Page 16 of Aftermath

"No worries." Cam looked over his shoulder to see Austin adjusting his dick in his sweats. Squinting, he was fairly positive Austin's cheeks looked a little flushed, but he couldn’t be sure. Sleep and scruff were in the way. "I'm usually in your position though, so this was new." Not completely new, but whatever.

At that, Austin turned and faced him, confusion written across his features. "What?"

Cam waved it off. "Never mind. You gonna head out right now or do you wanna take a shower first?" He scratched his jaw. "There're leftovers from yesterday, but that’s about it." Fuck, he really needed to get out today. Lots of shit he had to buy.

"Um." Austin rubbed his shoulder, then stretched his arms over his head. "Damn, I'm getting old." The stretching caused his T-shirt to ride up, exposing his toned stomach and the trail of hair that led down to—goddammit. Cam rolled his eyes at his own reaction and pulled the blanket over his head. This was why he'd banished all thoughts about Austin in the past. "I don’t fucking know. Probably best I head home."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you, Mr. MBA." Cam spoke into his pillow as he willed his dick to stand down. "Even in that basement, you used proper language." Mostly, anyway. Damn and shit were one thing, but the man never said fuck. Now, though?Fuck.

Cam honestly only had one memory of appreciating the view when they were in hell.

Cam and Austin surrendered after a day and a half. They put on their cuffs and returned the keys and the medical kit to Psycho. Defeat hurt their egos, but they were too thirsty and hungry to wallow in it.

Once they'd devoured their food and chugged down half the bucket of fresh water, they made a pact. Strength—they needed it. They had to remain both mentally strong as well as physically. 'Cause if the authorities never found them…they'd have to rely solely on each other. Fuck, they already were.

Since Cam's bruised ribs hurt like a son of a bitch, there wasn’t much he did at first, but Austin began to spend his hours of nothingness working out.

Getting rid of his filthy T-shirt, he dropped to the floor and did push-ups. Supporting himself on his knuckles, Cam noticed, which stunned him just a bit. For some reason, Austin came off as a wholesome family man. But when he worked out, he looked like nothing that would be described as wholesome.

The muscles in his back rippled with each shove off the ground, his skin glistening with sweat. His biceps bulged, his neck strained, his breathing was harsh, and he didn’t fucking stop. The first pause came when Cam had counted forty push-ups, and it only lasted for ten minutes or so. Then Austin started all over again, but with crunches. Maybe his abs weren’t as defined as Cam's were, but the man was still buff and strong. Broad shouldered. He was also a few inches taller than Cam.

He was fucking hot.

"Don’t forget to drink," he muttered, tearing his gaze away from Austin on the floor. He was irritated for some reason. Frustrated and tense. He wanted to work out, too, but his ribs were fucking killing him.

Not for the first time since they'd been taken, Cam could kill for a goddamn smoke.

Shaking that off before worse memories could come to mind, Cam moved over to the edge of the bed and reached for his cigarettes. A glass of watered down vodka on the table reminded him of last night and how Austin had calmed him down.

"Bourbon pissed on the floor," Austin noted.

Cam shrugged and lit up a smoke. "Piss happens."

Perhaps he could install a doggy door to the fenced backyard; he would just need to replace the whole fucking patio door, seeing as it was glass. But he wanted Bourbon to be able to run in and out whenever he wanted.

"C'mere, buddy." He leaned down and ruffled the soft fur of the pup. "I think we should go for a run before those fuckin' errands." Cam didnotlook forward to this day. He hated being around too many people.

"What're you gonna do today?" Austin sat down on the coffee table and started lacing up his shoes.

"Grocery shopping, get my cars from the garage…" Landon had taken care of Cam's two beauties—one black Dodge Demon 340 from '71, and one indigo blue Chevrolet Camaro SS from '69—while he had been away. "Need to call Gale… Thought I'd drive over to the cemetery, too." He frowned, thinking about the guys they'd lost. Unlike Austin, Cam hadn't been to the memorial, 'cause he couldn’t handle that shit.

A few days later, Mr. Stone—yeah, the motherfucker was back to that name now—tossed a disposable razor in each cell as he delivered breakfast. He also announced that he had a meeting planned with "Thomas" later that afternoon. Then he left, leaving the men tense and wary.

As Cam and Austin took turns shaving off their growing beards, several other guys began talking about their so-called schedules, and a man named Chris revealed that it said Thomas on his.

"You never told me what he did to you," Austin said quietly, watching as Cam shaved his jaw.

"Isn't it obvious?" Cam retorted bitterly. "He beat the shit outta me, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"He didn’t say anything at all? Nothing to explain his, uh, behavior?"

Cam blew out a breath and ran a washcloth over his freshly shaved face. It would itch without any kind of shaving cream or aftershave, but they couldn’t exactly afford to be picky. "He called me his cousin. Evan—it's his cousin, I guess. He said I'd contributed to ruining his life."

"What the fuck?!" the guy with a New York accent shouted. Cam was fairly sure by now the dude's name was Lance. "Yo, I need some help in hea'!"

"I'll be right there!" another man yelled sarcastically.

It was quiet for a while, aside from someone shuffling around in his cell.

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