A Hunted Man (The Men of Halfway House) (15 page)

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Authors: Jaime Reese

Tags: #contemporary, #gay, #romance, #mystery

BOOK: A Hunted Man (The Men of Halfway House)
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"Okay. Well, according to the rules, you need to have continuous employment for fifteen days before you can be considered for the next stage so you're just about there. Three weeks after your arrival here, you can request a pass for late nights or weekends."

"So I've got about a week then." He returned to his seat at the table.

"Well, you could swing it without a pass but your curfew here would be nine pm," Matt smiled.

"Wonderful. It'll make him feel like he's dating a teenager with a fucking chaperone. Yeah, that'll get him excited."

"That was a joke, I assume."

"Your uptake's getting better."

Matt smiled.

They were silent for a few moments, Matt drinking his lemonade and Cam tugging at a loose string on his jeans.

"What happened, Cam?"

"I was working on the landscaping and you wanted to do the benchmark thing."

Matt glared at Cam. "I meant what happened with you. I've read your background, you were at the top of your class and taking advanced placement courses. So that tells me you were working your way to a higher education. But here you are now and…" Matt's voice transitioned from exasperation to defeat. "You didn't even finish high school."

Cam's body stiffened. He didn't want to talk about what happened and he certainly didn't want to relive that day. He just wanted to move on.

"If it was self-defense why did you let them accuse you of all these other charges?"

"What are you talking about?" Cam asked, immediately on alert. There was nothing in his file about self-defense. "I killed a man."

"Cam, I know what happened. I know you went to that house to save your sister from her boyfriend. You arrived there and then it got ugly. What happened was an accident."

Cam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't want to talk about this…any of it. He didn't want to relive that day. All he did while in solitary confinement was relive that damn day. Over and over again. He didn't want to go there…couldn't go there. He hated what he had done and how stupid he was to not have seen it coming.

"Cam?" Matt prompted after an extended silence.

"Drop it," Cameron demanded.

"No. You make it sound as if you're a killer and you're not. If you were, you would have had every intention of killing that man when you walked into that house. And you didn't. That's why they couldn't add a murder one or two charge on to this ridiculous list of charges."

"Doesn't change the fact that I killed a man."

"The intent is everything, Cam. You didn't have malice. It was an accident. That's why it's manslaughter and not murder."

Cam leaned over the table and jabbed his finger in the air toward Matt. "Look, I'll suck it up and do what needs to get done. Take the fucking drug tests and do the damn check-ins, but that's it. I'm not talking about what happened. It's done, it's over."

"But Cam—"

"No!" he yelled as he abruptly stood, tipping the chair back with such force it crashed to the floor.

Recognizing the limits of his temper, he needed to leave the kitchen…now. He raced out and headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time until he reached his room and slammed the door shut. He paced the room like a caged animal needing to burn off some of the heightened energy that thrummed through his body. He was spinning like a top, and it was only a matter of time before he fell over.

Fuck. Why the hell does Matt have to push, why can't he leave it alone?

He crossed his arms and squeezed himself tightly, trying to hold in the rage that threatened to spill. His body twitched and his steps faltered. He increased his pacing, hoping to outrun the need to explode. His heart slammed against his chest and his pulse raced. His entire torso shook as he gasped for air.

No, no, no.

He stood in the doorway of his bathroom, attempting to ground himself with the doorframe pressed against his back.
He grabbed the sides of his head, fisting his hair in his hands.

The pounding in his head wouldn't stop.

The blinding anger left him powerless.

He looked at the doorframe.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

His chest heaved with each rapid, clipped breath, but somehow, the new pain in his hand slowed him down and gradually replaced the rage. He paced the room again, the anger boiling within heated his skin. After the last ten years, he should have known better than to open himself up to someone or hope things would change.

He cradled his hand, the sting of pain enough to break through his anger. He walked into the bathroom, shaking his hand, trying to bring some movement back into his numb fingers. He glanced up and saw his reflection, catching sight of the misshaped scar and ink on his bicep. His legs weakened. He hated himself, hated what had happened, and hated that making any sort of connection with others would endanger them. The thought crippled him and brought him to his knees.

He didn't want to be alone anymore.

His body shook uncontrollably. He tried to brace himself against the bathroom cabinet before he lost himself completely. His bloody knuckles had smeared the pristine white surface. Wasn't that always the case with him, he'd come in and ruined something that was perfectly fine without him? He inhaled a choppy breath as he looked around. He crawled over to the wall and yanked at the roll of toilet paper with his shaky hands then tried to wipe the cabinet door clean. The white became pink as the blood continued to smear. He looked over his shoulder and saw a trail of blood smudges from his hand along the tile.

"Shit," he said with a tremble in his voice. He sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor and leaned over, cradling his hurt hand while he rhythmically rocked back and forth. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a breath, hold for two seconds, then exhale. He thought of Hunter and his soothing voice, those silver eyes.

Oh God.

Please, please, please.

He repeatedly inhaled and exhaled with thoughts of Hunter mixed in until he felt the ripples of anger dissipate. The tightness in his chest began to loosen.

"Cameron?"

He looked up to find Julian standing in the doorway of the bathroom with Matt directly behind him.

"Sorry," Cam said brokenly, looking over to Matt. Guilt sliced through him at the expression on their faces. "I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have pushed, Cam, I'm the one who's sorry."

"What the fuck did you do?" Julian asked, using his chin to point to the blood-smeared cabinet.

Matt pushed Julian aside and knelt on the floor next to Cam. He extended Cam's hand and moved each finger. "It's not broken."

"What did you hit?"

"C'mon we need to get some ice on this," Matt said, pulling Cam to stand.

"What. Did. You. Hit?"

"Doorframe," Cam mumbled. "I didn't want to fuck up your wall."

Julian nodded. "Good call."

 

 

"You know what I don't get," Melanie said before plopping herself on Hunter's office couch.

"How it's possible anyone gets any work done with constant interruptions?" Hunter teased with a wry grin.

"Fuck you, I'm being serious."

Hunter put his pen down and crossed his arms, giving Mel his undivided attention.

Melanie rolled her eyes dramatically. "You can be such an ass sometimes. I'm talking about Gonzalez. The man went AWOL. I've contacted everyone I know and no one's got a clue where he is or where he'd go. It's like he vanished into thin air. They just can't find him."

"Who's 'they'?"

"We've got the tri-county area with BOLOs out on him. I just found out that the day they went to his house to break the news to him, he was already gone."

Hunter sat upright in his chair. "Wait a minute, he didn't get the news he was being dismissed?"

"No. They went to tell him they were going to investigate him and he never answered the door. That's the weird part."

Hunter rubbed his chin as he thought of the different scenarios of what could have happened. "It sounds like something must have happened to him."

"I agree. A judge finally granted a warrant to get into the house and that's when they discovered he wasn't there and hadn't been there for a few days."

"That's not like him."

"Yeah, something's not right here. Let's just hope he turns up. He's got a lot of explaining to do," Mel finished before standing.

"Leaving so soon?" Hunter leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "You interrupted my work, you might as well hang out."

Melanie rolled her eyes again. "What the hell has gotten into you? You're…" She repeatedly snapped her fingers searching for the right word.

"What?" Hunter chuckled.

She pointed at him quickly when the word finally hit her. "Happy. That's it!"

"Wow, you had to search your vocabulary for a safe word, didn't you?"

Hunter shook his head and chuckled. Mel was a force. If he hadn't seen her in trial with his very own eyes, he wouldn't believe how fierce she was in the courtroom—and curse word free. But damn did she let loose once she was out of that courthouse.

Mel smirked. "I was trying to be nice, you shithead," she said, walking away. She spun back around. "Oh yeah, almost forgot why I in-ter-rupt-ed."

"Oh, you had a reason?"

"We've got a meeting at two today."

"Who with and what about?" Hunter asked.

"Mayor, chief of police, they're all coming over to bake brownies. Fuck if I know what they want."

"You have a lovely handle of the English language. You kiss your boyfriend with that mouth?"

"Yeah, and he loves it," she said, sticking her tongue out and licking her upper lip seductively before waving good-bye. "See you then."

He grabbed his cell phone and speed-dialed a call. He had to find Peter.

"Hey, Dad," he said once his father answered.

"Hi, Son."

"How was your date?"

"How was yours?" his father countered.

"Dad, stop." A smile spread across his face. "I just wanted to ask if you've heard from your fishing buddy," he asked, not wanting to use Peter's name and risk anyone hearing.

"Nope, but I do know someone who has."

Hunter straightened. "Dad, are you home?"

"Nope, grocery shopping, and before you ask, no, I'm not buying bacon."

Hunter chuckled. "I'll come by the house so we can talk more. Will you be home soon?"

"I should be home in about an hour. Are you okay?" he asked with obvious concern in his voice.

"I'm fine. I'll see you in a little bit," he said before ending the call. He was not going to start a conversation about what he needed over the phone. His dad could go off on another tangent and who knew where it would lead.

Hunter looked at his watch and knew he had a few minutes to spare before the meeting. There was no way in hell he was disappearing for a few days without seeing Cam.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bill asked for the hundredth time.

"I'm fine," Cameron said, switching hands to hold the milk pot. His scraped knuckles and swollen hand made it too difficult to grab the small handle to pour the steamed milk.

"We can stop selling the fancy coffees until your hand heals."

Cam smiled tiredly. "You don't need to do that. It just takes me a little longer than usual to do a couple of the things, but it's fine. I just feel bad I can't do the designs like this."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.

Cameron hated the worry he saw in Bill's expression. Thankfully, Lucy hadn't come into the diner yet. He couldn't handle worrying the both of them. He had been a complete idiot last night. His pained hand just served as a constant reminder of how his past seemed to always come back to haunt him. He wasn't sure why he thought this time would be different.

"I'm fine," he repeated and continued to work slowly to finish the morning rush orders. Between the coffee orders and simultaneously working the register with Bill, the exhaustion weighed on him as if he had worked a double shift. His pained hand was a bit swollen and the over-the-counter pain pills hadn't kicked in yet.

"Go ahead and take a break. Get some ice on that thing," Bill said as he took the last latte coffee order then handed him a towel with some ice cubes inside.

"Thanks," he said before going to the back room.

He sat at the table, icing his hand.
Fucking moron
. He should have known better than to get too comfortable in this new life. It was damn near impossible for someone to not ask questions. Why couldn't he just lock everything up in a closet and throw away the key? Move on, start new. He shifted the ice on his hand and hissed as the edge of the ice hit his raw skin.

"Hey, Cam," Hunter said, poking his head in the back room.

Startled, Cam stood and turned, keeping his hurt hand behind him, resting on the chair's backrest. He couldn't help smiling at the sight of the more casual version of Hunter. "Hi."

He stood, arms crossed without his suit jacket, only wearing the vest with tie and shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Cam's body immediately took notice of the muscled arms and shirt-hugged biceps.

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