12. Cam

twelve

Cam

The back door stood open, splinters of glass littered doorway, and the wood was cracked. Everything around me slowed down, and I slipped the nine-millimeter out of my saddlebag and chambered a round.

I pulled out my phone and shot off a text.

Archer's. 911.

The entire table would be here within fifteen minutes, maybe less. But I wasn't standing out here like a sitting duck. The entire neighborhood had heard me roll in.

"Stay behind me." I shouldered my body in front of Riley and put her hand on my vest.

She took the hint and clung to the bottom edge.

Blood pounded in my ears as I pushed the door the rest of the way open with my knuckles. As quietly as I could, I stepped through the broken glass and took a two-hand grip on the pistol. If someone was in there, I'd shoot first and ask questions later.

The kitchen was clear, as was the small laundry room to the side. I swept across the living room—the couch had been tossed and the entertainment center doors were open. But no one was there hiding in the corners.

Taking the narrow hallway made me nervous. All the bedrooms and main bathroom branched off it. I couldn't explore one without leaving another empty.

I'd done this once already this week, only that time it had been different. Then, I'd been alone. Stopping at the end of the hall, I took a deep breath and glanced to my left. A figure filled the doorway we'd just come in.

Puck's eyes held mine, and he pulled a gun from the small of his back. I'd not heard him ride up and he didn't have on his cut. He'd driven something else.

I pushed Riley at him and jerked my head toward the backyard. She glanced at me, confused. Puck understood, waving her over and ushering her out the back door. He'd take care of her. I had to trust that.

A cold sweat broke out across my skin, the edges of my vision clouded, and the pulse thundering in my ears was so loud I worried I wouldn't hear anyone come up behind me.

I checked Archer's small office first; it was trashed. Paper and folders littered the floor and the rolling chair was upended. I stifled a half grin—anything important had been on his laptop. Which wasn't in this house. I wasn't that stupid.

Across the hall, the guest room, the one Riley used, was untouched. I even checked the small bathroom and closet. Nothing. Archer's room, though, we'd interrupted whoever it was. As they'd only opened a few drawers, and the closet was already empty. A quick glance under the bed showed the remainder of his self-protection arsenal was still intact.

By the time I walked back out the back door, I was relaxing, but needed a smoke like nobody's business. I cleared my gun and stuck it in my belt before lighting a cigarette.

"Well?" Riley's eyes were wide, her face ashen.

The urge to pull her to me and hold her was strong. I ignored her question and looked past her to Puck, who leaned against a post on the carport, scratching his beard.

"Whoever broke in was looking for something. They took off out the back bathroom window. Screen's laying in the dirt." I took a drag, letting the nicotine soothe me.

Several Harleys popped and crackled up the driveway. Preacher and Jester, I'd heard the engines so many times I knew. Preacher's rumbled like an old dead hog, and Jester's had the hum of a racing engine beneath its crackle. They pulled into the carport and shut their bikes off in tandem, the sudden quiet eerie.

"The fuck happened?" Preacher was climbing off all fake concern. "You okay, sweetheart?" He went to Riley first. He reached for her face, and I straightened.

I'd kill him right here.

She took a step back and his hands fell to her shoulders like he would hug her if she needed to be consoled.

"I'm fine." She edged closer to me.

Preacher made a face, glaring at me before he continued, "What happened?"

"Cam and I rode to breakfast and when we came back…" She pointed to the door. "Looks like someone broke in, but Cam checked the house."

Oh, he heard that. Those first six words settled on the washed-up old fucker like a bundle of barbed wire. I couldn't help but grin at her. He wasn't the only one that heard it. There were rules, lines drawn in the sand, ones the table wouldn't even let Preacher break.

Riley Bowman was officially mine as far as the Kings were concerned. She was safe. At least, from one particular set of dangers.

"Somebody was looking for something. Fucked shit up in there pretty good." I finished my cigarette, dropped it on the concrete, and snubbed it out with my boot.

Jester lit a joint and passed it to me. "We calling the cops?"

Preacher looked at me with an expression that asked what I thought. Not that he cared, he'd do whatever he wanted. That he asked me—the VP—was for appearances only. Puck disappeared to the front of the house, moving quick for someone with that much sheer bulk.

I hit the joint and held the smoke for as long as I could before passing it back. Hell, my adrenaline was running so hot I could smoke the whole thing myself and probably wouldn't catch a buzz.

"I don't think it's going to do any good." It wasn't a lie. But the way Preacher was acting, the only part of this situation that seemed a surprise was Riley riding on the back of my bike. I didn't like that.

Riley sat at the table, quietly checking her phone as we talked.

"I'll take a look around." Preacher nodded to me once and ducked inside.

I didn't realize I'd stood so rigid in his presence until he walked away, and the muscles in my back relaxed. He'd been with Jester, so he couldn't have done it unless Jester had helped.

Nah, Jester isn't helping him do shit.

With the exception of a few punks like Ghost and Band Aid, Preacher hadn't built a very good connection with the younger guys. He wasn't a surrogate father like Archer had been or AP was.

Puck came back around. "They tried the front door first. Fucked the lock all up, I'm going to run and pick up a new windowpane and lock, get that fixed today. Shop is closed so I don't have to be there. Did you check the cameras?"

Fuck. I checked them then, but there was nothing after Riley and I left. "Cameras don't have shit, not even us pulling in."

"Let me see." Jester took my phone and fucked with it for a few minutes before Preacher came out. "Looks like someone fried the Wi-Fi on them. We'll need to check the modem, but I'll probably have to get new cameras. This time I'll do a dedicated system, so it's hard wired in and they can't fry them."

"So, there are no cameras?" Riley was getting freaked out now. Her eyes darting from me to Jester to Puck and back again, her face increasingly pale.

If I went to her, held her, that said more than I needed it to— fuck .

I swore and raked my fingers through my hair before hitting the joint again. When I offered it to her, she thought about it for a long second before shaking her head no. Hell, it would do her some good right about now.

"We won't let anything happen to you, Riley." Preacher jogged down the steps, his t-shirt clad beer belly jostling as he did. "You can come down to the clubhouse and hang out. We'll be there all day."

The rest of the patched officers rode up the driveway, climbed off bikes, and spilled into the carport.

The one to cut straight to me and survey the damage was Merc. "Damn."

I shrugged, and we said nothing. I knew he thought someone was after the guns. Good thing we'd cleared them out. Not that I agreed, but better safe than shot up.

"We got that run tomorrow, Cam. You good for it?" This from AP, who eyed me with the concern of a favorite uncle.

I nodded my head.

"I'll keep an eye on the kid while you do it." Preacher stepped in, once again trying to get Riley away from me. "We don't know who—"

"She can ride with me." I didn't wait for it, just dug my line in the sand deeper, filled it with gasoline, and set that bitch on fire.

Preacher balked, his ruddy face growing redder as he blustered without saying anything. He looked a damn fool. This young, beautiful woman had no interest in his old, perverted ass.

Fucking hell.

"It's a club thing, no women." He settled on, finally.

AP cut in. "We've done it before, he could use her as a smoke screen. See a problem with that, Jester?"

My Road Captain grinned. "I'm good with it. A little sad she ain't riding with me, though." He winked at me.

Riley's eyes had narrowed, but she ignored all of it. "Is it safe for me to go shower?"

"Your room's fine," I told her.

She was inside the house by the time my phone buzzed with a text from her.

Can I talk to you?

I fired back. Inside?

Her. Yes. Please.

So formal. I almost grinned but hit the joint again when Jester passed it. Around me, they discussed the logistics of what had happened.

Need me to check under the bed? Or in it?

Her response was immediate. I hate you.