ELEVEN: Truth

10/18/2010 Logan, Maine 1:08AM

"Jon, It's Bruce."

"Son of a bitch," Jon said and scrambled off the floor, swinging the door open. "What the fuck?"

"He's gone." Bruce sighed and wiped away sweat from his forehead before he holstered his damn big black gun. He was barely winded, but there was strain around his eyes.

"Where was he?"

"He was about a mile up and east from here. Still on the water, but far enough away that he needed a damn good gun for that kind of shooting. I caught a partial license, but I bet it's a stolen vehicle. I'll check it out just to be sure."

Jon nodded, adrenaline still firing in his veins. Hell, he thought he was high after a show, it was nothing compared to a crapload of fear. He paced along her living room, his face staring back at him from her easel. He pushed it back and flipped the sheet over it. No way could he look at that chaos. Did she really see him like that? All those angles and severity? He fisted his fingers into his hair, pulling until he could focus.

Bruce was on the phone, and it sounded important. Police? Christ, he really didn't want them involved, but all the gunshots? Well, it wasn't safe for anyone in the area, let alone Bruce and his people. "Fuck," he growled.

Another knock at the door and Danny announced he was on the other side with Cam. Jon rushed for the door, but Bruce blocked him and shoved him aside. "From now on, no one gets near the windows and doors. Period."

Jon swallowed his instinctive retort. He was right, the proof was whistling through the nearly perfect hole in her window with a spider web of cracks that splintered from the center.

Bruce swung the door open, ushering them both inside. "You, I will deal with in a minute," he seethed at Cam, turning to Danny. "I need all the details you have."

Cam's face was pale and devoid of expression, driving the fear that lived inside his gut right into roiling anger. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

She didn't say a word, just headed to the back of the house.

"Ms. Blaise, stay out here until I can check out the house."

She stopped at Bruce's firm voice, her back to the room. Cam sat on the edge of a well-worn chair, her knees bouncing with tension.

Jon stood in front of her. "Well?" Cam stared at his shoes, her fingers white knuckled in her lap. He crouched in front of her, trying to meet her eyes, but she just wasn't having any of it. "Cam, look at me." She slowly lifted her eyes, they were dry, but the pupils were just a little too pinched, her focus not really on him. He shook her, too angry to be gentle.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Her cracking voice should have deflated some of his anger, but it only made it worse. "Do you have a death wish? Is all this a waste of time?"

Her eyes finally snapped to life and zeroed in on him. "If I was dead at least no one would get hurt."

"No, he'd just do it to another woman. Just takes a moment to fixate on someone, now doesn't it? You don't think I have a little knowledge on this front? Do you know how many stalkers I've had to deal with in twenty years? He needs to be caught and taken care of."

"He's right," Bruce said over his shoulder. "I think it's time to call in the police."

Cam shook her head.

Bruce dragged a chair over. "I'm fully equiped for minor issues, and to protect you, but if I have to worry about him taking pot shots at any and all of my people, we really need to bring in the police."

"They won't believe me. Lucas was declared dead."

Jon's stomach dropped. That wasn't entirely true. No body was ever retrieved from the lake that day. He was declared missing and presumed dead. "Cam," he started gently. The blank face went fragile and he decided in that instant that he'd do anything to make sure that look never came back. Even if he had to kill Banyon himself. Love wasn't kind, love didn't make sense, and it sure as fuck didn't make allowances even after two years apart. "We need to talk, it's up to you if you want it to be in front of Bruce."

"Why?"

Jon looked to Bruce. "Has her room been cleared?"

Bruce looked up and Danny's bulky frame filled the doorway. "Everything good?"

"It isn't pretty, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put up the storm shutters. It will give us some extra coverage at the back of the house. I also added a few locks."

Cam's mouth formed a hard line, but Jon was relieved. He'd make the house a damn fortress if he had to. He grabbed her hand, her fingers slack in his, then tight as a knot. Relief punched him in the chest. Pulling her into the back room, he gently pushed her down on the bed. Cracking every knucle down to his wedding ring, he absently twirled it and then faced her. "There's a few things we need to get straight, all right?" When she nodded, he resumed his pacing. "When I put you on that plane, I knew Banyon wasn't dead." He could see her closing off from him and he stopped, dropping in front of her on his knees.

She stiffened. "How could you not tell me?"

"I made an executive decision." She tried to stand up and get away from him and he held onto her knees. "Cam--"

"No! I've had enough with men making decisions for me. Just because you're kinder, doesn't make it any less of a command!"

That rocked him back on his heels, and that was all it took for her to stand and hurry around him to the door. "Dammit, stop running!"

"It's all I know how to do, Jon." She whispered, her back to him, her hand on the door.

"I don't want to order you around, Cam--"

"Oh really?"

The bitter voice was enough to stall the cloud of anger forming. He wasn't anything like Banyon for fuck's sake. She had to know that, she just had to. He took her arm and turned her back to face him. "I don't want to control you, you have to know that. But I do want to keep you safe. It's all that matters to me."

"Why?"

Her eyes were so earnest and lost. That was all it took to strip him down to the bone. "I love you, Cam."