11:47PM
Jon paced the hallway for the second time in two nights. Cam had stayed in her room for the duration of the day. The few times he'd checked on her she'd been asleep...or at least pretending to be. He wasn't quite sure. The fact that she'd curled in on herself made him think she was really sleeping. She didn't want people to know she was that upset--at least he knew that much about her.
Bruce and his laptop were burning the midnight oil. He'd called to check on the kids and Dorothea and guilt gnawed away at his gut. He wasn't perfect, and yet Dot loved him through all of the ups and downs of their marriage. He didn't even know what he'd done to deserve someone like her, but they'd weathered a lot of different tides in their marriage--dual infidelities, separation, simple growing pains, but in the end they always ended back together somehow.
Cam had been the first and only hiccup in the stronghold that was their life together. They weren't conventional, but then again how could you be conventional with his lifestyle? He didn't even know if what he felt for Cameron was love or just the intensity of the situation they'd shared. Was it only because he'd romanticized the feelings because they hadn't had the chance to flare up and burn out? Or was it as enduring as what he felt for his wife?
He rubbed at his temple, willing the migraine brewing to stay in the background. He didn't get them often, but when they came on they were nearly debilitating lately. Determined to turn off the restless pacing, he forced himself to go back into the living room and settle in with his laptop. He had more than enough correspondence to catch up to keep him busy for the next few hours. Maybe then he could sleep.
"God save me from stupid people," Bruce growled and stood, snapping his laptop closed.
"What?"
He reached for his gun, pointing it to the floor and checking the safety as he headed for the door. "Lock this behind me and don't open it for anyone but me or Danny."
"What's going on?"
"Your girlfriend decided to hike it down to the main road."
"She what?" His laptop fell into the couch as he stood. "I just checked on her."
"She makes good time within an hour, evidently." He opened the door. "We'll be having a talk with Ms. Blaise when I get back."
Jon heard an echoing crack that made him think of thunder followed by dull thunk, his eyes going wide. "What was that?"
"Our friend Lucas has a very good rifle," Bruce muttered and headed out into the dark. "Stay away from the windows and keep down for fuck's sake."
"Dammit, Cam!" He slammed the door behind Bruce, pressing his forehead to the heavy wood. A bullet sounded nothing like television portrayed it to be. It was actually much more ominous in its silence. If there was any doubt that Banyon was out there, this would be irrefutable proof. Fear clawed at his throat for Cam, for himself, and for the people so willing to help them. Bruce had come highly recommended, but he was only now seeing just why that was.
Another echoing slice and then the crack of glass had him paralyzed by the door. He slid down, his thermal shirt catching on the imperfections of the old wood. A gouge in the wood and the pungent smell of singed wood and stain burned his nostrils, then nothing. "Son of a bitch," he hissed and couldn't drag his eyes away from the bullet that had imbedded in the floor not ten feet from him.
If Banyon wanted to scare them, he was doing a fucking good job of it. He heard quick doubling up of more shots, but none near the house, just the eerie echo of the discharge. And as fast as the bullets started, they ended. His muscles locked and he wasn't even sure if he'd taken a deep breath before a sharp thump behind his head had him jerking forward.
He wasn't sure if he should open his mouth, and ask who it was, or if he should keep quiet.
Another rap against the door and he froze.
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