized that I did. I trusted him with my life, with my everything.

I sat squished in the front seat of the truck. Camden was against the window and I was between him and the older man. His name was Mikhail, and the two younger guys were Tomas and Brent. The two boys were cousins, and they were all Russian immigrants as far as I could tell, though I didn’t exactly ask.

“How far is this place?” Camden asked Mikhail.

“Not too far,” he said, his Russian accent obvious but not overwhelming. “Maybe twenty more minutes.”

The two boys were sitting in the back flat bed, and I realized they must have been freezing with the bitter wind created by the moving truck. I glanced back at them and neither of them seemed to mind. They just sat there gazing out at the woodland as we drove by, their hair waving slightly in the wind.

“Don’t worry about them,” Mikhail said, smiling at me. “They’re strong boys. They will be okay.”

“It’s cold out there,” I said simply.

“Always cold here. But not as cold as Russia.”

Camden laughed. “Russians always say that.”

“It’s true! Your Alaska is nice place. But Russia is big and bold and always fucking freezing cold.”

“Sounds lovely,” I said.

“It is.” Mikhail smiled at me again.

Camden nudged my leg and rolled his eyes. I stifled a laugh.

We continued driving through the forest down a small dirt road. We’d left the main highway ten minutes back and were traveling toward what looked like a string of mountains. Mikhail said the house was nearby, not quite at the mountains, but they seemed so close, almost like I could touch them already. They must have been absolutely huge.

“Is Trip meeting us there?” Camden asked.

“Trip isn’t there right now.”

“But he will be?”

“Yes, yes. He will be tomorrow.”

“Where is he?”

“Getting supplies. Cold here. Need lots of fuel. Lots of food.”

“What about our parents?”

“They are good, very good. We treat them as good as possible.”

“My mom is okay?”

“Your mom sings every day and takes long, hot baths.”

Camden was silent and looked back out the window. His expression had briefly turned confused, but it was gone. I glanced at him but had no clue what was going on inside his head.

“What about my dad?” I asked.

“He takes long walks. And drinks vodka with us after dinner.”

I laughed and shook my head. I wasn’t surprised that he was taking to life in the wilderness, especially the part about the drinking.

Back in Juneau, as soon as I approached the group, Camden had explained what was going on. Mikhail was the leader of a small Russian mob contingent out in Alaska, mostly running drugs in and out of Canada. Apparently Trip had been a good business partner back in the day, and he was paying them a good deal of money to shelter everyone until the Mexican cartel lost interest.

Mikhail, Tomas, and Brent were members of the mob. Mikhail was clearly the leader, though Tomas seemed like he was second in command. Brent didn’t say a single word, and he actually creeped me out a bit. I avoided looking at him for too long.

But Mikhail was nice enough. Maybe a little rough and gruff, but he didn’t seem dangerous at all. In fact, he seemed like just another old fisherman or hunter, not at all like he was some kind of dangerous mobster. Maybe looks could be deceiving, but I immediately liked Mikhail. The tension that had been dogging me ever since we’d left Hammond was beginning to slightly release, and I was excited to finally see my dad again.

The plan was for the three of them to drive us up to a small cabin near a lake where we’d be staying. He said that a few of his men took turns sleeping at the place to keep watch, but that we had the run of it for the most part.

And that we’d be staying there for a while, out in the middle of nowhere.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

On the one hand, it meant I didn’t have to stress about the Mexicans catching up with us again. On the other, it was probably going to be pretty damn boring out in that cabin with nothing to do.

Nothing to do except Camden. I felt a thrill run through me as I imagined all the different things he could do to me out in the wilderness. I wanted to fuck him in the forest, up against a tree, or down on the rough dirt. I knew it wasn’t the best place to fantasize about fucking my stepbrother, especially when we were on our way to see our parents, but I couldn’t help it.

I was soaking wet, my panties useless, as I glanced over at Camden. I hoped that Mikhail wouldn’t notice, but I knew that was a crazy thought. Nobody would suspect that Camden and I had something going on between us. After all, stepsiblings didn’t usually want to sleep with each other as badly as we did.

Then again, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Now that the danger was behind us, and I felt myself beginning to relax, I knew there was a deep well of unresolved and unexamined feelings bubbling below the surface when it came to Camden.

Every time I looked at him, it was a struggle. I wanted to laugh and I wanted to cry.

The truck’s heater was on full blast, and I felt good, safe, and happy for the first time since everything had happened. We were on our way to see our parents. We didn’t have to worry about the cartel catching us.

And yet Camden didn’t look happy. He looked downright concerned, though he seemed to be making an effort not to show it. As we continued to drive in silence, Camden simply stared out the window, the frown on his face deepening with every minute.

I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

“Here we are,” Mikhail said, turning onto yet another dirt road. Up ahead, smoke was curling up through the trees, and Mikhail was angling for it.

“Back here?” I asked.

“Da, da, back here. Very beautiful cabin. Very beautiful area.” He grinned at me. “But you be careful of bear.”

“There are bears here?”

“Sure, big scary bears. The kind that will eat you up if you don’t run very fast.” 

“He’s messing with you,” Camden said.

“No, never mess with pretty girl.”

“I can handle a bear,” I said.

Mikhail laughed loudly. “I’m sure you can. I believe you are very strong.”

The truck pulled through a break in the woods, and up ahead was a large house. It wasn’t at all what I expected. In my head it was a log cabin, basically nothing more than a little shack. But this house was the opposite of that.

It was big. Not enormous, but bigger than most houses I knew. It had satellite dishes on the top and a four-car garage attached to the side. It looked modern, or at least modern enough, with a corrugated tin roof and tan stucco. There was one other truck parked out front, and smoke curled from the chimney, but otherwise the place looked empty.

Camden put his arm around me. I looked at him and smiled, excitement filling me. I wanted to kiss him, but I knew it would be weird in front of Mikhail. I loved the contact and hoped he knew that I felt the same way: we were finally somewhere safe. We didn’t have to run anymore.

But the look on his face suddenly terrified me. He was deadly serious, almost blank, and he wasn’t looking at me.

“Stop the car,” Camden said.

“What is wrong?” Mikhail asked.

“Stop or I blow your fucking head off.”

Mikhail was silent. Then he glanced at the hand that was on my shoulder. I looked too and realized that Camden was holding a gun pointed right at Mikhail’s face.

“What is this?”

“I said, stop the car. And tell your boys to stay where they are.”

“You shoot me? I help you.” Mikhail seemed outraged.

“My mom doesn’t take baths, and she doesn’t fucking sing. Stop the truck.”

After half a second, the truck slowly came to a halt. We were about fifty feet from the front of the house.

“Roll down the window. Tell your boys to relax.”

Mikhail rolled down the window and yelled something in Russian. The two boys perked up but didn’t move.

“If you speak Russian again, I’ll kill you,” Camden said.

“What’s your goal here?”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out of the truck,” Camden repeated.

Mikhail looked at me and I stared back, fear jolting through me. I had no clue what was happening, but I was trusting Camden.

“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” he asked me.

“Talk to her again and I kill you. This would be easier if you were dead, you know.”

He glared at Camden for a second and then began to move. He unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and slowly climbed out of the truck, keeping his hands in sight at all times. He stood just outside the door.

“Slide into the driver’s seat,” Camden said to me.

I did as he asked. He kept the gun pointed at Mikhail.

“Tell them to get out,” he said.