Page 69 of Maddox
I follow as he leads me through a side door, past the kitchen and into a great room.
Couches line a wall opposite a pool table with pictures of motorcycles hanging above the bar, riddled with bottles of alcohol and empty glasses.
The stale odor of sweat and something else that I can’t identify assaults my nostrils as he points to a set of stairs.
At the top, we enter a long corridor, and he pauses before the second to last door and throws it open.
“Wait here,” he says. “Do not leave until I come for you. Understand?”
Nodding, I step inside and stare at the walls, covered in hand drawn pictures of motorcycles of all different kinds.
Fascinated, I step up to the first and stare at the image, drawn in strokes of pencil but startlingly accurate before asking, “Did Draven draw these?”
But when I turn, he’s gone.
Maddox
I can’t fucking believe that Draven brought Delaney back to the clubhouse. I already told her off from the last time.
Dammit.
She knows we don’t bring outsiders here, especially someone who’s fucking stepfather is a cop.
How long before the asshole comes looking? At the thought, I remember the last time he came by and my stomach drops.
Fuck me. No. Just no.
After this, she’s got to go. It’s not safe here, it really never was. Look at what happened to Mom and now our women keep coming up missing?
Thank God we have extra men patrolling the area and one of the designated places is the diner.
If anything happens to Delaney while she’s at work, we’re ready to intervene but is that enough?
Whatever.
I can’t guard Delaney twenty-four/seven and I sure as shit hope her pig stepfather warned her about all this because I have to focus on the missing women.
Once this is done, Draven’s going to have to face the music though, and I don’t care if she’s ready to listen.
Girls like Delaney don’t belong here. Period.
My head fucking aches as I trace my way back to Pops and when I stop by my bike, he eyes me sideways and asks, “Who the fuck was that?”
Delaney’s pretty lips parted in panic bounce around in my brain and I silently sigh before saying, “Dray’s friend.”
“Huh,” he grunts.
Yeah, I know. Dray doesn’t have friends, or she didn’t up until now.
Those two couldn’t be more different if they tried but somehow, they keep gravitating toward each other.
Fuck, I’ll deal with Dray later.
Unfortunately, another woman went missing, and we have a lead as to her last whereabouts.
If we’re lucky, we’ll find her before it’s too late and skin the asshole—who’s been taking them—alive.
The fucker is going to pay, and tonight is the night that we make it happen.
