Page 61 of Haunted By the Storm
"He's been staying at this motel on the edge of town," I explain, pointing to a circled location. "Working at a dive bar three blocks over. According to Cruz's intel, he leaves work around two in the morning and walks back to the motel. Same route every night."
Ace nods, leaning over the maps. "Predictable. That's good for us."
"What about Cantlay's men?" Shadow asks, always thinking three steps ahead. "We sure they're really backing off?"
"Makenna's people confirmed it," I reply. "Cantlay's taken the deal. Eric's debt is their problem now, not Camryn's. But they won't make a move until after we're done with him."
The Irish and the Fury Vipers have an understanding. Makenna's people will collect from Eric what he owes Cantlay, but only after we've made it clear he's never to approach Camryn or Emily again. The order of operations matters here.
"So what's the play?" Digger asks, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table.
"Simple. We intercept him on his walk home, bring him to the warehouse." I tap another location on the map. "Have our conversation there. Make sure he understands that Camryn and Emily are permanently off-limits."
What I don't say aloud is what kind of "conversation" it will be. Some things don't need explicit stating among brothers.
"Weather report's calling for a major storm system tonight," Mayhem comments, a knowing look in his eyes. "Fitting, wouldn't you say?"
The irony isn't lost on me. The worst storm of the season rolling in on the very night I plan to end the threat to Camryn, a woman terrified of storms being protected by a man called Storm. Some cosmic joke playing out in real time.
"What about Camryn?" Ace asks, always considering all angles. "She know what's happening tonight?"
"I'm talking to her after this," I say, straightening up from the table. "She deserves to know what we're doing, even if not all the details."
Shadow raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that? Most old ladies prefer plausible deniability."
"She's not most old ladies," I reply, feeling a surge of pride in how Camryn's handled everything being thrown at her. "And she's been living with this threat hanging over her for too long. She needs to know it's ending."
Ace studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Your call. But Storm," he pauses, making sure he has my full attention, "make sure you're thinking clearly tonight. Don't let this get personal."
I almost laugh at that. As if this hasn't been personal from the moment I saw Camryn flinch during that first thunderstorm, when I realized what kind of man would hurt someone like her.
"I'm clear," I assure him, though the rage that's been simmering since I learned what Eric did to a sixteen-year-old Camryn tells a different story.
The meeting breaks up, brothers filing out with purpose in their steps. We move at sunset, which gives me a few hours to prepare and to talk to Camryn.
I find her in our room at the clubhouse, folding laundry while Emily draws at the small table by the window. The domesticity of the scene hits me with unexpected force. This is what I'm fighting for, this quiet moment of normalcy that Camryn and Emily deserve to have without fear.
"Hey," I say, closing the door behind me.
Camryn looks up, a smile spreading across her face before faltering as she reads my expression. "What's wrong?"
Emily doesn't look up from her drawing, lost in her artistic world of butterflies and flowers.
"Nothings wrong," I assure Camryn. "But I need to talk to you. Privately."
She nods, understanding immediately. "Emily, sweetie, why don't you go show Sera your new drawing? I bet she'd love to see it."
Emily gathers her papers eagerly. "Can I bring my markers too? Sera wanted to learn how to draw butterfly wings properly."
"Of course," Camryn says. "Just stay in the common area where I can find you, okay?"
Once Emily has bounced out the door, Camryn turns to me, arms crossed over her chest. "It's happening tonight, isn't it?"
I nod, not surprised she's pieced it together. "We've got his location and his routine. We're moving after dark.
She takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What exactly is 'moving' going to entail, Storm?"
This is the conversation I've been dreading. How do I explain to this woman, this good, kind woman who's managed to maintain her compassion despite everything she's suffered, what I'm capable of? What I'm planning to do to protect her?
