Weird.
I reached for my phone to call Delta and ask about the discrepancy, but a violent knocking rattled my door once more.
I leapt from the bed, clutching the reports. I couldn’t catch my breath, and the hope surged through me, mending a heart that shattered like peanut brittle and the guilt that poisoned me in bitter regret.
Maddox.
I had stripped to my tiny tank top and boy cut panties for bed, but I didn’t bother dressing. I raced to the door. The pounding hadn’t stopped.
Maybe Delta called him. God bless her meddling. She wouldn’t let me be alone and pregnant, even if she didn’t trust Maddox.
My fingers trembled over the chain. Maybe he came back on his own? Maybe he knew? Realized I needed him? That…we needed him?
The door burst open, shattering the old lock. I leapt back, but the intruder grabbed me before I had time to react. The handkerchief was stuffed over my mouth. It smelled horrible, and I struggled against the cloth. I ran, but the man caught me, wrapping me in his arms from behind. I reared back, head butting his nose.
He swore.
It wasn’t Maddox’s voice, but I recognized it.
His words crashed around me as I dropped in his arms and fell into a dark and terrible nightmare.
18
Maddox
I meant to forget her.
I thought I’d get over her.
I hoped I could live without her.
Fucking bullshit.
How the hell was I supposed to breathe without her sugared, honey scent? I couldn’t sleep without dreaming of her. Couldn’t eat without imagining the desserts she used to stuff in me. Couldn’t dress without remembering the heat of her hands.
Couldn’t speak without feeling an imaginary brush of her lips.
Couldn’t exist without understanding why she would betray me, destroy me, damn me.
Why she thought that was the only way to protect me?
Fourteen nights on the road hit me harder than the year in prison. At least then iron bars and guards and the law kept me from Josie’s bed.
Now?
For two weeks, I’d lived out of a cheap motel with a pre-paid cell phone and the last hundred dollars in my wallet. I gave the chief two grand before I left. It wasn’t enough to buy Chelsea’s freedom, but it convinced him to leave her in peace until I could find some money.
Wherever that would come from.
When I got to the city, Ironfield welcomed me home with a piercing rain shower and an attempted mugging. I blackened the eye of the asshole who tried to knife me, and then I chased him to steal the blade. Some instincts died hard, but the streets had once been my old job. I did whatever I could to survive, and I wasn’t proud of any of it. Josie only ever knew what she had to know. I vowed I wouldn’t corrupt that cupcake any more than necessary.
Though the lies had corrupted her all the same.
The world wasn’t made of chocolate; it reeked of shit. Except that I hated teaching her that lesson. If anyone needed rose-tinted glasses, it was my little sugar plum fairy with the piping bag of pink icing.
I’d asked around for the usual jobs. Shady, immoral bullshit that would never come with a 401k or healthcare. Once, I protected as many whores as I shook down pimps, and I dealt in as many drugs as I muled. As long as it paid, I’d do it.
But something stopped me. Running guns and kicking the shit out of debtors worked for earning the money I needed to pay off the chief, but it wouldn’t rebuild the walls of Sweet Nibbles.
If I ever went back.
Why the fuck did I leave?
So I stole a paper from a diner and hunted through the pages for a decent job. I circled the electrical work, but I never thought I’d get a call.
Doubted more that they’d take me on.
First time for everything.
Some prick named Sam hired me. He didn’t give a shit about my record, just wanted a certified electrical subcontractor who’d keep his mouth shut and get paid under the table. It sounded great, except the job was in some little pet shop in the middle of Ironfield. One of the districts that hadn’t been updated in thirty years.
I took one look at the shop and considered taking up dealing again. Sam hoisted his pants over a beer belly and rubbed a mustache that was missing a leather cut and motorcycle.
“You gotta be kidding.” I pointed to the mess of a breaker box. “I can’t rewire this.”
“Don’t want you to,” Sam said. “Just change the covers on the outlets.”
Gut instinct was a bitch. This job was more crooked than drugs. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. In and out, and you get your money.”
“This whole system is a fire hazard. The connectors are probably worn to shit. I’ve seen it before. Give it time and the whole box will short out and burn. Bust up a couple connectors, and she could collect her insurance money.”