Page 109 of Maddox
Maddox’s discarded clothes litter the floor, and I spy a few dirty socks underneath a blanket balled up in the corner.
It should be gross, but I suspect those socks are beyond petrified.
I feel so alone and so fucking cold that despite everything, I just want Maddox to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay.
“What are you…” he says before his brows slam over his eyes, and he growls, “Who hit you?”
Huh?
Touching my face, I wince and mumble, “I fell, sort of.”
Grabbing my chin, he pulls my head up and my skin tingles when he searches my face before saying, “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Nothing, I just fell,” I say, tears welling in my eyes.
Silence is my answer and eyeing the tic in his jaw, I back away because maybe it was a mistake to come here.
This is my mess and involving Maddox might bring it to his door.
My stomach churns at the thought and I glance at the door as he says, “You sure somebody didn’t hit you? That drunk fucking slob, maybe?”
I assume he’s talking about Joey. This is why I’m here because even now, he’s angry and protective on my behalf.
Maybe it’s foolish but I trust Maddox to keep me safe, even if I don’t deserve it.
“No, I really did fall,” I say, and he searches my gaze before nodding.
We speak no words after that as he leads me to the bed and presses me gently to the mattress. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief when he slides in next and pulls my back to his chest.
Exhaustion rolls through me in waves, but I can’t close my eyes and the truth trembles on my tongue while I stare at the wall until he says, “Sleep.”
I try, I do, but my mind still races with what ifs as he eases away half an hour later, closing the door quietly behind him.
Maddox
My bones feel brittle when I collapse on the couch and stare at the television.
Despite hunting down every fucker who knew one of the missing women, we haven’t found a damn thing.
If it hadn’t been women linked to the Saints, I’d almost wonder if it was a stranger. Except everything we have learned leads back to the pigs or one pig at least.
He’s still out there and our women are at risk until he’s put down.
My throat burns at the notion, but I push it aside, when my fingers brush the blanket on the couch and my thoughts turn to Delaney.
Why is she here? Did her dad kick her out?
Maybe I should go back and confront the fucker. I’ve been itching to do it since I found him with those bastards.
Who is he? What does he have to do with them? Did Draven warn Delaney?
These fucking thoughts are useless and after drinking a beer, I walk down the hall and push my door open.
She’s asleep on top of the cover of my bed.
With zero desire to do anything but fucking sleep after a long ass night filled with nothing but frustration, I strip to my boxers and pull the comforter over the both of us.
Beside me, her chest rises and falls in a gentle cadence, and I eye her form in the glow of the moon shining through the window.
