Biker's Claim: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC) (Contains bonus book Cocked!) (34 page)

I had done as much as I could.

I sighed and felt the weapon press against the back of my head.

I
couldn’t stop myself
. I didn’t want to cry, knew he wouldn’t have wanted me to, but the last look he gave me as they dragged him from the room kept replaying over and over in my mind.

Camden was dead. Camden had done exactly what I had told him not to do, over and over again. He had sacrificed himself for me, sacrificed his own life to save mine.

I didn’t want it. I didn’t want his sacrifice.

I just wanted him.

I felt the sobs rip through my chest. I could barely breathe as I cried, gasping for breath. After everything that had happened between us, after the whirlwind fear and sex and boredom, I couldn’t believe that it was ending like this, in some damp basement out in the middle of nowhere.

How had we gotten here?

I wanted to tell him everything I felt. When he first showed back up, I had hated him. I had hated him so much for changing everything, for dragging us into his shitty life, for putting us all in danger. I thought he was cocky and self-centered and the biggest asshole in the world.

But then I got to know him. As the days passed, my anger was replaced with something more, something much deeper. I couldn’t explain it to him. The night in the car, when he fucked me like there was no tomorrow, I had hoped he understood. And again when I tasted his cum, I hoped he understood. But I never said it, not really. I never really told him that my hatred had grown into desire, and then into love.

And now he’d never know. Because he was somewhere else, getting murdered.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Camden was the hero, the strongest man I knew, sexy and serious and funny and cocky all wrapped into one. I felt safe around him, like nothing bad could possibly happen.

He had it all under control. He knew what he was doing. In stories, the hero never got killed no matter what.

Things like this didn’t happen to girls like me. I had worked hard to stay away from bad things and bad people. I was a good girl.

But suddenly I was duct taped to a chair in a terrible damp room in the basement of some Russian mobster’s Alaska hideout while the man I was falling deeply in love with got a bullet in his brain just upstairs.

As the sobs slowly subsided, after who knows how long, I began to feel a rueful sort of mirth. Maybe life really was like this. Nobody could predict the future, which meant there was a chance any one of us could end up dead tomorrow or locked in a closet or on a cruise liner with the love of their life. Maybe one thing happened or another, and you just had no control over it, no matter how hard you worked or planned.

For some reason, the universe had decided to destroy me. It had decided that everything I held dear in my life should be taken away. I had no clue where our parents were or if I’d ever see them again. I didn’t know if the Russians would keep their promise to Camden and let me live.

Frankly, I wasn’t really sure that was what I wanted.

I hated that he sacrificed himself for me. That asshole had been trying to sacrifice himself since the minute he came home, desperate to make up for the bad shit he had done. But the truth was, he was as much a victim of circumstance as I was. He got unlucky in Chicago and he got unlucky in Mexico, and the repercussions of that bad luck just so happened to spread out around him in ripples. It really wasn’t his fault that the ensuing wave would possibly drown us all.

Sitting there in the basement, I remembered one of the last times I saw Camden back before he left Hammond for Mexico.

He leaned up against the railing of the bridge, looking out over the water. I stood next to him, studying the line of his jaw, oblivious to everything else around us.

“So, you’re going to college,” he stated.

“Maybe, I guess.”

“Sent out applications?”

“Sure. Everyone does.”

“Not me.”

“Why not?”

I watched as he shrugged slowly and threw a rock down into the slow-moving stream. “Seems like a waste.”

“Waste of what?”

“Time, money. All of it.”

“You’re not stupid, Camden.”

He grinned at me. “Thanks, Lace.”

“Seriously. You want people to think you’re this stupid thug, but really you’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Come on. People practically worship you.”

“I know you do, at least.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just apply somewhere.”

“Is there even any time left?”

“For some schools, yeah.”

He shrugged again, not wanting to commit, but I could tell he was considering it. He had so much potential, was so smart and beautiful and exciting. I wanted to grab his hair and bite his lip and force him to see himself the way I saw him. I wanted him to understand that he wasn’t just some juvenile delinquent that loved to steal cars. He could be so much more.

“Maybe. College just doesn’t seem like it’s the thing for me.” 

“What’s for you, then?”

“I don’t know.” He threw another rock and I watched his biceps flex. “Working on cars, maybe.”

“Sure. But you’ll have to stop stealing them first.”

He laughed. “I don’t steal cars. Not officially, anyway.” He looked at me, grinning. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?”

“Me. You wish you could be so free. You’re like this tightly wound clock that’s constantly running out of time.” He shifted his weight and faced me.

“Nice metaphor for an idiot.”

“Thanks. But that’s why you’re so into me. You like that I’m free.”

“I’m not sure that’s it.”

He grabbed my hips and pulled me against him. “You’re right. It’s probably my good looks and charm.”

“You’re as charming as an old tire.”

“Didn’t you just get done saying how smart I am and how much people like me?”

“I was lying. I had a stroke. Help, help, I forget where I am.”

His grin widened as he pulled me tighter against him. My heart was hammering in my chest.

“Good one. But don’t forget,” he said, soft as cotton, “I’m the free one. And all my time is borrowed.”

If only I could have convinced him back then. If only he could see what others saw in him. Instead, he wasn’t going to see anything anymore.

Two minutes passed, or maybe an hour, I wasn’t sure. The room was brightly lit by a single bare bulb, which meant time essentially didn’t pass until it all rushed to catch up in one painful and sudden moment.

I was deep in my memories when the door pushed open. It slowly creaked toward me and a single man walked in, shutting it behind him.

“Good evening, pretty girl,” Brent said.

He was short and stocky, all fat and muscle. He grinned at me this disgusting grin, and I realized that he was missing a few teeth. He had looked harmless enough when I first saw him all those hours ago, but suddenly he looked downright evil. He walked over to me, leaving his rifle leaned up against the wall near the door.

“Rare we get pretty girls here,” he said. “I see a whore in the city, but she isn’t like you.” He stood behind me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

“You smell nice,” he said, sniffing the crown of my head. “Like flowers. You like flowers?”

I wanted to scream, but the duct tape was still firmly over my mouth.

“So, you be quiet now, yes? You be good and I won’t hurt you.” He paused and leaned into my vision. “Much.”

I began to struggle and he laughed. He unstrapped my right hand from the chair but held my wrist as I tried to hit him. He unstrapped my other hand, grabbing my wrist before I could punch him. He laughed as he tipped the chair over, smashing me onto my side.

My head bumped off the ground and I saw stars. Groggily, I felt him begin to unstrap my ankles.

“Like I said, don’t fight and I won’t hurt you too much.”

I felt my other ankle come free, and I desperately began to crawl away. I heard him cackling behind me and moved, trying to get to the gun that rested near the door. I was so close, maybe two feet away, when I felt him grab me by the feet and drag me back to the other side of the room.

“That won’t save you,” he said, unbuckling his pants.

I began to thrash and fight and he frowned at me. He pulled his belt off and hit me once in the face with the buckle. I tried to cry out, but the tape over my mouth muffled the sound.

“I don’t want to do that,” he said. “But you’re making this hard. I don’t want it to be hard. I like simple.”

I moved away from him, cowering against the wall, sobs beginning to wrack my chest again. I wanted Camden, needed him to save me, but he was gone and I was gone. I could feel my soul draining out through my chest, pooling onto the concrete flood as Brent pulled his pants and his underwear down, revealing his hard dick.

It was small and thick and covered in coarse hair, and he laughed as I cowered away from him. He repulsed me, made me want to vomit. He began to pull at my pants, tugging them down my hips, and I struggled at first. Another punch to my gut, though, knocked every ounce of resistance out of me. I was nothing; my body was just a shell. I was ready to give in to whatever was happening. Nothing mattered anymore, anyway. Camden was gone and I was going to be gone soon, too.

He got my pants down around my ankles and smiled. “So pretty. Such pretty panties.” He quickly pulled them down.

“What a pretty little puss—”

Suddenly, a thump filled my ears, and Brent’s skull exploded against the wall. Blood dripped down the bare concrete as his body slumped backward.

Terror filled me and I began to scream and crawl away from Brent’s motionless corpse.

“Lacey, it’s okay. I’m here.”

His voice filled my ears. I shook my head and shut my eyes, not wanting to believe.

“It’s okay, Lace.” I felt the tape on my mouth get slowly tugged off. I gasped and opened my eyes again.

Camden’s concerned smile filled my vision.

“You’re dead,” I whispered.

“I’m not so easy to kill,” he said, shaking his head.

I kissed him. I kissed him hard, throwing my arms around him. He kissed me back just as frantically, needing and hungry. I had to prove it was him, really him, not some phantom. I didn’t care if I was dead, so long as it was really Camden, kissing me back.

Someone cleared his throat loudly from the doorway.

Camden pulled back.

“We have to go,” the man’s voice said.

“Look away, asshole,” Camden answered.

I looked over. Standing there, shielding his eyes and smiling sheepishly, was a man close to my dad’s age with light blond hair cropped short. He was wearing loose green khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. He looked completely unremarkable, except he was holding a silenced pistol. Just like the pistol Camden was holding, I realized.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“That’s Jared. I’ll explain later.” Camden helped me pull my clothes back on.

The man called Jared moved out into the hallway and then poked his head back into the room. “We need to move now, Cam.”

“Got it.” Camden helped me to my feet.

“How?” I asked, entirely confused. Someone had saved him?

“I’ll explain soon. I promise. We need to get out of here first.”

He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me to my feet. My legs felt wobbly and shaky and I nearly fell, but he was there to support my weight.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

“I think so.”

We moved toward the door, Camden supporting most of my weight. I was still in shock, barely able to understand how he was alive, but it didn’t matter. All I cared about was his arm around me, his strong body holding mine.

“All clear,” Jared said as we got into the hall.

We moved behind him, down toward another door. Slumped against the wall was another dead man’s body, and I had to force myself not to stare at him.

“It’s okay,” Camden whispered as we stepped around the body. “It’s going to be fine. We’re getting out of here.”

Jared stopped us at the next junction. We paused, quietly, while the sound of footsteps grew louder. Jared looked at Camden and held up two fingers. Then he pointed straight down the next hall. Camden nodded and slowly leaned me against the wall.

I didn’t say a word. I leaned against the wall while the two of them moved around the corner as one. Jared went high, firing three shots, and Camden went low, firing three as well. The two men didn’t make a noise other than a soft thump.

Camden was back by my side a second later. He threw his arm around me and we were off, moving down the hall. We turned the corner and climbed up a staircase. Jared cautiously pushed open the door and checked. He gave an “all clear” sign to Camden and we moved into the main part of the house.

We didn’t have too much ground to cover until we made it to the front door of the house. The whole place was eerily quiet.

“This is the hard part,” Camden whispered to me. “We’re going to have to make a run for the car.”

“Okay. I can run.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He looked at Jared. “On your mark.”

Jared nodded. “Stay low, stay close, and keep moving no matter what.”

Camden gave me a smile and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, and I realized that I didn’t feel nervous at all. I had a feeling we were about to do something very dangerous, but I didn’t care. I was back with Camden. He wasn’t dead.

I had purpose again.

“Move,” Jared said, throwing the door open and sprinting forward.

Camden surged after him, pulling me along. I kept up but barely. My legs felt like lead and I was limping hard on my right side from where Brent had kicked me. The sun was setting, casting red and violet rays across the open space.

Jared was running toward a black Jeep. We followed him, keeping low and not speaking. Jared made it there first. Just as Camden made it to the door, I hit a rock and went sprawling, skidding up toward the passenger door.

Although it hurt like hell, it probably saved my life, because a second later gunshots rang out from the house. They were loud and fast, hitting the dirt where I had just been standing.