by Kim Jones
“I’m f-freezing,” she stutters, but makes no move to put her clothes on.
I avoid looking at her ass to keep from taking her again and shake my head. Pulling her up, I keep my arm around her waist until she finally manages to stand on her own two feet. “You good?” She shakes her head. I pull my hoodie off and she holds her arms up while I slip it over her head. Closing her eyes, she relaxes into the warmth of it.
“You gotta wake up, gorgeous. I can’t put my bike in the trunk.” I kneel to put her foot back in her jeans and she groans.
“Are you sure? I mean you d-didn’t even try.” Her teeth chatter and I smile. I hold out her heel, but she shakes her head—slipping off the other one. She breathes out a sigh as she wiggles her foot and flexes her toes.
I pull her jeans up her legs and she grabs them mid-thigh to wiggle them the rest of the way up her body. Putting her hand on her head, she digs her fingers into her scalp before removing the wig. She tucks it under her arm and runs her fingers through her real hair, shaking it until the blonde mess falls around her face.
“You ready?” I ask, a little anxious to get the hell out of here.
“I reckon. Do we have to go home or can we get a room somewhere?” The hope in her voice makes me feel like shit for not giving her what she wants.
“Can’t do that. We need to go home. Now.” I grab her elbow and pull her from the hood--giving her ass a swat that’s hard enough to have her shooting me a glare over her shoulder and rubbing the cheek.
“Fucking caveman,” she mumbles.
“I. Am. Man. Obey. Me.” She snorts at my words, and her smile calms my growing anxiety.
Elvira reminds me why I love her when she turns over on the first try. I let the motor warm up as I suit up in leather, narrowing my eyes on Maddie as she makes a big scene about being in a cage with heat while I’m suffering in the cold. Mounting my bike, I scan the lake one more time before pulling out, making sure Maddie stays in my sights at all times.
Soon we’re pulling out onto the highway and luckily don’t pass a living creature other than a deer that nearly has me splattered all over the road. I’m sure Maddie is getting her ten fucking chuckles from that one. Meanwhile, I’m figuring out a plan. One I already don’t like. If Maddie will go to these lengths, what is she willing to do to take out William Deets?
To calm my mind, I pull back the throttle and let the wind wash away my worries.
“I’m soooo tired,” Maddie says, as she unlocks the door and leads us inside her house. “I need a shower, but I don’t think I can stay awake.”
I stand just inside the entry, watching as she sits on the edge of the couch and leans her head against the wall—acting as if she didn’t just witness me kill a man then sink his body to the body of a lake. “You’re not going to sleep,” I tell her, somehow managing to keep my voice even although I’m still thawing out from the long, cold ride home.
She stands and faces me, crossing her arms over her chest. Her stance is challenging. As is her words. “Actually, I am.”
“The fuck you are. I want answers, Maddie. Now.”
“And I wanted you to stay the hell out of my business. But you didn’t listen. So why should I?” Her argument is fair, but I’m not a man who does fair. I like shit my way.
“Don’t test my patience, babe,” I warn. I notice a flash of fear in her eyes before she drops them.
“You can’t make me tell you anything.”
I move closer to her, but stop dead in my tracks when she takes a step back. She looks a little worried. Nervous. Unsure of having me so close. And it rips my fucking heart out. Suddenly, the answers to my questions aren’t that important anymore. I would never hurt Maddie. But the uncertainty in her eyes tells me she’s not sure about that.
“Are you scared of me?”
Her brow furrows. After a moment, she shakes her head. “No. I’m just not ready to relive tonight. Not yet.”
I could make her tell me. But the shield around her is crumbling. The woman she’s worked so hard to become is starting to fail her. She’s come too far and I’m too fucking proud of her to let that happen. Right now, she just needs to be Maddie—the Maddie who needs the reassurance that everything is going to be okay.
“Okay, babe,” I whisper before tentatively lifting my hand to cradle her face. When she leans into my touch, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Will you stay with me?”
I tilt her head back until she’s looking at me. When I give her an easy smirk, the corner of her mouth tips up. “I’m not going anywhere,” I promise. And she don’t know it yet, but neither the fuck is she.
I kept one arm on Maddie the entire time we slept last night—just to make sure she didn’t pull her Houdini disappearing act. This morning, I’m up early researching the man I killed last night. I hold my breath as I flip open the wallet I took from his pocket—hoping like hell I don’t see any pictures of children or a wife. Thankfully, there aren’t any.
I use an online loophole that will prevent the search of his name from being traced back to Maddie’s I.P. address, and spend the next forty-five minutes finding out everything I can about Steve Pillsnir. Turns out his quick death was a hell of a lot better than what he deserved. Not only was he listed on the National Sex Offender Registry for lustful touching of a child, but he had a sick urophilia fetish. If he’d have managed to trap Maddie, her night would have ended with him pissing on her for his own disgusting pleasure.
At first, I assumed he was just one of Maddie’s random targets. But as I dig a little deeper, I find out exactly why she was so insistent on killing him. Steve Pillsnir is the ex-husband of none other than Claire Deets. They’d divorced after being married for only six months. Looks like Claire traded in one piece of shit for another.
“What are you doing?” I look over the top of Maddie’s laptop to find her staring at me. Her eyes fall to Steve’s license on the counter. “You could’ve just asked, you know,” she says, turning her back to me as she pours a cup of coffee.
“I tried. You didn’t want to talk. Remember?” She gives me a one armed shrug as she sips her coffee. “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“Seems like you know enough.”
My jaw tightens. “I don’t know nearly enough, babe.”
“Well I don’t know what I can tell you that Google already hasn’t. And surely you’re smart enough to figure out that the only reason Claire fell for William is because he’s a saint compared to this guy.” She picks up the license to study it. I hadn’t thought of that. Makes sense though. No wonder Claire was so forgiving when it came to William beating on her. At least he wasn’t pissing on her.
“So what’s your grand plan for taking out William?” I ask, noticing how she avoids my gaze.
“Don’t have one.”
I laugh. “Sure you don’t.”
“What? I don’t. I was hoping you’d have an idea.”
“Oh, okay. Now you want my help. Just yesterday you wanted to do this shit on your own. Or at least that’s what your fucking note said.”
She ignores me as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt. After a few beats of silence, I realize she has no intention of explaining herself. Not in the mood to argue, I choose to ignore it.
“Well, it’s not going to be easy taking out a man like him.” This time, she meets my stare. And I know I was right—she’s too far in over her head. She has no idea about who William really is, or who he’s affiliated with.
“Seems simple enough. You said he leaves one day and never comes back.”
“Oh, it’s not killing him that’s gonna be hard. It’s answering to the people who are gonna be pissed once they find out he’s dead.”
She rolls her eyes. “Claire will be fine.”
“Not Claire,” I deadpan.
Frowning, she props her elbows on the counter. “What do you know that I don’t?” I’m smiling. Fire blazes in her eyes when she realizes I’m not going
to tell her. “I asked for your help, Marty. Not for you to come in and take over.”
“You decided you didn’t need my help when you snuck out and attempted to kill a man on your own.” My anger spikes at the reminder. At least she has the grace to look apologetic.
“About that…”
“Oh no, sweetheart,” I say, walking around the counter. She straightens and I’m glaring down at her. “It’s too late for apologies.” My voice dips. “You could’ve been killed, Maddie. What if I hadn’t shown up? What if he’d have gotten the best of you? What if one of his friends would’ve followed you out? There’s too much shit that could’ve went wrong last night.”
“But it didn’t,” she snaps. “Besides, I knew you were coming. I’m not that stupid.”
I narrow my eyes on her. “First, I never called you stupid. Second, what the fuck you mean you knew I was coming?”
“Do you really think I wouldn’t notice a GPS tracking app on my phone? Just because you delete the icon doesn’t mean I can’t find it.” No shit? Damn smart phones… Why the hell hadn’t anyone told me that?
“I want you to tell me what you know about William,” she demands, squaring her shoulders. “And don’t tell me that you’re handling it, or that it’s not my concern.”
I don’t bat an eyelash as I say, “I’m handling it, and it’s not your concern.” I sidestep her to grab another cup of coffee, but her grip on my arm stops me.
“If you keep me in the dark on this, I’ll never forgive you.” Her threat is real. So real I have to remind myself that what I’m doing is the right thing—even if it does mean the end of us. At least she’ll still be alive.
Turning, I look down at her. “This is bigger than me and you, Maddie. Bigger than William and Claire. The club can’t—“
“The club can kiss my fucking ass!” she screams, cutting me off. “What the fuck have they ever done for me? Nothing! That’s what. So, save that line for your next piece of property, cause I’m sick of hearing it!” She stomps out of the room—her reaction was what I expected, but didn’t want.
A sickness comes over me as I think about what I’m going to have to do. My plan to keep everyone protected isn’t going to work. I can ask that favor from Demopolis. I can repay it on my own. I can take out William. I can set Claire free. I can keep Maddie and my club safe. But that shit only happens in a perfect world. In the real world, you have to deal with pain in the asses like Maddie. The result is plan B.
And nobody likes plan B.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Maddie
Fucking men. They kill for you, fuck you, make you coffee, rub your feet, keep you safe and they think that makes them entitled? It doesn’t. I don’t know what Marty thinks he knows that I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. I’m doing this. And if he thought throwing the club in my face would help, he was wrong. All it did was remind me why him and I are such a bad idea. The club will always be his greatest love—leaving me with whatever is left over. Well not any more.
“Maddie?”
I ignore Marty as I continue to sling shit in my bag. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m fucking going. And he’s not going to stop me.
“Can we talk about this? Please?”
Oh look. He’s begging. Well fuck him.
“Are you sure you can do this?” I still—my entire body stiffening at his words. “Because if there’s any doubt—“
“I can do it,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m ready. I’ve been ready.” My eagerness makes him smile.
“I need to ask you something. And I need you to answer honestly.” His expression is somber. His eyes unsure. His voice deep. And here I go … getting all turned on again. “This isn’t about power. It’s not about me or you. It’s a serious question that needs a genuine answer.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Do you trust me?” Awe shit. I know where this is going. “Don’t give me that look, Maddie. I need to know. I need to be sure that you trust me with your life.”
Do I? Of course I do. I always have. But I know if I say yes, he’s going to come back with, “then trust I can handle this” or some shit. “If this is some ploy—” I start, but he steps forward and grabs my shoulders, lowering his head so we’re eye level.
“It’s not a fucking ploy,” he growls. “I’m asking you if you’d jump if I told you to. If you were dangling from the side of a bridge and I told you to let go would you do it without question? Do you trust me enough to know I’d never let anything happen to you?” His mood is angry, but I can tell the anger is not really directed at me. Something is going on inside of that big head of his. I wish I knew what it was, but all I can do is answer him in hopes that he’ll tell me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’d let go.” Instead of looking relieved, he looks torn.
“Fuck!” he yells, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin as he runs his hands over his head. He’s pacing. And I don’t like it.
“What’s up with you?”
He looks at me over his shoulder—his hands on his wide hips as he studies me. Forever passes before his brows draw together and he shakes his head. In that moment, I know whatever idea he had that involved me, is now nothing but a memory.
“I can’t, Maddie,” he says. “I can’t involve you in this.”
“Yes, you can.” I close the distance between us, placing my hands on each side of his face. “I can handle this. Whatever it is, however big it is, I’m ready. You’re doing this because you think you have to. I’m doing it because I need to. Not just for Claire, but for me.”
His eyes close—probably to keep from seeing the determination in mine. But I’m not backing down. Whatever he’s planning, I want in on it.
“I need a drink,” he mutters, pulling out of my hold. I open my mouth to speak, but his look of warning has me closing it. “I said, I need a drink. You probably do too.” Those final words have hope soaring through me. He’s going to tell me. And I’m not going to like what I hear. But he’s including me, and that’s more than I expected of him.
I’m on his heels down the hall.
Eager.
Ready.
Excited.
Confident.
Liar…
I’m scared shitless.
“Sit.” He points to the couch as he grabs two glasses from the cabinet. I patiently wait for him to finish pouring the drinks—trying to hide my apprehension. Even though I’ve been doing this on my own, it adds a whole new level of thrill to know I’m going to be coached by the best. And when it comes to revenge, Devil’s Renegades Marty is definitely the best.
He hands me a glass, his face completely void of emotion. “To trust,” he says, throwing back the vodka. I watch the way his throat moves as he swallows. I’m still staring when he meets my gaze—shooting me an expectant look. “Can I not trust you?”
I’m nodding. Stuttering. Putting the glass to my lips and swallowing. The liquor burns, but I manage to not make a face. “That was good,” I squeak. But he’s not listening.
“Text Claire,” he says, tossing me my phone. “Tell her you’re coming over tonight.”
“I can’t. William will know—“
“Text her. Now.”
A light bulb goes off in my head—yes! I’ll text Claire. William will know I’m coming. And we’ll be ready for his wrath. He can call all the goons he wants—I have a goon of my own. I’m smirking as I quickly type out a message—telling Claire exactly what Marty said.
I hit send and look up, expecting to find a satisfied smile on Marty’s face that matches my own. But he’s not looking at me. My eyes feel heavy, but I shake off the sudden fatigue as I watch in curiosity as he grabs a blanket from the recliner. A pillow from the closet. Turns on the T.V. The moment he looks at me I realize my mistake.
Trust.
Neither of us knew the definition of the word. I’d betrayed him less than twenty-four hours ago when I’d walked out on my own. Now, he is returning the favor. He s
tarts to blur, and I blink hard in hopes of clearing my vision. It only makes it worse. His words are slow, but I understand him.
“I love you Maddie.” I try to tell him to eat shit, but I can’t form words. What the hell did he give me? “Remember this promise.” Promise? What fucking promise? I can’t say it, but there must be confusion on my face. Even though I can’t feel the damn thing. “I’ll come for you. Always.”
Come for me?
Where am I going?
What the…
Nothing.
My head hurts. Actually, my entire body hurts. Movement causes a sharp pain to shoot up my legs to my neck. I groan and the sound echoes around me. In the distance, I hear music playing. I feel like I’m in a fog. Then the memories hit me.
Fucking Marty. He drugged me. I crack an eye open to see if maybe he was nice enough to leave a glass of water and some pain meds by the couch. He could’ve at least muted the T.V. But as I take in my surroundings, I realize I’m not in my living room. I’m not even in my house. The glow of red taillights tell me I’m in a trunk.
Oh shit.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
I’m panicking. My wrists are tied behind my back. So are my ankles. Luckily, there’s not a gag in my mouth or else I’d really be freaking out. I wiggle against the restraints. Nothing. I scream. It’s not loud, but after a few deep breaths, the sound overpowers what must be the radio. It’s the only weapon I have, and if my voice were a gun, it’d be an Uzi.
The car stops and I’m still yelling. My tears of anguish become tears of frustration when I realize I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve watched enough abduction movies and crime T.V. shows to know the signs to look for. I should’ve been listening for traffic. Gravel road versus paved road. Trains. Airports. Horns. Everything but the sound of my own screams. Now, if I find a random phone in my pocket or can send a message out through someone else, I won’t have shit to tell them.
Bright light floods my vision, and a burly man looks down at me. I recognize him from the restaurant. He was the one who gave me a “warning.” That I didn’t heed. Now, he’s probably going to kill me. I scream.
