by Wilde, Kati
All good. But it thumps me right in the feels.
Whatever it was Gunner said to her, Anna takes a deep breath. Then another. Settling down.
But emotion is still thick in her voice as she turns toward me. It’s just worry now instead of anger.
Because that’s all the anger was, anyway. Just worry.
“What don’t I know?” she asks in a carefully even tone.
Gunner doesn’t know, either. Not yet. When I brought Maxine home around four a.m, he woke up and came to check on me, but we didn’t stop to chat.
So I tell them both. About Hatchet, who he really was, and what Maxine learned last night. By the time the coffee’s ready, Anna’s sitting at the table with Gunner rubbing his hand up and down her back, and my sister’s lost all her anger.
“Holy shit,” she says quietly. “That poor girl.”
“Maxine.” I fucking love saying it. “Maxine Faraday.”
Gunner narrows his eyes. “What about the business last night?”
With Creek. “Finding out about her brother changed things up.”
They both know me too well to doubt the rest, but my sister asks anyway, “Changed them up for her or for you?”
“For her.” Learning about her brother didn’t change anything for me. Except knowing she was hurting so bad made me face square on what I was trying hard not to see, and ripped away the blinders concealing how much she means to me.
“What next?” Gunner asks.
“Find Papa.” I say it in front of Anna because this isn’t club business anymore. Instead it’s personal. “Finish it.”
My brother nods, slides back his chair. “I’ll get ready.”
“No.” I stop him. “Just Maxine and me.”
Gunner shakes his head and Anna’s already protesting before he says, “Hold up, brother—”
“She’s in a real bad place,” I talk over them. “Angry, hurt. So I’m going to help her.”
Anna leans in, voice low. “Just a wild guess, but killing a man is not the kind of help she needs.”
“I know it.”
And it ain’t the kind of help I’ll give. Creek wasn’t wrong. Her need to kill Papa is rage and grief talking.
If it comes to it, I’ll kill Papa. But let Maxine do it—or even see it? Not a chance. Not a woman who said she almost puked while trying to psych herself up to kill a guard, even though it meant winning her own freedom. Not a woman who quietly cried over every man she saw killed in the Cage. Killing Papa would hurt her more than she already is hurting. So she shouldn’t be killing anyone.
But if hunting him down is what she needs, if that’s how her grief and rage are talking, then I’ll let her scream that rage and grief until she’s done screaming.
Anna sighs and leans back. “And whenever there’s a girl in trouble—”
“No,” I tell her. Maybe once upon a time, that might have been true. It isn’t now. “This isn’t like that.”
They both know me well enough to see what that means, too. That she’s a hell of a lot more than just a girl in trouble to me.
“Aw, fuck.” Gunner rubs his hand over his face. “Let me come with you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“You coming wouldn’t stop a damn thing.” Wouldn’t matter if he could, either. I don’t care if I’m hurt. Don’t care a bit. She’s all that matters now. “And I owe her.”
Gunner’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “How do you figure that?”
“Because there was a big fucking hole in me, and Maxine got me through to the other side.” Or maybe she just filled it up. Either way, the only hurt left in me is knowing that she’s hurting, too. “Now it’s my turn to help her get through.”
They exchange a look. Daisy scratches on the door, so I get up to let her in while they carry on their eyeball conversation. Tail whipping everything in her path, Daisy careens her way to the table, sniffs up Gunner and Anna before returning to me.
And they’ve apparently finished their silent talk and come to an agreement.
“All right, brother,” Gunner says. “Anything you need—”
“I know.”
With a heavy sigh, Anna gets up and hugs me tight. “And be careful?”
“I will.” Because Maxine will be with me. Being careful is just another way of keeping her safe. “I’ll make those video calls for Daisy as often as I can.”
“Okay.” She tilts her head back. Her eyes are filled up with tears, but with a smile there, too. “It’s good to have my brother back.”
The man I was before the Cage. Not all the same. But closer than I was.
Not dead. Just wearing more scars.
Gunner claps me on the back, saying what Anna did without the words. “You heading out right away?”
“Depends on Maxine. Might be she’ll need a day or two before she’s ready to do anything. For now, I’ll let her sleep.”
“Sleep sounds good.” Gunner takes Anna’s hand, begins pulling her toward the hallway. “So we’ll just head back to bed, too, and be real quiet down here.”
Yeah, I think I’ll be getting my own place soon. I reach down to scratch Daisy’s ears, then she’s on my heels all the way up the stairs. My apartment upstairs isn’t much to look at. Anna’s put some stuff up here to make it nicer but I just don’t care beyond having what’s necessary. Pretty sure Daisy’s got more up here than I do. There’s a couch and television in the living room; in the bedroom, there’s the bed, a chair to pile up with my clean clothes and a basket for the dirty ones.
Last night, I took the pile of clean clothes and threw them in the empty basket, then settled into the chair while Maxine and Daisy curled up on the bed. About two seconds after we got here, my girl was all over my dog, petting her and kissing her furry face and crying again. Then she cried herself to sleep.
No signs of stirring yet. She’s on her belly with her cheek turned against the pillow, her face and eyes puffy from all the tears. My throat’s real tight as I adjust the blanket a little higher over her shoulders.
Daisy tries to snuffle around her, probably searching for all the loving that Maxine lavished on her while crying.
“C’mon, girl.” Quietly, I pull Daisy back from the bed, then snag a few things out of the basket. Under my breath, I ask her, “Wanna go for a run? We’re gonna stay real strong so we can take care of her, yeah?”
Daisy is all for that idea. In the living room, I change my clothes and lace up my shoes, and then my dog nearly rips my heart out when we’re about to head down the stairs, and she looks back toward the bedroom, wagging her tail.
Waiting for our new friend.
I sit on the top stair, get her in close, scratching her ears. “We’re going to let her sleep, okay? She’s real hurt. The kind of hurt that I can’t fix. And I’m so fucking sorry, girl, but I have to leave you with Anna again for a little while. But then I’ll be back.”
And this damn dog. Wagging her tail and loving me through all of this.
“But our girl ain’t going to come back,” I say through the raw ache in my throat. “And you oughta blame me for that. She’s real angry at Papa now and grateful I can help, but pretty soon…pretty soon…she’ll start thinking about all the shit I said to her. All the shit I did to her. And then— And then…I don’t figure she’ll ever let me see her again.”
Whining softly, Daisy licks my face.
“You ain’t gotta worry, though,” I tell her hoarsely. “She loves you. She’ll give you all the kisses while she’s here. Because you’re a good girl. Such a good girl.”
Her favorite thing to hear. She grins up at me, tongue lolling.
“So you ready to go? Let’s go, girl. We gotta be real strong for her.”
Real fucking strong.
30
Maxine
I don’t want to get out of bed. But I do.
I don’t want to take a shower. But I do.
I don’t want to start crying again while I’m in there. But I do.
Then I
turn the shower knob to full cold and let the icy water cascade over my face. It helps. A little.
I don’t look into the mirror before I leave the bathroom. I don’t know that girl, anyway. Brown hair and red eyes, and a brother who isn’t alive. I don’t ever want that girl to be me.
But I want that girl to be the last thing Papa ever sees.
I pack up my things and head downstairs. My steps falter at the bottom. I need to go left, but to the right is an open door leading to a kitchen—and Stone’s sister, putting a bowl into the fridge, then glancing up and spotting me.
Shit. But I need to ask, “Where should I find him?”
Ah god. My voice sounds like a clogged drain.
“In the garage. But, uh, Maxine…” Sympathy pinches her expression. “I’m so sorry about your brother.”
That doesn’t help the mess in my throat, but I can’t think about Matt now. Only what’s ahead. Or else I’ll start crying again. “Thank you. And, um…I’m sorry that you were attacked. And for my part in luring Stone.”
Gently she says, “Honestly, it doesn’t sound like you had a choice.”
“There was a choice.” The laugh that breaks from me sounds a little like a sob. “Bad options to choose from, maybe. But I still made the choice. So I’m sorry.”
“All right, then. You want any coffee?”
Even if I did, I couldn’t swallow past the lump in my throat. I shake my head.
“Okay.” She points to the door behind me. “Garage is that way.”
I get out as quickly as I can. The frigid air bites into my hot cheeks and stinging eyes. Frozen grass crunches under my boots as I make my way to the detached garage—though now that I’m out here, I don’t need the direction. He’s got music playing, bass thumping hard enough that I’m not surprised he doesn’t hear me open the side door. Inside are two motorcycles, including the one we rode last night, a workbench topped by an array of tools, and an area full of exercise equipment.
And this is so familiar. Yet not familiar at all. Stone’s stripped to the waist, sweat gleaming over his skin as he pounds a heavy bag. But when he used to work out in the barn, he was so methodical about it. Controlled. Now he’s just laying into the bag, each blow hard and vicious and fast, as if he’s picturing Papa at the other end. The way he’s going, though, it’s hard to tell whether he’s beating the bag or if the bag is beating him.
Daisy alerts him to my presence, looking up from where she’s chewing on a rawhide strip and bouncing over when she sees me. Stone pivots away from the swinging bag, every muscle in his torso and arms jacked. His intense gaze is all over me, lingering for a second on my eyes before he strides over to a table, taps the screen of his phone. The music from the speakers falls silent, filling the space with his heaving breaths and Daisy’s pants as I crouch and give her pettings.
“All right?” He’s looking me over again, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his forearm. “Figured you’d sleep longer.”
“I can’t.”
Oh god, and my throat. That sounded as raw as I feel.
His face softens. “Feeling like you need to get shit done?”
I nod.
“We’ll get started, then.” He picks up a gallon jug of water—already half empty—still eyeing me as he chugs some more. “You got a driver’s license anywhere?”
My chest tightens. “No. Matt tossed my purse into a trash can when he realized we were being taken. So they wouldn’t know my real name—or learn his.”
“Smart.”
“He was.” And shit. Shit. I bury my face in Daisy’s neck, take deep breaths. Finally look up again. Stone’s watching me, that intense gaze dark, his body utterly still. “Do we need ID?”
He nods before dragging a sleeveless T-shirt over his head. “The way I figure it, Creek will put someone on us. Watching everything we do, looking for any excuse to haul us in—and hoping for anything that’ll give him leverage. So driving around without a license or using fake ID is a bad idea right now.”
“Do I need to drive?”
“Shouldn’t.”
“What about a getaway car?”
Abruptly he grins. “If we get to that point, we’ve got bigger problems than no driver’s license.”
That’s probably true. And getting a replacement license might take a couple of weeks—I don’t want to wait weeks.
“Okay, well…I have a passport in storage. And a birth certificate. And some money, but that’s in a bank.”
His eyes narrow. “We’re not using your money.”
“But I asked you to take me, so I should—”
“You think I’m not after him, too? You think this is just a favor I’m doing for you?” His voice is low. Dangerously so. The same voice that I usually heard right before he ordered me onto my hands and knees, and simply hearing it sends little sparks of heat flying through my belly. “You contribute the info. I’ll contribute the bankroll and the muscle.”
That seems lopsided, but I don’t want to argue about it now. “Okay.”
“And new rule: We don’t talk about any of what we’re doing until we’ve got your passport, until we’re in Vegas, and we’re married.”
“Ok—” Wait. My heart thumps like a fist slamming into a heavy bag. “What?”
“You heard right. Because it’ll protect you, and it’ll protect me.” He comes closer, gaze fixed on mine as he crouches next to Daisy and me. “Last night, Creek let a whole lot of your lies pass, because he doesn’t really want those fighters who were in the Cage. He’s not looking to make them pay—he’s just looking for as much info as he can get, because the more he has when he arrests Papa, the better the chance of a conviction. And you…you’re just an innocent swept up in this. But what we’re thinking of doing, you’re not so innocent anymore, understand? Not in the eyes of the law. Killing Papa might be justified, but it’s real fucking illegal.”
A shiver works down my spine, but the mention of Papa chases it with fire. “I understand.”
“And the thing is, the law can make you pay for not telling them something. Like for not saying what you and I were plan—”
“I wouldn’t tell them anything.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” His voice deepens and he brushes the back of his knuckles down the side of my jaw before giving Daisy’s ears a scratch. “But they can make you pay for not saying it. Fines, contempt, jail time, all that shit. And if you lie, there’s perjury. Unless we’re married. A husband and wife have privileges a lot like a lawyer and client do. You can’t be compelled to testify about anything we talked about. You can opt to say nothing at all.”
“Really?”
“Yep. At least according to the internet research I did while I was out for a run.”
I huff out a laugh.
His crooked grin flashes again. “Seems legit, though. If you saw me kill someone, that’d be one thing. But shit we talk about, any plans we make? They can’t force you to testify about it, as long as we don’t go sharing those confidences with anyone else. So you and me, we’re going to Vegas, getting married, then having a road trip honeymoon that might just take us to wherever Papa is. You in?”
A marriage that doesn’t just protect me. It protects him, too. “I’m in.”
“Good.”
Despite that reply, though, his expression doesn’t say Good. Shadowed, his hazel eyes search my face, and there’s something troubled about the way he hesitates that tells me whatever he’s going to add next will hurt.
Hurt more. Because the pain of losing Matt is a deep, constant ache. Yet…being in here with Stone has made it a little easier to bear.
It hasn’t gone away. Hasn’t lessened. It’s simply easier to bear.
Just like last night, the only time I believed I might get through this was when I was riding behind him, holding him tight. Then holding onto Daisy, because as soon as we got to his house, all I could hear was his sister saying how I kept clinging to him. And thought maybe she was right. So
I clung to his dog, instead. That was okay. But it wasn’t the same.
Yet in the past few minutes, I’ve been able to laugh and smile, and not think so much about the giant part of me that’s missing now. So instead of waiting for Stone to speak, I head him off, rubbing my face against Daisy’s. “I don’t suppose we can take her with us?”
“Nah. Motorcycle helmets look real cute on her but don’t fit too well.”
That image makes me smile, too. “I guess not.”
“And she’d probably ruin any plans we made,” he says affectionately, rubbing up under her jaw and making kissy noises. “Wouldn’t you, girl? That’s right. Because you’re so cute but you’re also real dumb.”
I gasp in mock outrage. “Don’t listen to him, Daisy. You just turn to him and say, ‘If dumb means someone can’t ride along with us, then who’s going with Maxine?’”
“Shit.” He shakes his head, a deep laugh rumbling from him. “Your damn mouth just… Fuck.”
Suddenly all that trouble returns to his face. I try to head him off again. “Don’t you have work, though? Lumberjacking?”
“Widowmaker will give me the time off.” His grave tone and steady gaze tell me that this time he won’t be waylaid. “Until we’re married, we don’t talk about what’s ahead for us. But before you hitch yourself up to me, we probably ought to talk about what’s in the past.”
“You mean those three months?” Of course we’ll have to talk about that. I’m the info girl. “I truly don’t have any names, but maybe we can find Papa through the doctor when—”
“Not Papa.” A muscle in his jaw works, and he seems to struggle before saying gruffly, “You and me. Because I laid a whole lot of shit on you, and you didn’t deserve any of it. Every damn thing I said to you. And…making you pay up, even though you didn’t owe me a fucking thing.”
His voice roughens more with each word, but I don’t understand any of it. “Didn’t owe you? Stone, I—”
“Did the same damn thing that I did. I was looking after my sister, and you were looking after your brother.”
