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And then he left me alone, and I sat there staring at the tray of food. I would not let this control me. I couldn’t, because if I did, there would be no one there to help me out of the hole when it was all said and done.
I sat alone in the back of the car, the scent of leather filling my head, but there was also the slight aroma of the cologne Cameron wore. I hadn’t seen him when I left the room and met Damien downstairs, but then again, I hadn’t expected to. He was a coward, if a killer could be one. He’d fucked me last night, even held me as I fell asleep, but come morning he’d been gone. He hadn’t even given me the decency or respect to say good-bye.
We entered the city and I stared out the window, watching the buildings pass by, seeing the people oblivious to anything that wasn’t right in front of them. I assumed Damien was taking me back to the apartment building, but I didn’t want to go there.
“Stop,” I said loudly enough I was sure Damien heard. “Pull in here.” He didn’t question me, just pulled into the driveway and found a parking spot. For a second I stared at the run-down motel, watching the few people loiter on the top balcony, their cigarettes hanging from their mouths, their hair and clothes greasy. I was sure drug deals, even some prostitution went on here. Before I could get out, Damien was climbing out of the car and opening the back door for me.
I was thankful he kept his mouth shut, didn’t hassle me on the shithole place I wanted to be dropped off at. But the little I had was at the apartment, a place I didn’t want to go back to, but would probably end up having to in order to at least survive until the next day.
“This is for you.” Damien handed me a small black bag. “Inside you’ll find a few changes of clothes from your stay at the house, some money to allow you to leave the city, and this.” He gave me a small slip of paper. A number was written on it, and I wondered if it was Cameron’s or Damien’s. I didn’t ask.
“You’re free, safe, and have enough money in that bag to start a life someplace else, someplace less shitty.” I stared at the number, listening to Damien’s voice, thinking about Cameron.
“He didn’t want to say good-bye to me,” I found myself saying, not sure if I was asking myself or Damien.
“He had business to attend to.”
I glanced up at Damien then. I knew I was just a payment, a debt owed because Cameron had helped me, solved my problem. It was what it was, although I hated the fact I couldn’t see him. I fucking hated the fact I found myself falling for my dark protector, the man willing to kill to make sure I was okay.
“If you’re in trouble, you call that number and someone will be there.”
Instead of saying something, making a fool out of myself, I just nodded.
I took a step back, watched Damien get into the car, and as he drove away I couldn’t help but take in a stuttering breath. I realized in that moment that before Cameron I’d just been surviving. With him I’d been living. But he’d made his point clear, stayed away, took from me what he wanted, and because of my need to survive, to be a fighter, I turned away from the disappearing car, faced the motel, and tried to think about the future.
I wouldn’t lie…it looked pretty damn dark.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ONE WEEK LATER
I WANTED to think that the dark SUVs I’d seen were Cameron looking out for me, hiding inside, watching me, unable to just ignore what we’d shared for those fourteen days. But I wasn’t such a fool to think I meant more than a warm hole to relieve himself in.
No, it was more than that. I was his, only his. He made that clear at the party, when he touched me, stroked me from the inside out. He told me as much when he whispered filthy words in my ear as he thrust deep and hard into my body.
I’d found myself back at the shitty apartment, packing up what little I had owned. There wasn’t much I wanted to take with me, nothing of great value or importance. But for this last week I’d been trying to push forward, to forget about everything and anything that had to do with Cameron, with my stay in his home. I couldn’t shake him, couldn’t get rid of the image of him, of the memory of how he felt when he touched me.
I shoved the last piece of clothing into my backpack, stepped back, and stared at it on my bed. The small black bag Damien had given me before he left sat beside it, the money and phone number within it. Truth was I’d hoped Cameron would come for me, would demand I go with him, stay with him…never leave. And I wouldn’t have.
I wanted him, desired that free feeling I had, that moment of bliss where I wasn’t wondering where I was going, where I was headed. Truth was I didn’t know where I was going, not even now, not even with a bag full of money and an empty road ahead of me. I heard the honk of the taxi I’d called downstairs waiting for me, and I grabbed my things and headed outside. But as I stood there, staring at the idling yellow car, the rust around the edges dark, almost like blood under the setting sun, the worry and pain claimed me. I rubbed at my chest, the idea of leaving, of not telling Cameron what I wanted, who I wanted, wearing down on me so heavily I couldn’t even breathe.
“You coming or what?” the taxi driver shouted out the open passenger window. I took a step toward it, but froze, finding myself shaking my head. I couldn’t leave without at least telling Cameron how I felt, how he made me feel.
“No,” I whispered, but when I heard the driver curse, I knew he’d heard me just fine. He sped off, his tires screeching out, the name he’d called me right before he took off ringing in my head. I grabbed the cheap pay-for-minutes phone out of my backpack, took the slip of paper out as well, and stared at both of them. I knew that I should have just left, said good-bye to those two weeks, to the shit life I’d allowed myself to live. But I was still here and wanting to be truthful for once in my life.
If he wanted me, wouldn’t he have stayed, made me be with him? If he craved me the way I do him, wouldn’t he have come for me by now? Maybe he wants nothing to do with me. Was I just a convenience, a person to find his pleasure in?
Or could he be doing this, staying away, to protect me?
It was that latter thought, the little nagging in the back of my head, that had me dialing the number Damien had given me. I stood there, feeling cold all of a sudden, nervous, my hands shaking, my breath coming out hard and fast. And when the ringing stopped, I swore my heart did too.
“I need Cameron,” I said, not sure what the future held in me making this decision, but wanting to find out either way. I needed to.
I stayed in front of my apartment building, the man on the other end not a voice I recognized. But he’d told me to stay put, that they knew where I was, and someone would come here to pick me up. I didn’t exactly know what my problem was, and for all I knew they assumed it was bad if I was calling them. But I’d have to be honest, tell them there was no “problem,” not in the sense they were probably thinking.
I had to see Cameron again, even if this was the last, the only time. I had to admit my feelings, that I felt lost without him, that being his, letting him consume me in the way he had, was wh
at I needed in my life. I wanted to think that I was prepared if he pushed me aside, that he might cut me deep with his words, but truth was I probably wasn’t.
It had been ten minutes since I’d made the call, and I saw a dark SUV turn the corner and come my way. My heart raced at the sight of it, and I knew my anticipation and nervousness might have been considered fear by looking at me. The vehicle came to a stop beside the curb in front of me, and the driver’s side door opened. I watched Damien come around, his focus intense on me. I also noticed he kept scanning the area. He opened the back door for me, and I saw long, muscular legs covered in expensive material come into view.
Cameron.
I climbed into the back of the SUV, the door shutting behind me, my eyes needing to adjust to the change in light. And when they did I stared at Cameron, who sat beside me. He stared at me, his dark gaze locked on me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
“Take us to the property, Damien,” Cameron said without breaking his focus on me. The car started moving, and I settled back. I didn’t know what property he was referring to, but I didn’t really want to do this with an audience.
It was me who ended up breaking the eye contact and looking out the window. I don’t know how long we drove for, but it was done in silence, the air thick, the temperature hot. Maybe twenty minutes or so later we finally pulled onto a dirt road, staying on that for another ten minutes, and then stopping. The headlights illuminated the dilapidated house that stood in the distance, trees sporadically around the open property.
“Where are we?” When he didn’t respond, I glanced at him.
“A piece of property I own. I come out here to meet with less than superior clients at times. I need this for privacy.”
