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)
“Oh, so you’re judging me?” The irritation Cam had carefully checked ever since Walsh rushed in and started warning Jo off bucked a little.
“I’m not judging you. I’m asking you not to hurt her.”
“I won’t.” Cam ran his hand over the back of his neck, not wanting to discuss this with Walsh. Not even a little bit. “I care about her.”
“I’m going to hold you to that, Cam. Not because I don’t love you like a brother. You know I do. And after all we’ve been through, for us to still have what we have is a testament to a once-in-a-lifetime kind of friendship. But Jo’s like a sister to me. I have to protect her.”
Cam nodded. “Are we done here? I have to meet Bash in an hour.”
“Yeah, please go put some clothes on.” Walsh gestured to the lean, well-muscled frame Cam knew the ladies liked. “No one wants to see all that.”
Cam laughed and walked over to the sink to dump the remnants of his coffee. The strangled sound Walsh made behind him drew a look over his shoulder.
“What the hell happened to your back?” Walsh pointed to the trio of scratches Cam knew were there. He hadn’t seen them, but he’d felt Jo scratching and clawing at him, both of them losing their minds in the steam as they’d gone at each other against the shower wall.
“What can I say?” Cam offered Walsh a shrug and a grin he knew might get him punched if he wasn’t careful. “Your cousin’s a wildcat.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cam walked through the front door, tossing his backpack onto the couch. Relief slumped his shoulders when he realized he was the only one in the apartment. Mama hadn’t come home last night. He’d forgotten how to worry when she didn’t come in. She always popped up after a few days, and he sometimes wondered if it wouldn’t be better if she wasn’t here at all. Only problem was social services would come for him eventually. He’d learned a thing or two, and from what he’d heard about foster care, it wasn’t much better than what he had now. Even fewer guarantees. At least here he knew what to expect. Mama would always be on that pipe. She’d always fuck her customers. She wouldn’t buy groceries.
And she’d still be his mother.
Most of the time he hated Mama now. She knew the nasty things Mac did to him, but she never made him stop. As long as she had that pipe, she didn’t seem to care much what happened to Cam. As much as he wanted to hate Mama one hundred percent, he couldn’t. And Mac knew it. Somehow Mac knew it. He had promised Cam that if he ever ran, he’d kill Mama. Mac might not be a good man, but he kept his promises. The only thing holding Cam here was the life Mama was smoking away.
They’d learned the word for that in English class today.
Irony.
Cam walked over to the refrigerator, knowing what was there but going through the motions anyway. Spoiled milk. He didn’t like to steal, knew it wasn’t right, but the rumble in his stomach outtalked his good intentions. He’d be lifting some beef jerky and Pringles from the corner store for dinner. Right was like the hundred-dollar sneakers some of the kids wore to school. One more thing he couldn’t afford.
The door swung open, banging against the wall. Cam didn’t even jump. He was never startled anymore. Some kids at school talked about A Nightmare on Elm Street. Freddy Krueger had nothing on the monster at Cam’s door, and he didn’t startle Cam because Cam always knew he was coming.
“Your mama home?” Mac took the few steps from the door to the kitchen.
“No.” Cam hated that his voice still sounded like a little boy’s. He wasn’t a little boy anymore, even though he was still not quite eleven. He wasn’t a man either. He was some pitiful thing in between.
“You gon’ be a good boy for me?” Mac reached out to touch Cam’s hair, but Cam jerked away. Mac just grinned, caressing the buckle of his belt, his rat eyes never leaving Cam’s face.
Cam started for the door, knowing it was no use, but still trying every time. Running every time. He at least had to run, even though he’d never gotten away. He had to believe that someday he would. Mac grabbed the back of Cam’s T-shirt, choking him with the collar. Cam stood still, knowing what was coming but refusing to take off his pants. He fought Mac every time. He’d never won, but the only pride he had left was that he always fought.
“Get on your knees.” Mac’s voice slithered into Cam’s ears.
Cam frowned, confused and a little hopeful. Maybe Mac wasn’t going to do it this time. Maybe he’d just slap him around like he did Mama sometimes. Cam sank to his knees, closing his eyes and bracing for a punch. The hiss of a zipper jerked Cam’s eyes open. He stumbled back, falling on his backside.