It was a noble effort.
The well-put-together gangster stood visibly shaken, filling out the entire doorway with his ginormous bulk. I gasped at the sneering beast, the upturned tilt of his lip striking a chord of alarm in my belly that signaled danger. My eyes shot to his forehead when I noticed his hair, which was styled perfectly during breakfast, was sticking up every which way, as if he had been pulling at it from the roots. Our gazes met briefly. The intensity behind his stare was too much to hold for any length of time. Mac was angry, no, he was downright pissed the fuck off with my boisterous attempt at getting his attention. Now that I had it, what the hell did I do with it?
“I, uh…In my defense…” Yeah, I had nothing.
“Shut the fuck up, woman,” he growled low. “I’ve told your ass repeatedly that I didn’t have time to play fucking games with you. What part of that didn’t you understand?”
“I, uh…please, Mac.” Shit. Fuck. Think, Odie, think. “I hate being left alone, I’m afraid. Once, when I was little, I accidentally locked myself in a cedar chest, and it took hours for someone to find me. Ever since that happened, I hate being left alone. I have panic attacks and sometimes pee my pants. Please.”
My voice ended on a whisper, and I used my best puppy dog look for effect. The whole thing was total bullshit, something I’d seen in a movie on HBO once. I enjoyed my own space, hell, most days, I preferred it, but if I wanted to know what was happening, I had to be where the action was, plain and simple. This wouldn’t be the first time I had to play the dumb blonde routine to get what I wanted. Men were foolish creatures, and my tip game was strong. He pondered my desperate plea for a second before stepping out of the way and allowing me to pass. Before I made it all the way through, he stopped me with a cold wrench of my arm. Not enough to hurt, but forceful enough to frighten.
“Open your fucking mouth again, make the slightest whimper, a peep of anything, and I swear to Christ I’ll blow a hole in you the size of Texas. DO I make myself clear, or do I need to spell it out for you in crayon?”
Geez, psycho much?
I nodded my head to indicate yes and took a seat on one of the leather couches. I sat cattycornered with my legs tucked beneath my ass and took in the surroundings. The dishes and leftover food from breakfast had been cleared away, all except the coffee pot, whose scent permeated the room. Mac seemed preoccupied with his laptop and various papers scattered around. He occasionally spared me a glance, but for the most part, he left me alone.
My thoughts drifted to Maribel and what she must be going through knowing the odds Marcus faced. I was aware of how deeply protective he was of her. He no doubt kept her in the dark about the deal he made with the devil himself. He’d go out in a blaze of glory, and the love of his life would be none the wiser, all in the name of honor. My dear friend would never recover from a second betrayal on his part—she’d barely survived the first judging by her choice of men. I asked myself, was that really what love was all about? Eventual heartache and grief that left you part of the walking dead with barely a pulse.
“Lunch will be served shortly, Otelia,” Mac absently remarked, still hunched over his paperwork, horn-rimmed glasses firmly in place. They made him look human, less dangerous, more like a legitimate business man trolling the Wall Street trade journals. If only that were true. I hadn’t forgotten his earlier threat to shoot me if I spoke, so I settled for a deep intake of breath before I let it out slowly and loudly.
“Alright, Otelia,” he remarked frustratedly, removing his glasses and tossing them across the table. “You may speak freely now without repercussions. I know how hard that must’ve been for you, and I appreciate the effort.”
I may speak now?
I may speak now?
What the actual fuck?
“And you can kiss the darkest part of my lily-white ass, you piece of shit. I’d rather have my pubes shellacked with hot earwax than speak with someone like you.”
“That language is so unbecoming, kitty cat. Let’s maintain a certain level of decorum while we’re stuck here, shall we?”
“FUCK. YOU. Try maintaining that, you abscessed boil of puss.”
He wasn’t the only one who was annoyed, hell, I had every right to be, and then some. He took me from my workplace, threatened me on more than one occasion with death, then had the audacity to give me permission to speak as if I were his servant. Everything about this man infuriated me, from his “invitation” to the blasé attitude he maintained as if this situation wasn’t all his fault. Well, I had just about enough and was about ready to pop.
Mac stepped away from his pile of work and stood directly in front of me, one hand on his hip, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t think I like your tone, Otelia,” he clipped. “And here I thought we were getting along so well. I allowed you to remain in my presence after that shit you pulled. The least you could do is show me some fucking gratitude.”
“Gratitude? Do you have any idea how fucking deranged you sound right now? I don’t owe you a goddamned thing, least of all gratitude. Let me ask you something, Mac. What’s going to happen once your stupid fight club bullshit is over? Are we all just supposed to go back to our normal lives like none of this ever happened?” I waved a hand around, my ire too far gone to pull back now.
I watched his jaw clench as he struggled to keep his cool. I didn’t want to push him too far, but I needed him to understand how his actions weren’t just affecting me, but the people I cared about the most. He compelled me to concentrate on the facts, but had he done the same?
“Fucking right you are,” he fired back. “Every minimum-wage second of it.”
This guy really believed in his own bullshit.
“Newsflash, bright one. It doesn’t work that way, not for the victims of your little scheme. Maribel deserves peace and happiness. She’s been through too much already, lost more than you or I could ever imagine. Don’t you get that?”
“If things go as planned, your little friend and her man will have more money than they could spend in a lifetime. Mecken knew the score before he accepted my proposition, so don’t lecture me about ethics. I’m sure he lacks them. Buck Calhoun saw to that long before I walked my sexy ass into that pisshole diner. That man buried more bodies than a funeral director before either one of us was born. Surely, his mindset trickled down to his little protégé.”
“It’s not about the money, Mac, goddamnit. There are more important things in life.”
I tried to control the tears as they streamed down my face unchecked. It seemed like such a foolish thing considering the context of this argument. Trying to convince this man to rethink his position on what was clearly his bread and butter was akin to beating my head against a brick wall and not expecting a little blood. His agenda was short sided and far too egotistical to bring him any form of happiness, unless ruining people’s lives was what got him off.
“Bullshit, Otelia,” he growled. “With money comes power, and power brings the respect. Everything else can get fucked in the real world. Now, you tell me, what could possibly be more important than all of this?” He flicked his chin to indicate the opulent room we occupied.