Anguish

by Bella Jewel

  “Oh my God, he’s totally singing that on purpose,” she cries and I can hear her clapping. “It’s a sign!”

  “It’s not a sign!”

  I think it’s a sign.

  “Oh, it so is. Go in there, do it, Jay!”

  “I can’t,” I yell. “Oh man!”

  “I’m hanging up. Go in there and ride that sexy biker.”

  She hangs up and I growl, frustrated. I push to my feet, unable to stop myself. Every part of me says I should stay right where I am, but I can’t stop my feet from dragging me to the door. I need to get closer; I need to hear him clearer. I open my door, pushing it softly and tiptoeing into the hall. His voice becomes smoother as I near his bedroom, and my heartbeat picks up.

  His door is just cracked slightly open, and his voice flows out along with the faint light. I peer in, and he’s sitting on the bed, guitar resting on his crossed legs. I can really see his heritage when he’s sitting like that. His gorgeous body is long, lean and muscled. His hair is down, flowing around his shoulders, and he’s in nothing but a pair of exercise shorts. His eyes are closed and he’s singing softly.

  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  I’m so in the moment, I don’t realize I let myself relax against the door. It squeaks, jerking me out of my thoughts. Mack’s head shoots up and our eyes meet in an intense, crazy moment. I don’t know if he’s going to lose his shit, or drag me in and make my night a whole lot better. Mortified with myself, I squeak, “I love that song.”

  Oh God, I’m so lame.”

  He tilts his head to the side. “Yeah.”

  Yeah. In other words, go away, crazy stalker nanny.

  “You play beautifully.”

  Take the hint, Jaylah. He doesn’t want you here.

  He doesn’t answer, and instead of walking away, I go on.

  “Your voice is amazing.”

  He stands, dropping the guitar beside him. He walks towards me, his body lean and taut. He stops when he reaches the door, putting his hand above my head to rest on the frame. Leaning down close, so close I lose my breath, he murmurs, “Night, Lah.”

  Then he closes the door.

  Closes it.

  Oh my God, I’m such an idiot.

  I stand in the hall, horrified. I just made a complete fool of myself and in his sexy-man way, he basically dismissed me.

  Fool.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MACK

  “I need a fuckin’ beer,” Krypt grumbles, taking my door handle and shoving it open.

  We’re bombarded immediately by the booming sounds of music. I stop, narrowing my eyes. It would appear Jaylah lets her hair down when I’m not here. Maddox, Krypt and Tyke pass me and I follow closely behind.

  “Holy. Fuck.”

  That comes from Tyke.

  “Fuck,” Maddox breathes.

  “Jesus,” Krypt growls.

  God, what’s she fuckin’ done now? She tried to cook dinner last night and nearly burned my house down, then she fucked my washing machine because she put too much soap in, and now the guys have stopped and they sound like they’re about to have a fuckin’ fit. It better not be my fridge, I love that fuckin’ fri—

  Holy. Shit.

  My thoughts are cut short when my eyes find what it is that’s got the guys frozen in their spots. Jaylah is on the floor, her head in the kitchen cupboard, ass in the air, and she’s wearing the tiniest fuckin’ shorts I’ve ever seen. I’m not even sure they’re considered shorts. Her ass is on display for the world to see, and she’s got a nice fuckin’ ass. Curved, firm, and fuckin’ sexy.

  My eyes travel up her tanned thighs and stop at the curve on the base of her ass. Fuck. Sweet. So fuckin’ sweet. She’s wearing some sort of crop top, so the golden skin on her back can be seen stretching over her sweet hips, and she has a fuckin’ nice spine. Her thick hair is tucked up underneath a cleaning bandana and she has yet to realize there are four men watching her shake her ass.

  And she’s shakin’ it.

  Fuckin’ sweet.

  Maddox clears his throat, and her entire body freezes. Slowly, she turns, her eyes widening as she notices us. The color drains from her face and she squeals, slipping on the damp floor and landing on her back. Krypt is the closest and quick as lightning, he swoops down and clutches her, pulling her to her feet. Her cheeks have gone from white to pink as she takes us in, her eyes stopping on me.

  “I,” she begins. “I was, ah . . .”

  “Know what you were doin’, honey,” I murmur, unable to keep the soft from my voice. She looks so fuckin’ sexy.

  Her cheeks grow redder and she covers her chest. “The cupboards were messy and I have screwed up so much. I thought I’d clean, I thought you weren’t coming home and . . .”

  “All women cleaned like that,” Maddox says, “I’d be a happy fuckin’ man.”

  Her cheeks grow so red I’m sure if I put my hand to her skin, it’d be hot.

  “I . . .”

  “You always clean in Daisy Dukes?”

  “Daisy Dukes?” she squeaks.

  I nod to her shorts. “The things you’re wearin’ that can’t be considered shorts, yet aren’t panties.”

  She clicks and her hands go to her hips. There she is. Sassy Jaylah.

  “These are my cleaning pants, and I’m usually alone when I clean.”

  “Glad you weren’t today,” Krypt mutters.

  She shoots him a look. He winks at her.

  “We gotta get some shit,” I say, stepping forward and staring at the mess on the floor. “You wanna lock the door when we leave? The entire fuckin’ neighborhood will be here if they find out there’s a cleanin’ strip show.”

  She glares at me, but I ignore it.

  Fuckin’ woman.

  She’s got a way.

  ~*~*~*~

  JAYLAH

  I got busted.

  Cleaning in what Mack would like to call my Daisy Dukes.

  They weren’t meant to come home. I was trying to be a good nanny instead of a stalker nanny, and failed miserably. Not to mention that my back feels like someone has hit it with a sledgehammer, I fell onto the floor so hard.

  And their faces.

  God, their faces.

  They were all looking at me like I was a piece of meat and they were four hungry dogs. Lust filled the room and women or not, they were pushing it my way. Especially Mack. I thought after our last experience, he was done and dusted with his lusty eyes. I was wrong. He gave them to me today, and he gave them to me hard.

  Now I’m hauled up on the couch, my head pounding, my back aching, and with a sore throat. This is a result of cleaning chemicals, a bad slip, and a cold I felt coming on from the moment I woke this morning. Diesel is tucked up on my chest, his little body curled up, his legs underneath him. He likes lying here like this; in fact, I’d go so far as saying it’s his favorite thing to do except eat, of course.

  “Little man, you’re proving to be somewhat of a challenge,” I tell him. “You’re bringing out this side to me . . .”

  He squeaks, as if he knows I’m talking to him. I wish I knew what was going on in his head right now. No doubt he’s probably wishing I would shut up so he could go to sleep. My eyes ache, and I know the cold I’ve been ignoring all day is going to make an appearance in the next few hours. Maybe if I have a rest with Diesel now, things will settle. At that thought, my eyes droop. I run the tips of my fingers over Diesel’s back and not only do I lull him off to sleep, I join him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cool fingers touch my cheek, and I want to open my eyes, but for whatever reason, they refuse to co-operate. My head has gone from a steady pound to a throb that’s sitting right behind my eyes. I can still feel Diesel on my chest, warm and a little heavy. The fingers on my cheek glide down and I swallow, trying to wake myself up. When I do this, my throat feels like razor blades are slipping slowly down it. I whine.

  I’m freezing. The only part of my body that’s warm is t
he part where Diesel is tucked. The cool fingers leave my cheek and I’m grateful, their very touch was causing shivers to break out through my body. In the distance, I hear a voice. Mack’s. It sounds somewhat like he’s on the phone, because I can’t hear anyone else in the room. I keep my eyes closed. Opening them right now seems pointless and, to be quite honest, painful.

  “Yeah, hurry up. She’s sick, and someone needs to take the baby.”

  I can hear Mack talking, but his words drift in and out, and I struggle to make them out. I shift, and my entire body aches. Even my skin feels sore as it grazes over the couch. Great, this is a mega cold, and I’m supposed to be looking after Diesel to get the money for Gregor. If I’m sick, I’m hardly settling my debt. Shuffling sounds fill the room and then a cool cloth is pressed against my head.

  I cry out. I’m already freezing. Why the hell would he put a cool cloth to my head?

  “Hush,” he orders. “You’ve got a fever. I need to break it. Doctor is on his way.”

  The doctor? It’s just a cold.

  “I’m freezing,” I rasp.

  “You’re overheating. Your body is trying to cool you down. Just hush.”

  “Please, Mack,” I whisper.

  “Hush, honey.”

  Honey.

  I must drift back out, because what seems like only minutes later, Diesel is being lifted off my chest. He cries out and I can hear soft feminine sounds as someone, no doubt Santana, soothes him. I force my eyes open and see Mack is still beside me, staring at Santana, who is rocking Diesel. “You take him tonight. She’s out of it.”

  “No problem,” she coos to Diesel. “We’ll have a great time, won’t we, honey?”

  “No,” I croak. “Need the money.”

  Did I just say that? Jesus.

  “Why do you need the money?” Mack asks.

  “No,” I croak again, unable to stop the words leaving my lips, even though I don’t want to say them.

  My head pounds and I groan, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Hurts.”

  “Stay still,” Mack says, his voice the softest I’ve ever heard. “Doctor is nearly here.”

  “Don’t take Diesel,” I rasp.

  “Hush.”

  The room falls silent and Mack moves, more shuffling sounds penetrate my sound bubble, and then I hear Mack whispering to Santana. I open my eyes, staring over at them, and what I see has my heart twisting. He’s smiling at her, a true, genuine, beautiful smile. His eyes are crinkled, and he looks happy. She’s beaming up at him, and together, they look like . . .

  No.

  It’s not possible.

  He reaches out, curling his hand around the back of her head and he pulls her close, kissing her forehead. She giggles when he says something to her, and then after a moment I hear him whisper, “Makes me fuckin’ ecstatic, Chante.”

  He says this word so affectionately. I don’t know what it means, but I can tell it’s a term of endearment. His voice is soft and gentle when he says it, like he really, truly means it. I blink, trying to clean my blurred vision. Did Mack and Santana have a thing? Or are they just really, really close? I know Santana adores Maddox, but there’s a bond there, a bond I didn’t notice until now.

  I close my eyes again, unsure why my stomach is twisting. I’m just the nanny. I never expected to be anything more, but seeing him being so kind makes me wonder if he just hates me. What else would explain how snappy he is to me the majority of the time? My bottom lip quivers, and I hate that I even care. He doesn’t know me; of course he doesn’t like me.

  What did I expect?

  “Doctor,” I hear Mack say, and my eyes flutter open again.

  There’s a tall, greying man standing at the door. He shakes Mack’s hand and then he’s by my side.

  “Hi Jaylah, I’m Doctor Williamson. How are you feeling?”

  “Crap,” I croak.

  He nods, understanding. “I’m just going to check you over.”

  He spends the next ten minutes checking me, and then he goes over whatever he finds with Mack, giving him a script. They shake hands again and then he leaves. Mack turns to Santana and murmurs something to her, and then he’s gone.

  I close my eyes again, not wishing to speak.

  I just want to sleep.

  ~*~*~*~

  Mack brings home a heap of stuff, and I take whatever he hands me. I manage to push myself off the couch after a few hours and have a shower, and then I drop into bed. I pull the covers over me, still freezing. My head is spinning, and I keep mumbling to myself, even though I’m not trying to. It just happens. I’m about to drift off again when the covers on my bed are jerked back.

  I’d protest, but when I try my voice comes out garbled.

  Another cool cloth is pressed to my forehead and I squeak, my throat burning too much to do any more. “You’ve got a fever. You can’t have that cover on,” Mack informs me.

  I want to plead, but I can’t. Instead, tears leak out of my eyes and run down my cheeks. He reaches out, swiping one away with his finger before murmuring, “You’re goin’ to be just fine.”

  He sits beside me, running the cloth over my head until I shake myself to sleep. I would swear I wake up during the night to find him beside me, but that couldn’t be right. He has no reason to stay beside me. I even feel cool hands stroking my cheeks and a warm kiss to my forehead, but that couldn’t be right either.

  Mack doesn’t even like me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I’m sick for three days, but by the fourth I’m feeling much better. Santana brings Diesel home and I get back to my routine of taking care of him. Mack made no indication that it was him helping me during the nights I was sick, but I know it was. The first night I was out of it, but the other two I know he came in and helped me. Sometimes he would wipe my face, and others he’d simply stroke the hair from my forehead.

  But he was there, and it meant something to me.

  He’s not saying a word, and I have a strong feeling he doesn’t want me to say anything either. So I don’t. I go on, pretending nothing happened. After he left this morning, I sighed and leaned against the counter in the kitchen, rubbing my temples. Honestly, the man is complicated. I honestly don’t know if he likes me or if he hates me.

  He’s so confusing.

  I’ve just put Diesel down for a nap and have just pulled a fresh batch of cookies from the oven—no, I didn’t bake them, it’s called rolled cookie dough—when a knock sounds out at the door. I skip over, feeling good, so glad to be past the cold. The cookies are just because I’m trying to make Mack realize I’m not so bad to have around. I swing the door open and face a man so like Mack, I actually gasp.

  He’s shorter than Mack, but both share the same dark brown eyes and long, thick hair. This man is bigger in regards to muscle tone; he resembles Maddox in that department. He’s quite built. He’s got something else in his eyes, though. Something evil. I can see it the moment our gazes connect. Still, I plaster a smile on my face. For all I know this could be Mack’s friend, hell, maybe his brother. I’m not about to be rude.

  “Hi.” I grin.

  He studies me, and then in a low purr, says, “Hi.”

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  “I’m looking for Mack,” he says, and his eyes very clearly fall to my breasts that are pushed up slightly because of the top I’m wearing. Yuck.

  “He’s not here right now. Can I help you?”

  He studies me longer before asking, “Who are you?”

  “Me?” I wave a hand. “His nanny.”

  I swear his face flinches.

  “You datin’ him?”

  Huh?

  “Ah, no.”

  He nods sharply. “Tell him Benito came by. I want to talk to him.”

  “Of course,” I say, my voice still chipper. Then I get a bright idea, prompted by my need not to piss anyone off that’s close to Mack. “Wait, before you go, let me give you a cookie.”

  I turn and rush off, but not before
a confused look washes over his face. I lift two cookies and place them in a napkin, and then I turn and rush back, handing them to him. He stares at them, looks back at me, and then stares down again.

  “I just made them,” I inform him.

  He just stares.

  “Oh my God, you’re not allergic, are you?”

  He looks up at me, completely dumbfounded. “Cookies?”

  “Yes, you’re not allergic to cookies?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “Right, well, I hope you like them. I’ll tell Mack you called.”

  He tilts his head to the side, but after a moment, nods and leaves.

  Great, I’m making progress.

  Soon he’ll have nothing to be angry with me for.

  ~*~*~*~

  “You gave him fuckin’ cookies!” Mack roars.

  I was wrong. He can find more things to be angry about. Like me giving cookies to a man who apparently wants him ‘in the ground’.

  I didn’t know. Yeesh.

  “I didn’t know who he was!” I protest.

  He leans in close, his eyes wild. “Cookies. Fuckin’ cookies.”

  I throw my hands on my hips. “I was being a good hostess, looking after you and your stupid friends.”

  “He ain’t my friend,” he snarls. “He’s my brother, and he wants me put out.”

  Brother. I figured.

  “Well, how was I supposed to know? He came to the damned door. And, I’ll have you know, he checked me out. I was still nice though, because I was trying to impress you. Beats me why,” I snap putting my hands up. “You’re always so fucking moody!”

  He blinks at me, then growls, “He checked you out?”

  “Yes.”

  “He ask you anything else?”

  “If I was with you,” I add.

  “With me?”

  “You know, your woman.”

  He blinks again, then mutters, “Fuck.”

  He spins around, pulling out his phone. He presses it to his ear and barks, “Maddox?”

  Silence.

  “Need a watch on my joint. I’ve got a problem, and I need to make sure that problem doesn’t get close to Jaylah and Diesel.”