Aftermath (12 page)

There was no control.

If day-by-day doesn’t work, take it hour-by-hour. What do you want, Austin?

Gale's question went on repeat, and he asked himself the same. What did he want?

It was too soon to say exactly what it was with Cam that Austin wanted, and he wanted to break it down to just a one-word answer: Cam. He wanted Cam—
needed
Cam—period, but he had no clue what that meant. Comfort, closeness…intimacy? He groaned quietly and rolled over onto his stomach again, burying his face in the pillow that smelled like Cam.

Austin was too damn old to go through this crap.

Perhaps being on his own for a while was the answer. Support was good—that was one thing—but growing dependent on someone wasn’t healthy. He couldn’t count on Cam to save him, though he did want the man close. He had come to like this place, despite not having spent a lot of time here. But it was homey, not too big, and comfortable. Not as flashy as his own house across town. A house Jade had picked out and decorated.

Fucking Jade.

He had to talk to her. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected his wife of using Austin's current state as an excuse to get out. Had he missed something in the past? It wasn’t that unlikely. They had, after all, had their issues.

Hour-by-hour, he reminded himself. Right. Hour-by-hour. He would deal with everything; he had to.
Gun or no gun
. No matter the consequences, obstacles, or reactions from others, he'd do it. Starting with breakfast with Cam.

Dragging himself out of bed, he reached for his borrowed sweatpants, went to the bathroom, took a leak and freshened up, then padded out to the kitchen. He winced a little at the lingering pain in his leg from last night's bar fight.

That was another thing…Austin had never been a fighter. But he'd seen red. He had punched that bastard over and over, getting a few in return, until the bouncer had broken it up.

Yeah, I'm a mess, all right.

Cam was standing by the stove, his back to Austin, and his shoulders looked tense.

"Good morning," Austin said carefully. He was suddenly worried that Cam was the one who'd ended up regretting last night.

Cam nodded curtly. He didn’t turn around.

Gun or no gun
. Austin steeled himself and did what he
wanted
; he walked up to him, gently placing his hands on Cam's hips, and dropped a soft kiss on his shoulder.

Cam stopped what he was doing and hung his head. His shoulders slumped. In defeat or relief, Austin couldn’t tell. He hoped for the latter, though.

"No fucking regrets?"

Austin shook his head slowly and kissed Cam's shoulder again, this time lingering. "I told you." Damn, it felt good to be this close to Cam. It was liberating. Giving Cam a nudge, he silently told him to turn around. Cam complied, and as soon as they faced each other, Austin tilted his head and got Cam's lips. "You thought I'd regret it," he murmured between brushing kisses.

"I thought you'd fuck this up," Cam corrected and slid his arms around Austin's midsection. "I thought shit would get weird, and then…" He trailed off, burying his face in the crook of Austin's neck, and kissed the spot behind his ear. "We know you can be an idiot sometimes."

Austin smirked. "An idiot who
you
broke that rule with."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Cam groaned and shoved Austin away. "I knew that was gonna come back and bite me in the ass." He shook his head. "Now, get outta my sight. I'm making scrambled eggs. Bastard."

Austin laughed, relieved, and headed out to the patio where Bourbon was playing with a chew toy. Curious, he walked over to the pool and toed the plastic cover, appeased when he found it fairly solid. In other words, Bourbon could run all over it and not fall through any cracks.

*

A while later, Austin and Cam sat on the patio and drank coffee and ate scrambled eggs. Both of which tasted a little burnt.

"Never claimed I was good at cooking," Cam said offhandedly.

"I'm not very picky." Austin took a sip of his coffee and looked out over the pool. "Any plans this weekend?"

"Nope. You?"

"Not really." Austin frowned to himself, thinking he should probably do
something
. He couldn’t really handle sitting around doing nothing anymore. "I suppose I have some thinking to do."

Cam nodded pensively, eyes on his plate. "I'd be your shoulder to cry on, but that’s usually your job." He sent Austin a forced smile.

"Yeah, because you've never comforted me," Austin said dryly. Christ, it felt like they were both in need of their mommas.

Gale kept commenting on how unorthodox it would be if Austin and Cam
didn’t
need comfort, but it did little to change Austin's mind. Crying like a baby was for the weak. Not that anyone had ever told him that; it was just how he felt. Although, it only applied to himself, in his opinion. He didn’t find Cam odd for being depressed or anxious. He understood it, and whenever Cam was down, Austin wanted to be there.

Once again, it reminded him of Gale's question about whether or not he felt like Cam was his responsibility, and he had finally come up with his answer. No, he didn’t see Cam as a responsibility. Not at all. He was just protective.

Austin cared about him. A lot.

"Remember when I got sick?" Austin murmured after a while. Cam nodded with a dip of his chin. "You made sure I ate."

*

A week later, at least they guessed it had been a week, the entire basement reeked more than it ever had. Pete's body was rotting in Chris's cell, and several of the guys were taking turns puking their guts out in the toilets.

Austin's stomach churned as he dropped to the floor next to the toilet. He was completely empty, weak, and on the verge of breaking down. Slick with cold sweat, he tried to regain his breath.

At this point, he could barely lift his arm to grab the cup of water next to him.

Mr. Cruel, as he now wanted to be called, was as unaffected as ever when he delivered meals and water. Too weak to get it himself, Austin let Cam grab their food. At least Cam had become a bit nicer since their fight last week.

"Eat." Cam sat down on the floor next to Austin and held up a bowl of soup and a spoon.

While Cam flushed the toilet, Austin forced himself up to a sitting position, rinsed his mouth with water and some toothpaste, then accepted the bowl. The chicken broth made him want to gag, but he needed the sustenance. Even more, he needed water. The only thing that held back his tears was that he needed to contain whatever fluids he had left in his system. Survival instincts had kicked in, but that didn’t mean his mind was strong enough to fend off the feeling of hopelessness.

No matter how long they waited, none of the men ever saw an opportunity to overpower their kidnapper and get back to freedom. Not even a couple days ago when another man—Victor—had been "called to an interview" upstairs.

Victor, named Fred by the madman, had the character of an older brother, and he had been pushed down the stairs after a beating. Cuffed behind his back. Gagged. Shot in the thigh. Numerous fractures. The man was in agony, but there was nothing anybody could do.

"Jesus." Cam leaned toward the toilet, not sure if he was about to throw up or not. But the man look nauseated, Austin could tell. "I could kill for fresh air and a couple cheeseburgers."

Austin groaned, his gut tightening. "Prime rib, man. Cold beer, some damn sunshine, baked potatoes, and a dip in the pool."

"Oh, yeah. Pizza."

"Fried chicken…"

"A fuckin' burrito."

"Tacos."

"We're masochists, Austin."

"Clearly."

The melancholy that fell over them was heavier than usual.

Austin had always been one of those who suffered in silence, but he didn’t really see it as suffering. He never had high demands. As long as he had a roof over his head, some comfort, food on the table, and was able to keep his daughter happy, everything was all right. Sure, he'd been stuck in a rut with his wife for a few years now, but he didn’t complain. You couldn’t have everything in life. But in this moment, there were things Austin would actually take a life to have. Basic stuff, like fresh air, safety, good food, a shower—oh God, he wanted a shower. He wanted to soak in water for days. For the first time in his life, he wanted something so badly that it physically hurt.

Another thing that physically hurt was how much he missed his baby girl. No one could comfort Austin the way Riley could. And he craved that to the point of desperation—comfort. Closeness. The thought of a simple hug from Riley made him ache.

"Listen up!" boomed a voice from outside. "After you're done eating, it's time I have a little chat with Sam."

Austin's head snapped up, his wide eyes meeting Cam's equally wide ones.

Sam was the name of Austin's character.

*

"Now we can eat whatever we want, and we're suffering through this bullshit." Cam pushed away his plate. "I'm ordering a fucking pizza. You want?"

Austin was leaning his elbows on the table, his fingers massaging his temples. He shook his head no in answer, but that was all he could muster. It wasn’t often flashbacks sucked him in like this one had; he could remember without feeling the need to vomit afterward. There were no anxiety attacks, just hatred toward that fucking bastard who had kidnapped them. But now…fuck. He felt raw and vulnerable.

Before he knew it, another flashback pulled him under.

*

"Wait," Cam rushed in a whisper. He put his cuffed hands on Austin's shoulder and pulled him back from the door. "We should try."

"Try?" Austin arched a brow. "What are you talking about?"

Cam gave him an impatient look. "We'll try to defeat him. The two of us. Right now. Gun or no gun—we have to give it a go."

"Even if we're cuffed behind our backs?"

"Yes." Cam stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Ram into him. Shoulder him in the gut or something. I don’t fucking know—pretend you're a football player. Tackle him. I'll follow right behind and try to take his gun."

It was too tempting to pass up, even if Austin was in serious pain and had just spent the past two days being sick. Perhaps they'd been here so long that they'd lost a pinch of fear for something that could end their lives in a heartbeat. The gun their kidnapper liked to wave around—and use, for that matter—wasn’t as dangerous anymore.

"Okay." Austin took a breath and nodded. "Okay."

The two men steeled themselves and stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting as the unsuspecting devil outside opened the hatch.

"Uncuff yourselves."

Austin and Cam knew the procedure. They got rid of their restraints only to put them back on, this time behind their backs, and lastly threw out the keys again. Then the door started to slide open, and Austin exchanged a quick look with Cam.

"Gun or no gun," Cam mouthed.

It would be their motto in the future.

Austin nodded minutely—gun or no gun—and flexed his muscles. With a final, deep breath, he faced the opening and charged forward just as the man raised his gun.

Forcefully slamming into their kidnapper, Austin caught him totally off guard, and he almost dropped his gun. Almost. They tumbled to the dirty floor, Austin landing on top. Despite his arms burning and his inability to use them, Austin struggled like a savage. He spat out a curse and brought his knee up to the other man's chest. But just as he heard Cam scrambling over to them, a shot was fired.

"Motherfucker!" Cam screamed.

Without thinking, Austin turned his head in Cam's direction, and his face paled when he saw that he'd been shot. Cam—damn it, Cam had been hit. In the shoulder. Shoulder; quick thinking. You could survive a bullet in the shoulder, and with that conclusion, Austin turned back to wrestle his way to victory. But it was too late. That tiny second Austin had spent checking on Cam was all the madman needed to regain leverage.

Instead of glaring into brown, beady eyes, Austin was staring into the barrel of a gun.

"Get. Off. Me," the crazy man growled.

*

"
Cam
," Austin choked out and doubled over in his seat. He gasped repeatedly, trying to get air into his lungs. In the background, he could hear Cam speaking urgently to him, but he couldn’t for the life of him hear what he was saying. All he could see, hear, and feel belonged in that metal cage. The smell of death and despair, every ache and sorrow, all that anger and desperation…

If a man was shot, you reacted. You called 911, you tried to help, you prioritized that person. But Austin and Cam had been driven to the point where perfect health didn’t matter. Broken bones, bruises, and bloodshed…it was all
nothing
—as long as they could get out alive. And it sounded plausible in theory, but to actually sink that low, where that way of thinking became natural, where men became savages…was it weird that only Cam could understand Austin? Was it so damn weird that he couldn’t connect with Jade?

He was still part savage. He was still struggling to get back to being human.
Treat a person like an animal, and he'll become one.
But like Cam, Austin was decent at faking. Not great, but decent. When in reality, he just wanted to crawl into a hole and fall apart.

"Austin!"

He could feel Cam's hands on him, his cheeks, his forehead, yet focus remained out of reach. He was dizzy, nauseated, and out of breath. His lungs burned.

"Snap out of it. Talk to me, baby." Someone was shaking him, holding him. "Austin! Come on!"

*