by S. M. Soto
“I sat beside her anyway and tried to figure out what was wrong. She was scared. That was all I knew.” That cute little crease forms between her brows.
“What was she afraid of?”
Brushing a stray blond lock behind her ear, I shrug. “I don’t know. But she did tell me one thing. She wanted me to protect you.”
That frown deepens. “Why?” Her tone hardens, and I can tell the calm moment we were enjoying together has now evaporated.
“I’m guessing it has something to do with whatever was happening between her and Vincent. I didn’t stick around to find out. That conversation, though short-lived, stayed with me long after her death. When I looked at your sister, especially that night, she reminded me of someone who was lost. Barely keeping her head above the water. Alma perdida.”
“Don’t you have that tattooed on you?”
“I do.” I watch for her reaction to that news closely. “Got it a few years after her death. I felt guilty for what happened. I left her there that night and got on a plane. If I stayed, I always wondered if things would’ve been different for her. For you.”
She sits up suddenly, keeping her back to me. Her spine is stiff, and I wait her out, letting her work through whatever it is she’s thinking or feeling.
“So…” She clears her throat, emotion thick in her tone. “You have a tattoo on your skin dedicated to my sister?”
I slam my eyes shut, realizing now how that sounds. “It’s not like that.”
She turns back around to face me, tears pooling on the edge of her lids, on the cusp of falling over. “I don’t know how I should feel. The fact that you cared enough to mark your skin for her makes me want to kiss you, but there’s this other part of me. Some sick part of me that’s jealous. Jealous that, even in death, she has a piece of you that I don’t.”
An unbearable weight settles on my chest. “I get it.”
“Do you know what it was like for me as a kid? Always being second-best to my sister. Every part of my life, I have been competing, trying to keep up with her in some way, trying to stay afloat. Trying to be just as good as her. You’re wrong. She was never lost. She had everything in her life worked out. She was the better one of us. Do you get why now it’s so hard to hear that every moment I’m with you, I’ll still be competing with her in some way? Always wondering if you see her in me?”
The tears slide down her cheeks, and the organ in my chest constricts. That foreign sensation is back, making it hard to breathe. Pushing upright, I reach out to her, pulling her into my arms. I slide one hand behind her neck, keeping her gaze in line with mine, and the other, I use to wipe away her tears.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m convinced she was the lost one, and you were always meant to be who you are. After her death, you lost sight of that, of yourself. That’s why you need to find it again. She let you believe those things because she knew you looked up to her.” Her bottom lip trembles as though she’s on the verge of bursting into hysterics. Taking her face in my hand, I cup her cheek. “And there is no competition, Mackenzie. It’s you. It’s only ever been you.”
I press my lips against hers, tasting the salt from her tears and her. She falls back on the bed, eyes begging for all the things she’ll never admit out loud. I take my time with her the rest of the night, taking a slow perusal of her body with my tongue and fingers until she’s moaning my name well into the night.
I spend most of the rest of the night watching her as she sleeps. She looks peaceful when she’s like this. Not like the broken woman who’s lost her way. I want to protect her, but it’s getting harder and harder. She wants to know so much, and she’s too much of a wild card to have her privy to anything that’s happening. I can’t do what I need to if she’s there every step of the way, fucking up what I’ve already put into motion. I should probably get up now and head to work. I’ve neglected my responsibilities for far too long.
Bending down, I press a kiss to the top of her head, and she stirs. I freeze, thinking she’s waking up, but she just turns onto her side, the sheet sliding off her legs, exposing her perfect curves to me. It takes all my willpower to leave, but, just as I do, her next mumbled words in her sleep halt me in my tracks.
“I love you, Baz.”
My chest squeezes, and my gut tightens painfully, only proving what I already know. This isn’t right. What I’m doing isn’t right. If this is ever going to work, Mackenzie needs to find that happiness she so desperately craves on her own. As much as I want her to come to me for it, it’s unfair. Love is setting someone free even when you don’t want to and hoping they somehow find their way back to you.
That is exactly what I am doing.
I thought after that night in Baz’s bed, we were in a good place, but I was wrong. I woke up the next morning to him gone, and he didn’t come back for two whole days. There were no calls or texts, but then again, I didn’t reach out to him either.
That is the problem with Baz. I can never tell what is really going on in his head. He is impossible to read, impossible to get a read on. With his heart buried in secrets, I’m sure I will never really be able to have him as a whole. He will give me pieces of himself, and I’ll just have to be okay with that.
Saddest part? I am. I’ll take pieces of him if it means I can have him.
I am still angry with him, uncertain of what this means for us, and I can’t deny there’s a part of me that still doesn’t trust him. I want him to share everything with me, but I wonder if he thinks I’m too unstable to do that. And maybe I am.
My mood only sours further when I run into Mia after my swim. After feeling particularly lonely, I thought going for a swim would help me miss Baz a lot less. It was a pathetic attempt, and I knew that.
I jerk to a halt when I see Mia walking out of Baz’s bedroom. My brows tug low, suspicion thick in my veins. I don’t trust her. Not only did Baz say he fired her, I can’t help but feel like she has ulterior motives. I don’t know if that’s because she’s obviously in love with Baz or if it is because of something more.
“What are you doing here?”
With her arms filled with bags and files, my frown only deepens. “Sebastian asked that I grab my clothes that I forgot here for a quick trip.”
My heart twinges, uncertainty making my stomach churn. “A trip?”
She takes in the confusion written all over my face. “Yes, we’re flying out this evening.”
We?
WE?
My jaw tightens, and I have to actively work to keep the anger and rage I’m suddenly feeling off my face. Betrayal courses through my system. He hasn’t so much as reached out to me after the other night, but he has time for her?
“He fired you,” I grit.
Her lips press together at the reminder. “No thanks to you, I’m sure. And this isn’t a work trip.”
My stomach churns at the picture she’s clearly painting for me. I know we’re not a couple, but I thought after the other night that something changed. I guess I was wrong. I don’t know why I’m surprised. I knew I couldn’t trust him. This only proves that.
“Oh, wow,” she breathes out, a spiteful twinkle in her eyes. “You didn’t know?” She feigns concern. I’m obviously giving much more away on my face than I intended to. I can see right through her façade, though. There’s a glimmer of glee in her eyes. She’s enjoying this. The idea of Baz keeping me in the dark.
Why do I suddenly feel like a concubine in this relationship?
I clear my throat, tucking my damp hair behind my ears. “No, I didn’t.”
The words are like acid on my tongue, admitting my defeat. Her upper lip quirks with amusement. Her eyes trail up and down my body that is wrapped in the towel. Her gaze settles on my hair, and I suddenly feel like that young girl again. Insignificant. Like I don’t quite compare to everyone else.
“You know,” she murmurs, stepping into me. “I lied. Blond isn’t your color after all. The black hair suited you much better.”
Once the door slams shut behind her, I all but collapse. I let myself wallow in hurt and pain. I don’t want to think about why she had clothes stashed here, but that’s all I can seem to focus on. She and Baz together, even when he said she was just his employee. What a crock of shit.
When Dan comes to bring me food, he doesn’t comment, but I see him linger, like he wants to say more but doesn’t.
To help take my mind off things, I give Kat and Vera a call, hoping they can ease some of the pain. I keep them up to speed on what’s happening, but I neglect to mention my feelings and how much they’ve evolved since I’ve been here. The one thing I set out to do, the one thing I said I wouldn’t allow to happen has happened.
I let my feelings for Baz cloud my judgment. I let myself fall back in love with him, which is another lie. I never fell out of love. I just suppressed it, pretending it wasn’t there when it clearly was.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I scroll through my phone, looking at the articles pertaining to Baz and the rest of the guys. There’s radio silence on the Baz front. The only articles that seem to keep popping up are pertaining to Trent. He was caught stumbling out of Kings drunk yesterday.
“You can always go there and use him to find out the truth.”
Slowly, I lift my gaze up and find Madison perched on the edge of the nightstand watching me. I shake my head, trying to get her to go away.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Mack.”
“Go away,” I grit, shooting daggers at her with my eyes.
“You need me,” she persists. “You can fool yourself into believing you don’t all you want, but we both know the truth.”
“I’ve needed you for nine fucking years, and where the hell were you, huh? Now you want to show concern?”
“I was always there, Mack. You just weren’t listening. You haven’t been listening.”
“I have! Where have you been?” Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “How dare you leave me. Look at where I am. Look at me, Madison. I’m a fucking mess!”
Her face softens. “I’ve been here, Mack. You need to stop shutting me out. Stop shutting out everyone who’s trying to help you. It’s going to get you nowhere.”
“Fine. Just tell me what to do. Please,” I choke.
“I’ve already told you what to do.” She sighs in exasperation. “Forget this. Forget them. All of them. It’s the only way you’ll truly be happy.”
“I can’t. Don’t you get it? I can’t do that. They’re going to kill me.”
“Baz would never let that happen.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
Her head cocks to the side. “But don’t I?”
I grit my teeth. “Don’t do that. Don’t play with my fucking head. You guys never had anything. Don’t make it out to be more than it actually was.”
“Leave it alone, Mackenzie. If you keep going down this route, it will ruin your life. It will get you killed. Trust me. You need to talk to Baz before you do anything stupid.”
I rake a frustrated hand through my hair. “You’re trying to get inside my head! Stop it!” I shoot up from the bed, anything to get away from her. I pace the hall, feeling like a caged animal. Doesn’t she understand I can’t leave this behind? Vincent tried to kill me. Zach tried to kill me. Baz and Marcus are up to something and choosing to keep me out of it. Trent is a drunk piece of shit, and my heart hurts.
Why is it whenever I start to feel like the cards are falling into their rightful place, something happens to disrupt that?
Seeing Mia earlier was a shot to the heart, like having the rug pulled out from under me. I want to trust Baz and give him parts of me I’ve never shown anyone else, but when stuff like this happens, it makes me want to run far away and keep my heart locked away where he’ll never be able to find it. It’s almost as if he’s trying to purposely hurt me.
My chest rattles on an inhale as I pause my pacing.
“Leave things alone, Mackenzie. I’m warning you. Baz is gone, and so is your gun. Take your loss and leave it at that. Move on.”
“No. All I need to do is find the gun.”
I hurry into Baz’s bedroom, my lips twisting in disdain, as I look at the bed we were in not that long ago. The same bedroom Mia was just walking through, freely touching his stuff at his request. That anger I’ve been trying to bury since seeing Mia in here, since he’s been ignoring me, starts to boil to the surface. I start to worry about him and Mia and what they’re doing right now. I can’t imagine him hurting me, but I’m starting to realize I don’t know Baz as well as I thought I did. Hell, he has a tattoo dedicated to my sister. That should’ve been enough to open my eyes to his lies.
“Just talk to him. You’re jumping to conclusions about him and her. You don’t know why she was really here.”
“I know enough!” I snap, as I storm through his room, heading straight for his closet. Just as immaculate as always, I surge forward, heading straight to the drawers in the center, and I throw them open, rifling through, looking for the gun. If I can just find it, I’ll keep it on me and keep it for protection, and I’ll be okay.
By the time I’ve gone through all his drawers and I still haven’t found the gun, I take a step back and look at the disaster that is now his private space. I’m sure he has cameras in here, and I’m sure he can see what I’m doing. I pointedly turn to every corner in his room and flip him the bird.
Fucking asshole.
Striding out of his room, I head back into mine and try to come up with a new plan. I won’t be able to get into his office, and something tells me that’s exactly where he’s keeping the gun. An idea forms in my mind, and I hear her again.
“Don’t do it,” she warns.
Ignoring her, I keep walking into my closet, and I sift through hangers until I stop on a black slinky number.
“This is a mistake. Stay here, Mack. You’re safe here. You know that. Out there, he can’t protect you. Please.”
“Well, that’s his problem for leaving, isn’t it? I can protect myself. Now leave me alone.”
She does just that. I glance around the room, and all traces of my sister are now gone. I try to tell myself it doesn’t bother me, but it does. Everyone always leaves.
After curling my hair, applying makeup, and slipping into the tiny dress that hugs my curves and shows just enough skin to get everyone’s attention, but not enough to be too much, I leave. I’m not sure what I expect to get from going to Kings. There’s no telling who will be there, but all I know is I need answers. Now.
Maybe a part of me wants to run into Trent. I can use him to get down to the bottom of what’s happening. While I don’t trust him, I also don’t believe he’s as dangerous as Zach and Vincent.
And, if anything, I can search the top floor for my gun. I’ve never had a chance to search there, but tonight, I might be able to.
Once I head down the elevator, I run into Dan, just as I knew I would. His brows pull down and concern is written all over his face when he takes in my appearance.
“Ms. Wright, is something wrong?”
I shoot him a glare. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I have to suggest you stay put until Mr. King is back. He won’t like this.”
I laugh dryly, still heading toward the exit where my Uber is waiting. “Oh, I’m sure he’d love that. Me waiting around for him at his beck and call while he’s off gallivanting with Mia. But you know what, Dan, why don’t you give him a message from me? Tell him I said he can go fuck himself.” I continue to walk out the exit, sensing him following me. I pause just before getting to the only car waiting. “Or better yet, why don’t you tell him to fuck Mia instead, though I’m sure he already is.” I shoot him a smarmy smile and slip into the car.
/> “Ms. Wright, wait! You have it all wrong—”
I slam the door, cutting him off midsentence. If anyone is going to explain themselves to me, it’ll be Baz. I’m sure the second I’ve gained access into Kings, it’ll get back to Baz, and when that happens, I don’t know what he’ll do or how he’ll react. Whatever his reaction will be, it’s only going to give me a short window to search for the gun or anything else I can find on the rest of the guys.
Getting into Kings is easy, the bouncer having already been told to let me in per Baz’s longstanding order. The club is packed tonight. It’s filled with writhing bodies, elite members in suits, and people out to have a good time without a care in the world. Oh, how I envy them.
One of the security guards walks me up to the top floor with no issues, and I can’t contain my smile. It almost feels too easy. Once the door shuts behind me, I hurry down the hall, throwing open the doors to all the rooms, making sure I’m alone, before I start searching. I’m halfway through when the sound of the door opens. I freeze, expecting to hear Baz’s voice, or worse, one of the other Savages, but I don’t hear anything. Creeping out of the room and into the hall, I stick to the shadows, trying to peek into the sitting area that overlooks the dance floor.
My heart thunders in my chest when I spot a drunk Trent, leaning haphazardly over the bar, mumbling to himself. I creep farther into the room, and he picks his gaze up. It takes him a few seconds to realize it’s me. The moment he does, his eyes flare with fear, the color draining from his face.
“Holy shit,” he chokes. “Madison?”
I laugh, walking into the room freely. He seems too drunk to stand on his own two feet, let alone hurt me. “Try again, asshole.”
His lips thin into a grim line, rage infiltrating his very being. “Mackenzie,” he all but spits.
“Bingo.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, bitch?” he slurs, knocking back the rest of his alcohol.
“Looking for answers.” I shrug.
