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“That’s my girl,” he mouths.
What the fuck?That’s my girl?
I don’t get a chance to contemplate what that’s supposed to mean, because Ford calling my name has my immediate attention.
“ASIA!” he roars.
Spinning on my feet, I can see Ford struggling to hold Camden back from Bram who is currently backed up against the self-service station holding onto his bicep, blood pouring through the gaps between his fingers.
Towering above him, Ford and Camden are both bleeding from cuts on their faces, bruises already blooming. Camden tries to shake Ford off, but Ford has him in a tight grip. Which is just as well, given the murderous look on Camden’s face.
“Asia!” Ford shouts again as Camden struggles in his hold. My attention is drawn to the knife in Camden’s hand. It drips crimson blood, stark against the wooden floor.
“Stand up and fight, you motherfucking bastard!” Camden roars, trying to throw Ford off. I see the rage splitting his heart open as he tries to free himself from Ford’s grip.
“Fuck!” I shout, snapping into action.
Pushing through the crowd, ducking and diving between the chaos, I reach Camden. Only it isn’t him. The Camden I know isn’t there within the topaz depths of his eyes. They’re empty. Beautiful, but empty. An endless ocean with absolutely no life within it.
“Camden,” I hush out, reaching for his hand that’s holding the knife. “Camden, drop the knife.” I’m fully aware I have my back to Bram, that I’m putting myself in a vulnerable position. It wouldn’t take much for him to hurt me. There are enough pieces of broken glass covering the floor that he could use to do some serious damage. But I don’t think about that. I only think about Camden and the boy I so desperately need to return to me.
He’s panting hard, his face swelling, his lip and eyebrow bleeding, and despite me calling his name, he looks right through me. Behind him Ford grits his teeth, holding Camden’s arms back, unable to disarm him without letting Camden go. If he does that, Bram’s dead. We both know that.
“Get the knife, Asia,” Ford barks out.
I reach for him, ignoring Bram’s groans of pain, ignoring the chaos around us. My fingers tremble as they wrap around his wrist. I try to pry his fingers apart, but he’s determined and won’t drop the damn knife.
“You need to take it from him!”
“I’m trying!” I retort, pulling at Camden’s fingers but failing. I know from experience that when this kind of rage takes over, people get almost superhuman strength. I need to resort to desperate measures.
“I’m sorry, Camden,” I apologise, before simultaneously digging my thumbnail into the pulse point of Camden’s wrist and biting him hard enough on the shoulder to draw blood.
It works.
Camden drops the knife and I kick it away, out of reach.
A second or two later, a loud piercing noise fills the air and we all have to cover our ears for fear that they might actually bleed. It has the desired effect. Everyone stops fighting long enough to protect their eardrums from bursting. When the ringing stops and we can all straighten up, the violent energy has slipped away as quickly as it arrived.
“One more person to raise a fist will get tasered!” Cal shouts, nodding to the guards who are now moving about the room, each holding out the offensive weapon. “I’ve been tasered once in my life and believe me, pissing your pants is the least of your worries.”
Cal steps down from the table. In his hands are a megaphone and a smaller more compact object. It looks like a rape alarm. So that’s where the goddamn awful noise was coming from. A rape alarm is piercingly loud at the best of times. Use a megaphone to make that noise louder and eardrums will bleed.
“Just give us one more excuse and 50,000 volts will be pumped into your body,” he warns us all. No one moves.
I’ve never been tasered but that doesn’t mean to say I want to risk it. Fuck that. I just hope Sonny had enough time to steal the laptop. When Eastern enters the dining room a minute later with his hands cuffed behind his back by Frank, I hope we’ve done enough. His eyes widen as he takes in the chaos but like always, he seems to sense me in the mass of people. When he spots us, relief floods his face; he gives me a quick, sharp nod and I know the job is done.
Come hell or high water, we’re getting out of Oceanside tonight.
