42. Paxton
42
PAXTON
“ Y ou know, when I said go wild, I didn’t think you’d take it as a challenge,” I tell Tatum. And I mean it, too. Getting a call from Rory, begging me to meet her at the police station so I could potentially bail out her best friend was a first for me. I bite back my amusement as I open the precinct door.
Thankfully, the guy who had his balls kneed-in cleared up his side of the story pretty quick after the store offered to drop their own suit against the asshole in exchange. And since I was able to show my ID at the precinct and corroborate Tatum’s story, confirming I gave her the credit card to use and she hadn’t stolen anything, we were good to go.
Tatum’s hair dances in the light breeze as we make our way down the short set of stairs toward my bike parked at the curb.
“Thanks for picking me up,” she says.
“Anytime, Harley Quinn.”
“Falling for a villain,” she muses, giving me the side-eye. “Sounds about right.”
My pulse quickens, and my steps falter as I hang onto her words. Did she just admit she’s falling for me? If she did, I doubt she meant to let it slip, but my chest warms nonetheless.
You’re something else, Birthday Girl.
“Seriously, though. Thank you,” she adds. “That was a little…intense.”
I catch her fiddling with her gold ring and reach for her hands, pulling us to a stop on the sidewalk. Is she nervous? Shaken, maybe? I guess I don’t blame her. Sometimes I forget that being invited to a police station for questioning isn’t a common activity for most people.
Bringing her fingers to my lips, I kiss them softly, and ask, “Was this your first run-in with law enforcement?”
Her laugh eases the tightness in my chest. “Yes, but I’m okay,” she answers.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” she repeats. Her gaze bounces around my face as I press another kiss to her fingertips, causing what’s left of her worry wrinkles to soften. “Although I kind of like having all your attention like this.”
“You always have all of my attention.”
Her eyes crinkle with amusement, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she asks, “Is this your first time picking up a friend from the cops?”
“Not even close,” I reply.
“Oh, really? Do tell.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “You want the light version or the heavy version?”
“There’s a heavy version?”
She has no idea.
“My best friend growing up, Roman’s older brother, actually, he’s in prison for pushing drugs,” I explain. “Although, after saying it out loud, I guess it doesn’t count since I didn’t technically bail him out, but you get the gist.”
Her brows furrow. “What?”
I let her hands go and scratch my temple. “Probably should’ve started with the light version, huh?”
“Pax, that’s…” She bites her bottom lip. “That is heavy. How is he? How are you? Do you still see him? How much time is he doing? Does Roman hate you for it? Did you know what he was up to behind your back? Were you in on it and just didn’t get caught or?—”
“Whoa, there,” I interrupt. “At least give me a second to answer your twenty questions, yeah?”
She closes her mouth and drags her fingers across them, pretending to zip her lips and throw away the key.
With a soft chuckle, I lead her closer to my bike, diving right in to the nitty gritty of my fucked-up childhood. “Let me give you the CliffsNotes version. Yes, I knew what he was doing, and no I wasn’t around when he was arrested, but yes, I still talk to him and see him whenever I’m in town.” I pause, replaying her onslaught of questions in an attempt to address all of them. “All things considered, he’s doing good. Took his sentence on the chin and should be out in the next year or so, and no, Roman doesn’t hate me, even though it does make me kind of feel like shit about the whole thing. Uh, I think that’s it?” I glance at Tatum again. “Any other questions?”
“What’s his name?” she prods.
“Rafe.”
She gives me a slow nod. “And how are you?”
My brows dip. “Me?”
“Yeah. It can’t be easy. Seeing your friend locked up.”
Scratching my jaw, I consider her question. No one’s ever asked me this. No one’s ever thought to. I’m not the one behind bars, so why does it matter? Why would anyone care? Add in the whole rockstar bit, and I’m pretty sure most people would say I don’t have shit to complain about. And maybe I don’t. Even so, the fact she’s thinking of me, of how I feel, how I’m handling shit, it means more than she knows.
Gripping her hand, I continue guiding her toward my parked bike a few feet away, answering, “I’m all right.”
She tugs me to a halt. “Pax.”
“Seriously,” I return. “I mean, yeah. It fucked with my head, and I wish I would’ve pushed him harder to drop all the illegal shit, but he was young and stupid, and I was young and stupid, and we can’t change the past, so why dwell on it?”
Her lips bunch before her head dips in a slow nod, but she doesn’t say anything else. And the quiet? It messes with my head, especially after giving her a glimpse of my past.
“So…you wanna hear about a few of my lighter run-ins with the cops?” I ask, attempting to change the subject and lighten the fucking black cloud hovering over us after my little walk down memory lane.
She grabs hold, instantly. “I’m sorry, did you say your run-ins?”
With a shrug, I tell her, “We’ve all had our run-ins, haven’t we?”
She scans me up and down, clearly impressed. “Damn. Didn’t think it would be such a turn-on, but…”
My grin widens. “Oh, really?”
“Yup. And now, I’m going to need all the gory details, so I can save them for later.” Pulling her hands from mine, she taps her temple and tacks on a wink that douses my imagination with gasoline.
I like it when she’s like this. When she’s open and playful. I like it a lot. And the idea of her touching herself when I’m away? My cock hardens just thinking about it. Might as well add fuel to the fire, right?
“Let’s see, which time? Uh,” I search my memories for a few of my lighter interactions with the law. “Breaking and entering…”
Her jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
“It was Dodger’s house, but the security system went off, and thanks to my priors…well, you get the gist.”
“Uh, I don’t, but we’ll circle back. What priors?” she demands, her brow arching.
“Possession of weed when crossing state lines.” My tongue clicks against the roof of my mouth as I sort through the shadier side of my past. Giving her the side-eye, I add, “And another misdemeanor you might be familiar with. Trespassing.”
She clutches at her chest like a girl from the fifties. “A man after my own heart.”
“Glad you approve,” I laugh.
Bumping her shoulder with mine, she murmurs, “And here I thought you were an upstanding citizen.”
“Hardly.”
“It’s okay. Neither am I, even if I don’t have the record to prove it.” She shrugs and laces our fingers together again as we stand beside my bike. “Anything else?”
Yes.
Well aware it doesn’t paint me in the best light, I answer, “Assault charges and underage drinking.” My expression constricts, but I push through the shame growing inside me. “I got into a fight at a bar when I was seventeen.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah.”
“That one kind of makes sense, though,” she decides. “Because of the sparring sessions and everything.”
And everything.
If only she knew how loaded those words are.
“Right,” I mutter.
Sensing I’m keeping something from her, she murmurs, “It is only the sparring, right? That’s the only habit you’ve kept from your shady background?” My lips press together, and her jaw drops again. “Are you still into shady shit, Pax?”
Glancing over my shoulder at the precinct we barely left, I shush, “Wanna keep your voice down, Birthday Girl?”
Catching on, Tatum hooks her arm through mine, guides me past my parked bike, and walks us further down the road. Once we’re a safe distance from any potential eavesdroppers, she asks, “So, what’s up? I want to know.”
I stay quiet, pressing my tongue against my cheek as I weigh my options. I want to tell her. I also want to not fuck anything up.
Sensing my hesitancy, she sobers slightly, adding, “I want to say it’s okay, and you don’t have to tell me, but considering my lack of emotional connections with the majority of people, and the fact I’ve really been trying to let you in lately, I kind of feel like you owe me.” She pulls her hand from mine and crosses her arms. “So? What are you hiding? What’s the big secret?”
Reaching up, I tuck her hair behind her ear, considering my options. I want to tell her. I do. But will it put her in the crosshairs of anything? I don’t think so, but Judge hasn’t exactly been very forthright, either, and I sure as shit don’t know everything. That being said, she’s right. She’s risked being vulnerable with me, shouldn’t I do the same?
When she catches me staring at her despite my silence, she squirms. “What?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About my secrets.” I move closer, my need to pull her into me is almost more than I can bear. So, I do. My fingers dig into her hips as I tug her toward me, savoring the feel of her curves pressed against my chest on the side of the road. “I like you.”
Her eyes soften, and her hands find the belt loops above my ass as she bats her lashes up at me. “I’m pretty sure you’ve mentioned that already.”
“Glad you remember,” I quip. “And even though you haven’t said it back, you did mention you’re falling for a villain, so I’m gonna go out on a limb and say I think you like me, too.”
Her attention falls to my mouth. “No comment.”
“Uh-uh.” I burrow closer, dragging the tip of my nose along hers in an eskimo kiss. “Secret for a secret, Birthday Girl. I wanna hear you say it.”
“And if I do, you’ll tell me about the shady side of your extracurricular activities?”
“Cross my heart,” I promise.
“Fine. I, uh…” She takes a deep breath, toying with the hem of my T-shirt. “I think I might like you, too, Pax.”
The same warmth in my chest spreads, and I tighten my hold around her waist. If I could record this moment, the tiny inflection in her voice, the shift of her gaze, the lift of her mouth, I’d record it all to keep for rainy days. But I also know if I ask her to repeat it, if I push her more than I already have, she might clam up. So instead, I give her another tight squeeze of appreciation. “Now was that so hard, Birthday Girl?”
Her lips purse. “I believe it’s your turn, Mr. Security.”
“All right,” I concede. “Here’s the thing. I’m trying to figure out what to tell you without…”
“Without what?”
“Without incriminating you.”
Her breath hitches. “You’re really serious? Pax…”
“Do you remember when I told you Judge’s nephews are into some shady shit?” I ask.
“Yes?”
“Well, running an underground fighting ring is one of them.”
“Is that where the bruises are coming from?” She doesn’t look pissed. She looks…confused.
“Yes and no,” I mutter.
“Gonna need more than that, Pax.”
“Technically, I haven’t brawled yet. The bruises are from the sparring sessions, like I told you.”
Her gaze narrows, and she pulls out of my grasp, folding her arms again as if the physical barrier is strong enough to fortify the emotional ones I’ve spent so much time eradicating. “I feel like there’s a but coming on,” she murmurs.
“But,” I say, confirming her suspicion. “I’m kind of…in training.”
“Training,” she repeats, her expression on lockdown.
“Yes.”
Unfolding her arms, she tucks her hair behind her ear as she studies me, carefully. “Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of you being here to draw the public's attention away from their shindigs if you’re participating in them?”
“Maybe.”
“Hmm.” A pebble skitters across the sidewalk as her gaze falls to the ground and the toe of her shoe scrapes against the asphalt. “Can I ask you something?”
“You’ve asked me a lot of somethings.”
She rolls her eyes. “Why do you do it? Why fight? And why stop after becoming a rockstar? Or did you never stop at all and?—”
I lift my hand to quiet her. “Man, you’re full of questions today.”
“That isn’t an answer,” she quips. But the walls? They’re lower than a few seconds ago, proving she cares more about my honesty than whether or not I’m somewhat involved in something less than legal.
Giving in, I explain, “Growing up, I needed an outlet.”
“An outlet,” she repeats. A tiny furrow forms between her brows.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And fighting was my outlet of choice until Rafe was arrested.”
“And then?” she pushes.
“Then, I turned back to music and had my first taste of performing in front of people, which turned into my next outlet.”
“Which is why you started going stir crazy as soon as you got home,” she realizes.
“Exactly.”
She moves closer, dragging her fingers down my forearms before linking our fingers together. “And it’s why you agreed to participate in the underground fight.”
“Partially,” I concede. “Roman asked me to do him a favor. I figured it was the least I could do after everything that happened with Rafe.”
Her head tilts as she stares up at me before a small smile toys at the edge of her lips. “Well, at least it’s not drugs.”
Now that we’re toe to toe, nearly chest to chest, I laugh and reach for her waist again, tugging her into me. When she lets me, the last of my reservations vanishes, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“Oh, really?”
“We all have our vices.” My touch is gentle as I drag my hands along her bare arms, push her hair away from her face, and tuck it behind her ear. It’s still strange. Having thought about this girl for years. And yet, here she is. Within reach. And without her armor. My heart pounds harder as I take in the vulnerability in her gaze and the slight part of her lips. Damn, she’s beautiful. “Thankfully, I’ve found a new vice recently.”
“And what’s that?”
“Being with you.” I nudge her chin up and kiss her, tasting her smile as she leans into me, giving me her weight. And I like it. The trust that I’ll catch her. That I won’t let her fall. Hell, I’m not sure if she even realizes it. The trust she’s slowly giving me. Bit by bit. Or maybe she does. Maybe it’s why she pushed me on this, demanding I let her in and tell her what I’ve been up to.
When I pull away, she grins up at me, her brow quirking. “I’m your new vice, huh?”
“Yeah, Birthday Girl. I think you are.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes thin, but I don’t miss the curve of her mouth. “Nah, you just wanna see me naked again.”
Another laugh rumbles from my chest. “You have no idea, do you?”
“That I’m irresistible?”
“That you’re mine.” Unable to help myself, I kiss her again, savoring her sweet taste before resting my forehead against hers.
“So cocky,” she notes, lifting her chin. It’s a silent request. A tiny olive branch. A modicum of proof that she wants more, and I’d be a fool to do anything but give in. Pretty sure I’d give her anything, if she only asked for it.
Bending down, I kiss her a third time. “So, about our date tonight…”
“Mmm, yes,” she sighs against my mouth. “About that.”
“Did you find a dress?”
Her head bobs. “Maybe.”
“And shoes?”
She grins.
“Good girl.”