His Conspiracy Girl (Emerald City #4) Page 6

  Joyce sighed again. “This is just like with Travis. And you were warned.”

  It wasn’t though, was it? Travis had seduced her, and told her he loved her, and led her on for over a year, just so he could use her corporate clearance to gain access to CyGes files. But Camden wasn’t like that. Was he? I’m not the interesting bit about my story…I’ll tell you exactly what to look for.

  Shit, she’d been suckered. Again. She bit back a sob of betrayed frustration. Why did it hurt so bad to realize that? Joyce was right, it was Travis all over again. Cam hadn’t seduced her, hadn’t wanted her because of her, he’d wanted access to what she could get from CyGes. At least this time she hadn’t been the one to let him past their security. No more than the rest of her crew was, since they’d all forgotten he had the mic. That didn’t make her feel any better though.

  The throb in her head increased to a seven or eight on the Richter scale, and sharp tears dug into her eyelids. Even if she’d wanted to hide the raw ache in her voice, she wouldn’t have been able to. “So do I pack up my stuff, or will you have someone send it to me?”

  “I’m not firing you. Not today, anyway,” Joyce said. “I can’t guarantee the people above me won’t override my decision, but I know you, I know you don’t make mistakes like this, and as long as no one goes public, we can still save face.”

  Morgana wasn’t so sure it would stay a secret. Camden seemed dead set on exposing CyGes, whether or not there was anything to expose. If he’d just been trying to distract her, to use her to get even more inside information, there was nothing to stop him from spilling what had happened between them.

  “I’ll send Matt to go fetch the mic or something. You’re catching a train back home.” Joyce sounded sympathetic, but there was no room for argument. “You’ll still have to deal with a write-up for the ethical boundaries you completely ignored.”

  Right. That was a good idea. Except even the thought of leaving hurt. She wanted to go; she wanted to stay; she wanted everything and nothing. But mostly, she wanted this agonizing ache caused by his betrayal to vanish. Too bad that wasn’t going to happen. “I can’t believe I fell for it again. I thought he cared. What’s wrong with me?”

  “We’ll work it out, I promise.” The waver in Joyce’s reassuring words gave away her uncertainty. “We might have to tone back some of your security access for a while, but just until we can convince the right people that you’re not the issue.”

  Morgana bit back a frustrated sob. Except she couldn’t convince herself it had to do with the problems she was about to have at work. She was still stuck on the mistakes she’d made with Camden, and how much being so wrong about him tore her up inside. “Right. Of course.”

  It was a struggle to finish the call without screaming or breaking down. He had tricked her. Kicking her out of his apartment had been a setup. Letting her back in the next morning must have just been a bonus for him. He got laid, he got the mic. He’d acted wounded and hurt, and used her to get what he wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  Camden stared at his half-empty glass. The amber liquid bounced the dim lights of the bar back at him, but didn’t hold more answers than anywhere else he’d looked. He didn’t have the will to try and get drunk. The few-second buzz wouldn’t be worth it. Since his annual vigil for his sister had been interrupted last time, however, he figured it was only appropriate to finish it.

  He’d come back to the same bar he did every year. It had nothing to do with maybe, possibly, hoping he might run into Ana. Even though her voice interrupted his mourning in his skull every time he tried to lose himself in the past.

  “Hey, Tinman.” The chair across from him screeched against the. The owner of the voice spun the seat around, so the back was facing Camden, and straddled it.

  Camden cringed. He knew the guy from the day the film crew had been in his condo. One of Ana’s colleagues. “Hey. It’s Scott, right?” Or was it Zane?

  The cameraman narrowed his eyes. “Matt. It’s Matt.”

  Camden had no idea how the guy managed to slur such a short sentence. “Right. Matt. What’s up?”

  Matt held up a single finger, and his brow furrowed. He moved his hand closer to his face and then away again. He shook his head and wobbled in his chair. “Ur an ash hole.”

  Camden let the words repeat in his head, until they made sense. He probably shouldn’t provoke the guy, but he was tired of his vigil being interrupted. “And?”

  “I don’t know what happened with you and Morgana.” Matt’s words slurred together and then bled apart. “But that whole stealing our microphone thing wasn’t cool.”

  Right. One of the other guys had stopped by earlier to pick up the abandoned hardware, and Camden had handed it over in pieces, shrugging at the raised eyebrow the guy had given him. “You shouldn’t have left it behind.”

  “Lishen, dude.” Matt leaned forward again, outstretched finger wavering in the air. “You’re lucky they didn’t file charges, right? I mean how awkward would that be? ShyGesh having their own tin poster boy arrested for hacking their electronics. Publishity nightmare of the shenchury.”

  That was a tempting thought. Camden lingered on the consequences of that for a while, tripping through the possibilities. If he couldn’t find proof their ineptitude had caused the accident, he could always bring them down another way.

  It wouldn’t bring them back. It wouldn’t help anyone. Ana’s voice echoed in his head, and he shook it away. Maybe he should have had that bottle after all. Damn her for trying to erase the grief and mourning that were his right. He searched for the familiar ache in his chest, and found it buried in a midst of frustration and confusion.

  He was so over tonight. He nodded at Matt while he stood. “Enjoy your night.”

  Matt scrambled to his feet. His legs tangled in the chair, and he kicked it aside, wobbling before he pulled upright again. He stepped in front of Camden and shoved him back. “I’m not done yet.”

  Camden winced and turned away from the wash of liquor that greeted him. He might not need an entire bottle of something after all. There might be enough alcohol on Matt’s breath for a residual high. How was the guy even still standing?

  “Please, carry on.” Cam took a step back, and crossed his arms. It was tempting to punch Matt, but it wouldn’t get Camden anything. Maybe if he placated the cameraman and heard him out, he could break away more easily.

  Matt shoved a finger into Camden’s chest, words still slurred. “Just because CyGes is letting you walk doesn’t mean you deserve to. I know whatever has Morgana on edge is your fault. You’re the reason the biography was cancelled. She’s withdrawing even more than last time. It’s pretty obvious you’re at the center of it all.”

  Camden yanked back the urge to snap the offending finger off. More withdrawn than last time? Something in his chest ached at the thought of causing Ana trouble. He needed to get out of here. The entire situation was screwing with his head. He stepped to the side. Maybe if he caught Matt off-guard, he could move around him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’m not a part of Ana’s life anymore. Problem solved?”

  “You can’t call her that. Her name is Morgana.” Matt wrapped a hand around Camden’s upper arm, and shoved him back. He pulled back his right hand and let his fist fly.

  Camden was startled by the sudden movements. Stars danced in his vision when the fist clipped his cheek. Fuck, that stings. He wasn’t going to react. This drunken asshole wasn’t going to get a rise out of him. He stepped out of arm’s reach, still rubbing his cheek.

  “Come on, Tinman.” Matt’s upper lip pulled up in a sneer. “Did they take your heart when they replaced your insides? Is that why you don’t care how many lives you’ve fucked up?”

  Camden gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to be drawn into this. He didn’t care what some random stranger thought of him.

  “Too bad those bits that saved your life keep you from fighting back,” Matt said. “I guess that makes you m
y punching bag.”

  He meant the safety protocols that kept Camden from using his prosthetics to hurt people. This time Camden saw the fist coming. Matt’s movements were slow and clumsy. Camden side-stepped, to avoid the punch.

  “She’s had a rough enough time without having to deal with another asshole like you. Just because she’s a little loose doesn’t mean she deserves to be used and tossed aside.”

  That caught Camden’s attention, and for the first time that night, his blood raced with anger. “Excuse me?”

  Matt stepped closer, half-bouncing, half-stumbling on the balls of his toes. “Just because she’s kind of slutty doesn’t mean you can treat her like shit.”

  Slutty? Camden let the fury fill his veins. He stepped in so one foot rested between Matt’s. He clapped Matt on the shoulder with his synth hand, and looked him in the eye. “What she doesn’t need”—his voice was a low growl—“is people like you, calling themselves her friends and then insulting her behind her back.” He drove his organic fist has hard as he could into Matt’s diaphragm.

  Matt let out a soft grunt and doubled over. It took all of Camden’s restraint not to deliver another blow.

  Fuck it.

  He pulled his fist back again.

  ****

  Camden stood at the processing counter at the police station, his jumbled thoughts slowly separating into distinct snapshots. Being arrested for the fight in the bar. Cooling his heels in a cell. Being contrite and apologetic to the grumpy night judge. Paying a fine to secure his freedom, but finally getting out of there.

  The man on the other side of the window held up an envelope, turned it over, and unceremoniously dumped the contents into a waiting tray. The policeman shoved the box through a spot to the left of the safety plastic. Once Camden closed the door on his side, he was able to retrieve the belongings that had been confiscated when he was arrested.

  Camden watched his own feet shuffle toward the door. He’d have to take a Mag-Car home. The last thing he wanted to do was ride in one of those deathtraps. He tried to summon the normal animosity he had for the vehicles, but he couldn’t find it in him. He was just too drained. His shoulders ached. The organic muscles in his back were stiff. His eye had to be bruised and swollen at this point.

  “Cam.” A familiar voice interrupted his reverie. He didn’t want to turn. He didn’t want to look at Ana. But he couldn’t help himself.

  Her expression was impassive, as if it had been carved out of ice. She stood near the entrance to the hearing room. She nodded behind her. “I’m here with the company attorney for Matt.”

  He should have guessed. “That’s nice.”

  “He’s completely wasted still. I have a feeling he’ll feel like shit for a few days.”

  It serves him right. Camden bit back the angry words, and fingered the sensitive skin under his eye. What does she want from me? “Probably.”

  She glanced down at her feet, before meeting his gaze again. Her expression was still hard, but something wavered in her eyes. “When he talked to the lawyer, he did a lot of bitching and whining about the asshole Tinman who socked him in the gut. He spent almost as much time apologizing to me for…something?”

  The reminder brought back Camden’s fury, and he clenched his fists. Part of him wanted desperately to tell her what kind of so-called friends she had, but something told him it wouldn’t help anyone, and it would make her night infinitely worse. “I’d rather not repeat it either.”

  “Did you really hit him because he called me a slut?”

  So she knew. He nodded.

  The corner of her mouth tugged up, cracking the stern expression. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t deserve that.”

  She shook her head. “I need to get back. Good night.” She spun away and disappeared back into the hearing room, before he could figure out what else to say.

  Chapter Ten

  Ana held up her ruined silk top. The drycleaner had taken one look at the dark stain, and laughed in her face. Pain echoed in her chest. Not because she’d lost the shirt, but at the memory of how much fun she’d had destroying it in the first place.

  She gazed at the fabric, no longer seeing it. Instead, Cam’s face swam through her thoughts. His bruised eye, marring his handsome face. He only had the shiner because of her. Warmth soothed her aching soul at the thought. She tried to push the creeping affection away, and tears blurred her vision. She didn’t want anything to do with him. So why the hell couldn’t she forget him?

  A heavy knock startled her out of her descent into another bout of regret. She dragged the back of her hand across her cheeks, and sniffled back the confused grief. She really didn’t want to face anyone. Especially Sam. Or—God—Matt. Not after what had happened with… She pushed Camden’s face from her thoughts, before every emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge surged back.

  One glance at the view screen by the door, and she almost lost all her composure. Camden’s face blinked back at her. He stared blankly ahead, expression drawn.

  Of course. The last person she wanted to see. Ever. She had even less of a desire to see him, than to have Travis show up at her door. Fury roared in to replace her wallowing. On the other hand, maybe this was perfect. She snarled at the empty room. She had walked away from Travis without letting him know how much hurt and frustration he’d caused her, but she wasn’t going to let Camden off so easily. She was going to tell him exactly what she thought of his bullshit. Of being used.

  She yanked the door open, hoping her expression was as stern and furious as she felt.

  He met her gaze, eyes wide. His mouth tugged up in a hesitant smile. “Can we talk?”

  Oh goodie, more bullshit. That would make it easier to tear into him. The vicious thoughts dug deeply into hurt and longing she was struggling to repress. But as much as she was ready to give him a piece of her mind, she didn’t need the entire world to hear it. She stepped aside enough to let him in. “Sure.”

  Gaze never leaving her, he stepped around her, and stopped just inside the room.

  She let the door swing shut behind him, and put several feet between them. Her speech was already forming in her thoughts, but she wanted to hear more of his pity story first. More fuel for the fire.

  He looked away, face pinched, and a heavy silence fell between them.

  Great. He had an entire act planned out. She didn’t have the patience for this. “Well?”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, blue eyes looking more like the sky than the ice of the night they first met—vast, reaching, and full of painful possibilities. “I thought about what you said.”

  Of course he had. How convenient. Sounded like the perfect opening to try and bullshit her again. Except it was harder to convince herself of that than she wanted. Especially now that she could see the pain up close enough to remember he had been hurt too. And far worse than she ever had.

  She pushed the sympathy away. His loss didn’t give him the right to use her for his own delusional drive for twisted vengeance. “That’s nice.”

  He crossed his arms. “I’m sorry. You were right. The past still hurts, but you were right.”

  She growled and stepped closer, eyes narrowing and glare fixed on him.

  “Say something?”

  The simple pleading sapped her anger. She grasped to hang onto it, and jabbed a finger against his chest.

  Raw confusion leaked into her voice. “No. You don’t get to do that. I’m sure you have a nice, happy apology prepared. Something scripted to convince me your cause is the best. That helping you will right all the wrongs in the world, and put another evil corporation under once and for all.”

  He opened his mouth, but she couldn’t let him speak. Hearing him out might give her a chance to cave. Except she was already starting to.

  “Wrong.” She cut him off before he could force out more than a squeak. “I won’t be suckered. Is the tortured, hard-to-get act part of how you planned to draw me in? Did you kn
ow who I was that first night? Or is it just convenient that you’re already eternally tortured, and you want to suck the rest of us into your world?”

  He stepped closer, voice firm but kind. “Did I know who you were? You approached me in the bar. And are you listening to anything I’m saying? What you said… You’re right. I want to get on with my life.”

  “And you want me to help, right?” Her voice cracked. She sniffled and took a deep breath. He was listening; he was making sense; he wanted to make amends. Maybe she was just fooling herself that he was sincere, but part of her wanted so badly to believe it. Her past warred with the now. “I’ve heard this story before. I’m not interested in helping you uncover a conspiracy, and I’m doubly not-interested in being used and left behind as an unfortunate victim, once you get the information you want.”

  He shook his head. “Really? After the emotional, heart-felt lecture about my living in the past, you’re comparing me to… I don’t even know. An ex-boyfriend, maybe? You’re basing what happened between us on someone else’s mistakes?”

  She clenched her teeth, top lip pulling up in a sneer. Of course she was. She’d learned from her past. Maybe. So many doubts beat in her skull. The fury she poured into her words had faded. “Because you’re doing exactly what he did. How do you even manage? How do guys like you make that connection seem real, when you don’t even care?”

  *

  Camden needed to make things better, for so many reasons. Because Ana had a point. Because he needed to move on. Because, as much as he wanted to dwell on the past and push the present aside, and forget about anything but vengeance, for the first time in years there was a new face he couldn’t get out of his thoughts.

  As much as he loved his sister and niece, and as much as he cherished their memories, suddenly he had something in the present worth working for. He didn’t know what it was about Ana, but he wanted—no, he needed her. He couldn’t even fully articulate why, but finding out was a priority.