30. Hayden
HAYDEN
W hen I walk past my father’s study, the faint scent of cigar smoke and the rich tang of brandy wafts into the hallway. I glance in, surprised to see him sitting there, reclined in his leather chair, the amber liquid swirling lazily in his glass. For a man who just married the supposed love of his life, as the new Mrs. Lockwood was saying all night at the reception, he doesn’t seem eager to spend the night with her. Oh, that’s right, it’s because everything in my father’s life is smoke and mirrors.
I pause in the doorway, my hand gripping the frame as he looks up at me, exhaling a stream of smoke. His eyes narrow slightly, the barest flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masks it with indifference.
“If you’re going to fuck the girl, keep it down,” he says, his tone smooth and detached. “It makes her mother uncomfortable.”
I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe as I stare him down, letting the silence stretch until he finally meets my gaze again. “She’s going to be really uncomfortable then until she’s six feet under,” I say coldly, “because I’m doing a whole lot more than fucking Madison.”
His brow twitches in irritation, but he recovers quickly, taking a slow sip of his drink. I can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out just how serious I am about all of this. I get it. This whole thing is a wildcard for all of us.
“You aren’t exactly the poster child for well-thought-out relationships,” I continue, stepping into the room. My words are deliberate, each one cutting like a blade. “I didn’t bother asking why you married her, not that you’d give me the truth if I did. All I can warn you is that you better leave Madison out of whatever you have planned.”
My father purses his lips as if he’s taking in everything I’m saying, and I can see a hint of pride in the way he’s looking at me. He knows I mean everything I’m saying, and there’s no room for negotiation on the subject. He isn’t going to respond, and I don’t need him to.
I turn to leave, but I pause, glancing back over my shoulder. “Just so we’re clear, Madison told me what her father was going to do to her. I would’ve killed him myself if someone didn’t get to him first.” My voice sharpens because it’s important to me that this is out in the open. “If you get any bright ideas that she’s expendable, remember this: I don’t give a fuck about anything other than her. And you know exactly what I’m capable of.”
His expression doesn’t falter, but his hand tightens briefly on the glass before he lifts it in a mock salute. “To young love,” he says dryly, draining the rest of his drink in one smooth motion.
Turning on my heel, I step out of the study and head to the front entrance. Ramsey should be here already and I’m getting restless. Madison is up in the room we’ll be staying in tonight and she’s already sound asleep. Despite the fact that her mother put her foot down to Madison demanding that we sleep in separate rooms, the bitch hasn’t said shit to me.
I’m annoyed and ready to get this thing over with, so I pull out my phone to call Ramsey, but as I step through the large oak doors, Ramsey’s matte black G-Wagon rolls through the gate. The headlights slice through the darkness and I watch as he climbs out in a rush, grabbing a small bag from the back seat.
“Where is she?” Ramsey’s eyes dart around the driveway like he expects Madison to pop out from behind a fucking shrub.
I glare at him, already irritated. “Why the fuck would I have her in the driveway, you jerkoff? She’s in our room.” I motion for him to follow me through the front door and toward the grand spiral staircase my father says makes the entire house. I think it looks dumb as fuck, but I don’t have time to fixate on that right now. Ramsey falls in step behind me, his boots unnecessarily loud as he walks.
I glance over my shoulder. “Why are you so jittery?”
“I’m not jittery,” he snaps back. “But your fucking friend tried to fight me over touching his girl even though he’s the one who asked me to tag her.” His tone is laced with exasperation, but all I can do is laugh.
“My friend?” I smirk. “You mean your cousin?”
Ramsey rolls his eyes, saying under his breath, “She was a trooper, but she flinched, and he fucking lost it.” Ramsey waves his hand in an exasperated manner before raking a hand through his hair like he wants to pull it out. “The motherfucker punched me in the face like it was my idea to put a tracker in her neck.”
I chuckle, unable to help myself. Tristan trying to throw hands with Ramsey? That tracks. Tristan overreacting over Winter? Also tracks.
At Madison’s door, Ramsey hesitates, glaring at me like he’s been through the most traumatic night of his life. He deals with the Blackwood brothers on a regular basis and doesn’t bat an eye. Tristan must have really showed his whole ass tonight and that makes me really happy. Ramsey takes in a deep breath through his nose like he’s on some yoga bullshit before he says slowly and clearly, “I swear to fuck, if you try to swing on me, I’m gonna lose my shit. Tracker: yes or no?”
“Definitely tracker,” I say, stepping inside and motioning for him to follow. “Things are only going to get worse until we figure out who is behind this. I’m not taking any fucking chances.”
Ramsey sets his bag on the dresser, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Is she drugged?” he asks, already pulling out the needle.
“No,” I say, climbing onto the bed and settling beside Madison. Her head lolls to the side as I brush her hair away from her neck, exposing the soft skin at the nape. “She had enough alcohol to knock her out. She might wake up from the pinch, but she’ll be groggy.”
Ramsey nods, his focus already on the task at hand. He tosses me a bottle of alcohol and a cotton pad. “Wipe her skin down. After what happened with Tristan, I’m not touching her.”
I glare at him, the warning in my eyes clear. As if I’d let him lay a finger on her. I press the cotton to her neck, my movements slow and deliberate. Madison stirs slightly, her soft whimper cutting straight through me.
Ramsey moves fast, sliding the needle into her skin, and the noise she makes turns into a faint cry. My fists clench, and my head snaps up locking on him.
“Uh uh, crazy ass,” Ramsey says, pulling the needle out and stepping back quickly, both hands up in surrender. “Don’t even look at me like you want to bare-knuckle box. You asked for this.” It’s irrational, but I really do want to fucking fight him for making her feel any kind of pain.
I grit my teeth, glowering at him but turning my attention back to her. Madison’s face is soft in sleep, and I lean down, brushing her hair back gently and stroking her head in soothing circles, my thumb tracing her temple.
“Shoot me in the fucking skull if I ever get as bad as you and my cousin,” Ramsey says, packing his things quickly. “She won’t even know it’s there.”
I just nod at him because Madison moans softly, turning over to sleep on her other side. “Shh, baby,” I whisper. I’d normally think the way her face is scrunching up is cute, but I suspect she’s having an unpleasant dream. “It’s just me. You’re safe.”
She settles against the pillow, her breathing evening out again.
Ramsey says, “Gimme your phone so I can get out of here.”
I pull it from my pocket, type in my code and toss it to him without a word. He catches it easily, his thumbs moving fast across the screen, a few swipes here and there before he hands it back.
“All set. You’ll be able to see exactly where she is at all times,” he says, his tone clipped, no room for pleasantries.
“Thanks.” I stand, but he waves me off like I’m wasting his time.
“I know my way out. Stay with her, in case she wakes up,” he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder and heading to the door. He’s gone before I can respond, the door clicking shut behind him.