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  Cranley pushed himself to his knees, groaning. Not even trying to stand on his feet, he kneeled beside the desk and connected the call.

  "George...I need something else done. It's important that you do this for me." Cranley broke down. His chest quaked with his silent sobs.

  Cam cleared his throat and motioned toward the phone for him to continue.

  "Please, George. My family's life depends on you fulfilling my next request. They've—"

  Gunner stuck the barrel of the gun to Cranley's temple. "Don't do it," Gunner whispered.

  "Please, it's a matter of life or death for me, for my wife." Cranley sucked in a breath. "For my girls. Do it for my babies. You owe me Roseberg. You owe me."

  Cranley waited and finally nodded at Cam before returning to the phone call. "We need to expedite petitions to the governor immediately for pardons to take effect at midnight tonight on...David Mager, Paul Sassman, Steve Metcalfe, Kevin Notton, Jack Baker."

  Cam pointed his pistol at the paper. There was one more man he wanted out of prison.

  "A-also, Jeffrey Maier," Cranley said, bowing his head.

  Cranley squeezed his eyes closed, nodded to the other person on the phone, and said, "Yes."

  Cam's jaw ticked. He'd pushed the power, not only going after Reds and closing the door on anymore early releases. No, he wanted more. Nobody fucked with Moroad MC and got away with it. He wanted a message sent to Roseberg letting him know that no one stood a chance trying to take Moroad down.

  "I will. I will." Cranley winced. "I'm sorry. I will make things right. Y-you've saved me, Roseberg. I won't forget this."

  Cranley hung the phone up and overcome with emotions, fell back on his ass on the floor. Cam stood, rounded the desk, and peered down at the man who'd dug his own grave. Cranley's illegal dealings ended today.

  "Judge Roseberg will inform Flores our deal with him is over. No one in Flores's group will walk out of prison until their sentence is completed." Cranley lifted his head and glared at Cam. "You've got what you wanted, destroyed my career, and threatened my family."

  "What about my other request?" Cam asked quietly. "Will my men get the pardon by midnight?"

  "God, help me, yes, you son of a bitch." Cranley shook his head. "Roseberg will have the petitions on the governor's desk within an hour."

  "How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Cam stepped back, wanting to see Cranley's face better.

  Cranley's chin hit his chest. "Because he owed me for getting rid of my sister in law after his wife found out he was having an affair with Laura's sister and the knowledge she had about what we were doing. He owed me."

  Crimes touched everyone's lives, whether born with the desire to fuck over the law or if you lived above the law. At the end, they were all going to the same place. Hell.

  Cam turned to Gunner and received a nod. It was time to put Cranley out of his misery.

  He set his pistol on the desk, pulled his gloves tighter, and picked up the shotgun. Cocking the rifle, Cam swung the barrel down when Cranley lifted his gaze in surprise. Resignation fluttered over the judge's face.

  Cam pulled the trigger.

  Judge Cranley's body pitched to the side, motionless and pathetic. Cam reached over to the desk, picked up the piece of paper he'd given him with the names of the first five Moroad members who were due to be released the earliest, and Jeffrey Maier—a current inmate sitting with a life sentence with no chance of parole, and shoved it in his pocket. If Roseberg followed through, all six members would walk away from the state penitentiary with clean records as if they never served time in prison.

  "Let's sweep the house for every camera and get rid of them. Don't leave anything behind and keep your gloves on," Cam said.

  As the other men scattered, Cam laid the shotgun in front of Cranley's prone body and put the end of the barrel under the spot where a chin should've been. To anyone who found him, he died by suicide, and after days of investigation and closing the case, the Coeur d'Alene police department would receive an unexpected tip.

  A tip no one would see coming. Cam inhaled deeply, satisfied with his plan. Every step was in motion, and change was coming.

  "Meet you in hell, Cranley," Cam whispered.

  Ten minutes later, the Moroad Motorcycle Club exited the house out the front door. Cam walked over to the bare lot next door, scooped dry dirt into his gloved hands, and rubbed the dust over his vest and the front of his jeans. Then he peeled his leather gloves off and buried them in the dirt, shoving the latex gloves in his back pocket.

  Brushing off the excess dirt clinging to him, he peered down at his clothes. From a distance, nobody would know Cranley's blood covered him. They'd only see the dirty biker he was.

  He returned to his motorcycle and looked at Jeremy. The kid's solemn expression met his.

  "Are you doing okay, kid?" Cam sat down on his bike.

  Jeremy nodded. Cam gave him a short nod of approval. Later, after the adrenaline rush wore off, he'd talk to the kid and make sure he decompressed. Jeremy's lack of experience and age meant a few extra steps, a few more talks, but he had faith Jeremy would come through and accept the actions the club needed to take to secure their future.

  "Why didn't you tell us your plan to ask for the release of six Moroad members?" Gunner laughed. "Fuckin' shit. Did you see the look on Judge Cranley's face when he ordered Roseberg to let a few of our men walk away with pardons?"

  "I asked some questions and pushed my luck. I had a hunch Cranley was responsible for his sister in laws disappearance. When I saw the guilt on his face, I pushed." Cam finally let his smile emerge. "What do you think the guys are going to say when they get their slip tonight and show up at my door tomorrow?"

  Stache doubled over, laughing his ass off. "Jeffrey Maier... I forgot Mayor's real name. He's been in there for almost twenty years, sitting and waiting to die in the chair. You're going to give the son of a bitch a heart attack when he steps into the daylight after believing he was a walking dead man."

  "Take a look around and make sure you have everything on you. We need to get out of here before all hell breaks loose." Cam started his bike and with one more glance at the vacant lot, rode out of the cul-de-sac.

  With Reds pushed back, more Moroad members soon to be out supporting the club, he'd protected his freedom and his family. Opening up the throttle on Interstate 90, he stretched his left leg out and rested the back of his boot against the peg. Now he only had to wait and time would bring more of his plan into action. Soon, Christina's smile would only be for him.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Cam sat in the living room, surrounded by a strange group of men who hung on to his every word. Christina leaned against the archway to the foyer, staying out of the intimate circle the men created.

  Two hours ago, Cam introduced her to the men.

  Jacko— His light blue eyes constantly moved around the room. His attractive smile remained on his face, even when nobody talked to him. She wondered if sometime in his life he'd hit his head because mentally, he wasn't all there. He definitely wasn't born short on smarts, because he had excellent coordination and caught the beer Cam threw him.

  Rash— a husky man only a few inches taller than Christina sat on his knees on the floor. The heavily scarred arm pocked with white marks probably gave him his name. He hadn't spoke to the other members the whole night, but preferred to whisper one on one.

  Paul— She suspected if he grew his hair out, he'd be a ginger. He had brown freckles all over his face and down his arms, in between the tattoos. The more he drank, the louder he got.

  Mister— When she shook Mister's hand, she noticed two missing fingers. He got a thrill from kissing the back of her wrist, until Cam pushed him away. He gave her the creeps.

  Kev— He'd greeted everyone, then stole Willy's cell, and sat in the corner of the living room talking and smiling to whoever he'd called. He still wore the jumper from prison, and Christina wanted to ask Cam more questions about why these
men showed up and claimed they were free.

  Mayor— Bad vibes rolled off him. He kept repeating to everyone who entered the room that today was not a good day to die. He seemed high or delusional, and she kept an eye on him.

  She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing at mayor. If he made one step toward her, she'd lock herself in the bedroom and stay there until everyone left her house.

  The overload of testosterone stunk up her house and the prison stories gave her a headache.

  The front door opened and Merk walked in. She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Obviously, Cam's rule about Merk staying outside no longer mattered after he'd welcomed Moroad members inside and told them to find a place to crash.

  Merk stopped beside her and quietly asked, "How are you holding up?"

  She shrugged, "Okay."

  "Merk!" Jacko stood from the couch and embraced Merk, slapping him on the back.

  "Good to see you, Jacko." Merk slapped Jacko on the cheek. "You good?"

  "Always good, they think I'm bad." Jacko smiled and rolled his eyes. "It's a constant mindfuck, and nobody gets hurt."

  Yes, there was something wrong with Jacko. When he'd shown up, he'd stripped off all his clothes and held his arms up in the air, yelling his head off about communist motherfuckers. She'd plastered herself against Cam's side and waited for Cam to do something about the crazy, dangerous people.

  It was bad enough that upon their unannounced arrival a U-Haul van, driven by Stache, had pulled up onto her manicured lawn and men tumbled out the back of the truck. No warning, no explanation, no nothing. She inhaled deeply, wondering if these men would ever leave. Cam had stood on the porch and welcomed everyone into the house without giving any thought to her feelings about the situation.

  From the little information she caught in conversation, the six returning Moroad members were released from the state penitentiary at midnight. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. It was almost midnight again. Cam had twenty-four hours to warn her about his guests, and he chose to keep them secret.

  Rash spilled his can of beer on the hardwood floor. Merk reached over and scooped up one of Jeremy's shirts he'd left on the coffee table and mopped up the spill. Christina gazed at Cam to catch his reaction to the mess and he remained oblivious to the men destroying her house.

  The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She gazed around the room and found Mayor staring at her again. As he looked her over, his jaw relaxed. She glanced down and caught the arousal he palmed in his hand through his jeans. She looked away and hid her groan of disgust. Who were these men?

  Jacko? Rash? Mayor? Paul? Kev? Mister?

  Jeremy walked across the room. She grabbed his arm when he walked beside her. "Hey, where are you going?"

  She wanted Jeremy to go up to his room, but because Cam suggested giving him free rein to come and go as he pleased, she couldn't force him to go to bed.

  "I'm getting a drink of water and then I'm calling Tiff." He glanced behind him at the room. "Are you okay?"

  "No." She swallowed. Everyone, except Cam, kept asking her about her mental status. She suspected maybe she was the crazy one and all these men were perfectly normal.

  Jeremy motioned with his chin. "Come in the kitchen with me."

  She followed him. The home Cam created for her and she clung to desperately no longer seemed like her safe place. Tonight pushed her over the edge and unsettled her.

  Jeremy reached for a bottle of whiskey. She grabbed his forearm before he could drink.

  "Having beer in moderation at your age is one thing, but you're not old enough to hit the harder drinks," she said.

  He set the shot glass he'd filled in front of her on the counter. "It's not for me. You need it."

  "I hate the stuff," she muttered.

  "Trust me. It'll calm you down. You look like you're about ready to jump every time I look at you." He put the glass in her hand. "Drink."

  Maybe one shot would take the edge off. Without thinking, she downed the whole thing. Fire hit the back of her throat and she sucked in wind, coughing until her eyes watered.

  "Take another one." Jeremy put the refilled shot glass in her hand.

  She glared and did what he asked. The second swallow went down smoother. Her head continued to pound and she still wanted to yell for everyone to get out of her house.

  "Do you need another one?" Jeremy asked.

  She shook her head. "No, because alcohol isn't doing a damn thing. I still have strange men in my living room and Cam hasn't given me any answers on what they're doing here."

  Jeremy leaned against the counter. "The run we went on yesterday made it possible for six Moroad MC members to walk out of prison. You'll need to get used to them being here for a while."

  "That's not possible." She thought back to the lists she'd made of the recently released inmates and also the proposed release dates and sentences of the Moroad members Cam kept encrypted in the books. She had access to all the documents, and while she didn't know them by name, she only knew one member scheduled to be released in a few months. Jack Baker. She groaned, holding her forehead. Jacko.

  "How did this happen?" she asked.

  Jeremy shook his head, reaching for the bottle. He skipped pouring the whiskey in a glass and drank straight from the source. She ignored him, because even though he was underage, he probably needed the fortification as much as she did. She wasn't the only one feeling the interruption into their normal Sunday night at home.

  Her vision blurred and she blinked. Maybe the drinks were helping.

  "All I know is Cam made it possible for the men to get out of prison." Jeremy blew out his breath. "Fuck, Christina...there are times I'm not even sure what the hell I'm doing here or how I got myself into the Moroad MC. Part of me thinks it was my lucky day to have my dad step forward and yet today, I think the whole fucking thing is messed up."

  She turned and held his arms, not letting him walk away. Her adrenaline pushed the alcohol in her system. Had Jeremy found out the truth?

  "What happened?" she asked.

  "I can't say," he said, his voice breaking.

  "Yes, you can. It's me...you can tell me anything and I'm not going to judge you." She brushed his hair back from his face. "Honey, whatever happened is hurting you. I want you to tell me what it is, and I'll help you figure it out."

  "He shouldn't have—"

  "What's going on in here?" Cam said, walking into the kitchen.

  Jeremy stiffened and pulled away from her. She turned and closed her mouth, afraid Jeremy knew the truth that Cam stole him from social services.

  "I need to call Tiff." Jeremy scooted past her and walked out of the room.

  Cam frowned and grabbed Jeremy's arm. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah. I just want to go see Tiff." Jeremy pulled away.

  Cam turned and watched Jeremy leave with a frown. Christina turned her attention to putting the top back on the whiskey bottle. Her family was falling apart.

  Cam's arms wrapped around her from behind. She let her head fall back to his chest. Why did loving him have to hurt so much?

  "I don't like looking up and seeing you gone." Cam kissed the side of her head. "Why are you hiding out in here when there's a party going on in the other room?"

  "It's not my party." She wrinkled her nose. Even to her own ears, she sounded snippy, but dammit, he didn't tell her what was going on. This was her home, too.

  "Yeah, it is, baby." He turned her around. "This is your club. Those men in there will protect you when I'm not able to."

  She shook her head in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

  "No. I'm serious." Cam tilted her head. "Come out there and sit with me while the guys work off some of their energy. They just got out. If I don't keep them here, they'll find their ass right back inside and I worked too hard to get them here."

  "Exactly what did you do for them?" she asked.

  "Doesn't matter." He tilted his head and raised his brows. "I
have good news for you. The threat from Reds is over for now. They got the message I sent, and that takes them off Moroads back. Things will start to go back to normal. You can start to go shopping by yourself , and I don't have to worry about you here by yourself while I'm on a run. You're safe. That's reason enough to enjoy the party, huh?"

  Her body flashed cold. She refused to ask any more questions, because Cam only told her one side of the story. Whatever he'd done, she suspected was against the law, and he'd done it for her. She hated the responsibility he laid on her shoulders. She never asked him to commit a crime or risk his freedom for her.

  He cupped her ass, leaned down, and kissed her. She opened her mouth, wanting to connect with him, and he pulled away.

  "Give me one more hour, and then I'll get the guys settled in the house and take you to bed, okay?" Cam looped his arm around her shoulders. "I want you out here with me though."

  She walked with him into the other room. There was no need to nod, agree, or disagree. Cam was on a one-man trip to do what he wanted regardless of her opinion. She always tried to talk, and he mostly failed to listen.

  Her body trembled as she mentally prepared for the unwanted changes in her life with the new Moroad members. Even knowing in an hour, she'd have him in the room by himself, a place that usually brought her comfort, joy, love, couldn't compete to the role he played as president of Moroad MC.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Christina loaded the last bag of groceries into the back of the truck and returned the cart to the front of the store. She stood in the shade from the store's awning, putting off walking across the parking lot again and climbing in a hot truck. She hated going from the air conditioning inside the store to the ninety-five degree weather outside.

  Tiff pulled into the lot and parked by Cam's truck. Ignoring the uncomfortable heat, Christina hurried across the asphalt, wanting to catch Jeremy's girlfriend-ex-girlfriend before she got away.