Page 11 of Monster's Madhouse
The cigarette burned low between Drifter’s fingers, the ember glowing in the dark as he sat back on the deck chair. Sure, he had quit smoking, but he just didn’t give a fuck anymore—about anything. The night was quiet, but his head was anything but. Finding Monster and Blitz together in his office was like having a bucket of cold water tossed over him. Monster was his best friend, and he went behind Drifter’s back to take what they both wanted. He really couldn’t blame his friend, since he would have done the same thing, given the chance.
Blitz’s voice broke the silence, soft and hesitant, and it cut through him like a blade. “Drifter.”
He didn’t look at her. Didn’t trust himself to. Just dragged smoke into his lungs and let it out slowly, hoping it would dull the ache in his chest. But he knew better.
“Something happened today,” she said quickly.
“Yeah, I picked up on the fact that you fucked Monster. What happened to the whole, ‘If I can’t have both of you, I don’t want either of you’ speech you gave? Has that changed now? You and Monster are together, and I’m what—just left out in the cold?If you didn’t want me, Blitz, you should have just said so.” He sounded like a jilted lover, and they hadn’t been that for each other—and probably never would be now. He knew the code—she belonged to Monster now. His club Prez had made that very clear when he burst into his office and found the two of them cozied up together.
“I haven’t changed my mind about wanting both of you,” she insisted. Drifter scoffed his response, and she sat down next to him. “And I still want you, Drifter. That hasn’t changed for me.”
“Why was it so important that I rush down to the club?” he asked, trying to change the subject. It didn’t matter if she still wanted him. He couldn’t go against Monster’s claim to her. He wouldn’t do that to his Prez.
“I have a stalker,” she blurted out.
“You have a what?” he asked.
“I have a stalker, and he’s followed me here. I saw him outside the grocery store today. He was just standing there, watching me. It scared me, Drifter. I’m scared for me, for Josie—”
That did it. His head snapped toward her, fury tightening his gut. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me right away? How long has this been going on?”
Her voice trembled. “I’m telling you now. I didn’t know how—”
“We’ll handle it,” he bit out, crushing the cigarette against the armrest of his chair until it hissed out. “He won’t touch you. Not here. Do you know the guy personally?”
“Um, yeah,” she said, “we lived together. Everything happened so quickly—we met, he told me he loved me within days, and I asked him to move into my tiny apartment.”
“Do you love him, Blitz?” he asked. He had no right to feel jealous about a man from her past, but he did.
“No,” she almost shouted at him. “I felt bad that I couldn’t give him back the words and foolishly asked him to move in with me—you know, to keep the peace.” He knew that Blitz didn’t like conflict. He’d seen that about her in the past weeks that she had been living under his roof.
“I take it you two broke up and that’s why he’s stalking you now,” he guessed.
“Yes,” she breathed, “he asked me to marry him, and I thought that he was kidding. He didn’t take my laughing at his proposal very well, and I told him that I wanted him to move out. That was when he hit me.”
Drifter stood from his chair, unable to keep his hands off her any longer. “He hit you?” he asked, pulling her from her chair and looking her over as though there would still be signs of the abuse that she had suffered.
She nodded, “A few times, until my neighbor called the cops. Reid took off then, but he promised to see me again soon. I knew what he meant. He had been following me around town, showing up in odd places, stalking me, before we even broke up. I ignored all the red flags—God, I’m such an idiot. I believed that he actually loved me, but I should have known better. Love doesn’t really exist.” He wrapped his arms around her, tugging her close to his body. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong and that he had fallen in love with her in just a few weeks, but after everything that she had been through with her ex, he wasn’t sure that she’d believe him.
“You don’t have to worry about your ex, honey,” Drifter insisted. “He won’t touch you ever again. I’ll keep you and my sister safe from that asshole.”
Relief softened her expression, but then her mouth parted, guilt flashing across her face. He knew what was coming before she said it. “And about Monster,” her voice cracked. “What happened in his office—”
Every muscle in his body locked tight. Heat flooded him—jealousy, rage, the image of her with Monster playing on repeat. He released Blitz, still looming over her. “Don’t. Don’t tell me about it, Blitz.”
“Drift—”
“You made your choice,” he growled, his throat raw with emotion. He pushed past her into the house before she could see just how much it wrecked him. He’d never let her or anyone else see that in him again.
Hours later, he was still wrecked. He was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. Josie had called to ask if she could stay at her friend’s house, two doors down, and he agreed. The last thing he wanted was for her to come home and feel the heavy tension in the house between him and Blitz.
The ceiling fan spun in lazy circles above his bed, the shadows shifting across the room, but sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her—Blitz with Monster, Blitz spread out on his desk, Blitz looking at Monster the way Drifter wanted her to look at him.
He tossed and turned until frustration had him throwing the sheets off with a muttered curse. Maybe a beer would help numb the noise in his head. But when he opened his door, he stopped cold. Blitz stood there in the hallway, her hand up in a clenched fist as though she was about to knock on his door.
She wore one of his t-shirts, the hem barely covering her thighs, her damp hair clinging to her neck from her shower. Her eyes were swollen from crying, cheeks streaked with tears, and her lips trembling like she’d lost all her fight.
“Blitz.” His voice came out rough, more of a growl than a word.
