Chapter 20
Delaney
Eventually, I pass out and when I wake, I’m alone. After rolling over in bed, I stare at the ceiling, relieved that the pounding in my head has reduced to a dull ache.
My mouth is as dry as the desert but when I look at the bottle of water by the bed, my stomach rolls.
Instead, I stumble into the bathroom and turn on the water.
Was I drunk? Or did something more nefarious happen last night?
Bile burns a trail up my throat at the thought, but I force it away and dip my head to sip from the tap. The cool water soothes my aching throat and after drinking my fill, I strip out of the t-shirt and my panties before stepping under the heated spray.
The warmth feels good against my chilled skin but even more the soap I spread everywhere in the hopes of washing away my stupidity.
I don’t feel different but knowing there’s a black hole where my memory should be leaves me unsettled and although I feel cleaner when I emerge, something lingers that I can’t scrub clean.
Maybe it’s stupid but I don’t think Micah drugged me. However, it is possible he decided to take advantage of my drunken state, and I can’t stand to consider the thought.
Avoiding my face in the mirror, I pull on the T-shirt I was wearing before because I don’t have anything else.
With no brush to tame my hair, I can only towel it dry and call it good. The wet strands create blotches on the shirt that I ignore as I brush my teeth with my finger and follow it with the mouthwash I found in the cabinet.
As clean as I’m going to get…for now, I step out of the bathroom and pause to find Maddox sitting on the bed.
Shadows darken his eyes as his gaze drops to my chest and when my nipples harden, I shiver, welcoming the feeling because it’s erasing the stain that’s been dirtying my skin since I woke this morning.
Although he licks his lips when he takes in my bare legs, to my disappointment, he turns away and says gruffly, “Here. Food.”
Biting back my sassy response because it’s not his fault that I feel like a broken fucking doll, I merely grunt and move to the other side of the bed.
I am hungry but as soon as I take a bite of the grilled cheese sandwich, my stomach rolls again and when he hands me a bottle of water, I eye it dubiously until he says, “You need to hydrate, Delaney.”
“Okay,” I whisper but I can’t drink from the bottle as though my heart is trying to tell me something that my brain can’t comprehend.
When I make no move to open it, Maddox grabs the soda sitting beside his head and hands it to me.
My soul warms at the innocent gesture and I manage to swallow half the sandwich before drinking the entire can of soda.
Meanwhile Maddox sits beside me, flicking through the channels before eventually stopping on a chick flick that I saw once about three years ago.
It was okay, but I’m more into slasher films.
I can’t decide if he’s watching this for me and I don’t want to say something rude after he’s gone out of his way to be so kind.
However, when a particularly cheesy scene comes up, I snort, and he glances at me sideways.
“What?” I ask and he raises a brow.
“You don’t like this shit?”
Stifling a smile, I shake my head, especially when he exhales as though relieved and changes the channel.
“What do you like?” he asks.
“Ooo,” I say when he passes a particularly good thriller. “That one.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, that guy gets stuck in the woods with his three friends after a hiking trip gone wrong. Then weird shit starts to happen.”
His lips twitch before he sets the remote aside. Relaxed for the first time in days and happy to have his company, I settle in, mouthing the dialogue every once in a while.
When he snorts, I glance up, my stomach whooshing at the twinkle in his eyes as he shakes his head.
Once the credits roll, I shift around but find him sleeping, his dark lashes fanning his cheeks.
I’m tempted to reach out and touch him, run the tips of my fingers down the smooth skin of his arms and trace the tattoos that tell his story.
I’d like to touch far more than that, including his lips, parted while he sleeps.
Instead, I rest my cheek on my hand and watch him like a total creeper until sleep claims me too.
Maddox
“Please, Mad?” she whines, and I groan, throwing out my arm.
This is bullshit.
I should be out combing the streets with the brothers but no, instead Pops ordered me here and now I’m stuck negotiating with a terrorist with wide brown eyes and the diabolical mind of a forty-year-old stuck in a child’s body.
If I have to play tea party or brush her doll’s hair one more time, I’m gonna lose my shit.
“M-a-d,” Draven calls, and I wince before turning back to her.
She eyes me up and down and a shiver rolls down my spine but when she stomps her foot, I mentally sigh and grab up her favorite fuzzy blanket before nodding toward the couch.
I see the victory behind her eyes, although she scrunches her nose.
Whatever, if this means she will lay down and shut the fuck up, I’m considering it a win of my own.
Thank fuck, once she’s snuggled up and watching her favorite cartoon, she falls asleep quickly and after covering her with the blanket, I rise to pace once more.
Every instinct I have is pushing me to go out that door and look for Mom, but I can’t leave Draven alone.
Still, my lungs burn with the need to know what’s going on because I still haven’t heard from Pops.
Where the fuck are they?
I’m just reaching for my phone when it finally rings and after pressing call, I turn as a beam of light flashes through the bay window.
Are they here?
Ignoring the tingle that races down my spine, I say, as I stalk to the door, “Yeah?”
Why would Pops call me if he’s at the door?
“Son?” Pops says.
“What’s happening?”
With a last glance back at Draven still sleeping peacefully, I open the door, pausing in the threshold.
“Son…” Pops says again, but I can’t speak.
As though I’m looking through the viewfinder I had when I was a little kid, the images flash before my eyes in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Her pale scalp, once covered in beautiful wheat colored hair shines in the low light.
I used to run my fingers through that hair. It was so fucking soft.
Those dark, midnight eyes, the same hue as mine, stare back at me, the milky orbs sending a shudder down my spine.
I skate over her bare torso, strangely embarrassed at the sight before dropping to my knees and grabbing my head.
“No,” I groan, but the bruises painting her delicate skin mock me from the corner of my eyes.
“Maddox!” The tinny sound of Pops’ voice sounds in the distance as I trace my finger over the black and blue marks before gently pushing her legs closed.
When her body shifts like a broken doll, I pull her into my arms and rest my head against her shoulder.
“Mama,” I murmur, through the lump in my throat.
She’s so achingly cold that I carefully set her down before retrieving a blanket from inside and closing the door behind me.
Only when I hear the faint rumble of approaching bikes do I look up but I’m not seeing Pops or Romeo or the brothers who searched for her.
“Maddox?” Pops says and when I blink, he’s holding his hands palm up. “I need to approach, son.”
All at once, the tension leaves my body and I lean back, closing my eyes. I don’t move when Pops carefully picks her up and sets her down, but I will never forget the sound of anguish that falls from his lips as he takes in what will forever be emblazoned in my brain.
With a groan, I roll over and bury my head in the pillow. The lingering burn that always haunts me after the dream presses at my chest.
It’s been years since I had that particular nightmare and it doesn’t take a genius to know that it resurfaced after I found Delaney curled up on the ground, so frail and lifeless.
Beside me, the soft whoosh of her breaths pull me away from my thoughts and I turn to my side.
She looks better with some of the color returning to her skin. Her silky hair spreads in a halo around her head and I curl my fingers into a fist to keep from touching her.
What if I hadn’t been at the warehouse last night?
I’ll never forget the way her tiny body trembled in my arms or how fucked up she was while that fucker hovered over her like a total creeper.
Is that what the Aces scum looked like when they killed my mom?
Fuck. I can’t focus on shit like this, or I might lose my damn mind.
Instead, as I quietly get up and dress, I content myself with visions of all the ways I’m going to fuck up that asshole’s world before stepping from the room.
I need to speak to my sister, although I don’t relish the coming conversation.
Since we redid the rooms downstairs, there are no extra bunks. We’re working on a new space with extra beds but in the meantime when Draven stays at the clubhouse, one of the brothers has to give up his room.
Often, Romeo volunteers. So, I find myself standing over his bed, staring at my sister's ass with a frown before I cover my eyes, and bark, “Get up.”
Dray hardly stirs though and gritting my teeth, I snap the blinds open before grabbing the bedspread and pulling it to the floor.
She mumbles and turns over but doesn’t stir and annoyed by her ability to sleep through anything, I grab her arm and pull her from the mattress, gratified when her ass hits the floor and she shrieks, “What the fuck!”
“What the fuck?” I growl. “Here’s what, Dray. It’s fucking stupid to go to parties where you’re unprotected. The Warehouse? Really, Dray?”
Blowing her hair out of her face, she crosses her arms and sneers, “Protected or smothered, Maddox?”
“Don’t start this shit again,” I say waving my arm as she pushes to her feet.
Averting my gaze while she grabs a pair of jeans off the floor, I roll my eyes when she mutters, “Hate this fucking place. It’s stifling. You're stifling. I just want to be free.”
My fingers burn to wring her damn neck, instead, I grab her arm and rasp, “If you don’t stop being stupid, the only thing you’re gonna end up is dead.”
Of course, she wrenches from my grip, but I’m done arguing and I walk away while she screams, “I’d rather be dead than here.”