A/N: We're going to wrapping this story up soon. Thank you all for your awesome reviews and comments :)
Chapter Thirteen
Joe tapped on the massive oak door before pushing it open and walking into Steve's office. The room was ostentatious. Floor to ceiling windows behind the massive and ornately carved desk offered a view of downtown Chicago. Everything else was dark wood, red velvet and gilded with real gold. Expensive paintings adorned the walls and objects d'art lined the bookshelves along with first edition copies of classic literature.
Joe fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd known Steve when he was called Stevie and ran around with skinned knees from falling off his bike. Joe, Stevie and Ryan grew up together in a low income suburb of Chicago. Ryan was always betting on something or someone. When he bet and lost his bike, Stevie stole it back for him and Joe beat up the boy who won it in the bet. That's how they did things. They looked out for each other; took care of each other.
Then Ryan got a full scholarship to the University of Illinois at Chicago. He always was the more studious of the three. He actually studied and made straight A's in school. Steve was smart but in a different way. School bored him but he could take a dollar and make fifty dollars off it. He loaned money to their classmates in high school, charged exorbitant interest, and then had Joe collect when the time came. That was what Joe did best. He was always a big, brawny kid who could fight. When Ryan left for college, Steve and Joe expanded their territory. Soon they came up against actual members of the mob. Steve blended in seamlessly with them. Joe had a harder time. Punching a football player to get the money back was one thing. Learning to shoot a gun and actually using it on another person was something else entirely. Now he pawned that duty off on his own men.
Joe loosened his tie and sat down in one of the plush red velvet and dark oak chairs in front of Steve's desk.
Steve looked up from his computer. His blue eyes narrowed as he looked at his childhood friend. "You lost her and now she's dead," he commented referring to Cameron. He heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "How am I going to get the money back now, Joey? That little bitch Ryan married owed us almost a mil'."
"Technically, Ryan owed us the money because he couldn't stop betting on stupid shit and losing," Joe reminded him.
Steve rolled his neck and and breathed in deeply. The sunlight pouring in the windows glinted off his thinning blonde hair "And since Ally was married to him, the debt was passed to her. Who's going to pay it now, Joey? Huh? Who?"
"Jesus, Stevie! Just write it off as a bad debt or something."
"You wanna go tell Collins it was a bad debt?"
Xander Collins was the head of the mob in Chicago. He was a cruel old man who enjoyed inflicting as much pain as possible on people. To the outside world, he was a wealthy businessman. Joe and Steve also appeared to be wealthy businessmen. Except their wealth came from the misfortune of others and Joe was beginning to tire of it all. He wanted out but didn't know how to escape.
Joe slumped in his chair and ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. "No, but what can we do?" he demanded. "She's dead! The Feds were protecting her. My guys ran them off the road. You can't get money from a dead woman. And she don't got no family left since you burned down their house and killed them all."
"You gettin' soft on me, Joey? I know you always had a thing for Ryan's little wife. I know you been begging her to marry you and offerin' to pay her debt."
Joe clenched his fists. "I saw Ally first. I introduced her to Ryan but she was supposed to be mine. I saw her first!"
Steve stood up and stretched. Slowly, he walked around the desk until he was standing in front of his old friend.
"So finders keepers, losers weepers?" Steve sneered. "You screwed up because you wanted to marry that scrawny little bitch. Now someone has to pay. So, I'm askin' you again, Joey. Who's gonna pay for this massive fuck up?"
"My guys were chasing the car," Joe told him. He shrugged. "Make an example out of them for screwing up."
"Oh, I plan to," Steve told him. He reached behind his back and pulled out a Sig Sauer. Pointing it at Joe's head, he frowned. "We been friends a long time. But I ain't gonna have Collins up my ass about this."
Before Joe could even blink, Steve shot him, then walked around his desk and picked up the phone.
"Yeah, get somebody in here to take out the garbage and do a clean up," he said as he put his gun in a drawer in his desk. "And let Collins know Joe has been taken care of."
Steve sat down and looked into the lifeless eyes of his oldest friend.
"Sorry, Joey," he said. "It's just business."
Cameron exited the bathroom wearing a simple yellow dress and white sandals. Her dark hair curled around her face and House found it hard to take his eyes off her. He patted a spot on the bed next to him. Smiling, she walked over to him and sat down.
"Before we go eat," he began, "I want to know everything about you, your husband and his mobster friends."
Cameron's smile vanished and she bowed her head. Slowly, she nodded. Turning slightly toward her, he looked at her,
"Joe introduced me to Ryan during our senior year at college," she said softly. "He pursued me and I thought I was in love with him. I didn't find out about his gambling addiction until after he died. The cancer I knew about but I married him anyway. I wanted to take care of him. No one should die alone and he didn't have any family."
She stood up and began to pace.
"I don't know if it was the cancer or if he just hid it really well, but after we were married…" her voice trailed off and House saw her wipe tears from her eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she continued. "After we were married, he became abusive. He told me I was too fat, so he withheld food. The only way I could eat was to sleep with him. He didn't like me to wear makeup and when I did, he called me a slut. Then he started to hit me. It only stopped when he got too sick. I met Steve when Ryan was hospitalized. They seemed like normal guys; regular businessmen. I met Joe at a school mixer my freshman year. I thought he worked for the college. Anyway, Joe stayed with us until Ryan died. He and I spent hours talking. I liked him but it was obvious his feelings for me went beyond just friendship. After Ryan's funeral, Steve told me about the money Ryan owed and that I had to pay it. I was just starting med school and didn't have that kind of money. So, I worked out a payment plan with Steve. I did went to school and worked two jobs. I lived in a one room apartment. I took the bus. I ate whatever I could find because I couldn't afford food. Whenever I thought I was making a dent in that damn debt, Steve would raise the interest. And all that time, Joe was always there, hovering, telling me to quit and marry him. He said if I married him that the debt would be taken care of. But there was something about him; something dark and mean. Once I finished my residency, I took a job in the Immunology department at a hospital in New Hampshire. I didn't tell anyone where I was going but they found me. Then I read in the paper that my parents house burned down and they were dead along with my brother and sister and their families. So, I ran. I gave up everything. And here we are and I'm hiding again."
House put his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.
"But that's not the whole story," he remarked. "You had to know about the cancer when you met him and you still married him. You can't be that good a person and well-adjusted."
She jerked away from him her face set in anger. "You wanted to know," she ground out.
"I did," he replied. "But, as I suspected, you're damaged. You were damaged long before you met Ryan." He looked down at the carpet and then carefully made his way back to the other bed. Rubbing his thigh, he shook his head.
"Opposites don't attract when it comes to people," he said. "Like is drawn to like. You're damaged so I was drawn to you. I'm damaged so you were drawn to me. I understand you. You think like I do. You understand me which is a first. You don't nag me or annoy me which is also a first. I piss you off occasionally but I guess the truth does hurt."
Cameron walked over to the table between their beds and got his Vicodin. She poured two out into her hand and went into the bathroom. When she came out, she handed him the pills and the water. He smiled slightly and saluted her with the cup of water.
"See?" he grinned. "You know what I need without me having to say a word. And I know that you love me. You also don't care about my leg. Aren't you curious to know what happened?"
She folded her arms. "My guess is one of your patients shot you," she snarked as she stared at him with hard eyes.
House laughed. "That is more interesting than what actually happened. Would you please sit down? You do know you can't really pierce me with your gaze, right?"
She turned away and sat down on the other bed.
House shook his head. "This is going to be a thing, isn't it?"
Cameron turned toward him and he saw a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "So if you didn't get shot for being a real bastard, what happened to your leg?"
He pointed at her and smiled. "See? I knew you were curious and just too polite to ask."
He got up and sat down next to her. She listened as he told her about his leg. When he finished, she shook her head.
"Stacy had no right to go behind your back like that," she told him with an edge of anger. "You might have complete use of your leg if she did what you wanted."
He shrugged. "Well, now we'll never know." He looked around. "Where's my cane? I'm starving."
Cameron got his cane from the back of the hotel door and they went down to eat dinner.
