Maddox

by O'Brien, Megan

  I couldn’t imagine eating but decided not to argue the point. Instead, I settled on the leather seat, its coolness soothing my aching body. “I’ll bleed all over your dad’s truck,” I murmured.

  “Don’t give a shit about that and neither does he. Just rest, baby.”

  That was the last I heard before I was out, once again lost to the world.

  Chapter 9

  MADDOX

  “Lock it down,” my pop instructed, his hand at the back of my neck as he stared at me, his gray eyes that matched mine glittering with a rage that mirrored my own. “I know you want to burn this city to the ground right now, but you need to see to your girl. She needs to see your soft right now. The rage? It’ll have its reckoning. But not now. Not today. You get me?”

  “I get you,” I ground out, knowing he was right no matter how badly I wanted their blood on my hands right this very moment. “Christ, Pop. Her face. Her fucking perfect skin.” I took a shaky breath, trying to rein myself in. “If she’s lost that spirit of hers….” I trailed off, unable to contemplate the miracle of finding her alive being marred by having her slip through my fingers slowly.

  His hand squeezed my neck reflexively. “Claiming a woman, lovin’ her—it’s not just about protecting her from harm. It’s about fighting those demons that’ll be bound to bring her low when she starts comin’ around. That’s a different kind of muscle, Mad. It’s one you haven’t used before. But behind that brute strength of yours is the largest heart I’ve ever known. And you just remember, when it gets rough, you get her through the other side of this? There’s nothing you two can’t overcome.” He stepped away with a final chin lift. “Now you two get gone and drive carefully.”

  I nodded once, watching as he strode to my bike, threw a leg over, and lit the motor up. I slid behind the wheel of the Yukon he’d driven down in the event we needed something other than a bike. I regretted like hell he’d been right in that decision.

  As I pulled out of the truck stop and onto the freeway onramp, I shot a look back at my girl. She looked so small curled in the back seat, her beautiful face so swollen and black and blue I could barely recognize her. Her bloody clothing presented her ordeal in gory display that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

  I fought the urge to pound the steering wheel in a rage that was new and yet already familiar as I sped for home. I hadn’t been there to stop the nightmare she’d been through. I didn’t know how to begin moving past that. I wasn’t sure I ever could.

  I pulled over three hours in, trying without success to get her to eat and drink. Her disinterest and energy level worried me. I could barely rouse her enough to take a few sips of the water I offered.

  Finally I gave up, focusing instead on getting her home and seen to. As the wife of our prez and a nurse, Scarlet would know what to do.

  When we hit Hawthorne city limits, I took what felt like my first real breath. My hometown, the city my club ran, was in my blood and my heart.

  Scarlet was waiting outside my apartment building when we pulled up, her red hair piled high on her head, her medical bag on her shoulder. Her green eyes were concerned as I lifted a sleeping Francesca in my arms.

  “How long as she been out?” she asked as she followed me up the outer steps to my apartment.

  “Most of the drive,” I answered grimly. Scarlet took my keys from me and let us into my place.

  My apartment in downtown Hawthorne was a simple one bedroom I’d moved into a few years before. I spent the majority of my time at the club or doing something related, and used the apartment mostly to crash. Now, with Francesca in my arms I felt the strong urge to make my place a home for the first time. I wanted her to help me, to put her mark on the space and on me.

  I carried her into my sparsely furnished bedroom, laying her gently on my king-sized bed.

  She stirred a bit but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Francesca?” Scarlet spoke quietly as she felt her pulse. “My name is Scarlet. I’m a nurse. I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m going to need to cut away these clothes so I can see where you’re hurt,” she explained as she used her scissors to do exactly that, leaving Francesca in her bra and panties.

  I clenched my fists as the horror of Francesca’s ordeal was revealed against her pale skin. Her skin was marred with knife wounds, some deeper and larger than others.

  “Fuck,” I bit out, barely containing the roar of fury that longed to escape the confines of my throat.

  Scarlet shot me a look over her shoulder, telling me without speaking that if I was going to stay, I’d have to hold it together. I nodded once, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. I reached down and covered Francesca’s lower half with a blanket, wanting to protect her modesty and keep her warm.

  “You poor thing,” Scarlet murmured to my girl. “Bet you gave them hell, didn’t you? You keep fighting, sweet girl. Don’t let them get the best of you. You have us at your back now, Francesca. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  That conviction Scarlet spoke to her with made my chest expand with pride for the women of my club. They knew strong when they saw it. As the prez’s old lady, Scarlet was one of the strongest, fiercest, and most compassionate women I knew. And she’d just taken Francesca under her wing.

  “Is she okay?” I demanded worriedly when Francesca still hadn’t done much more than shift on the bed.

  “She’s dehydrated, exhausted, and traumatized,” Scarlet replied matter-of-factly. “I’m going to start an IV to get her some fluids. I’ll stitch up her wounds and leave a course of pain medicine. That’s the straightforward part, Maddox. After that, hard to say where her head is at. Go easy. Feel out what she needs. That might be space,” she warned, her green eyes turning to me as though sensing I’d take issue with that.

  After a moment, I grunted in the affirmative. It was the best I could do. I sat silently by Francesca’s side, holding her hand as Scarlet began stitching her up. I forced myself not to look away as the needle threaded through her perfect skin. I wanted the memory imbedded in my brain when the time for vengeance came.

  And that time was coming soon.

  “Call me if she spikes a fever or is in a lot of pain,” Scarlet instructed as she packed up her supplies a short time later. “Based on what she’s been through and how long she went without medical attention, she was lucky,” she added, sweeping a hand over my girl’s forehead in an affectionate gesture I’d seen her make many times with her children. “Your girl’s a fighter.”

  I knew this, and yet I didn’t want Francesca to have to fight for anything from here on out. I wanted her to live easy. I wanted to be the one who gave her that.

  “Thanks, Scarlet. Tell Cole I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” she replied, giving my arm a gentle squeeze before she saw herself out.

  I left Francesca only long enough to secure the apartment. It was barely dinnertime but I ditched my clothes, donned a pair of sweats, and crawled into bed, careful not to disturb her. I hadn’t slept for twenty-four hours and they’d been hellacious at best. I wasn’t surprised when I quickly found myself drifting off, looking forward to the day I could pull my girl into my arms—where she belonged.

  Chapter 10

  FRANCESCA

  At first I wasn’t sure what had woken me. Then the cry sounded again, broken and strangled as it bounced from the walls.

  “Baby, Francesca.” A familiar voice spoke urgently next to my ear as a large hand cupped my face gently. “Wake up.”

  Holy hell, was that sound coming from me?

  I jolted, trying to fight off the hand that touched me, but was held back by muscular arms. “Francesca, it’s me.”

  “Maddox?” My voice was a confused rasp as I fought to come to, my head fuzzy, body pounding with pain.

  “Yeah, beautiful. It’s me. You’re safe. You’re in my apartment in Hawthorne. Try to relax, baby. I don’t want you pulling out your stitches.”

  I lay back on the pillow, the past
twenty-four hours coming back in flashes. A truck stop? Maddox’s concerned face leaning over me. A woman’s voice speaking kindly to me. I shuddered as the memory of the fire and the warehouse came to the forefront much more vividly than anything else. I couldn’t begin to makes sense of it all. I wasn’t sure I ever would.

  As though protecting itself, my mind once again went hazy and I fell back into a dreamless sleep.

  When I woke again, I remembered immediately where I was. My body ached but my head was much clearer. For a few minutes I lay there, eyes closed, listening to the muted noises of breakfast being made in the kitchen. Maddox’s quiet cursing made me smile despite myself. Clearly whatever he was attempting in the kitchen wasn’t going well.

  I burrowed deeper into the pillow, breathing in the intoxicating smell of Maddox mixed with the comforting smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen.

  After a few tries I opened my swollen lids, taking a look around his bedroom. As I would have guessed, it was simple, with a dresser on the far wall, one bedside table, and nothing on the walls. He’d told me once he didn’t spend much time at his place, a statement made obvious by the lack of personal effects anywhere in sight.

  A glance down my bandage-riddled body had me grimacing. Dressed in my bra and panties, my body looked like a war zone. A wave of crippling vulnerability swept over me at the realization that I’d been laid bare in more ways than one. I felt like a pain-riddled shell, reduced to nearly nothing.

  I pulled the covers up to my neck just as Maddox peeked his head through the door.

  “You’re up.” His expression was soft as his eyes hit mine, the tenderness I saw there nearly my undoing.

  I merely nodded, knowing that if I spoke I’d lose it.

  He stepped further into the room, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed closest to me. “How do you feel?”

  It was such a simple question and yet, I had no idea how to answer him.

  As though sensing my inner turmoil, he switched gears. “Hungry?” he asked hopefully.

  “A little.” I nodded, eyeing him warily. “I thought you couldn’t cook.”

  He chuckled. “I can’t. I was trying to make you an omelet but it didn’t work out so well.” He grimaced. “But that’s all right, ’cause you’re in for a treat. I butter the best fuckin’ toast you’ve ever had.”

  Despite myself, I cracked a smile. “I’m sure you do. Do you, uh, have something for me to wear?” The realization that I had no possessions left after the fire wasn’t something I could grapple with just then.

  He held up a T-shirt and some boxers I hadn’t seen folded at the edge of the bed. “These will be pretty big on you.”

  Judging by the way I was feeling, big was good. I longed to be enveloped, swallowed whole by cotton.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, hoping he’d give me a minute to collect myself. After a moment of indecision, he did just that, rising from the bed. “I’ll see you out there.”

  “’Kay.” I nodded and watched him leave the room, closing the door behind him.

  I took a shaky breath in, determined to pull myself together, slid my glasses on, and threw the covers back, rising on stiff legs. I headed for the en-suite bathroom, finding it bare but tidy, much like his bedroom. I went about my business, studying the empty walls, wondering if he even noticed how devoid of personality his space was.

  It wasn’t until I was washing my hands that I looked up in the mirror.

  My reflection had me gripping the counter for support. I didn’t even recognize myself. My eyes were both black and blue and impossibly swollen. My gaze tracked down my frame, eyeing the bandages scattered across my hips and belly. There were five in all and I remembered every slice as it’d happened, vividly.

  My heart hammered in my chest, my fingers shaking as I pulled the bandage at my hip, the largest of them, carefully back. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I needed to see it. The mean-looking laceration was angry and red and though neatly stitched together, I knew it would scar.

  It wasn’t vanity that had me reeling, but the fact I’d have a permanent reminder of what had been done to me.

  “Francesca?” Maddox’s concerned voice on the other side of the door made me realize I’d likely been in here a while.

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” My voice was entirely too squeaky and wobbly, but it was the best I could manage.

  I stared at myself in the mirror, willing myself to pull it together. My heart pounded in my chest, hands shaking despite their grip on the countertop. I couldn’t seem to break away from my horrific reflection. It was as though every nightmare I’d experienced was looming over me, threatening to break through the glass and swallow me whole.

  I distantly heard the door open behind me a moment before his strong arms wrapped around my chest, gently pulling me into his strength.

  “I was trying to give you some space, but it didn’t feel right,” he admitted.

  I turned in his arms, realizing that having his strong arms envelop me far surpassed the cotton tee I had yet to put on.

  “But this does,” he rasped, his chin resting on the top of my head as he held me close.

  After several long breaths, mine rapid, his quiet and steady, my heart rate began to slow. A few breaths more and I felt once again anchored to the ground rather than a swirling cyclone of grief.

  “He left me with nothing but scars.” My breath hitched as I fisted his cotton tee. “He took everything from me. Again.”

  “Not everything.” Maddox’s reply was absolute. He leaned in to me, stooping to press his forehead to mine. “You have me.”

  I pushed away from him in irritation. “I’m a Rossi, Maddox—not that I need to make that clear to you after my trip here. Whether or not I’ve ever subscribed to my uncle’s organization, that’s still true. I saw the way your family looked at me—the way your club looked at me. They don’t trust me,” I argued. “I don’t have you. I have me. But that’s fine. It’s the way it’s been for a long time.”

  A frustrated growl ripped from his throat. “Not anymore. It won’t ever be just you. Not ever again.” He cupped my face, attempting to meet my eyes. I refused, keeping my face downcast. He made a grumbling sound of frustration. “The club, my family, I think at first, yeah, they were leery. Not gonna deny it. But now? They see a woman who risked everything to do the right thing. And all that aside, they know you’re mine and if they want me, then they need to accept you too.”

  “Yours?” I sputtered.

  “Mine,” he replied on a possessive growl. “I know you don’t believe that right now. But you will. For now, I want you to come with me and eat something. Can you do that for me?”

  I nodded, knowing I should probably get something in my stomach.

  “You gonna look at me?” he demanded gently.

  I shook my head. “I look like a monster.” I grimaced.

  His hand cupped the side of my neck, coaxing my head up and my eyes to his. “Let me see those eyes, beautiful,” he coaxed.

  After another moment of hesitation, I did as he asked, meeting his gorgeous gray gaze.

  “You’re the most beautiful fucking girl I’ve ever seen.” He looked down at me with such reverence, his tone so sure, that for a second I forgot the state I was in. “Always have been, from the first moment I saw you. You shine from the inside out. Nothing and no one can change that.”

  I wanted to believe that, but shattered as I was, I wasn’t there yet. He took my hand and guided me to the living room, where he sat me on the couch. “I’ll bring you over a plate and some coffee.”

  I nodded, sitting stiffly on the couch, my hands on my knees as I looked around the room, feeling tense and a whole lot lost.

  “Sorry, I don’t have a table,” he apologized as he put a plate of buttered toast and a coffee cup in my hands. “We’ll have to fix that.”

  I ignored his use of “we” and instead bit into the buttered toast. It was simple but delicious and I hadn’t realized how hungry
I was. He sat beside me on the couch, flipping on the TV as he drank his coffee. The silence between us felt remarkably natural at a time that couldn’t be more bizarre.

  Despite being covered up in his clothing, I couldn’t have felt more naked. My emotions spun from grief to disbelief to fear, and as someone who was used to being alone, grappling with that in front of Maddox was more than I could handle.

  “I think I’ll head back to bed,” I shared softly when I’d finished my toast. My entire body throbbed like a heartbeat, and despite just having woken up, I still felt as though I could sleep for a week. “Thanks for the toast; it was five star.” I tried to crack a smile but knew it fell short.

  “You want me to come with you?” he asked, his gaze concerned as he took the empty plate and full coffee cup from me and placed them on the coffee table.

  I shook my head even though a large part of me relished the thought. The idea of being alone with my thoughts wasn’t a welcome one, and despite how confused I felt about him, Maddox made me feel safe. “I just need some sleep. I’m sure I’m already cramping your style enough as it is without you needing to lie around with me all day. Go do your thing,” I coaxed. “I really appreciate you putting me up. I promise, as soon as I’ve had a bit more rest I’ll figure out how to get out of your hair.”

  His hand gently grasping my arm halted my movements. “Francesca.” His tone stopped me in my tracks. “Baby, I want you here.”

  I offered a weak smile. “Okay, well even if that’s true, you still don’t need to lie in bed with me all day. I’ll be fine,” I tried to assure him as I rose from the couch grimacing with pain.

  He was beside me in an instant, his hand pressed to my back. “Let’s get you to bed.” He gently guided me to his room and lay me down in bed. “I’ll get you another pain pill.” He returned a few moments later with a pill and a glass of water.

  I accepted both gratefully before burrowing under the covers.

  He stood there for a moment as though torn. I wasn’t used to seeing him unsure about anything. Maddox was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.