Aftermath (7 page)

Thank God Austin's alarm went off a couple seconds later.

Cam knew exactly when Austin woke up fully, 'cause he went completely rigid. Then he moved away and cursed, leaving Cam wondering if Austin had known they were both awake.

"Sorry." Okay, Austin knew.

"No worries." Cam chuckled drowsily, looking over his shoulder to see Austin adjusting his dick in his sweats. Squinting, he was fairly positive Austin's cheeks looked a little flushed, but he couldn’t be sure. Sleep and scruff were in the way. "I'm usually in your position, though, so this was new." Not completely new, but whatever.

At that, Austin turned and faced him, confusion written across his features. "What?"

Cam waved it off. "Never mind. You gonna head out right now or do you wanna take a shower first?" He scratched his jaw. "There're leftovers from yesterday, but that’s about it." Fuck, he really needed to get out today. Lots of shit he had to buy.

"Um." Austin rubbed his shoulder, then stretched his arms over his head. "Fuck, I'm getting old." The stretching caused his T-shirt to ride up, exposing his toned stomach and the trail of hair that led down to—
goddammit
. Cam rolled his eyes at his own reaction and pulled the blanket over his head. This was why he'd banished all thoughts about Austin in the past. "I don’t know. Probably best I head home."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you, Mr. MBA." Cam spoke into his pillow as he willed his dick to stand down. "Even in that basement, you used proper language." Mostly, anyway. Damn and shit were one thing, but the man never said fuck. Now, though?
Fuck
.

Cam honestly only had one memory of appreciating the view when they were in hell.

*

Cam and Austin surrendered after a day and a half. They put on their cuffs and returned the keys and the medical kit to Psycho. Defeat hurt their egos, but they were too thirsty and hungry to wallow in it.

Once they'd devoured their food and chugged down half the bucket of fresh water, they made a pact. Strength—they needed it. They had to remain both mentally strong as well as physically. 'Cause if the authorities never found them…they'd have to rely solely on each other. Fuck, they already were.

Because Cam's bruised ribs hurt like a son of a bitch, there wasn’t much he did at first, but Austin began to spend his hours of nothingness working out.

Getting rid of his filthy T-shirt, he dropped to the floor and did push-ups. Supporting himself on his knuckles, Cam noticed, which stunned him just a bit. For some reason, Austin came off as a wholesome family man. But when he worked out, he looked like nothing that would be described as wholesome.

The muscles in his back rippled with each shove off the ground, his skin glistening with sweat. His biceps bulged, his neck strained, his breathing was harsh, and he didn’t fucking stop. The first pause came when Cam had counted forty push-ups, and it only lasted for ten minutes or so. Then Austin started all over again, but with crunches. Maybe his abs weren’t as defined as Cam's were, but the man was still buff and strong. Broad shouldered. He was also a few inches taller than Cam.

He was fucking hot.

"Don’t forget to drink," he muttered, tearing his gaze away from Austin on the floor. He was irritated for some reason. Frustrated and tense. He wanted to work out, too, but his ribs were fucking killing him.

Not for the first time since they'd been taken, Cam could kill for a goddamn smoke.

*

Shaking that off before worse memories could come to mind, Cam moved over to the edge of the bed and reached for his cigarettes. A glass of watered down vodka on the table reminded him of last night and how Austin had calmed him down.

"Bourbon pissed on the floor," Austin noted.

Cam shrugged and lit up a smoke. "Piss happens."

Perhaps he could install a doggy door to the fenced backyard; he would just need to replace the whole fucking patio door, seeing as it was glass. But he wanted Bourbon to be able to run in and out whenever he wanted.

"C'mere, buddy." He leaned down and ruffled the soft fur of the pup. "I think we should go for a run before those fuckin' errands." Cam did
not
look forward to this day. He hated being around too many people.

"What're you gonna do today?" Austin sat down on the coffee table and started lacing up his shoes.

"Grocery shopping, get my cars from the garage…" Landon had taken care of Cam's two beauties—one black Dodge Demon 340 from '71, and one indigo blue Chevrolet Camaro SS from '69—while he had been away. "Need to call Gale… Thought I'd drive over to the cemetery, too." He frowned, thinking about the guys they'd lost. Unlike Austin, Cam hadn't been to the memorial, 'cause he couldn’t handle that shit.

*

A few days later, Mr. Stone—yeah, the motherfucker was back to that name now—tossed a disposable razor in each cell as he delivered breakfast. He also announced that he had a meeting planned with "Thomas" later that afternoon. Then he left, leaving the men tense and weary.

As Cam and Austin took turns shaving off their growing beards, several other guys began talking about their so-called schedules, and a man named Chris revealed that it said Thomas on his.

"You never told me what he did to you," Austin said quietly, watching as Cam shaved his jaw.

"Isn't it obvious?" Cam retorted bitterly. "He beat the shit outta me, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"He didn’t say anything at all? Nothing to explain his, uh, behavior?"

Cam blew out a breath and ran a washcloth over his freshly shaved face. It would itch without any kind of shaving cream or aftershave, but they couldn’t exactly afford to be picky. "He called me his cousin. Evan—it's his cousin, I guess. He said I'd contributed to ruining his life."

"What the fuck?!" the guy with a New York accent shouted. Cam was fairly sure by now the dude's name was Lance. "Yo, I need some help in hea'!"

"I'll be right there!" another man yelled sarcastically.

It was quiet for a while, aside from someone shuffling around in his cell.

"Christ, James." That was Lance again. "I can't—I can't fucking stop it. I can't stop the bleeding."

James would be the first guy to leave this hell in a body bag. He had taken out the sharp razor blades from the plastic handle and dragged them along the insides of his forearms and then swallowed the blades.

Hours later, when Psycho—unaffected by the events—had bothered to come down here to deal with James's body, Cam and Austin dropped to their cots, both equally shell-shocked.

They couldn’t imagine what Lance was going through, having spent hours in that small space with a dead guy.

"Holy hell." Austin leaned forward on his knees and palmed his face. Flashing before his eyes, he saw his daughter and wife, and…he just couldn’t fathom the idea of taking any kind of "easy" way out. He had to be reunited with them. His daughter especially—it was killing Austin to be away from Riley.

*

James had only been the first guy.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Austin asked carefully.

Cam shook his head and swallowed hard. He needed to get rid of Austin before he embarrassed himself some more. Last night had been more than enough. "Look, I'm gonna get ready—"

"Yeah, no, of course." Austin stood up. "We'll talk later?"

"Sure thing."

When they were standing by the door, they said goodbye and Austin walked toward his Mercedes. "Wait—just one thing," Austin said, opening the door to his car. He tapped the top as if he was hesitant to speak. "Did you say something earlier about, uh, about a rule you'd break?"

Cam blinked slowly as he tried to catch up with Austin's thoughts. It hit him, and he bit back a laugh. Leaning against the doorframe, he folded his arms across his chest, feeling a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"You really wanna bring that up, buddy?" He reached up and scratched his neck. This was fun. No, fuck that. This was fucking hilarious. Austin was uncomfortable, and he wasn’t even really looking Cam in the eye. Eye contact was usually Cam's problem. "Maybe it's best you run on home to the wifey. All right?"

"Or maybe you should answer my fucking question, Cam," Austin snapped irritably.

"Oh-ho!" Cam laughed. Christ, he wished he could read Austin's mind right now. Closing the door behind himself, he walked down the two steps and approached. "What do you
really
wanna know?" Standing on the other side of the open car door, Cam flashed a wicked grin.

"I want to know what you meant," Austin replied quietly, imploringly. "Same goes for what you said about the position you're usually in."

This was getting good. Almost too good. "It means I'm usually on top, Austin." Cam rested his forearms on the door. "And the rule?" He chuckled. "I was just fucking with you. Give it a rest."

Austin arched a brow behind his glasses. His confidence was back. "And who are you usually on top of?"

"What the fuck, man?" Cam cracked up again, took a step backward, and widened his arms. "Are you seriously asking me that? What do you want from me, huh?"

"An answer."

Cam was starting to wonder if he'd missed something. What had been on Austin's mind lately? 'Cause this was new. "I'm usually on top of whoever I'm banging—that what you wanted to hear?" He decided to lay it all out there. "Men, women, whatever. There. You got your answer." With a shake of his head, he turned around and walked inside.

He didn’t give a shit what people thought about his sexuality—
usually
. He couldn’t imagine Austin having any issues, but if he did? Fuck, Cam
would
care.

Son of a bitch, this wasn’t gonna be a good day. He could feel it.

"Come on, Huntley!" Maybe Angelo looked like a Brazilian underwear model, but he was the
devil
. "Give me ten more!" He grabbed on to Austin's knees. "Come on!"

"Fuck you," Austin grunted and did another sit-up. His T-shirt and shorts were soaked in sweat, and it had only been half an hour. It was fucking embarrassing. When he got home, maybe he'd even go into Jade's secret ice cream stash at the back of the freezer.

"Not while you're my client." Angelo winked.

Austin collapsed down on the floor and stared up at Angelo with wide eyes.

Seriously
?

Perhaps there was a damn sign on Austin's forehead that read, "I may or may not have thought about a cock today that wasn’t my own."

"Jesus," he panted, sweat burning in his eyes. He grabbed the towel near his head and wiped it down his face. "I think I'm done." And not just for today.

Austin was a damn mess, inside and out. His body was aching from the brief workout, and his mind…there were no words. Instead of thinking about what Cam had said this morning, he was just pissed. He grew angry for nothing. Angry for not being able to do twenty-five sit-ups without gasping for air, angry for his physical reaction to Cam earlier, angry at Jade for not understanding him, angry at himself for the same reason, angry at his boss for telling him not to come back yet, and angry for…basically everything and everyone—not counting his daughter.

That was probably the only aspect of his life that hadn't changed. Being a father came naturally to him, and he had slipped right back into the daddy role when returning home. Maybe because Riley was easygoing and didn’t demand much. She loved to swim, loved to watch movies, loved to draw, and loved to eat.

Today they'd just hung out by the pool, Austin throwing her around or doing laps, and when Riley had wanted to paint, they'd gone up and settled on the terrace. Austin had read some more about Asperger's on his laptop; he'd also started four books, none of which had captured his attention. Meanwhile, Riley had been happily drawing and coloring at the table, and then they'd gone out for Mexican for lunch. Easy. So damn
easy
. But the rest of his life? No.

The newest thing was his odd fixation on Cam, but he was aware now that it was only his realization that was new. After all, they'd leaned on each other for months, and Austin had no problem admitting that he wanted to be close to Cam. It still felt weird not to wake up in the same room with him. Perhaps they argued heatedly—sometimes over nothing—but given the circumstances, it would be weird if they'd become all buddy-buddy right away in that metal cage. They'd had more important things to worry about—like staying alive.

Nevertheless, the thrill that had shot through Austin when he'd originally thought about Cam getting off to gay porn had now been identified.

It was excitement. Pure fucking excitement. Something that made him feel alive.

He should probably worry about that.

"Are your shoulders okay?" Angelo asked, bringing Austin back to the present. "Any pain?"

"Everything's a pain," he grumbled and sat up. "When's our next session?"

"Oh, this isn't over yet, Huntley." Angelo smirked. "You say you're done; I say you're not." He pointed to the four exercise bikes by the mirrored wall. "Twenty minutes to work those thighs. Come on."

Austin bitched under his breath, grabbed his towel and water bottle, and followed the devil over to the bikes.

It all came down to control—again. Not being able to reach the goals set for him made him feel weak.

It had happened before.

*

"Damn it!" Austin yelled, pushing himself off the floor. The fatigue was getting to him, and it made him furious. No matter how much he worked out or how many times he pushed his own limits, he was getting weaker. Not stronger.

"Easy," Cam cautioned, still on the floor doing his sit-ups. "Take five then get back to it."

But before Austin could reply, the familiar sound of Psycho's arrival halted them. As he announced it was dinner time, Cam and Austin were quick to get rid of their clothes. Since the water was about to be changed and refilled, they used these brief moments to soak their underwear and Tshirts in the bucket, roughly scrubbing them with the bar of soap.