Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

names slipped his mind.
    I'll never find him, Cam realized with sudden clarity. And that means I'll never see him again.
    He kept walking, dimly aware that it wouldn't be long until the security noticed he was gone and called his father, and then he'd be in trouble again, back at square one...
    But at the moment none of it seemed to matter.
    A car slowed down next to him, a gleaming, glossy black SUV. The window rolled down, and a guy with a too-orange tan and bleached hair leaned his elbow on the edge.
    "Hey," he said. "Looking for anyone?"
    He deformed the English words to the point where it took Cam a few seconds to understand what the hell he was saying. Once he processed the words, he sprang back.
    "No," he stammered, but the guy only grinned.
    "Good, 'cause we are."
    Next thing Cam knew, the back door opened and two guys dragged him in before he even managed to yell for help.
    ****
    As Anton's car got nearer to his father's country house, a strange feeling crept over him.
    He hadn't been there since he was a little boy, preferring Caribbean beaches and Swiss ski slopes over the quiet atmosphere of the little log cabin. But right now, some solitude was what he wanted most, to be far from the city and the clubs and the parties.
    He never realized how attached he had gotten to the weird American guy, but now that it was over, he found that nothing could pull him out of his melancholy. That was when he remembered the old house two hours away from Moscow.
    Thankfully, his SUV was built to withstand the bumpy country road that led to the place. But as Anton got closer, he realized that someone had passed here not so long ago. There were fresh tracks in the muddy road.
    Anton hesitated, but finally stopped his car, turned off the engine, and got out.
    He walked the rest of the way, ruining his shoes in the mud and cursing himself for being so overly cautious.
    Then the gate of the compound came into view, and his suspicions were confirmed— it stood open, and behind the trees near the house Anton glimpsed a car.
    As he took a few hesitant steps forward, he heaved a sigh of relief. No, these were not thieves or poachers— the dark Jeep belonged to his father's bodyguards.
    "Hey!" Anton shouted, but there was no answer. Shrugging, he made his way down the winding gravel path to the entrance of the house and knocked. He heard noises inside, shuffling, but no one answered. Puzzled, Anton knocked again.
    "Who's there?" boomed a familiar voice.
    "It's me, jackass," snapped Anton, aggravated by such lack of respect.
    But the door immediately opened. Vassily, his father's chief bodyguard, stood in the doorway, looking ruffled.
    "Anton! What are you doing here?"
    "What am I doing here?" Anton demanded. "It's my dad's house. I come here whenever I want."
    "Well, I suggest you go somewhere else," said Vassily.
    Anton's jaw dropped. Vassily never used to speak Anton like that. Anton was the boss' son.
    "Seriously, junior. No offense, but we're prepping the place for your dad's visit," Vassily said, his expression softening a little. "Sorry. Special orders."
    Anton shrugged. If it really was special orders then there was nothing to do. He started down the path without a goodbye to Vassily, seething with anger and frustration.
    "Wait up, Anton!" Vassily called after him.
    Anton half-turned.
    "Friendly advice to you," Vassily said, lowering his voice. "Go somewhere else. I mean it. Lay low for a couple of weeks. Your father... he's not too happy with you right now."
    Ice-cold fear gripped Anton's insides. He thanked Vassily, and, with a stiff nod of goodbye, went back to his car.
    He sat in the driver's seat for a few minutes without turning on the engine and thought.
    Could it be? His father knew? Or was he just completely paranoid?
    Either way, he could no longer deny it. There was only one person he wanted to see right now.
    He started the car and sped off back in the direction of the city.
    ****
    By the time he made it to the hotel, it was dark, the city was gleaming with lights, and from every direction neons beckoned to him, tempting him with a myriad of delights. But right now he was blind to it all.
    He came to a screeching halt in front of the hotel where Cam was staying and got out.
    Only then did he notice the police cars parked all around the place.
    Anton's heart skipped a beat. He hurried to the lobby, was waved in by a bored militia man, and made a dash for the reception desk.
    "The guy in 1007," he breathed. "Is he