8. The Guilt

EIGHT

THE GUILT

CAM

T he minute I see Becca escorted out the door with a huge bag on her shoulder, I bid my guys goodnight. They chide me for being the first to leave, something that rarely happens. But like I said before—I came to Vegas thinking a change of pace and a fresh start might do me good. If Becca needs help right now, then this bad boy needs to heed the call.

I dart out the door after her and she turns halfway across the parking lot, mace in hand pointed at me.

"Whoa, Princess. Nice instincts, but no need to use that on me." I stop about five feet away from her.

"What do you want, Cam?" Her voice cracks, and black smudges of makeup are under her eyes. Her red lipstick is gone like she wiped it off, leaving behind full pink swollen lips that I know I'll still be thinking of later tonight in bed with my hand around my rod.

Instead of her tight uniform, she's wearing slouchy sweats and a t-shirt that cover her body neck to toes, and that's the only thing keeping me from getting hard, because it does something to me to see her in such a sad state. Like in some way, it turns me on to see her so vulnerable. "I just lost my job, okay? I'm not exactly in the mood to deal with you or anyone for that matter."

"Come on. You can do better than this job. I can't believe your parents would even let you step foot into this place."

"Why are you so concerned?" She does that squinty eye thing again. Man, she's got trust issues, especially with me.

"Believe me, the last thing I want is to care about your well-being here."

"Then don't." She storms to her car.

Shit. I rub my neck and wonder why the hell I'm still standing here. Why am I bothering? Then another guilt pang hits my chest. Oh yeah. "I made a promise to your brother, okay?" I yell.

She stops but doesn't turn around. I stride behind her, pretty sure her shoulders shake like she's crying. God, I'm a shit. Her brother could be six feet buried in the ground, and I do nothing but bicker with her.

"The night before he took off for the Air Force Academy, he made me promise I'd look out for you if anything happened to him. And now that he's… He's—" I can hardly say the words. My father passed just last year but I could have cared less. Jared, on the other hand, was like a brother to me. I've never had anyone I cared about leave this earth until now. I swallow hard. "Jesus. If he's dead… Then I intend to make good on that promise."

"Dead?" She turns and faces me with a confused look. "He's not dead. He's in Texas."

It takes me a few seconds for her words to make sense. I blink away my confusion. "Uh. What? Then why did you look so upset when I brought him up earlier?"

"Because I am. He won't return any of my calls or texts. There was a huge family fight—Ugh. Just leave me alone, Cam."

She turns to open her car door, but I'm quick to come up behind her and slam it closed. "What the hell happened?"

"If you must know," she starts with a huff. "He flunked out of the Academy. Mom and Dad were pissed, they fought, he left, and he never came back. They had a private investigator search for him only to find him enlisted in the Coast Guard down in Texas. At the time, I was still young and believed my parents had his best interests in mind, and I sided with them. He hasn't talked to any of us since then, despite reaching out. The sad part is, I eventually realized how controlling Mom and Dad are and I cut ties with them, too. Hayes and I used to be so close, but now I have no one."

I take a few paces away and scrub through my hair, linking by hands behind my head, trying to make sense of it all. So he's not dead. Okay. But here she is in Vegas, all alone, and I'm here, too. I guess in a big brother sort of way, I could be here for her if she ever gets in trouble because in this city it's easy to come by. She's an attractive, doe-eyed, gullible woman and that makes her an easy mark to some. I should know as I used to look for people just like her to take advantage of?—

Suddenly her car starts up behind me and takes off, but I jump in front of it and she slams on the brakes.

"What the fuck, Cam?" She yells, and brings the vehicle screeching to halt.

"Give me your phone."

"What? No."

"Look. You know where I grew up. And Vegas can be just as ugly and cruel. You might need help."

"I don't need you fulfilling a stupid promise you made when you were barely eighteen. So go on back to your arena of ice and be the big hockey star. I have to figure out what I'm going to do next."

"What's the deal? You probably will never need my number. But in Vegas? I wouldn't bet on it. So I'll fucking be there for you if you ever run into trouble. Okay? Now give me your phone so I can put my number in it."

She hands it over, albeit reluctantly and with attitude. I put it in and call it so my phone rings and I store her number.

"There. If you need anything, just call." I hand it back, and suddenly an enormous growl comes from somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach. I chortle. "Right now, it sounds like you could use a good meal."

"I'll survive. I have bone broth at home." Her voice sounds weak enough that I think she may pass out behind the wheel before she arrives there.

"Bone what? Nah. Follow me. I know this amazing place."

"Why would I? What gives? You were never this nice to me before, Cam."

"Wasn't I? I seem to recall one night where I was nice enough to rescue you. One night where I took the blame so you and your brother wouldn't get in trouble."

Her chest falls and her mouth gapes open.

"And you never said thanks."

She scoffs. "So what, you think I owe you now?"

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Arguing with her exhausts me. "Look. I'm hungry, and I'm going to eat. Follow me or not. It's your choice." I wave my hand in the air and head to my car.

A few minutes later, seeing her following me in my rearview mirror, a satisfied smirk lands on my face.