Novels by Cam Diego

Ivan’s POVThe pain in my stomach felt like I was being stabbed continuously; even though I was now accustomed to it, it still caused discomfort. My eyes slowly opened; I was lying in Jennifer's bed, and she sat beside me, her head packed against the bed. I assumed she was asleep. I sighed as I looked up at the ceiling. Nights ago I had gotten shot by an enemy near a dumpster. I had wondered how they knew where I was, but thankfully, this American girl saved me.I went back home, plotting my revenge before I returned home to Russia, but I didn't know that Viktor, one of my most trusted men, was working with the enemy. He had eyed my position as Mafia leader for years and thought killing me would help him get it, but I am not so easy to kill. I broke my phone and put it in a dumpster so that I couldn't be traced. I knew I couldn't go to a hospital. I was a wanted man by the American police. I needed help, but I couldn't trust any of my men, because they could be working with Vikto

It has been four days since I ran into Ivan Volkov.I didn't tell dad about it; he would worry that I was in danger. I had seen a few policemen putting yellow tapes over the place. I had found Ivan beside the trash bin; it was a crime scene now. Somebody had probably reported it, and they didn't know it was him. "Ms. Parker!” my dad's voice suddenly rang in the air, dragging my mind back to the present.I looked around the brightly lit classroom; all eyes were on me now. I swallowed. “Yes, Professor?”He had a worried expression on his face; I think he wondered what was wrong with me. “I asked a question. Do you care to answer?"Oh no, I didn't hear the answer.I gulped, “Can you…repeat it?”He exhaled, “What is the importance of branding in advertising?"I adjusted myself in my seat. “It makes the company recognizable,” I responded.He nodded and turned around as he continued to explain further. My teeth clenched as I felt a hand pull my hair from behind. “Nerd,” Alison mocked. Ali

As I dialed 9-1-1, his warm hands suddenly reached for mine. "Don't… don't call…” he struggled to speak. “But you are hurt,” I said shakenly. “Ambulance is trouble. " His chest heaved. “I remember you have a box for wounds,” he managed to say with his broken English.This was the worst possible time to not be fluent in English. What did he mean by box of treatment?“I…I don't get it.”His teeth pressed together, Argh…the thing…for treating wounds…the box…”“Do you mean a first aid box?” “Yes, that," he confirmed. "I can do it myself; get me to it.”I grabbed his arm and helped him stand; putting his arms around my shoulders, I led him back to the liquor shop. When we got in, I placed him on the ground, his back against the wall, and I quickly rushed to grab the box and put it in front of him. His breath was ragged, his face contorted in pain. He slid off his jacket and reached for his button-up shirt. I knelt beside him, watching as he undid the buttons. His chest was hard, my e

Jennie's POVIt was raining outside.As always, Dad's coffee shop was empty—no customers.I sighed as I sat behind the counter under the dim lights as I gazed at the empty seats. We hardly had any customers, but Father wouldn't close it because of Mom; it was her idea to open it before she died, and it felt that it kept her presence around. I missed Mom as well; she had died when I was just five years old. I hated that the only memories of her I had were fading away. I wouldn't know what she looked like anymore if it weren't for the photo albums in the house. Maybe if cancer hadn't taken her from us, everything would be better. Dad worked as a professor at my college; the pay wasn't good, but having a night liquor shop where he'd also have to pay rent was a weight on our finances. I came every night to help him sell since we obviously couldn't afford waitresses. I looked out at the empty road through the glass windows; nobody would come out in the rain to get a drink. I looked a