30. Maddox #2
“You walk around with a gun like it’s normal. Act like you own this town. Talk about hunting people, about missing girls, about things you won’t explain. Maybe I should be the one who’s pissed.” Her chest rose and fell against mine.
I hated that it stirred something in me.
Well, more specifically, in my pants, but I didn’t want her to have the power over me.
Not right now. Fighting with her shouldn’t turn me on, but fuck if it didn’t.
“The things I do, the shit I’m involved in, it’s dangerous.
It’s not a game. Did you ever think I kept that part of myself locked away for a reason? Maybe it was to protect you?”
She shook her head, eyes blazing with a fire to match mine. “I never asked for protection. Not from you. Not from your family. I can’t believe I thought even for a minute you might be a good guy.”
My laugh was short. Bitter. Ugly. “That’s your first mistake.”
She flinched, stepping back. “Get out!” She pointed a finger at the door.
“Gladly.” I tossed the knife back on the bed, pissed off at not just her but myself.
I felt so used…so stupid. How could I have fallen for such a trick?
I actually started to feel something for her.
I’d thought maybe she might be what I needed to cure this infatuation I had for Kaylor.
The only time I wasn’t thinking about my brother’s girlfriend had been when I was with Hales. And now…
I stepped away from her, and her lips parted like she might say something else, but instead she wrapped her arms around herself, eyes bright with tears, chin still lifted in defiance.
What a fucking mess.
I turned and walked out, not sparing a glance back. If someone had broken in, for her sake, I hoped he really was gone.
Unlatching the locks, I flung the front door open and headed out into the night air. I hadn’t heard her come down the stairs after me, but I heard the door slam shut behind me. Hell, I felt it, the echo vibrating in my bones.
My Jeep sat at the curb down the street where I’d inconspicuously parked it. I climbed in, gripping the steering wheel as I stared at her house through the windshield, and tried to ignore the way my chest felt hollow. To pretend the ache wasn’t real.
“Fuck this.” I put the Jeep in drive and left before I did something stupid like go back inside.
The bag swung. Hard. Chain rattling against the beam overhead, chiming through the empty gym as my fist drove into it again.
And again.
And again.
Each hit sent a jolt up my arm. My knuckles were already raw, skin split in places where I’d been hitting too long without wraps, blood mixing with sweat. But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. There was too much in my head, too much crawling around that I couldn’t shake off.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
The words looped over and over. A mantra of confusion, anger, and something else I didn’t want to name.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of Hales stalking herself, and it made me question everything. My instincts. My reads on people. Skills I’d honed over the years, partially from watching my father manipulate and scheme.
So how the hell had I gotten Mallory Hales so damn wrong?
Another punch. Harder this time.
She had betrayed me.
I’d had girls pull shit before. Lie to get closer. Manipulate situations to create opportunities. Do crazy things just to get my attention.
But this?
This was a whole different level of twisted, fabricating an entire stalking scenario. The details it took to pull it off…
Should I be flattered?
I didn’t feel flattered. I felt played and used, but honestly, I wasn’t sure I had a leg to stand on, considering I’d used and played plenty of people in my life. Did I even have the right to be angry? Some of the shit I’d done couldn’t light a candle to Hales’s little scheme.
My fist slammed into the bag again, a frustrated growl ripping out of my chest.
“You’re hitting that bag like it stole your girl…which, honestly, might be an upgrade for her at this point. If you had a girl.”
Mason. His name rumbled in my head.
I hadn’t seen my brother enter the gym. Brushing the back of my arm over my forehead, I smeared sweat across my skin, salt stinging where it met the cuts on my knuckles. “Shut the fuck up. I’m not in the mood.”
“Clearly,” he said, a snarky smirk curling on his lips. “You want to talk about it, or is this something we should save for our therapist?”
I snorted under my breath. We didn’t have a therapist, but we probably should have. Years of trauma, violence, and family dysfunction lived heavily inside the walls of this house. More outside. “Does it look like I want to talk?” I asked, driving another punch into the bag.
“Fine,” he said easily, dropping onto a nearby bench. “I’ll do the talking.”
I stepped back from the bag, my arms burning and muscles screaming as I grabbed a towel from where I’d tossed it earlier and threw it over my shoulder, moving toward the bench press. “It’s what you’re good at,” I muttered, dropping onto the other padded bench and reaching for the bar overhead.
Mason scoffed. “One of us needs to be able to talk us out of sticky situations. You just punch your way through them.”
I rolled my eyes, positioning myself under the bar, hands gripping the cold metal. “It’s quicker and more effective.”
“So what do you know about this mysterious dinner?” Mason shifted, elbows bracing on his knees.
“Did you tell Kreed and Raine?” I pushed the bar up, lowering it again in controlled reps.
“Yeah. They weren’t exactly jumping for joy.”
Were any of us thrilled about it? If anything, with Kreed and Raine being at college now, I’d hoped mandatory family dinners were a thing of the past. Even with Kaylor there to soften the strain, her presence a buffer between us and the worst of our father’s moods, being in the same room as Donovan Corvo was tense.
Whatever he had planned for Sunday, it wouldn’t be good.
“Do you think it has something to do with Silvia picking up what Rusty started?” I asked between reps, my voice slightly strained from exertion. “The trafficking operation?”
“Who knows?” Mason shrugged, one shoulder lifting and falling in that careless way he had.
Scratching at the stubble on his jaw, his five o’clock shadow darker than usual.
“Didn’t seem high on his list earlier when I talked to him, but maybe something changed.
Maybe it’s escalating faster than we thought.
Has Kreed or Raine said anything to you? ”
I shook my head, lowering the bar again. “Not to me, but they wouldn’t be the only ones keeping shit from me.”
“What’s your deal? Something happened tonight?” His eyes narrowed. “Something more than just Dad being Dad?”
I said nothing, keeping my focus on the bar—big mistake. Silence was admission with Mason. He could read me better than anyone.
“Did you have a fight with Freckles?” he pressed, using that stupid nickname and irking me. “Is that what’s got you in such a pissy mood? Or is it Kaylor, because I swear, if you’re still hung up on—”
“It’s not Kaylor,” I growled, racking the bar with a huff, the metal clanging against the supports.
“Okay,” he said slowly, drawing the word out. “So…Mallory then.”
I sat up. “I’m surprised you remembered her name.”
“At least we narrowed down the who.” I heard the smirk in his voice without looking.
“Drop it,” I warned, annoyed that her face flashed through my mind. She was the last person I wanted to think about.
“Or what?” he challenged, and when I glanced over, he was grinning. “You gonna hit me instead of the bag?”
I glared at him, letting him see every bit of irritation, frustration, and rage flowing through me. “Not unless you want me to bloody that pretty face you love so much.”
His smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it widened. “Damn. She really got to you. I knew there was something between you and that girl.”
I stood, grabbing a water bottle from the floor and twisting the cap off. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He studied me for a second before snapping his fingers. “Holy. Shit. You like her.”
I scoffed. It was forced and unconvincing even to my own ears. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Which means I’m right,” he said, pushing off the bench.
“How does that make any sense?”
He paced the room, unable to be still for longer than a minute. “I know you. And you’re acting a lot like Kreed right now when he was all tore up over she-who-must-not-be-named.”
I shot him a droll glance. “Funny. Just drop it, Mas.” The entire point of my being in the gym was to forget the name Mallory Hales, but my brother seemed hellbent on making me think about things I’d like to pretend never existed.
But it didn’t help. Nothing would. Because Mason might be fucking right.
Maybe I did like her. Or had.
It didn’t change what she had done…the lies.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Mason clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Fuck indeed, brother.”