antsy.”
Dirk snorted. “Well, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Stephan said. “And that’s exactly the point. If it were me, I would also be plotting my escape.”
Dirk stared at him. “Do you think she would be that stupid?”
Stephan shrugged. “Enforced confinement can make people do stupid things.”
His features darkened almost on their own accord, and Dirk did his best to keep his sympathy from showing. Stephan had spent months as a prisoner of the Taliban in Afghanistan. It had done dark things to his soul and spirit, and that darkness never left him.
“I’ll make sure everyone keeps an eye on her,” Dirk said, eager to keep them on the subject at hand and steer Stephan’s thoughts away from pitch-black memories. “I’ll increase surveillance.”
Stephan nodded. “Good. Thank you.” He tucked the book under his arm and stood. “Good night, Dirk.”
“Good night.”
Dirk watched him go, and then he turned back to the fire. He stared into the flames and thought of Camilla. He wasn’t falling for her, but her fire sure was everywhere around him. And he could not escape it.
Chapter 15: Prisoner
The moon was full that night in the California Mojave Desert. Camilla Hernandez watched it from the window of her bedroom in the Minutemen MC’s headquarters. Eleven days later, she still had some trouble wrapping her mind around her situation. Try as she might, she still couldn’t believe her own stupidity. How had she, a fairly expert investigative reporter, ended up here?
If only she had trusted her gut instincts regarding the good faith (or lack thereof) of one Tobias Alvarez, ex-convict and self-proclaimed Tar Mongols MC repentant, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Instead, she had told herself that if Kurt Davis, who had a good thirty years’ experience over her, thought of Alvarez as a reliable source, then that must be the case.
But Tobias had betrayed her and had been prepared to deliver her into the hands of his ruthless gang when the Minutemen stopped their mad race through the desert. They had told her they were keeping her safe from the inevitable repercussions that would come once the Tar Mongols found out that Tobias was dead and that she was in California to work on a story that would expose the MC, but they had essentially kidnapped her. She wasn’t allowed to leave the headquarters. Ever. Sure, they treated her well, and she had everything she might need—including a library for recreational reading—but for all that, it was a golden cage.
Camilla was getting antsy. The Tar Mongols had yet to make a move, and Stephan Walker, the Minutemen’s formidable president, simply refused to let her go until Herman Ruiz and his men did. It didn’t take Camilla long to figure out that she had just become a pawn in the ongoing war between the two gangs. It was a role that didn’t fit her, but at the same time, she knew that an escape attempt would not be taken lightly. In fact, it would likely cause her to lose the few privileges she had. Instead, she kept quiet and tried to lay as low as possible.
The fact that Dirk was suddenly and inexplicably distant also didn’t help. She paused in her musings. Every time she thought of him, she couldn’t suppress a shiver—a sort of electric jolt—made of excitement and fear—that ran down her spine. Dirk Coleman wasn’t just the Minutemen’s vice-president, but he also happened to be the most formidable man Camilla had ever met. Yet, it wasn’t just that. At the age of thirty-five—exactly the same age as Camilla—he was probably the youngest man to be second-in-command within the hierarchy of a powerful motorcycle club. It wasn’t even the fact that, at thirty-five years old, Dirk had a couple of tours in Afghanistan with the Marines under his belt. It wasn’t even his intimidating, razor-sharp intellect, which he cultivated by reading everything and anything from William
Dirk snorted. “Well, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Stephan said. “And that’s exactly the point. If it were me, I would also be plotting my escape.”
Dirk stared at him. “Do you think she would be that stupid?”
Stephan shrugged. “Enforced confinement can make people do stupid things.”
His features darkened almost on their own accord, and Dirk did his best to keep his sympathy from showing. Stephan had spent months as a prisoner of the Taliban in Afghanistan. It had done dark things to his soul and spirit, and that darkness never left him.
“I’ll make sure everyone keeps an eye on her,” Dirk said, eager to keep them on the subject at hand and steer Stephan’s thoughts away from pitch-black memories. “I’ll increase surveillance.”
Stephan nodded. “Good. Thank you.” He tucked the book under his arm and stood. “Good night, Dirk.”
“Good night.”
Dirk watched him go, and then he turned back to the fire. He stared into the flames and thought of Camilla. He wasn’t falling for her, but her fire sure was everywhere around him. And he could not escape it.
Chapter 15: Prisoner
The moon was full that night in the California Mojave Desert. Camilla Hernandez watched it from the window of her bedroom in the Minutemen MC’s headquarters. Eleven days later, she still had some trouble wrapping her mind around her situation. Try as she might, she still couldn’t believe her own stupidity. How had she, a fairly expert investigative reporter, ended up here?
If only she had trusted her gut instincts regarding the good faith (or lack thereof) of one Tobias Alvarez, ex-convict and self-proclaimed Tar Mongols MC repentant, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Instead, she had told herself that if Kurt Davis, who had a good thirty years’ experience over her, thought of Alvarez as a reliable source, then that must be the case.
But Tobias had betrayed her and had been prepared to deliver her into the hands of his ruthless gang when the Minutemen stopped their mad race through the desert. They had told her they were keeping her safe from the inevitable repercussions that would come once the Tar Mongols found out that Tobias was dead and that she was in California to work on a story that would expose the MC, but they had essentially kidnapped her. She wasn’t allowed to leave the headquarters. Ever. Sure, they treated her well, and she had everything she might need—including a library for recreational reading—but for all that, it was a golden cage.
Camilla was getting antsy. The Tar Mongols had yet to make a move, and Stephan Walker, the Minutemen’s formidable president, simply refused to let her go until Herman Ruiz and his men did. It didn’t take Camilla long to figure out that she had just become a pawn in the ongoing war between the two gangs. It was a role that didn’t fit her, but at the same time, she knew that an escape attempt would not be taken lightly. In fact, it would likely cause her to lose the few privileges she had. Instead, she kept quiet and tried to lay as low as possible.
The fact that Dirk was suddenly and inexplicably distant also didn’t help. She paused in her musings. Every time she thought of him, she couldn’t suppress a shiver—a sort of electric jolt—made of excitement and fear—that ran down her spine. Dirk Coleman wasn’t just the Minutemen’s vice-president, but he also happened to be the most formidable man Camilla had ever met. Yet, it wasn’t just that. At the age of thirty-five—exactly the same age as Camilla—he was probably the youngest man to be second-in-command within the hierarchy of a powerful motorcycle club. It wasn’t even the fact that, at thirty-five years old, Dirk had a couple of tours in Afghanistan with the Marines under his belt. It wasn’t even his intimidating, razor-sharp intellect, which he cultivated by reading everything and anything from William
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