by Kim Jones
Several hours have passed since I agreed to help Maddie. But as we sit across the room from each other, devouring the room service I ordered, I realize maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to anything until I knew the entire story. When I tell her this, she nods and agrees to tell me anything I want to know. I’m still patiently waiting for her to begin. But even before she does, I know what I’m going to get isn’t going to be the whole truth.
“Claire was the one who saved me. She killed the bartender. In the parking lot. With a brick.” I raise an eyebrow—impressed. “A couple years later, I found out she wasn’t who I thought she was. She’s a victim … of her husband.”
“So now you want to return the favor? Kill her husband?” She shrugs, taking a sip of her wine. “Well that’s easy enough,” I mutter, grabbing a beer from the ice bucket. “Shouldn’t take long. Get in. Get out. He leaves one morning for work, doesn’t come back. We’ll keep Claire out of the loop as much as possible. The less she knows the better.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not an option.”
“Okay, she wants details. I get that.”
“No.” Maddie’s eyes are as hard as her voice when she lifts them to me. “She doesn’t want details, Marty. Claire doesn’t know I’m doing this.”
Well that’s a game changer…
I shift in my seat. The detached woman sitting across from me doesn’t seem the least bit ashamed about what she’s planning. “Don’t you think this is her decision? Not yours?”
“She’ll appreciate it. Trust me.”
Trust her? No fucking way. Trust is earned. And the only thing Maddie has proven to me is her ability to get into shit that takes me, and a favor from the mafia to get her out. “She’ll hate you if she ever finds out. You know that, right? In her eyes, the abuse is her fault. She doesn’t blame him.”
“I’ve grown very close to Claire over the past few years. She’s scared. Weak. Defenseless. She can’t do this on her own. Just like me at one time. So I’m going to show her the same courtesy she showed me. I didn’t ask her to kill that bartender. But she did. And the world is a better place because of it.”
I’m not going to change her mind on this—right now. So I let her believe what she wants to believe and change the subject. “At the bar the other night with Red and Dallas…”
“What about it?”
“Was that part of this master plan? I’m assuming you pose as Whitney when you’re around Claire. Did you meet her at that bar, then things got out of hand?”
“No. It had nothing to do with this.”
“So you’re telling me you’ve done this before?”
She smiles. “I’m telling you that night at the bar had nothing to do with Claire. My therapist said I should face my fears. I used to panic in places like that. I don’t anymore.”
“Was your plan to kill them too?” I ask.
“What you got in mind for William? Anything good?” She’s deflecting. I’m uneasy. She’s smiling because she knows it.
“Let’s do some research when we get home. We’ll go from there.”
She agrees easily and our conversation dies. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to get heavy and for her to fall asleep. I send a text to the club’s best tech guy, wanting everything he can get me on this William Deets. Five minutes later, I have it. By the time I get to the end of the first page of the attachment, I know Maddie is in way over her head.
The man works for the mafia. Those big offshore accounts he manages, belong to them. He’s not the kind of man that can just disappear without people asking question—important fucking people. The kind that will kill your entire family for fucking with his money. Just getting to him will be nearly impossible. If I even have a shot at killing him, I can’t do it by chasing him down. I’ll have to bring him to me. Make it look like he left me no choice. That he asked for the bullet in his skull.
My simple plan isn’t so simple anymore. I can try and ask another favor of my old friend. Considering I saved his life—twice—he shouldn’t have a problem helping me handle this.
But I learned a lot on the inside, including not to expect anything from anyone. Chances are, he’ll want something in return. Something I can’t give him. The Devil’s Renegades can’t afford to be in debt with the mafia. My club could lose everything they’ve worked so hard for.
If I tell Maddie we can’t do this, she’ll never forgive me. But that’s the least of my worries. As hell-bent on doing this as she is, I know there’s no way for me to talk her out of it. I can’t keep her locked in a cage. I can’t watch her every move. It might not be today, tomorrow or even this year, but eventually Maddie will find her opportunity. And she’ll do this, no question about it.
Who do I love more—my club, or Maddie? At one time, I might’ve known the answer. But after everything that’s happened, I’m not so sure anymore. This is the single most important decision of my life. And one I’ll never be able to make.
I stayed up half the night tossing and turning—my mind moving in a hundred different directions on how I could make this work. Maddie’s actions were something else that kept my head spinning. Why was she suddenly so willing to let me help her? I got my answer when I woke up this morning to a cold bed, an empty room and a note.
You’re a good friend. The best one I’ve ever had. But this is MY battle. Not yours.
-Maddie
Friends.
Fucking friends.
She’s not just my friend.
She’s mine—all mine.
That means her secrets are mine. Her burdens are mine. Her pain. Memories. Regrets. Mistakes. Accomplishments. Body. Mind. Heart. Soul. Everything that makes her who she is, belongs to me. This isn’t some kind of alpha male, caveman talk. This is fucking reality. So for the woman I love to tell me to stay away while she puts herself in danger, is a little unsettling.
Fuck that.
It’s a lot unsettling.
Last night, she asked me how much I loved her. I told her more than anything. I guess that wasn’t enough—telling her never is. This time, I plan to show her just how fucking hard this Devil can love.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Marty
By the time I finished reading Maddie’s note this morning, took a piss and got dressed, she was in Hattiesburg. I still don’t know how in the hell she got there, but my best guess is one of the whores from the clubhouse.
No sooner was I in her driveway, then she was on the road again. Trading in my truck for my bike, I shove my cut into my saddle bag to keep from being identified, and follow her GPS that leads me to Rusty-Riders—a night club that sits on the Mississippi-Tennessee line.
The country-western bar is about as redneck as you can get. They even have a mechanical bull and almost everyone is wearing cowboy boots and a hat. It’s Thursday night, which is ladies’ night, and the place is packed with girls looking to be swept off their feet by a wannabe cowboy.
I’m sitting alone, keeping to the shadows while my eyes stay focused on the same man and woman who’ve been flirting at a table across the room from me for the past couple of hours. He’s acting the perfect gentlemen—placing his hand on the small of her back to keep her from sliding off the stool. She’s the stereotypical drunk girl looking for a one-night stand. I’m fighting like hell to stay in my seat and not throw her over my shoulder and get her the fuck outta here. Because she is Maddie.
I don’t know who he is, but he sure as fuck ain’t me. And he ain’t William Deets, either. This guy might have been part of Maddie’s plan all along. Or maybe he’s just some fucker she decided to replace me with. I’ll kill him…
When he leans in and whispers in her ear, she nods and they’re on the move. I watch as he shoots a wink to a buddy of his who lifts his bottle to him and laughs. My hands fist tighter inside my hoodie in an effort to prevent them from pulling out my gun, and putting a bullet in both the men’s fucking heads.
I follow Maddie and the man out, keeping a safe distance
between us. The gravel, overflow parking lot sits a good hundred yards away from the building. I see Maddie point in the direction of her car parked at the very back near the wood line that separates it from the neighboring business. She stumbles, letting him help hold her up. But when he leans in for a kiss, she throws her head back and laughs avoiding him.
I move between the cars, staying hidden from view. I notice her glance over her shoulder a couple of times, looking to see if anyone is nearby. My uneasiness becomes heavier with every step I take. I’ve made plenty of predictions since I arrived an hour ago, and she’s making every one of them come true.
Maddie isn’t drunk. If she is, it’s not as much as she’s putting on. She’s avoiding his advances on purpose—teasing him. She’s not turned on by him anymore than I am. She’s not checking the parking lot for people who could possibly save her—she’s searching for witnesses.
From my crouched position at the trunk of the car, I watch through the back windshield as they stop and lean against the hood. Now that we’re away from the loud music, I can hear what they’re saying.
“This is my car,” Maddie slurs, turning in his arms.
“Kiss me.” The man’s voice is pleading, but she avoids his advances again.
“I’m drunk.”
“A very sexy drunk.” I grit my teeth, the desire to rip his fucking head off becoming overwhelming.
“I think I just need to go home.” She turns away from him, but he catches her elbow and pulls her back.
“Shhh,” he says, bending to kiss her again.
Pushing against his chest, she turns her head. “I said no.”
“You’ll like it.”
“No.” Her voice is harsher this time, but he’s not taking no for an answer.
“You fucking tease.” He growls the words, grabbing her face in his hands and pushing her forcefully against the car. I stand, ready to shred him. Rounding the side of the car, I freeze in my tracks when he groans and doubles over. With a gun in her hand, Maddie points it at the head of the man who is now on his knees.
“You’re making this way too easy for me.” Gone is her slurred words and drunken voice. Now, she just sounds lethal—and way too fucking calm. “You really are a piece of shit, aren’t you?”
“Please,” he begs, placing his hands in front of his chest like he’s praying. “Don’t do this. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.” Her voice is cold, unforgiving and nothing like I’ve ever heard. “And now you’re going to pay.”
Stepping forward, I come into their view. “Maddie.”
At the sound of my voice, their heads jerk toward me. When he starts begging, I narrow my eyes on him. “Shut up.” He swallows at my tone and nods. When my gaze finds Maddie again, she looks determined, a little pissed and hot as fuck.
“Babe … Give me the gun.” She doesn’t answer as she keeps the gun trained on the man, and her eyes trained on me. “Think about what you’re doing, Maddie,” I say, a little sterner.
“Maddie?” The man on his knees asks in confusion. Looking up at Maddie, he narrows his eyes. “I thought your name was Whitney.”
Oh for fuck’s sake … here we go again with this Whitney shit. I don’t give a fuck who she says she is. This woman—this incredibly dangerous and lethal woman is Maddie. I know her better than I know myself—or at least I thought I did. Obviously, I was wrong.
Even though she wears a wig that slightly alters her appearance, the curve of her hips is the same. So is the shape of her ass. The swell of her breasts. The deep blue color of her eyes. The creases at the corners of them and the arch of her eyebrows. Her full lips. Petite nose. The tiny dimple in her left cheek. Physically, she’s Maddie—my Maddie. But inside, she’s views herself as a completely different person.
Whitney—a lethal, heartless, enraged woman.
I get it.
Every day I wake up one man, and by night I’m someone else. The cut doesn’t just change me, it defines me. It reminds me that deep down, a Devil’s Renegade is who I truly am. Just like deep down, Maddie has found who she truly is. But in this moment, it doesn’t matter if she’s Maddie or Whitney. I still can’t let her do this. Not on my watch. Not tonight. Not ever.
“Maddie, I need you to put the gun down.”
She shakes her head—completely poker-faced. “I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”
“I can’t let you do this,” I say, fighting to keep an even, detached tone that mirrors her own.
“You don’t have a choice. What I do is not your concern.” The anger in her voice is unsettling. Her resolve is slipping. She seems to notice and straightens her spine. “Leave.”
I almost laugh. That shit ain’t gonna happen. And she’s crazy if she thinks it will. When I take a step toward her, she pulls her other hand from her jacket pocket. And I find myself staring down the barrel of another gun.
“I need to do this. I have to do this.” She’s desperate. Her voice shaky and her eyes misty. “Don’t you fucking dare take this from me.” I stare at her in confusion—trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Why is killing this man so important to her? Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the man on his knees has his eyes closed and is mumbling. I’m pretty sure he’s praying. He probably should be.
“You’re talking about killing a man, Maddie. You can’t come back from that.” I’m hoping like hell to find some compassion in her eyes. But my words make her laugh.
“Don’t you think I know that?”
A sinking feeling swells in my chest at the realization that Maddie has done this before. She’s killed. She’s taken a life. Lives. Who knows the number. For six years I’ve been absent from her life. There’s no telling what all she’s done since I’ve been away.
“I have to do this for her.”
Her. Claire. The woman who saved her when I didn’t.
I made her this way. I’m responsible for creating this monster. Now it’s my job to fix this.
“Maddie,” I start, and the sound of her name on my lips weakens the walls around her. “I hate what happened to you—what happened to her. But right now, I need you to hand me the gun.”
She shakes her head—her eyes apologizing for the decision she’s already made. “If you ever loved me, if you even remember what the definition of love is, you’ll let me do this.” She’s pulled out the big guns—throwing my love for her in my face.
But I can’t.
I. Can’t. Fucking. Do. This.
I can’t let her do this.
I might not have been able to save her the other times, but I’m here now. So before her eyes turn to train back on the man still on his knees, I accept the burden of ending human life, so she doesn’t have to.
Pulling my piece from my back, I squeeze off two rounds, hitting my target directly in the head. The silencer on the end of my barrel muffles the sound of the bullets, making the sound of his lifeless body hitting the ground, louder than it would normally be.
I don’t flinch at Maddie’s reaction. But I’m confused as fuck by it. I was expecting anger. Maybe sadness. Not horror.
“You killed him,” she whispers, her eyes the size of saucers.
“Of course I killed him.”
She looks at the man at her feet, then back to me. “Why?”
I shrug. My answer is simple, “So you wouldn’t have to.”
As long as it fucking takes.
As long as she thinks she has to do this.
As long as there is a breath in my body … she’ll never have to.
That is my definition of love.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maddie
Mother. Fucker.
I didn’t think it was possible, but my eyes widen further at the scene surrounding me. One man lays at my feet. His blood is splattered across the gravel and on my shoes. His knees are still bent and his limp, lifeless body is hunched over.
For the millionth time, my gaze swings back to Marty. He’s just standing t
here looking like a murderous god. His big, bulky frame looming large in the darkness. His black cap sits low on his head—stopping just above his eyes. The muscles beneath his hoodie are defined, despite the baggy material covering them. His faded jeans hang loose around his thick thighs, but tighten at his crotch. And at the sight, I’m soaking fucking wet.
Sure he’s just killed a man—a man he now knows I was intending to kill myself. I could go on for hours about how inappropriate my thoughts are in this moment. But I don’t care. All I know is that I want him.
“So you wouldn’t have to.” He did this. For me.
He’d just witnessed my alter ego. But he doesn’t look at me like I’m crazy. He looks at me like he wants me. The desire that burns bright in his eyes mirrors my own. It makes me crave him more than oxygen.
The sound of his boots crushing the gravel as he slowly walks toward me seems to echo across the vacant parking lot. I turn my body to face him, all but pressing my chest into his in an open invitation. I want him to take me right here. Right now. But when his eyes drop from mine to the dead man beside us, I remember we have priorities.
“Open the trunk, Maddie.” His voice is so low, dark and promising that I shiver in anticipation of what will happen when we make it home. Fumbling in my pocket for my keys, I silently curse the dead man and damn him to hell for making me wait on the deliciousness that is Marty. Selfish bastard.
I press the button and the trunk pops open with a click. I raise it up, watching in wonder as this strong, sexy man lifts the ignorant, redneck cowpoke with ease before depositing him gently in the trunk—quirking a brow at me when he sees the plastic I already have lining the carpet.
“What?” I shrug. “I watch a lot of Forensic Files.”
Placing both hands on the lid, he shuts it and drops his head—seeming to need the support of the car to hold him up. “You got a special place you put the bodies?” I stare at him in confusion. After a moment he looks up to meet my eyes, smirking at the wrinkle in my brow. “Okay…” He shakes his head. “Does Whitney have a special place she puts the bodies?”
