7. Cam

seven

Cam

The rooftop of the clubhouse was my safe place. I didn't have to pretend here. All around us, the party spread out into the parking lot and beyond. The band was back on stage, lights and rigging were an explosion of color on the desert.

But nothing as shocking to the system as the woman who walked out onto the roof with me.

"Wow."

"Told you." I walked to the edge, looking over the other part of the party. Groups of people gathered around bonfires. Some on bikes, others in chairs. I could name about half of them. The rest came from other charters, most had known Archer.

In the west, the sun had sunk so low only a pale orange glow kissed the purple sky. Archer would have loved this shit. There was a reason he'd bought this place, built the clubhouse here.

"Beautiful." Her face was serene again, like she was soaking up everything.

"Yeah." Shouldn't be surprising that his daughter noticed the sky, too. I looked away, out toward the rock formations, one of my favorite rides.

The music was loud, but up here it was bearable. I could think clearly, try to remember why I wanted her close.

"They're pretty good." She made small talk when I said nothing.

"Not my thing."

"What is? Gangster rap?" She tapped her chin with the tip of the bottle. "You don't look like you'd go for country."

I curled my lip and jerked a chin toward the stage. "Whatever it is, it ain't that ."

She chuckled and walked over to one of two folding chairs. The one she chose was well worn. Ironic, that the last person to sit there had been Archer.

I flexed my fingers and made a fist. Holding her throat, even for just a second, had left me caught between feeling like a fucking barbarian and hornier than a teenager with his first porn video.

I sat in the other chair and kicked my feet up onto the short ledge.

"This your spot?"

I pursed my lips and nodded. "Something like that." It was Archer's spot, but I'd found myself up here more in the past week than I had in years. She was right. She was intruding on my life. Yet, each time she poked her head in, I opened the god-damned door. Like right now.

Annoyed with myself more than her, I jerked out a cigarette and lit it. Even the nicotine couldn't chase away the edge that had sharpened since Archer died. I doubt anything could. I wanted to cuss, to kick something. She shouldn't be here.

We sat in silence for a long time, music and shouts from the party cutting through the night air. A woman's shrill giggle, more laughter. All sounds of a good time, of happy people. Not very much grieving—but it was meant to be a celebration. It pissed me off.

"You don't want me here, do you?"

Did I? "Haven't decided yet."

She laughed, then covered her mouth as if she hadn't meant to. It was endearing and made me fight against a grin.

"I'm not trying to invade your space or hijack your grief. I feel like I'm this great big reminder of something. Only, I don't know what any of it is." The tequila made her chattier. It was weirdly soothing.

"Why's that?"

"I didn't know him." Her words were slurring a little, and her eyes were heavy, even in the shadow of the lights from below. "I just show up out of nowhere. I could be anyone, you don't know me. Haven't met me."

But I'd seen her more times than she'd ever known. Archer had kept close tabs on her.

"Money is a great motivator." I tried to keep my voice level, hide the judgment. She wasn't my problem. Keeping her safe was. I had no proof, not yet. Just a gut feeling. But it was one I couldn't ignore. There was that edge again, flint racing across it, making it sharper.

A familiar old anger boiled up inside me. A feeling I'd put away years ago, locked up tight. It threatened to take over. When I reached to her, she handed me the bottle. I took two deep swallows before gulping in the cool night air, to fend off the burn in my nostrils.

She turned toward me, her eyes narrowed, before shrugging. "Screw it. My mom raised me on her own. Archer was never there. I was pre-law before Mom got sick. Left to take care of her, couldn't work because we couldn't afford daily care…" She drew in a shaky breath.

I curled my fingers around the bottle to keep from what—holding her hand? That was some bullshit.

Still needing movement, I handed her the bottle. She rolled it in her hands a few times.

"I lost the house and had to give her a beggar's funeral. Everything else that's left is in storage in California."

"Where'd you go?"

She put the bottle down, stood, and walked to the edge, moving like she was running away from the truth. I'd done that a lot the past few weeks.

"Moved into my car. Do you know, twenty-four-hour gyms are a homeless girl's best friend? Cheap membership, well-lit parking lots, and free showers. But the cops occasionally chase you off and your choices are crack motels or creepy truck stops."

Jesus. Archer hadn't known, couldn't have…if he had, he would have done something about it.

"Riley…"

"Do not ." Her voice trembled with the tears. "I can't stand it when people feel sorry for me."

I held up my hands in surrender, shoved them into my pockets, and followed her to the edge. I'd been homeless before, slept here as a matter of fact, until Archer helped me. He should have helped her.

"How long?"

"Three or four months. I started a job right before this but…" She closed her eyes. "Boss is a pervert."

My sympathy evaporated in a cloud of anger. I'd find out who he was and break all his fingers if he'd touched her.

She glanced up at me and tilted her head, eyes still watery and sad. "What are you thinking?"

I blinked and frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Your face just—" she waved a hand in front of her face and then back up. "—for a minute, your eyes get so dark and there's nothing there. You've done it a few times since I met you."

"Trust me, you don't want to know." I snorted.

That was a part of me she never needed to meet. No one did. That darkness was always right there, ready to seep in, hungry to make me do bad things all over again.

"You keep telling me that, and I might believe it." She turned back toward the party. "And you're right. When I checked the PO Box this week, there was a letter and a check. Some lawyer saying I needed to be here for the funeral and reading of the will, and if I was, there was more money waiting for me."

Why the fuck would Archer want her here, knowing how volatile things were? Keep her safe her entire life and then throw her to the lions after his murder. What in the actual fuck had he been thinking?

He probably didn't think he'd get killed. He damn sure didn't pull the trigger himself.

"Yeah, I'm the bitch who just showed up for money." She walked away. "I'll go."

"Stop." I took her by the arm before she could walk off. "Who was the lawyer?"

"Kimbrell and something?"

We have a winner. "Yeah, that's right. It's your money, darlin." And there's a fuck-ton more than that, really. Or should be, if what he told me was true. "Everything today, Archer planned before he died. We all do. Who rode his bike, where his daughter sat, everything. He wanted you here, you are here. End of story."

"But you don't want me here."

I tossed my head back and rubbed my hand over my mouth and the hair on my chin. No, I didn't want her here. But not for any of the reasons she thought. I couldn't tell her that, though, not until I knew more.

"What I want doesn't matter."

"It does to me." Her voice was so quiet it was almost a squeak.

All the blood in my head rushed straight down to my crotch, and I cursed as I turned away. I, for damn sure, didn't need to want her. Fuck .

"Beating the guys off of Archer's daughter is a pain in the ass, but there are worse things."

It was her turn to blink, shocked. I couldn't help it; I laughed. "Darlin, every man in this place is circling you like a shark. You're new, different, and unattainable. Why do you think Jester was sneaking off with you? You can't really think he wanted to give you the history of the club."

"Oh." She turned away, blushing.

And then she made a noise in her throat, half choking, half gasp. "Are they…?"

I looked down at a chair beneath us, a good bit away from the others. I couldn't be sure who it was, but a woman was bouncing on top of a charter member. "Yup." Then I snorted. "One less shark to worry about."

She laughed and leaned her head on my shoulder.

The desire that gripped me was enough I had to focus out on the rocks. I remembered all the shit Archer had done for me. The lessons he taught, but more importantly, the secrets he kept. "Listen, if the house isn't yours, he'll have left it to the club. Either way, it belongs to you as long as you want it. As long as it takes, cool?"

At least there, I could keep an eye on her.

"Yeah, thanks." She nodded.

She was quiet and leaned against me for so long I thought she'd passed out. Then she whispered. "You said every man here."

"Yup."

"Even you?"

I bit back the groan. Fuck yes, I was one of them. She didn't give off the damsel in distress vibe; she came here to fix shit for herself. I could admire that. It made her sexier than hell.

I needed to put space between us, fast.

"Come on, darlin, let's get you home."