Page 12 of Aftermath

"It tells me you should be shipped off to the funny farm," Cam said behind him, but his voice had lost all its hostility. When they reached the living room, he asked, "Dude, are you free-ballin' under there?" He jerked his chin at Austin's sweatpants.

"Why are your eyes anywhere near to notice?" Austin fired back and sat down on the bed. "So, this is the little guy." He reached down to pet Bourbon, who hadn't been trained to guard yet. He seemed to love any sign of life, and he soaked up the attention Austin gave him. "He can't be very old, can he?"

"Twelve weeks." Cam sat down next to him. "Can't believe you actually drove all the way over."

"I can leave," Austin chuckled.

Cam shook his head no, keeping his eyes on Bourbon.

For about half an hour, Cam tried to distract Austin with trivial bullshit, but then he gave up. They didn’t only see Gale Peters one-on-one; they saw her in group therapy, too—Cam and the other six who had survived. And he knew Austin wanted him to get all this out. It was one of Gale's most repeated words of advice:"Tell someone what you're feeling—someone who will listen and just let you talk."

"Come on, Cam," Austin groaned and fell back against the bed. His feet still touched the light hardwood floor, but he was lying down, one of Cam's pillows under his head. "Take your time—I'm here for you, but get started. Gun or no gun, remember?"

Well, Cam needed a strong drink for this shit. Standing up, he padded over to the entertainment center and opened one of the cabinets that held his small stash of booze. "Drink?" He took a few glasses and a bottle of vodka for himself. He had to buy more soon; it was barely half-full.

"Bourbon if you have it—and no dog jokes."

Cam smirked to himself and grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam. "Ice?" He started toward the kitchen.

"No, thank you."

In the kitchen, he emptied an ice tray into a bowl, snatched up a bag of peanuts, then returned to the living room. Austin got his glass of bourbon, and Cam downed one shot of vodka before pouring another. In the meantime, Austin held his glass on his stomach, only lifting his head every now and then to take slow sips.

"Okay. Talk to me."

"Fuck, you don’t waste time." Cam made a face and threw back the second shot. Next he poured a bigger glass and topped it off with ice. Why didn’t he just keep the booze in the freezer like normal people? "I don’t even know what I'm supposed to say."

He just hated remembering it all.

Cam swallowed then exhaled shakily as he was led past wooden beams toward a narrow staircase in the basement.

Psycho had checked his cuffs already, making sure they were on tight behind Cam's back. Austin had been the recipient of a gun aimed at him, and Cam had been promised that his cellmate would get a bullet if either tried anything.

It was Austin's pointed look that left Cam confused. The two men didn’t know each other for shit, but Cam had the distinct feeling that Austin wanted him to overpower Psycho anyway, regardless of threats.

With a gun pressed to his lower spine, Cam climbed the concrete steps leading to the ground floor, his mind spinning so fast it almost left him dizzy.

"Stop right there," Psycho said when Cam reached the top step. Keeping the barrel of the gun pressed into Cam's body, he walked around him and unlocked the heavy, reinforced-steel door. "No funny business." He aimed at Cam's head this time.

"Or you'll shoot Austin, I know," Cam replied quietly, glaring at the motherfucker who was now walking backward. As long as he didn’t take his eyes off Cam, it was gonna be hard to surprise him.

This was the first time Cam saw the man in his entirety, not counting the black mask hiding most of his face. What he did see was blond, graying hair, black clothes, thin lips, and a body that probably hadn't seen the inside of a gym in decades. He was short, half a foot shorter than Cam's six one, and he had a beer gut that rivaled the exercise ball his sister-in-law used when she did yoga or Pilates or whatever it was.

So, this was the fucker who'd succeeded in kidnapping ten grown men.

"Or you." Psycho shrugged with a smile.

Awesome.

They ended up in a tiny vestibule with cement-covered walls where there were three doors, all with keypads instead of regular locks. It was a bad cover-up of what was behind the cement. Perhaps more drywall, or maybe wood. Who knew? It looked like Psycho had just slopped it up on the wall with a careless hand, leaving the surfaces uneven.

But still solid.

It sent a wave of hopelessness through Cam, 'cause not only would it be close to impossible to figure out the passwords to those keypads, but Psycho had obviously put in a lot of time to make it impossible to escape, and they didn’t even know which one of the three doors led to freedom.

He was about to find out that the middle door led to purgatory.

"Breathe, Cam." Austin was murmuring to him, sitting up again, and he was rubbing Cam's back in comfort. "Focus on your breathing."

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