As much as I’d like to shelter her from her uncle’s world forever, I don’t see how I can do that and remain sane. My family is so close, I often forget we don’t come as a package deal.
I park Saint’s car next to the wood cabin’s front porch before switching off the ignition. “How about we talk about this more in the morning? I’m wrecked.” Emotionally more than physically, but I keep that to myself.
When Demi nods, I jog around to open her car door. I lost a part of who I am tonight, but that doesn’t mean the morals my parents instilled in me are forgotten. I can still be a gentleman.
“Thank you,” she whispers, shocked by my chivalry but also pleased.
Her bewilderment discloses I made the right decision putting her first. She’s never been given a single thing without an expectation attached to it. Not even the hours she put in at Petretti’s Restaurant were compensated. Col has her convinced even things that should be given willingly come at a cost—even love.
I’m just praying like fuck that isn’t the only reason she’s here. I killed for her, but it wasn’t because I want something in return. I did it in compensation for the years she was in the ring, fighting alone. I protected her from a bully once. From what I learned from Dimitri earlier today, she kept my family off her uncle’s radar for years.
My reimbursement is far from over.
How could it be when it’s only just begun?
20
Demi
My mouth falls open when I walk into the cabin hand in hand with Maddox. It isn’t the two-bedroom wood cabin that popped into my head when Maddox said it was secluded and off the grid. It has a large porch with a swinging chair hanging at one end. The grand staircase is the pièce de résistance of the entryway, and several carved wooden doors sprout off it in all directions. It’s breathtaking. I just wish we were here under different circumstances.
I feel as if I’ve been forced through a grinder, so I can only imagine how Maddox feels. My father kept me out of the ‘family’ business as much as possible during my childhood. Excluding the bullies who were happy to announce their dislike of my surname, I had no idea where everyone’s anger stemmed from. I thought it was jealousy-based since Dimitri was extremely popular with the female half of his school, but it only took minutes after my father’s death to learn otherwise.
When I was called to the principal’s office, I thought I was there to be congratulated for explementary attendance and grades. My every hope vanished when I entered Mr. Hardy’s office. There weren’t just two police officers in attendance, my uncle was there as well. Although I rarely interacted with him, there was no denying the gleam in his eyes. His brother was dead, and he knew all too well that his sister-in-law was incapable of taking care of a child.
The commencement of the downfall of my relationship with my uncle occurred when I begged Mr. Hardy to call child services. Like any teenager, I had heard horror stories of children in foster care, but I would have been free the instant I turned eighteen. My uncle doesn’t give a single thing without expecting reimbursement for it. Just a roof over my head for four years would have seen me in his debt for the rest of my life. I didn’t want that. I wanted a life far far away from him, so I did what every teenager would have done. I begged.
Mr. Hardy did the right thing when he went against my uncle’s wishes by calling family services. I thought I had it all figured out. I should have paid more attention when my mother spoke about her brother-in-law.
I didn’t last longer than a week in the foster families assigned to me. I was the perfect child. I rose before the sun to prepare breakfast for my host family, cleaned, cooked, and babysat the children younger than me, but without fail, I’d arrive home from school Friday afternoon to discover my bags packed and a child services agent waiting for me.
I would have continued shifting from place to place for the next four years if Dimitri’s friend hadn’t advised me my room would be right next to Dimitri’s. “He’s a light sleeper,” he promised. “He hears everything.”
Rocco Shay had a bad reputation, but there was nothing but unvoiced promises in his eyes that afternoon. Putting my faith in him could have ended disastrously, but for the most part, it worked in my favor. The first time I was slapped by Col was years after I was placed under his guardianship. It was also the very same day Dimitri moved out.
“Do you know if they have a first-aid kit?”
Maddox stops partway to the kitchen before he floats his eyes over my face.
“It isn’t for me,” I whisper. “It’s for you.”
“I’m fine.” He stops, shakes his head like dry blood isn’t pooling out of one of his ears, then starts again. “I will be fine.”
When he recommences our trek to the kitchen, I dig my heels into the plush carpet. “Please. I want to take care of you…” When he attempts to interrupt me, I talk faster, “… like you did me.”
Several seconds pass in silence. It isn’t awkward. There’s too much chemistry crackling in the air to represent anything close to awkward.
The knot in my stomach loosens its grip when Maddox mutters a couple of seconds later, “If you’re doing this to get into my panties, you are off the hook. I’m not a third-date type of guy.”
He jokes when he’s snowed under, but I’d rather it than him completely closing off.
“I’m not trying to get into your panties,” I reply, struggling not to smile. “I’m hoping it will get you into mine.”
Needing to occupy my hands before I fist his blood-dotted shirt and drag him toward the closest bedroom, I enter the kitchen, praying like hell the heat from the fireplace roaring in the living room doesn’t stretch to the back of the house, or I’m about to combust. That’s how hot Maddox’s grin makes my veins.
My eyes drift from my empty plate to Maddox when he asks, “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”
I’ve been anticipating his question for the past several hours. I could tell he was holding back when I cleaned his bruised and scuffed knuckles before dabbing them with antiseptic ointment, and the evidence was still apparent when we worked side by side in the kitchen to make another one of our famous early breakfasts. He has a knack for waiting until the time is right to commence an interrogation. I’m less hostile when I am overcome with tiredness.
“What do you want to know?” When a panicked glint darts through his hooded gaze, I wet my dry lips. “He didn’t touch me. N-not in the way you’re thinking.”
“Has he previously?”
His exhale fans my cheek when I shake my head. As I said previously, my uncle’s inappropriateness is at an all-time high right now. He’s hinted about hurting me many times, but he’s never followed through as he made out he would this weekend.
The ache in my chest reduces when Maddox treks his finger across the fresh welt on the side of my face. “What was this about?”
“I… ah…” I pause, unsure how I can explain I tried to kill a man without making it seem as if I’m a murderer in the making. I guess I shouldn’t worry since Maddox asked the question. He may have ended Igor’s life, but he isn’t close to being a killer, so I’m sure he’ll understand.