Aftermath (5 page)

"Fuck that,"
Cam growled, breathing heavily.
"Just talk to me. Tell me some shit about taxes or whatever."

Austin eyed the car keys in the bowl Riley had made out of clay when she was younger. "Take your fucking pill, or I'm coming over."

"That’s better."
Cam forced a laugh.
"You get me all distracted when you drop the f-bomb, Mr. MBA."

"Cameron," Austin warned and snatched up the keys to his black Mercedes. Next to the little bowl was a notepad, so he scribbled a quick note to Jade in case she'd wake up and wonder where he was. He wasn’t dressed to go out, but he didn’t care. Gray sweats, a black T-shirt, and his blue All Stars would have to do. Grabbing his wallet, too, he unlocked the door and snuck out.

"That’s just wrong,"
Cam groaned
. "You don’t ever use my full name. But at least it's better than Evan."

Austin cursed as he got into his car. He guessed Cam was having flashbacks because he'd mentioned that name. While Austin hated to think back on those months as much as any of the other guys did, at least he didn’t panic. Cam did.

"Did something happen today?" Austin held his phone between his shoulder and cheek as he backed out of the driveway and waited for the Bluetooth to kick in. "Flashbacks?"

"One,"
Cam muttered, and something crackled softly in the background, as if he was lighting up a cigarette.
"No one noticed, though. I-I managed to c-calm down."

But he wasn’t calm now. Austin could hear his rapid breathing over the phone, and it wouldn’t be easy to help Cam if the name Evan was involved. It was one of the worst experiences during their time in that basement, and it had only been the beginning.

*

"How can you not react?" Austin whispered, agitated. He watched as Cam stood up, no emotions on his face whatsoever, walked the few steps to the heavy door, and announced his fake name. Evan.

Whereas Austin had spent his days looking for a way out, thinking about an escape, and checking and double checking everything in their cell, Cam had sat on his cot. Doing nothing.

Cam didn’t answer his question, instead asking one of his own. "Can you fight?"

Austin's eyebrows shot up. "I can hold my own." When he wasn’t drugged, he amended internally. Drugged and cuffed. "Why do you ask?"

"It'd be fucking stupid to let this opportunity get away, wouldn’t it?" Cam fired back with a cocked brow. "We gotta try to beat him."

That had Austin's immediate approval. He nodded once and stepped closer to the door, then waited as the man outside padded closer to their cell.

Soon enough, the hatch was opened, and Cam and Austin came face-to-face with the same black mask and dark brown eyes they'd seen every time food was delivered. A creepy smile slid into place as Mr. Whoever-the-hell tossed two small keys inside the cell.

"Uncuff yourselves."

Confused and on edge, Cam and Austin obeyed, not about to let this opportunity get away, either. Free hands meant leverage, for Christ's sake. There were two of them; crazy kidnapper was only one. Done deal, right?

Or not.

Once they were free of their restraints, the man on the outside said, "Now you cuff each other again. Behind your backs."

Austin gritted his teeth together, refusing to let his deflating hope show on his face. "And if we don’t?"

The man smirked and raised a gun. "I shoot."

*

Austin shook his head, focusing on the road and Cam telling him about his new dog. It seemed to work, though not enough. Cam's breaths still came out choppy, and he stuttered here and there. If it went on like this for much longer, he'd get dizzy from hyperventilation.

When Cam got quiet, Austin asked, "What else is new? How are Jules and the babies?" Jules's pregnancy was big news in the Nash family.

"Fuck,"
Cam spat out.
"I hate this shit, Austin. I f-feel like a fucking idiot."

"Get over it!" Austin snapped. "Look, I know this isn't really you. Okay? You've already told me you haven't had regular attacks in years before this, but come on, man. What we've been through…" Obviously it was going to leave its marks. "Just keep talking."

Having broken all the speed limits across town, Austin soon drove on to Cam's quiet street.

Right now, Austin didn’t feel the same kind of anger he was getting used to struggling with these days. He was frustrated with his friend, but it was different. Austin didn’t have to hide anything around Cam. They understood each other. They were even alike in some ways, mostly when it came to downplaying their issues.

"There's nothing else to tell, asshole!"
Okay, so Cam was getting pissed. He could deal with that, though. Wouldn’t be the first time.
"My parents were here, my b-brother and sister-in-law, couple c-cousins, a few guys from work and their women, partners, what-the-fuck-ever, and we ate, and I stuck to m-myself, and then they left, and that’s it! Jesus Christ!"

At that point, Austin rang the doorbell.

It was quiet for a beat before Cam groaned into the phone.
"Don’t fucking tell me…"
Another silence, and then the door was ripped open. Cam scowled. "I thought I heard you were in a car, but I—What're you doing here?"

Austin ended the call and pocketed his phone. A stab of envy hit his chest at the sight of Cam's defined abs, but he told himself it was
just
envy—not attraction.

"I wanted to check in on you. Make sure you were okay." He lifted a brow, taking in Cam's disheveled state. He was only wearing a pair of black basketball shorts, and it looked like he'd been to hell and back. Which he had. His hair was in complete disarray, he was ghostly pale, and he had dark shadows under his eyes. "
Are
you?"

That seemed to hit a nerve. "You can stop being a goddamn mother," Cam replied with a glare as a puppy appeared at his feet. Oh yeah, Riley would go nuts over that little thing. "I know I'm not n-normal, but I'm not fucking stupid."

Austin merely smirked, though it wasn’t cocky or self-assured. It was wry and small.

"Define normal," he countered quietly, meeting Cam in the doorway. "And for not being normal, you're the only person in the world who makes sense right now. What does that say about me?" That said, he passed Cam and entered the house. He half-regretted admitting those words, but they were still true.

"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."

"Did—did you—" Cam gulped and clenched his teeth. "Did you want me to try—back when—" Fucking hell, he couldn’t go on. He was too tense. Releasing a shuddering breath, he tried anyway. "You gave me a look right before Psycho t-took me upstairs."

He noticed it was easier when he focused on Austin instead, not his breathing. It felt good—the hand slowly stroking the exposed skin of his back.

"Did that mean you wanted me to go for it even though he'd threatened to k-kill you?"

Austin was quiet for at least a whole minute—thinking back, Cam guessed—and he was thankful Austin didn’t stop touching him. It was fucking insane how soothing it was.

It was also oddly sensual, though he was willing to bet that wasn’t intentional.

Cam was gonna have to be even more careful. He trusted Austin unequivocally, felt safe with him, and was undoubtedly attracted to him. Combined with the history they shared, the attachment Cam felt was powerful.

"At the time, probably," Austin admitted eventually. "I expected you to do whatever you could to save yourself."

"Shitty fuckin' answer," Cam grunted. "I'm not that selfish."

"I know. Come on, buddy." Austin gently pushed Cam back against the bed. Alcohol forgotten. "Keep going. You lived through the next part; you can talk about it, too."

*

The small room was so different from everything in the basement. This reminded Cam of a cabin. The walls consisted of thick, wooden boards, and they looked like they'd been around for at least a goddamn century. He guessed there had been a window once, too, judging by the wall across the room that had an area covered with newer-looking boards, and even more patches of cement.

It would take hours to break free.

"Sit down," Psycho grunted.

Cam eyed the small wooden table in the middle of the room. Two chairs. In a corner, there was a metal cabinet. In another, there was a hook in the ceiling and chains hanging from it.

"I don’t have all day." Psycho pressed the gun to Cam's back, sending him forward. "Let's get this over with, cousin."

Cam looked at him strangely.
Cousin?
What the fuck was wrong with this dude?

"I said sit down, Evan!" Psycho shouted, suddenly furious.