I know I should be glowing under the praise, but at the back of my mind, Maddox lurks. I leave the office and college feeling oddly numb. I’ve worked toward this moment for the past year, but now it’s come, all I want to do is be with Maddox to celebrate it. I want to fall into his arms, kiss, fuck, and then stay up late at night talking about coding. Because he did this for me. Not some coder friend. But him. Oh, the game would’ve been finished anyhow. But he made it better.
As I walk from my car to my apartment building, I imagine him pulling up beside me on his bike, grinning at me, cocky as ever. “Did you think I forgot about you, Red?”
And I’d smile back, climb on, and we’d ride somewhere private, somewhere safe, somewhere we could be alone. The sex would be glorious, and the talking, and the company would be just as amazing. I’d say, “I need to say sorry about the other—” And he’d cut me off with a kiss.
But that doesn’t happen because life doesn’t work like that. I go into my living room, anxious, annoyed, and angry, and sit down. Then I stand up. Then I sit down. I pull at the strands in my denim shorts, fiddle with my hair, and tug at the straps of my bra. The apartment feels tiny.
Finally, I get up and leave the apartment, march down the stairs, and get back into my car.
Fine, I think, swallowing. Swallowing nerves, swallowing pride. You won’t respond to me? Fine! Then I’ll come to you!
I start the car and screech away.
Chapter Forty Five
I march into the clubhouse, past the decommissioned motorbike, and into the bar. The Irish man sits in the corner, and Markus leans against the wall near him. Apart from that, the bar is empty. It’s four o’clock, so I guess there must be a job on. My shoes click on the hardwood floor as I pace toward them. They talk quietly, hushed, but look up as I approach. Markus’ face drops. So he’s warned them not to give me anything, I think, anger replacing anxiety.
But then Markus grunts, “Ah, damn. Knew we’d forgotten something.”
“Forgotten something?” I ask uncertainly. I take a chair from a nearby table, drag it across the floor, and sit beside them. “What did you forget? That Maddox told you to lock the door?”
Markus rubs his head. Irish cracks his knuckles.
“No,” Markus sighs. “It’s been crazy around here, Eden. Really crazy. A lot of stuff has happened, and me and Irish have been really busy.”
“So?” I ask. What the hell are they talking about? “So what? What does that mean?”
“Maddox is in a holding cell, the jail just outside town,” Irish says, when Markus goes quiet. “He’s been in there since Saturday night. Not long after you left.”
“What—” I grab the edge of the table, feeling as though I’ll lose my balance if I let go. So he wasn’t ignoring you. That’s something, at least. “What did they get him for? Did he have a gun on him? Not drugs? I’ve never seen him with drugs.”
“He doesn’t take drugs,” Markus whispers. “It was—her.”
“Her?”
“That crazy bitch,” Irish hisses fiercely. “Cassandra. After you left, the lights went out and…”
He tells me what happened, how Maddox forced them to comply, and how the police took Maddox away.
“The rich bastard greased some palms, I reckon,” Irish says. “They have no grounds to hold him. None at all. But still, he’s in there, and it looks like they’re trying to take it to trial.”
“But it was makeup,” I mutter. “It was makeup. I got it wrong. The police can’t be that stupid—”
“It might’ve been makeup when she talked to you,” Irish says. “But it was the bona fide thing when she pulled her lights stunt. Don’t know how she did it, but she did.”
“Punched her eyes out herself.” Markus shivers. “Don’t know many of our men that’d do that, let alone...” He shivers again.
“I fell for it,” I sigh. “I fell for it. All of it. She had me, hook, line, and sinker. And then I thought that Maddox was just ignoring me.”
“He wouldn’t ignore you,” Markus says. “I think he loves you.”
I jump to my feet. “Take me to him!” I exclaim. “I want to see him.”
Markus pushes away from the wall and heads for the door. “Let’s go, then,” he says.
***
We drive to the jail just outside of town, a small building which looks more like a drive-by takeout than a police station. The sun is setting, and the place looks depressing to me, the gutter brown with congealed waste, the paint on the doors chipped away, the windows murky. I think about how Maddox has been in there for the past four days, and I feel guilty. I should have checked sooner. Goddamn it, Cassandra!
Markus pulls into the car park. “Go to the main desk,” Markus says. “Say these words exactly, ‘Markus Green knows about the green rabbit.’”
“What?” I laugh. “Is this some kind of spy movie?”
Markus shrugs his massive shoulders. “The green rabbit is the name of an ecstasy pill one of the sergeants was caught taking a while back. It’s not enough to get Boss off, but it’s enough to get a meeting whenever we like.”
“Okay.” I push open the door and climb from the car. “And you’ll wait here?” I ask.
“Yeah.” I make to walk away, but Markus says, “Uh.”
I lean into the car. “Something wrong?”
“Sorry,” he mutters. “For not telling you sooner, I mean.”
“No harm done, big guy,” I say, and shut the car door.
When I get to the front desk, a gruff-looking man with a short army-style haircut squints at me. “Can I help?” he says. His police uniform is ironed and pleated, his badge polished to a fine glisten.
“Markus Green knows about the green rabbit,” I say, feeling like a fool.
I expect him to burst out laughing, or tilt his head at me, or ask me if I’ve been taking drugs. But instead, he takes a step back, shaking his head. “You’re here to see Maddox Owens, I take it?”
I nod, and he leads me through the station to a small waiting area: a small room with couches lining the walls. The cushions are thin, hospital-bed material, and on the walls, pictures of meadows and valleys hang, as if to calm down the prisoners. “Your friend hasn’t been charged yet,” the officer says. “But he’s still under custody. That means no touching. No kissing. No—anything. Now, please, wait here.”
I take a seat and the police officer leaves. About five minutes later, he returns with Maddox, whose hands are cuffed behind his back. “Thank you, Officer Grayson,” he grunts, as he drops onto the couch next to me. The officer goes and stands at the door, facing us, hands clasped before him.
Maddox turns to me and smirks, like nothing has happened, like he isn’t sitting in a police station waiting room, arms cuffed behind his back. He wears a white jumpsuit open at the collar, with his muscles and tattoos on display. My body reacts as soon as I see him. Tingles attack me. I want to jump on him, kiss him, sit on his lap and grind.
“So, are we friends again?” he asks with an easy smile.
“Of course we are, you silly man,” I say. I reach for his face, but Officer Grayson goes tut, so I take my hand away. “I got it all wrong. It was makeup. I remembered. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Why are you here, Maddox? Surely the police know what that woman is saying is a lie.”
“Hmm, you’d think so,” Maddox mutters. “But the police are taking their sweet time processing the interviews, the tests, everything.” He lowers his voice. “Somebody has paid them off. Mason, probably. He can’t send me to trial because Cassandra won’t let him. But he can make this take a long, long time.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with…” He shakes his head and glances at Officer Grayson. “Not yet. It’ll put you in danger. The walls in here are full of ears. It’s a goddamn joke.”
I want to kiss him so badly. It aches. But somehow I manage to restrain myself. I love this man, I think, matter-of-fact. I
t’s true. I can’t deny it.
“What shall we do then?”
“You need to lie low for a week. By then, my friends… Everything will be in place. I wish this had happened a week later. Dammit.”
“Lie low? Where?”
“With one of my guys. I can’t say which, but you know who.”
Markus.
I swallow and look deep into Maddox’s eyes. “Am I in danger?” I ask. “Is that why I have to hide?”
His Adam’s apple shifts, his jaw clenches. “I don’t know,” he says. “That’s the truth.”
I bite down, a shard of fear moving through me. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”
“Yes, but not yet.” He smiles at me. Not his arrogant smile, but a real, genuine smile. “I missed you so much, Eden. You have no idea. Hell, I never thought I’d miss a woman as badly as I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” I say. “I was scared—”
“Don’t be scared. Don’t worry. Just be safe.”
“I will.”
We lock eyes for a long moment, and then Maddox stands up and walks to Officer Grayson. “Alright, then,” he says. “Take me back to my room.”
He winks at me as the officer takes him by the arm.
I leave the station and go back to the car. Markus reaches across and pushes the door open for me, and I climb in. “He wants me to stay with you,” I say. “He wants me to lie low for a week. He said everything needs to be ready. Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”
Markus shakes his head. “The thing with Boss is, he’s got a whole other world in his head. He sees more than the rest of us, way more.”
“Hmm,” I say.
I place my hand on the window and peer back at the station. See you in a week.
Chapter Forty Six
Maddox
A week in this place, I think, as Officer Richards runs his nightstick along the bars of the cage. I open my eyes and lean up, my jumpsuit making a crinkling noise. Like it’s made out of paper, like you could tear right down it.
Officer Richards is short with a shock of ginger hair, a babyish freckle-covered face, and tiny women’s feet. His uniform is creased, unkempt, and his eyes are constantly watery. “Evening, officer,” I grunt, standing up and stretching my arms from side to side. “Amazing, isn’t it? Almost two weeks now and still no movement. I bet you rarely get that, eh? In and out usually, eh?”
Officer Richards’ nose crinkles. He opens his mouth and then seems to think better of it and closes it again. “I know, I know,” I say, walking the length of the cell and standing close to the bars. “It confuses you. Can’t blame you. But it’s amazing what a few greased palms can get done.”
The cell is one of those large holding tanks, designed for upwards of eight people. At the moment, two men are stowed away in here with me. One is a big brute, even larger than Markus, with a Swastika tattooed on his neck. When I get up, he backs away to the other side of the cage. Last night, when they brought him in, he thought he was going to prove himself. Now he has a nasty black eye. Like Cassandra’s, I think bitterly. The other man is a thin black man with cornrows and dark brown eyes, the tips of his fingers callused and chipped. When the Nazi motherfucker went for him, I gave him another black eye. I think he’s learned good behavior now.
“You have a visitor,” Officer Richards mutters.
“Tom, isn’t it?” I ask, as I turn around and slide my hands between the hatch in the cage so he can cuff me. “Tom Richards. Yeah, we’ve met before, haven’t we? Briefly. I think one of my men—”
“Shh!” Tom hisses, and I can see his little red face spread in anxiety without even turning to look at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bet you don’t.” I smile as he snaps the cuffs on.
I walk back into the cage with my hands behind my back. The neo-Nazi prick is giving me the eye, his pupils set deep in the black pits.
“Try me.” I grin wolfishly. “Come on, big man. No arms—and you’ll still end up on your fucking back.”
He half-stands, looks at me for a moment, and then slumps back down.
“Good boy.”
I walk to the cage, and Officer Richards opens it. I walk out, and he quickly closes it behind me.
“You know,” I say, as he leads me down the hallway to the waiting area, “I’m sure I saw you with my friend, Irish. A problem with your landlord and your wife, wasn’t it?” I look down at his finger, where a gold wedding band sits. “See we did our job right, then. And free of charge, wasn’t it? Or was it in exchange for a favor? I wonder, have we cashed in that favor yet?”
Officer Richards leads me to the small waiting room, and then I’m done talking shit.
Eden sits on the couch, hugging her knees, watching me with wide eyes.
***
“Yeah, I’m the coder.”
Eden nods slowly. “I couldn’t believe it at first,” she says. “I mean . . .” She reaches for me, but Officer Richards says, “Ma’am,” and she takes her hand away. “I knew you weren’t stupid, of course. But this, Maddox. It’s incredibly impressive. Incredibly. So you went to college?”
“Before I was the leader of a band of thugs and killers, yeah.” I smile at her, and she smiles back, and for a moment I can almost imagine we are living that loving life I’ve dreamed of more and more since being in here. That life where I’m no longer an outlaw and Eden can do whatever she likes. She can be a full-time game maker, and I can be her silent partner.
But spending time dreaming won’t fix this situation.
I glance at Officer Richards, and then lean close to Eden. She leans in. She’s wearing a tank top like when we first met; I can see her pink bra. And she’s wearing denim shorts and big, chunky boots. I wish I could break these cuffs and take her in my arms, but they tend not to let inmates who tool up other inmates out of cuffs.
“Listen,” I whisper. “I have a favor to ask you.”
“Okay . . .” She nods for me to go on.
“I need you to go to my apartment, let yourself in, and find a disc. The key to the apartment is at the club, in the second drawer of my desk, under a red folder. The disc is in my bedroom, under my pillow. Run the disc on my laptop to see what it is.”
“When?” she asks.
“Now,” I say. “And then come back to me.”
“Where is your apartment?” she says with a small laugh. “Everything we’ve been through, and I don’t even know where your apartment is!”
“That’s ’cause we’re not so serious, Red.” I smile warmly at her, and she smiles back, a cute smile that makes me want to jump her.
I give her the address, and she stands up. “I won’t be long,” she says. “Half an hour.”
“Okay.” I turn and face the door. Officer Richards steps aside as Eden walks past her, and then he steps forward with his hand out.
“Nope,” I say, and he stops.
“What?” he murmurs.
“We’re going to wait here until my friend gets back,” I say.
“You can’t expect me to—”
“You went to a gang of outlaws and begged them to tool up your landlord, pal,” I say. “We have a nice clear recording of your voice: ‘I need him hurt bad enough so he backs off. He’s made too many moves on my wife.’ Or something like that.” Officer Richards’ eyebrows shoot up like they’re set on bursting through the roof.
“You’re lying,” he whispers.
I shrug. “Try it, if you like.”
He takes a few steps backward and then leans against the wall near the door. “Twenty minutes,” he says, “and then I take you back.”
“Half an hour,” I reply. “You don’t make the rules, officer, not with me.”
Officer Richards’ face gets even redder. “You’re an evil man.”
“Evil? How am I evil? You know I didn’t do this. Your bosses know I didn’t do this. Hell, everyone in the goddamn station knows I didn’t do this. And yet you’r
e keeping me here. You’re letting the world believe I tried to rape a woman. Why?”
But Officer Richards doesn’t seem to be in a chatty mood any longer, so I just lean back in the chair, roll my head from side to side, and close my eyes. Did they really think they good get away with it? Really?
Did they really have no goddamn idea who they were messing with?
TANGLED WITH THE BIKER_Bad Devils MC Page 56
