For Life Read online

  For Life

  by Debra Kayn

  Book 2, Moroad MC series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For Life

  1st Digital release: Copyright© 2015 Debra Kayn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Debra Kayn. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  www.debrakayn.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Coming Soon

  SNEAK PEEK – HIS CRIME | Chapter One

  Author Bio

  Debra Kayn's Backlist

  Sample Chapter – Living A Beautiful War | Book 8, Bantorus Motorcycle Club series by Debra Kayn | Chapter One

  Dedication

  To MLJJ – Because I love you, and you, and you, and you.

  Chapter One

  The steel door in the holding area of the state penitentiary slid open. Cam Farrell shoved the package of letters he'd received from Christina during his eighteen-month stay into his back pocket. Besides his jeans—that were loose, belt, T-shirt, and boots, he had nothing else in his possession.

  Pretaro, a guard who worked for Idaho State Penitentiary and offered favors to the prisoners, nodded his approval. "The guard at the gate has your clearance. You're free to go."

  Cam stepped over the threshold into freedom. He didn't stop to look at the sky. He didn't stop to smell the air. He didn't stop when his shoestring on his boot came undone. He walked the one-hundred feet to the gate, slowed for the electric fence to slide to his left, and squeezed through the opening the second there was space for his body.

  The click of the gate closing announced his departure from inside and he walked across the parking lot in search of Merk. He spotted the Vice President of Moroad Motorcycle Club on his motorcycle parked at the back of the visitor's lot. As an ex-convict waiting outside the prison, Merk's booted foot tapped relentlessly on the ground, while he sucked the nicotine out of a cigarette.

  Cam scanned the parked cars around the bike, making sure Christina obeyed his orders to wait for him at the house in Federal, Idaho. For her safety, he wanted her nowhere near the prison.

  Cam's flat-gray Harley came into view and he walked faster, ignoring the extra weight of his boot pulling on his knee. It felt good to be back in regular clothes and on the outside. He wasn't going to let an old injury bother him today.

  He reached Merk and stopped "Thanks for bringing my bike."

  "You can thank Stache and Willy. They brought your Harley yesterday and left it parked overnight. We figured you'd want to straddle the seat on the way home instead of trapped in a cage for the eight-hour trip." Merk tossed Cam his vest and key to his bike. "Good to have you out, brother."

  "Christina?" Cam slipped his arms inside the jean vest, threw his leg over the bike, and sat down.

  For the last week, he'd thought of nothing else than getting back to his woman and making sure Christina still waited for him. He fingered the key. Not one moment during his sentence had he believed Christina would last the eighteen months until he returned to the house.

  He'd left too soon after solidifying their relationship, and relied on letters for the second time to keep her in his life. Too many problems crashed down on her at the time of his arrest, and he could only hope she trusted him enough to wait for his return. If she left him, he'd kidnap her again. No way in hell was he letting her get away.

  "Christina's at the house. All the members of Moroad Motorcycle Club are at the house with her. Besides the orders to make sure your woman stays put, they're probably drinking your beer to get their drink on to numb the pain from Christina's bitching." Merk grinned and rubbed the rough scruff along his jaw. "When I left, she was cleaning and forcing Jeremy to change clothes."

  Cam grinned back at the news, the relief instant and pleasurable. He missed Christina's attitude and the way she bitched about good versus bad, wrong versus right, and the way she stood up to him when she supported Jeremy.

  Most of all, he missed the quiet times of holding her in bed, breathing her air, soaking in the richness surrounding her. Not many men experienced a gentle touch, but the second she'd put her hand on him, he swore he'd never let her go.

  He started the engine. The natural high of walking away from prison took a dip thinking about Jeremy. For over two years, Cam let Jeremy believe he was his birth father. He wasn't looking forward to confessing he'd forged the custody papers and Jeremy wasn't his son. Hell, Jeremy was almost eighteen years old now. If he wanted to make Cam pay, he'd have every right to have him arrested and thrown back into the slammer.

  "We've got a long ride. Let's go." Cam rode out of the parking lot.

  Eager to get back to Christina, he led Merk the whole eight hours without stopping. His left leg cramped the last one hundred miles and it took everything he had to keep going. His dedication to lifting weights, running around the outside yard, and pushups while cooped in his cell wasn't enough to keep him in top shape for riding. Fuck, he missed his bike.

  The familiar sight of Federal blurred around him. He rode under the viaduct and turned right, traveling the gravel road to his house. His chest tightened at the spot in the road where the sheriff hauled him away for being a felon in the possession of a loaded weapon less than two years ago. He'd taken the hit for Jeremy, who would've ended up in Idaho's Juvenile Detention Hall and taken away from Christina. While Christina believed he protected Jeremy, he needed an excuse to go back to prison to take care of the threat against the kid and make sure his family stayed safe.

  Merk surged forward and rode beside him. "I know we won't have much time to talk once you park your bike, but we need to get together in the next couple of days."

  "Trouble?" Cam yelled over the noise of the motorcycles.

  Merk held up one hand and shook it. "Nothing we haven't seen before, brother."

  For the last two years, the gun chain he'd set up from coast to coast brought in more money than the Moroad MC members had ever seen. The profits supported the Moroad members in the state penitentiary and on the outsid
e. He eased back on the throttle, needing time to catch his breath before he arrived at the house. There were always dangers running illegal guns, but the reports he'd received from Merk while on the inside gave him hope the pressure from Reds—a Latino gang, who wanted to push Moroad off the chain, calmed down.

  The two-story, run down house came into view, except the exterior now had a coat of fresh red paint accented with white doors. He glanced at Merk and wasn't surprised when his V.P. fell back and let him take the lead. He'd asked Merk to watch the house, his woman, his club, not allow changes without his permission.

  Christina's need to clean and provide a normal home for Jeremy obviously had no boundaries during his absence. He caught sight of his MC brothers congregated in the yard and ran his forearm across his face to wipe the sweat and dust off.

  He gazed through the double line of men waiting for him and found Jeremy standing at the edge of the crowd. He rode into the yard, stopped his motorcycle, and peeled his body from the seat. His stiff leg protested the movement.

  The Moroad MC members, quiet and staying back, lifted their beer cans in the air in silent welcome. Cam viewed his brothers, looking for the one person he'd waited eighteen months to see.

  Jeremy stepped forward, his brown hair fell in his eyes, and he jerked his head and squinted. Cam pushed past the anxiety tightening his chest at not finding Christina in the crowd. He hooked the kid's neck, holding him in place. Taller and more filled out than the last time he'd seen Jeremy, the kid looked him in the eye.

  "Welcome home." Jeremy shook Cam's hand.

  Jeremy's size wasn't the only thing that'd changed. The scruffy beard, the confidence, and the low timber of his voice surprised Cam, remembering the boy he'd left behind. From all the reports he'd received, Jeremy found his place within Moroad and matured.

  "It's good to be back, kid." Cam squeezed Jeremy's neck, noting the tension running under his fingers. "Feels damn good."

  The others, after respecting the kid's need to meet with Cam first, stepped forward. Cam grinned, swept up in the back slaps, the shoves, the punches. His urgency to find Christina grew stronger.

  Where the fuck was she?

  "Let's get this party going." Stache's smile showed through the handlebar mustache that fell past his jaw, and he thrust a full can of beer in Cam's hand.

  Cam brought the beer to his lips and stepped toward the house. Gunner stopped him, slapping him on the back. Cam wiped the spilled drink off his beard and clasped Gunner's hand. Loyal and deadly, Gunner had shaved his head since the last time Cam had seen him. A white scar ran from the top of his ear, half way to his forehead.

  "Fighting dirty lately?" Cam eyed Gunner's injury.

  Gunner ran his hand over his scalp. "I laid the bike down in the rain. Damn near split me wide open and took a chunk out of my ass."

  "At least you're alive," Cam said.

  "Damn right." Gunner pointed over Cam's shoulder. "You made it home right on time. The Moroad women have arrived."

  "I see that," Merk muttered.

  Four cars pulled into the yard, blowing a dust storm over everyone. He eyed Katie, Lola, Jessie, and Tiff as they swished their asses in the direction of the men. He had no interest in the Moroad women. The only woman he wanted seemed to be missing.

  "Where's Christina?" Cam said, raising his voice over the noise.

  Gunner frowned. "She was here earlier. Maybe she's in the house."

  Cam stepped away and almost walked into Bear. The man's eyes narrowed, almost swallowed by the tan bushy eyebrows. Cam held back from pushing Bear aside.

  Bear's full beard and mustache moved in such a way Cam recognized a smile. "Welcome home, Prez."

  "Thanks." Cam slapped Bear on the shoulder. "Go grab another beer and I'll talk to you later."

  Three feet away, Johnson held a whiskey bottle in front of him. Cam shook his head and eyed the recent fat lip holding a cigarette in Johnson's mouth. "Later, man."

  Cam walked toward the porch. He wasn't going to let anyone stop him from finding Christina.

  Ahead of him, Merk slipped out the front door of Cam's house. Cam paused with his boot on the porch step, surprised to learn Christina went against his orders not to have Moroad members inside the house with her.

  "Merk..." Cam studied his V.P's frown. "Where's my woman?"

  "Inside." Merk pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped the package against his hand. "She didn't know if she could handle seeing you with everyone around, so she's giving you time with the men."

  Bull shit. He walked to the door and Merk stopped him again. His muscles tightened. He wanted to do nothing more than beat anyone who tried to keep him from Christina. He'd been patient, but he expected Christina outside to greet him when he rode in.

  "It's been eighteen months, brother," Merk said. "Go easy on her."

  Cam stepped forward and bumped his chest against Merk. "Don't tell me how to take care of my woman."

  Merk stared at him, holding him back from rushing into the house to Christina. Finally relenting when Cam refused to move, Merk walked out to the yard. Cam wasted no time and walked through the door. There was only one reason Christina wouldn't be outside jumping into his arms and happy to see him. She feared the changes from his return over the excitement of seeing him again.

  He checked the living room, the bedroom, the kitchen. Not stopping, he walked out the backdoor and his racing heart petered out when he found her. Christina sat at the once old, broken picnic table that now had a fresh coat of white paint and a repaired leg.

  Christina stared out at the Bitterroot Mountains reminding him of the day he'd broken her spirit. He'd questioned her, over and over, trying to get her to confess her feelings for a prisoner she only knew through letters. Not once during his interrogation did she betray her relationship with Prisoner #18794.

  At the time, she had no idea the same man she'd given her heart to kidnapped her and planned never to let her go.

  His gut tightened. Pretty as a picture, her curly hair hung halfway down her back, a mix of gold, red, and mahogany.

  He walked through the grass, gazing at her the whole time. There was no doubt Christina sensed his approach.

  Her back straightened. Her chest inflated on one large inhale. Her fingers curled into her palms. He'd waited a long time to feel those hands on him and wanted to rush over and force her to touch him. Holding himself back, he hitched his hip on the edge of the table. He took in the slenderness of her bare arms. Arms that used to wrap around him, begging him not to leave her.

  Except, he had left her.

  "Black or white?" he said, pulling the words from his chest and repeating the past.

  Her chin dipped to her chest and she whispered, "If I lie, will you keep me?"

  Relief squeezed his throat and he swallowed. His body, unable to ignore her, hardened. It'd been too long since he'd had her.

  "I wouldn't let you go, even if you told me the truth." He straightened and walked over and sat beside her.

  She slipped her hand into his, leaned her head against his arm, and her body shuddered. "I wanted to meet you out front, but my legs...they're shaking. I can't even move and I want to touch you so bad, I hurt."

  He turned his upper body and lifted her onto his lap. "I've got you."

  Her arms wrapped around him. He thrust his fingers into her hair, cupping her head, and brought her mouth closer. He trembled, starving for a taste of her warmth. She made him weak.

  "I missed you." She traced his lips with her finger.

  His chest rose and fell, sucking in the air she'd stolen. "Kiss me before I fuck you right here on this table."

  Her smile slipped and her eyes warmed. "Okay."

  Her lips landed softly on his. Pressure filled the inside of his head. Her scent, a mix between freedom and woman, intoxicated him. He opened her mouth with his tongue. The sweet sensation singed every nerve. He held her still, not wanting to let her go and knowing a kiss wasn't enough. Afraid of breaking her, he
eased back, raining kisses along her jaw, her neck, inhaling the fragrance of everything good in his life.

  "Cam..."

  He inhaled deeply, snuggled against her neck. "Give me a second, baby."

  The arms around him tightened. Overwhelmed, he closed his eyes. No longer living in prison, he wavered under the overwhelming pressure of being on the outside. He had a club to take care of, a woman he needed to reconnect with, and gang members threatening the gun chain and his freedom. All of the outside threats hinged on the outcome of telling Jeremy the truth. A truth if told to the right people would put him back in prison for life.

  Chapter Two

  The bedroom door slammed behind Cam in his rush to get Christina alone. She yanked on Cam's vest, frustrated when the jean material refused to slide off his shoulders. Her urgency came from needing to validate the reasons she'd talked herself out of leaving him the last eighteen months.

  He gave her every excuse to walk away. Her hands shook as she ran them over his stomach. He'd killed, because of her. He'd stolen someone else's child. He'd kidnapped her. He'd committed so many crimes in his past, and wasn't going to change. Yet, her reasons for staying tumbled out of her.

  She loved him.

  He possessed her.

  She needed him.

  He relied on her.

  Despite Cam's criminal status and biker lifestyle, he was the one man for her. She understood the reasons why he killed, manipulated, deceived. That didn't mean she approved of his bad choices. However, she accepted the good in him and tried hard to ignore the bad.

  He gave her everything she needed, and promised never to leave her.

  But, he'd left.

  Cam undid his belt, his zipper, and pulled his jeans past his hips. "Take your panties off. I'm not going to last long."

  She reached under her dress and shimmied out of her underwear, kicking them to the side. Then on her hands and knees, she climbed onto the bed and braced herself. The mattress dipped with Cam's weight beside her. His finger slid along her slit. Her legs trembled at his impatient, rough strength, and she held her breath. Her nervousness battled her excitement. It'd been too long since he'd touched her.