Chapter 30
Maddox
What the fuck just happened?
In a daze, I follow Pops and Romeo to the door, stepping onto the porch as the roar of straight exhaust pipes fills the silence.
From the sky, a flurry of snowflakes dance through the air before painting the ground in a pearlescent gleam.
The flowers that Mom so carefully tended lay fallow in their pots, waiting for Lottie to bring them back to life come the spring.
In the distance the majestic branches of the tree Pops planted when we moved here hang over the crunchy grass, the tire swing, no doubt icy in the wintry air.
It’s quiet but for the thoughts that circle my brain on repeat. How does Pops know Delaney’s mom?
There’s no doubt he does because why else would he call the woman Red? However, she’s affiliated with Delaney’s dad, who’s running from the Aces.
Does that mean he knows Ice, too?
Despite the anger festering in my soul, it still hit hard when Pops demanded that Delaney call her mom. I tried to defuse the situation, but it didn’t go as expected, to say the least.
I don’t truly understand Delaney’s relationship with the woman, but I do know that she wouldn’t be here if she could trust her.
The fucked-up reality is that I’m pretty sure she shouldn’t trust us either and the notion creates a greater hole in my chest.
However, I said my vows a long time ago and my loyalty to my brothers comes first.
I’ve made peace with living in this world of risk and at times lawlessness but, how do I reconcile why we formed this club—revenge for the innocent—while using an innocent girl to find a dangerous man?
We’re the silent shadows roaming these hills at night. We don’t hurt others unless they come for us, but we can’t bypass the chance to end a decade’s long feud for one person.
The cute little cheerleader who I should have walked right past weeks ago, sits inside my childhood home, her veins thick with the evil that killed my mother.
She’s an innocent, this is I know but how can I look into those wide blue-gray eyes and not see my mom, laid out on that fucking porch like a broken doll?
I can’t and this is our chance. I’m not going to waste it wondering about shit I can’t change.
She’s here. The link to the man who brutally murdered my mother sits beyond that door, which is why I rise and re-enter the house, stopping before Delaney, who’s still seated at the table and staring at the wall.
Her silky dark hair slides over her shoulder when she turns her head and my chest clenches brutally when those eyes meet mine.
“Maybe I should let you go,” I muse. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
The words are hollow but fucking true and I feel no victory, when she tilts her head and whispers, “But…?”
Clenching my jaw, I look away from those fucking eyes that slay me every time. Once again, my fingers itch to feel those silken strands of hair but I can’t touch her, especially when I know this is our chance and we can’t…
When I don’t respond, her lips lift in a bitter smile, and she slashes her hand through the air. “You stand here judging me for shit I have no control over while you’re using me to find a grown ass man.”
The truth tears at the thin veneer of my justifications but she doesn’t fucking get it. Those men are animals and we’re protecting her from their savagery—the Shadow Fucking Saints—mortal enemies of her family.
“You think we should let him go?” I sneer. “Ice? The fucking animal who rapes and murders women? My fucking mother…”
When her eyes widen, I lock my jaw because it wasn’t my intention to tell her more than she already knew.
It’s not her fucking business, especially because she’s kin to that filth.
Judging by her wide eyes, I guess I’ve shocked her into silence and with a groan, I brush past her, muttering, “Don’t worry, when we have what we want, you can fucking leave.”
Fucking pain in my ass.
I never talk about Mom…ever.
This pint-sized little troublemaker keeps pushing me though and if she’s not careful she’s going to see the devil writhing below my skin.
Of course, she follows me into the kitchen, and I throw out my arm when she says, “I’m so–”
“No! Don’t fucking say it. Your whatever means shit to me.”
When her lower lip wobbles, I turn away. Let it go, Mad, she ain’t nothing but the enemy, except…fuck.
Opening my mouth to do something stupid like apologize, I’m forestalled when she says, stiffly, “I need some clothes.”
“What?” I rasp, shaking my head. Are we really going to talk about fucking clothes?
Is she for real right now?
“I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t wash the same thing every day,” she mumbles at her feet.
Frozen, I stare at the top of her head, my eyes dropping to the pulse in her throat before I swallow the rage pressing at my own and say, “Wear Draven’s.”
Yeah, my fingers ache to pull her close so I can shake the shit out of her. Fucking…clothes.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she says, and I pause, a slow whoosh rushing through my ears.
When my vision narrows, I step back and bellow, “Whatever! Figure it the fuck out. I’m not your damn maid.”
For a minute, we stare at each other, and I ignore her pretty tits practically heaving in my face before she slams her palm against my chest and hisses, “You’re such a fucking jerk.”
My dick stiffens at her spicy attitude which only ratchets my rage, and I grab her wrist, saying, “Yeah, well, you’re a nagging bitch!”
Her arms drop away, and I eye that slow wobble to her lip before she catches it between her teeth.
When we lock eyes again, I take in those glistening orbs before pulling her down the hall as I mutter, “Fuck!”
After busting through the door to my bedroom, I push her before me and stalk to the dresser, stacking a bunch of items haphazardly in my arms, before I thrust them at her and sneer, “Here. You’re okay with wearing my shit. Right?”
Delaney
My cheeks bloom with utter mortification at his words but it’s the tiny smirk that lifts the side of his mouth which pushes me further off the edge.
I’ve lost, I know this. Maddox Montgomery will never look at me and not see his poor mother.
Right or wrong, good or bad, it’s reality.
I can’t breathe through the knowledge that the one person I found hope with will be my end. I don’t want to be the cause of his pain while simultaneously I want him to be willing to bleed for me.
How fucked up is that?
Either way, I have to get myself out of this mess and walk before we ruin each other. Until then, I guess I want him to see me and not the woman who haunts his dreams.
Yes, I am that fucking selfish, which is why, I slam my hands into the pile and smile when it falls to the floor.
“Sorry,” I sing-song and his eyes widen.
We stare at each other for a second before he growls and picks me up, pushing me against the wall.
Our mouths meet in a grinding mash of hate filled lust. It hurts but it feels stupid good as I wrap my legs around his waist and arch into the ridge of his dick.
When I whimper, he pulls away and drops me to the floor. While I battle a surge of disappointment that drops to shock, he grabs the collar of my t-shirt and rips it in two.
Oh. My. God.
Hastily, I pull my arms from the remnants of fabric and meet his lips once more as he fumbles with my jeans before shoving them down my legs.
In a last moment of sanity, I remove my bra and panties while he sees to his jeans before he picks me up and slams into me.
It burns, of course it does. I’m still practically a virgin but the wild look in his eyes as he pumps into me creates my own need.
I like knowing that I bring him to his proverbial knees. When we’re like this, he’s not snarling his hate. We’re just two people fucking.
Wrapping my legs around his waist once more, I press my back against the floor and arch into him, a thrill rushing through me when his nostrils flare and he grabs my hips.
My back bounces off the carpet with every thrust and I follow his gaze to where he’s pumping inside of me.
There’s something primal, greedy, and right about this and I pulse around him at the thought.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits between his teeth.
“Please,” I mutter but I don’t know what I’m begging for.
When his eyes shoot to mine, they narrow before he pulls from me, lifts me to my hands and knees and slaps my ass.
Mindless to anything but this moment, I open my legs as thrusts into me again, fucking me brutally once more.
“Ah!” I cry, my fingers scrabbling for purchase.
I’m likely to have rug burns before it’s all over with but it’s the last thing on my mind as he thrusts into me roughly.
When I arch against him, he grunts and grabs my hair, causing tingles to cascade along my skin and then he changes his angle…
“Fuck,” I gasp, grinding against him desperately.
Wrenching on my hair, he forces me to meet his dark eyes in the mirror across the room. His devilish smirk ratchets my need, but I lose all thoughts beyond where he’s battering me as my orgasm rises so fast that black dots dance before my eyes.
“Maddox,” I cry, and he grunts, pumping into me madly while I watch his lips thin and his eyes roll.
It’s so beautiful but the image falls flat when he pulls away, still spewing, his eyes wide in horror.
Whether it’s because he didn’t pull out or he’s just realized what we did, I have no clue but I’m helpless to his rage as he sits back, still half hard.
Collapsing to the floor, I gasp for air as he grabs his pants and snarls, “Get dressed.”
The pleasure of before still pulses through my body while I stare at his retreating form.
Despite knowing that I can’t keep him here when he’s already retreated behind his wall, I still cry, “Stop. Please. Stop.”
While he stares at the wall, I eye his heaving shoulders before pounding my fist on the carpet.
“You can’t hate me for shit that I didn’t do.”
When he doesn’t respond, I grab the blanket on his bed and once I’m covered, I push to my feet but before I can speak or touch him like I long to do, soothing the rage battering at his soul, he stiffens right back up and spins around.
“You don’t think so?” he says and the brutal gleam in his eyes sends me back a step. “Do you know what those fuckers did to my mother? They took her out of her own bed. They chained her to a wall. They raped her over and fucking over. They shaved her fucking head.”
Pain. There’s so much pain behind his words as he wipes his mouth, stands tall, and continues, “When they decided they were done using her, they beat her to death.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, and his lips pull into a cruel smile.
“God had nothing to do with it, princess. Your dad, Ice, those fuckers, they did it and you’re fucking blood runs with their stink.”
Speechless, I can only stare, hoping that the soul deep ache in my chest doesn’t send me to my knees as something passes over his eyes and he steps away.
My veins burn for the pain he tries so hard to hide and bowing my head, I say quietly, “I’m sorry for what they did, but…”
I didn’t do something so horrible and wrong.
It doesn’t matter though because I feel his hate to my soul when he chuckles and says, “No one is innocent in this, princess. Fucking no one.”