I cut off his growly delivery of my name with an evil glare and flaring nostrils.
He finds it more amusing than scary. “It will take hours to walk to Hopeton. You can be rid of me in under thirty minutes if you’ll just get your ass on my bike.”
I keep walking. Unlike the song, my shoes weren’t made for walking, but that’s what they’re going to do.
“For fuck’s sake. You really will be the death of me, won’t you?” With an agility that proves why he’s undefeated in the circuit he’s been fighting in the past couple of months, Maddox sneaks up on me unaware, wraps his arm around my waist, then hoists me back.
Unlike yesterday when I stiffened like a virgin feeling her first cock braced against her ass, I fight him with everything I have, hurt enough to give as good as I’m getting.
When the whacks of my arms and legs do little to slow Maddox down, I use my voice. “Help me!” I shout into the street, confident one of the many people milling on the sidewalk will come to my rescue. This isn’t Hopeton. Surely, the people of Ravenshoe have some type of morality. “I’m being assaulted. Please help me!”
My last three words come out muffled when Maddox clamps his hand over my mouth. That should shut me up in an instant. My uncle values silence, and he puts measures in place to ensure he can have it no matter what. Duct tape. Gags made from used socks. He’s even gone as far as sitting on my chest and clamping his hands over my mouth when my teenage rebellion went one step too far.
Unfortunately for Maddox, the memory he forced into my head also reminds me of the pledge I made when the screams of my lungs were finally granted.
Fight to live or not fight and still die. They’re my only options.
“Jesus Christ, Demi! You drew blood,” Maddox roars when my teeth sink into the fleshy part of his palm.
You’d think his battle wound would have him dropping me like a bag of manure. Regretfully, Maddox is as stubborn as a mule. He continues dragging me away from the people watching me be assaulted but do nothing to come to my aid.
I assume he’s going to straddle his bike with me strapped to his front, so you can imagine my shock when he pays off the doorman of a nightclub half a block up from the restaurant we ate at—it was chosen for a reason—then he walks me through the thrumming space.
When the bass out of the speakers above my head booms through my ears, I immediately stop screaming. I can barely hear Maddox telling me to behave, and his lips are right near my ear, so there’s no use subjecting my lungs to more torture than necessary.
The prickles on Maddox’s jaw create havoc with my skin more than my fight to get away from him. So I won’t mention the controversy I face when our arrival to the middle of the dance floor is followed by him splaying his hand across my stomach, then stepping me back until our bodies are intimately pressed together.
I begin to wonder if I tripped and hit my head when he commences swinging his hips. He refused to speak to me all night, yet I’m supposed to believe he wants to get down and dirty with me on a dance floor.
I’m a little naïve when it comes to aspects of my family’s ‘businesses,’ but I’ve matured a lot since high school.
Brooding? Yes.
A little rough around the edges? Another yes.
Straight-up asshole? Hell to the fucking no.
I don’t believe in the motto ‘treat them mean to keep them keen.’ If you want me to treat you like a king, you sure as hell need to think of me as your queen.
What’s good for one is good for all.
“Nuh-uh,” Maddox growls in my ear when I attempt to pull away from him.
After readjusting his grip on my waist, he grinds his crotch into my ass, leaving me no choice but to pay attention. He isn’t hard like he was yesterday. He doesn’t need to be for my deviant mind. Even soft, he has more under the trunk than the fool I gave my virginity to.
Confident I’m seconds from eating out of the palm of his hand, Maddox presses his lips to the shell of my ear and says, “Look to your right. Just beyond the bar.”
I’m unsure if his gravelly tone is responsible for the prickling of the hairs on my nape or spotting the narrowed watch of a man I’d guess to be mid-thirties. He’s dressed oddly for a nightclub. Don’t get me wrong, the women surrounding him seem to appreciate his brooding demeanor and all-black outfit. He also has a handsome face. It’s just so constricted with annoyance, it makes him unapproachable.
“Do you see him?” Maddox asks, his tone reserved.
While swinging my hips in beat to the doof doof doof music pumping around us, I inconspicuously nod. It looks like we’re getting caught up in the music. Only Maddox and I know different. The tension is so thick between us, it’s almost at the point it was when Maddox interrupted my homecoming dance kiss with Robert Flint. His unexpected arrival meant we never went past first base. I was fine with that. Robert was not.
Upon spotting the bob of my head, Maddox confesses, “He’s a federal agent.” When I stiffen, shocked I’ve caught the eye of a law enforcement officer, Maddox drags his teeth over the shell of my ear. “Keep moving. As far as he is concerned, we’re two friends from high school reminiscing about our teen years.”
When I follow his instructions to the wire, Maddox advises why I’ve gained the devotion of the dark-haired agent’s eyes. Even with his body plastered to mine, and his lips replicating a man hoping to devour me instead of shattering my very existence, it’s a terrifying few minutes, and the tragedy deepens when the reason for Maddox’s earlier quiet steamrolls into me.
“You believe him. You think I knowingly sent those men to their deaths?”
I shiver through the sting of Maddox’s teeth sinking into my shoulder, then I shake some more when he breathes out a husky, “No.”
He’s lying. I don’t know how I know. I just do.
“If you leave now, he’ll most likely arrest you,” Maddox pushes out in a hurry when I attempt to break away from him. “Is that what you want, Demi? Do you want to face prosecution?”
I whip around so fast my hair slaps the faces of several club goers surrounding us. I wore it down tonight. That’s a rarity for me. Usually, I have it up and out of the way, so it can’t be used against me as it was in my teens.
“Haven’t I already been prosecuted?” I fire back, too worked up to let it go. “You think I’m guilty. That’s all I need to be convicted, isn’t it? A jury of my peers to believe I’m a heartless bitch who sends men to slaughter with a smile on her face.” I thrust my hand at him, calling him out as my judge, jury, and executioner. “Stuff the truth. Don’t let that be shared because God forbid anyone in this town should be given a fair trial!”
I’m shouting at the wrong person, and I am lumping all my anger on the wrong person, but I can’t hold back. I thought Maddox’s sneaky glances the past three-plus years was because he found me attractive. I had no clue he was striving to unearth my hideous insides.
“I need to go.” I almost make a dash for it, but morals my father instilled in me before he died stop me. “I’m sorry for biting your hand, ruining your night out, and for anything else you seem to think I’ve done but most likely haven’t.” Okay, I’ll admit, the last part wasn’t needed, but I have a hard time being amicable when I’m unfairly judged. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”