Page 58 of Maddox

Charmaine

There was nothing like the scent of fresh baked goods first thing in the morning.

Especially when cinnamon and vanilla were involved, two of my favorites.

Except for maybe the aroma of coffee, the darker the better.

The fragrances were a reminder of home.

With the heat still oppressive, I’d awakened early, lost in a sweet haze of lust that had quickly turned to something much darker as the memories of the last few days replaced the moments of passion.

I’d found Maddox in a fitful sleep on the couch, his large frame dwarfing the lemon-yellow sofa. Being able to watch him sleep had brought a strange sense of satisfaction.

He’d been so forlorn when I’d found him on the small balcony. I’d watched him for over a minute before daring to go outside.The moment I’d placed my hand on his shoulder, he’d let off a deep sigh that he’d obviously been holding for a while. Whatever he’d been thinking about had kept him unnerved. I hadn’t bothered to ask him to share. He wasn’t that kind of man.

In fact, he was much more complicated than I’d originally believed. At least he was finally able to get some sleep.

While I was munching on a banana, the only appetizing thing I’d found in the kitchen, the scent of fresh pastries had wafted in through the cracked balcony door. For the first time in days, my stomach had growled.

Maybe that’s why I’d made it my mission to locate the source of the delicious scent.

Plus, exhaustion remained. Coffee was needed and I’d found nothing that resembled caffeine in the cabinets.

The small bakery was just across the street to the right, a glaring beacon of edible delights and nourishment. When I was stressed, chocolate eclairs were the cure.

I’d dared slip out onto the balcony as the sun had crested over the horizon, bringing beautiful hues of lilacs and light pinks crisscrossing the sky. The air was humid, slightly damp as if it had rained in the middle of the night.

Even with the early hour, the sound of music could be heard over the morning din of noise.

The area was beautiful, certainly more so than the villages and small cities I’d visited in El Salvador. Another moment of sadness threatened to derail me, but I shoved it aside.

Maddox was right. I owed it to my friends to get back safely and crush the asshole responsible for their deaths.

Sighing, I went back inside, quietly walking past him. He looked like a sleeping giant. I grabbed the baseball hat and sunglasses, taking the time to shove my hair under the cap. I certainly looked nothing like the woman on camera.

I continued debating my decision as I headed to the apartment door. I’d found money in Maddox’s wallet, the wad of cash holding me hostage for a few seconds. He’d brought thousands of dollars with him, converting a small portion to Honduran lempira. I’d grabbed the country’s currency, shoving it into the pocket of the shorts provided by Maddox’s friend.

Now I had my hand on the doorknob, my hesitation the second sign maybe I shouldn’t leave the apartment. The first had been when he’d almost awakened, muttering in his sleep. He was a tortured soul.

The words whispered from his lips had drawn my attention, holding me hostage as he’d tossed and turned. I’d almost awakened him but had sensed doing so would create another rift between us.

He certainly didn’t like his routines interrupted.

Yet every syllable lingered in my mind, although most had been broken, pieced together with grunts and sharp moans.

Except for a single sentence he’d said more than once.

I’ll fucking find a way to kill you. If it’s the last breath I take.

He’d even swung a punch in his sleep, fighting an invisible enemy.

I continued to think about them as I unlocked and opened the door, using extreme caution while doing so. Hearing no sounds, I peeked into the hallway. There was no one lurking in theshadows, no men with assault rifles ready to take aim. The quiet was almost unnerving.

With a soft click, I closed the door behind me, padding down the stairs in the boots I’d been wearing during my… ordeal.

I had no idea what to call the horrible event.

Nor could I think about what I’d lost.

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