Vicious Heart (Desert Kings MC #2)

5. Riley

five

Riley

Cam held open the door to Kimbrell and Associates for me, our entrance heralded by the chiming of electronic bells. Though, that was the last piece of modern anything we encountered in the waiting room. Dark wood-paneled walls, surrounded by plush leather furniture, and dotted with elegant framed images of the desert and various rock formations.

Copies of Golf Digest and Good Housekeeping occupied equal amounts of space on the large, expensive looking glass topped coffee table.

The low, dulcet tones of a twenty-four-hour news channel emanated from the flat screen television mounted in the corner of the room above the tidy, inconspicuous coffee and snack cart.

When I inhaled, I was rewarded with the scent of leather, polish, books, and spiced nuts. This was the sort of place that put me right at ease. Made me think of notebooks and lectures, reminders of the world I’d had to leave behind when Mom got sick.

The life I’d imagined for myself. Until I’d met Cam, the idea of that life had been my defining characteristic. The part of me that was wholly me.

The irony of losing the loving parent, the one who’d sacrificed so much for me, was that she left me homeless. But losing the parent I’d never known, who’d never loved me enough to sacrifice his lifestyle for me, had given me the opportunity to fight for a new home. And now I wasn’t so sure I wanted it.

The confusion tumbled around in my gut, making me nauseous.

I glanced at Cam as he stopped just inside the door. Without the cut covered in Desert King patches, he looked so different. No less attractive, but oddly stripped down and vulnerable. He nodded and greeted the receptionist behind the big desk in the corner opposite the television. She was discreet; I’d barely noticed her.

Without asking us to sign in, she stood and ducked through a different door before I even had time to sit on one of the couches. I perched on the edge, nervous energy making my stomach tight. Cam sat beside me, threading his long, calloused fingers through mine in my lap.

His blue eyes and soft expression said he was here for support, whatever I needed.

I’d only ever had Mom to lean on. Trusting him enough to do so was new, but warm and inviting. How could I leave that behind?

There had to be a way I could have the life I’d always imagined and Cam.

A friendly-looking man in his mid-forties opened the adjoining door. “Cam,” he said in greeting before turning to me and extending a hand. “And you must be Riley. I’m Sam Kimbrell, I hope your day is going well. I appreciate you coming down on such short notice.”

“No problem at all.” I stood and shook his hand. It was warm, firm, but not rough like Cam’s. Another difference in the dual lives I wanted for myself.

Cam released his grip on my other and stayed seated. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

He wouldn’t be like Preacher, circling like a salivating buzzard. I appreciated that as much as his stoic support.

Inside Kimbrell’s office was almost the same as the waiting room. Except the walls behind his desk were floor to ceiling bookshelves filled with all sorts of law books, framed photographs of his family. But I was most surprised by the detective and cowboy novels scattered here and there.

“I think Archer read some of those. I found them in his closet.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was nervous, and the connection seemed a way to ease into the conversation.

He smiled warmly. “Yeah, he bought me one of those after we talked about books one day.” He reached behind himself and pulled a hardback copy from a shelf.

I read the spine. “ The Walking Drum , by Louis L’Amour .”

“Means a lot more now.” He slid it back into place. “I’m sorry that we’re meeting under these circumstances. He told me you were looking into going to law school. Seems we have some things in common.”

Shock left me cold. Archer had known I was aiming for law school?

But how…

And if he knew that, why hadn’t he helped when Mom got sick, when they were both still alive?

I’m not sure what Kimbrell said next, but I tilted my head as if I listened intently. When I finally tuned in through my astonishment, he was reading through a list of Archer’s assets.

“The short of it, everything is yours except the land and the buildings the Desert Kings use—he left that to the club, both his Harleys to Cameron Savage, and the house—to you and Cam.”

“Us both?” That was weird, playing match maker from the grave.

“He expressed interest that Cam not be kicked out as soon as your mother decided to sell. He wrote this before her passing.” He added the last part when I made a face.

Then he rattled off the liquid assets and cash on hand, the whole of it more than enough to give me a good start if I liquidated everything. But by no means enough to send Preacher buzzing around like the vulturous creep he was.

“There’s a list of his bills. As Executor of the estate, I’ll handle most of it as it goes through the probate process, but everything will be documented. I needed you to sign a few things, since you’re his heir.” He slid papers to me.

I listened as he explained what each was. I liked the way he spoke, making things simple without watering them down and making me feel stupid.

The signing was the easy part.

“In this”—he waved a fat, manilla envelope in front of him—“I’ve put a list of the bills and assets, so you have everything in writing. Deeds, titles, and the like will come later. He also wrote some letters, personal documents, things like that. They are in here and it’s your discretion to distribute them all.”

“Oh.” That was heavy. I took the envelope.

As he walked me to the door, he gave me a sad smile. “Working for your dad gave me a new outlook on a certain type of people. He shook up my world view. I’ll never forget him for that, and his loss is felt deeply.”

Boy, did I know that feeling. I smiled back. “Thank you.”

“What type of law are you considering?”

And for the first time, I said what I’d been thinking out loud. “Criminal. I’d like to be a defense attorney.”

“You’re in the right place for that.” He chuckled as he led me back out to Cam.

Archer had shaken up my world view. Maybe for the better.

***

We’d driven the blacked-out pickup I’d barely seen leave the garage behind Archer’s place. I studied him again, as all the questions about my dad tumbled around in my brain, all the things Cam couldn’t answer.

This was the first time I’d seen him drive something other than the bike. He was comfortable, one arm draped over the wheel, his face relaxed. Yet, he looked different in the black t-shirt with a faded Desert King’s logo on the front right chest.

“Where’s the cut?” That was a question he could answer and one that broke the silence.

There was a slight hesitation, like he had to shake himself out of his thoughts, before he glanced at me. “Don’t wear them in cars, that sort of shit. Nothing can touch the patch.” Then he gave me a flirty grin and wink. “Except you, maybe. If you’re lucky.”

“That all you want me to touch?” I stretched across the console and kissed the warm skin on the side of his neck.

“Keep that up, and I’ll definitely have something you can touch.”

I ran my hand across his groin and found proof that he wasn’t lying stretching against his jeans.

He swatted my hand away with a chuckle as we pulled into the diner where I’d first met Ro. “If we weren’t in public, darlin’, I’d have you naked with your legs over my shoulders. Not just touching you, all the way inside you.”

He was kissing me as he put the truck in park. His tongue was rough against mine, claiming me, reminding me that if we weren’t in a public parking lot he’d have me on the ground exactly like he’d threatened.

Damn. It wasn’t Cam battling back the desire when we sat down in a familiar booth.

Before the other waitress could offer us menus, Ro rushed over. This time, she pulled me out of the booth for a tight hug, too. Cam greeted her as if he was happy to see her, as if he didn’t know all the things he knew. His poker face was strong.

Not strong enough, though, because Ro noticed too. Rubbing her lips together, she worried her apron with both hands as she left us to get drinks.

I sat across from him, my stomach rumbling. “He left you his bikes,” I said as I skimmed the menu Ro had left behind.

He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned back and stretched an arm over the back of the booth and gazed out the window. I’m sure he was curious about what the lawyer said, but all of this had a larger effect on him than me.

Plus, he was still grieving. I second guessed even saying anything to him.

“I thought you might like that. I didn’t mean to say something to hurt you.” I worried I had by the darkness in his eyes.

“You didn’t.” He leaned forward and wrapped a hand around my wrist, massaging my pulse with his thumb. “I’ll sign everything back over to you.”

“What the hell am I going to do with a motorcycle, Cam?” I widened my eyes and made a face. “Much less two. That’s ridiculous. You were a big part of his life. You deserve that.”

“Sell them,” he offered. He relaxed, and the creases at the corner of his eyes evaporated.

“There’s some money and property, but nothing to make Preacher so sketchy.” That bothered me. The way the other man hovered was as if I’d get some huge windfall. “And it would take time to sell off any of that.”

He didn’t immediately reply, like he was tossing around the idea of what to tell me and what not—more secrets piling up between us. Just when I thought I knew him, there was another brick in his wall.

“Some of that is Ro’s place, the house, the clubhouse, and some rentals.” He interjected, well acquainted with Archer’s life. Living in the now, it was easy to forget he’d been here long before I was. That’s why he didn’t ask about what the lawyer had to say—he already knew what Archer’s plans had been.

“The Kings get the clubhouse and the land. You and I split the house.”

He barked a short laugh as Ro came back to take our order but said nothing else about it. As we ate lunch, Cam changed the subject, talked about mundane things. I was thankful for that. The past few days had been a lot to process. Hell, the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of chaos.

We ate, chatted with Ro, and by the time we were done, he was my Cam again. I liked it better when he was easy, sexy. Made it easier to forget all the bullshit.

He lit a cigarette as we stepped out into the afternoon sun.

“Cam,” Ro followed. “We should talk soon.”

“Nothing to talk about.” He took a drag and put his back to her as he strolled toward the truck. “You’re old enough to know what you’re playing at.”

The lines on her face pulled tight, distraught. Cam’s opinion mattered a great deal to her. I wanted to smack him in the back, tell him to turn around and talk to her. She shook her head slowly, warning me not to get involved.

I gave her a quick, tight hug and jogged after him.

“What was that all about?” I asked as I climbed in the truck and he drove from the parking lot.

“She’s screwing around with Preacher.” Just like that, the easiness was gone, and he’d retreated into the darkness that always seemed to shadow his eyes.

That dollop of information was enough of a shock to make the ride home silent.

The thing with Cam was if we were alone for longer than five minutes, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I could be angry, scared, mad, and if left to our own devices, we’d be all over each other, regardless.

No conversation in the truck, but with one quick grin in the kitchen, he had me up on the counter, himself firmly between my thighs…inside me. My leggings and panties on the floor near Cam’s shirt. He kissed me after, long and slow and full of all the confusing emotions that passed between us.

I was breathless, my body all tingly, when he finally broke away to catch his breath. Each time we kissed, I expected something to change, but it didn’t. Each one was as hot, as tempting, as the first. My knees went a little weak and my stomach flipped.

The quiet knock on the back door was startling, breaking through the haze of lust and sex. We weren’t expecting anyone.

Cam released me and glanced out the window over the sink. He fastened his pants and tugged on his shirt as he walked to the door. He was all business now, back straight and jaw tight. “It’s Kenna.”

Panic laced through me and pushed all the other feelings away. Kenna had grown on me. Her boyfriend had not. I worried about her, was protective of her. I hurriedly yanked on my clothes, brushed my hair from my face, and pushed past Cam as he opened the door.

“You okay?” My voice was strained, but I tried not to squeak. I was always ready for the next shoe to drop and hoped she hadn’t got caught in our crossfire.

She blinked, smiled, then glanced over her shoulder, nervously shifting around like a tiny, scared kitten, as if someone might be watching her. The only thing behind her was her sporty little black pickup parked beside Cam’s bike. No monsters lurking…that I could see.

“Oh yeah, I’m good …” She worried her lip like she should say more but didn’t know if she could.

Cam took a step back, pulled me with him, and tucked me to his side, making room for her to come in and gesturing for her to do so. “Need something from me?”

Relief loosened the tension in her expression. “Yeah, I guess… maybe… I sort of need to...” She took a deep breath. “No, there’s for sure something I need to tell you.”

It was obvious my presence was causing her an issue. Which meant whatever she had to say was about the Kings. Her divided loyalty—between me and the club—was distressing. There was no reason for that.

“I’m going to hop in the shower.” I kissed Cam’s cheek and sent her what I hoped was a soothing look.

Kenna smiled gratefully and walked a small circle around the kitchen table. Curious or not, I left them to it. My loyalties weren’t divided. I loved them both.

I hadn’t told him yet, but there was no denying what my feelings were.

Something else to leave my knees weak.