Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Cam nodded, one side of his tiny smile bitter, the other side sweet.
“I guess so.”
“I been keeping up with you, though.” Deuce’s grin poked surprising dimples into his lean cheeks. “You doing big things. Real big things. Movies, videos. All that shit.”
“I got lucky.” Cam looked at his fingers, smeared with paint.
“This”—Deuce pointed to the scene on the wall behind them—“ain’t luck. You always had talent, and I knew it would take you far. Far from here.”
“You ever want to get far from here?” Cam’s voice traveled the distance between the two men.
“Now why would I want to do that?” Deuce slipped a guard over his smile, his eyes becoming wary.
“Because you aren’t the only one who hears things.” Cam shook his head, scowling at Deuce in the dim light. “You’re deeper in than you’ve ever been. It’s not an old man’s game.”
“Who said I wanted to live to be an old man?”
“That’s not funny.”
“Wasn’t trying to be. Who would want to live here forever anyway?”
“Then get out.” Low and earnest, Cam’s words reached Jo’s ears.
“And do what?” Deuce’s voice turned rocky. “Work at McDonald’s? Walmart? Give me rich and short over poor and long any day.”
“Just get out. I’ll help you.”
“What, tit for tat? I helped you and you want to help me?”
For the first time since they’d started talking, Cam’s eyes flicked to Jo. He looked back to Deuce before Jo could read him.
“I know you think it’s too late, Deuce, but it’s not.”
“Man, this ain’t no after-school special.” Deuce firmed his lips, and all signs of affability vanished. He was the scorpion again. “We’re different.”
“We just made different choices.”
“Oh, you wanna talk about choices?” Deuce flashed a barbed smile. “Should I tell your girlfriend here about the choices that got you out of this hellhole?”
The look Cam gave Deuce was a loaded pistol. He started packing his paints into the saddlebag, movements controlled, but Jo knew him. A cyclone whipped around inside him. And she, fool that she was, instead of taking shelter, stepped into the eye of the storm. She walked over to Cam, taking his hand, asking him if everything was okay with just a glance. He hesitated, nodding, eyes clearing the longer he looked at her.
“Let’s go,” he said, hand at the small of her back and walking her over to the Harley.
“I’m sorry.” Deuce’s voice held no contrition, but the fact that he hadn’t unleashed any of the dark power at his disposal onto them in his anger said a lot.
Cam settled the helmet on Jo’s head and helped her onto the back of the bike before he faced Deuce.
“She’s off-limits.” Cam’s eyes sliced through the thick air separating the two men like a knife. “You don’t use her to threaten me. You don’t know her name, and I don’t want you to. Forget you met her.”
“I said I’m sorry. I crossed a line.”
“You sure as hell did.” Cam pointed to Jo. “That’s my line. Any of your shit ever touches her, I don’t care if you’re the biggest player in the game, I’ll find a way to make you pay.”
Deuce swiped a big hand over his eyes, shaking his head.
“I’m an asshole.”
“Yeah, you are.” Cam picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm. He ran a hand over his wild hair, sucking his teeth in exasperation, a softer form of anger. “But it was good to see you.”
Deuce’s face lightened with a tentative smile.
“So we good?”
Cam held on to the last bits and pieces of the tension between them for a few more moments before relinquishing a small grin.
“We’re good.”
“So when you gon’ paint me?”
Cam climbed onto the bike, crossing his hand over the hand Jo placed on his stomach.
“Paint you? Like you’d want that.”
Deuce somehow married cynicism and wistfulness in a laugh.
“You said yourself it’s not an old man’s game. Your painting may be the only thing to remember me by.”
Cam started the bike and revved the engine, foot pressing to the gas.
“It’s not inevitable, Deuce.”
“Oh, we back to choices, huh.” Deuce looked around the alley, fixing his eyes on the cartoon violence Cam had animated on the wall in paint. “Sometimes your life chooses you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The pillow beneath Cam’s head was no longer cool. He scooted to the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake Jo with his fitful twisting. She’d been exhausted by the time they got home and had gone right to sleep. She’d actually looked surprised when he let her drift off without making love. That was a first. He was surprised she could walk some mornings. That’s how hard they went at it.
He loved it. He’d met his match, in bed and out. She was sassy, fierce, compassionate, proud, loyal. What the hell was she doing with someone like him? If she figured out she was getting the raw end of it, too bad. He couldn’t give her up now. The only person who would separate the two of them would be him. And then only to protect her.