“That’s three nightmares you’ve had since your uncle called a month ago,” said Aspen, spooning some cereal. “He should have left you alone. He couldn’t honestly have thought you’d care all that much that your father’s grave was desecrated. It wasn’t something you needed to know.”
“I think my uncle suspected it was me. Probably still does.”
Aspen snorted. “Like you’d invest that level of emotion in your father.” The man might not have physically hurt Camden, but he’d let him down in too many ways. “If you have another nightmare, call me or come here. We can talk or have a drink or watch a movie—whatever.”
“Thought you wanted space from me,” he said, his voice flat.
She felt her head jerk back. “I never wanted space from you. I just want us each to have our own living space. I was tired of coming between you and your partners—”
“They weren’t anything close to partners.”
“Bed-buddies, then.”
“It’s not like I brought any of them home.”
“No, but they’d turn up looking for you and—ugh, we don’t need to go over it all again. You know my reasons for making this change.” Well, most of them. “It’s not like we could have remained roomies forever. We would have had to get separate apartments at some point. Doing it now rather than later doesn’t really make that much of a difference.”
“Then we could have done it ‘later’ rather than ‘now.’”
Rolling her eyes, she ate a spoonful of cereal. “Don’t be a brat. That’s my job. I like it. You can’t have it.”
“Too late. I’ve taken it. You can have it back when I get my roommate back.” He took a swig of his coffee. “I especially don’t like you living alone while you have someone harassing you.”
She felt her brow crease. “I wouldn’t call it harassment.”
“What would you call someone creating numerous fake social media accounts to spam you with insulting messages?”
“Pathetic. Also not very inventive. I mean, seriously, they sent me one word messages over and over—bitch, slut, whore. How very original. And, in the case of ‘bitch,’ not at all inaccurate.”
“The fact that they also hacked into one of your accounts and sent your ‘friends’ a bunch of offensive messages while posing as you tells us this person is intent on playing with you. They’d probably still be doing it if you hadn’t deactivated your accounts.”
“And how can I find this crap anything other than petty? We’re dealing with a typical keyboard warrior—big and brave while behind a computer screen, but not so brave in person. Luke has people working on identifying them.”
“I still think it’s Randy,” said Camden, referring to his ex, “which is the only reason I’m not worried that the situation will escalate. He’s too much of a coward to take this any further.”
There was certainly a chance it was Randy. He blamed her for Camden dumping him, despite that it might not have happened if Randy—feeling threatened by her close friendship with Camden—hadn’t talked shit to her. Plus, it was worth considering that Randy called her both a whore and a slut when he’d ranted at her for “fucking up” the relationship. But … “His shock seemed genuine when you accused him of sending those messages.”
Well, “accused” wasn’t the right word. Camden had grabbed him by the collar, slammed him against a wall, and threatened to fuck the guy’s shit right up if he didn’t cease playing games. Randy had gone deathly pale and swore he wasn’t responsible.
“It could just as easily be a perfect stranger who does this kind of stuff for fun and chose me at random,” Aspen pointed out.
Camden shook his head. “This seems personal to me. Maybe it was someone whose ass you once kicked. Like Jamie.”
“I think you mean Aimee.”
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I don’t think it was her.” Granted, Aspen had once taken her down at the pride’s local hangout, and yeah the feline could be standoffish and haughty toward Aspen, but Aimee acted superior toward most people. Plus … “She’s no coward. She wouldn’t hide behind a computer screen.”
Aspen’s bearcat would still happily kick her ass again, though. The animal detested Aimee because the feline had hit on Camden several times.
“True.” Camden chugged back more of his coffee. “Unlike her, Randy is a coward—this is the kind of thing he’d do, because he doesn’t have the balls to go up against a pallas cat pride. When I have proof it’s him, I will beat the living shit out of him. He’ll be pissing and shitting blood for at least a week.”
Oh, Camden certainly knew how to inflict maximum damage. Like her, he’d once worked for the Movement—a large group of shifters who retaliated against human anti-shifter extremists—so he was trained in many things.
Both Havana and Bailey had also worked for the group. Not many people were aware of that. The names of most members and ex-members were kept secret so as to protect them from extremists and the human authorities.