6. Maddoc
“…allthe way down to State and 26th,” the kid in front of me says as he finishes his report, flinging a hand out to point toward the part of town he’s describing, as laid out on the map pinned to my office wall.
“Watch it, Levi,” Payton snaps, dodging back when he almost smacks her in the face.
Levi’s face turns a shade of red that tells me he’s thinking with his dick, and he mumbles an apology as he drops his hand and scoots out of her way.
Isaac, the third Reaper I called in to report on the search for Chloe, smirks at him, then catches my scowl and straightens up. “No sign of her in the warehouse district either, boss,” he says.
“You tapped your contact with Mathis over there?” I ask, frustrated with his answer even though it doesn’t surprise me.
Isaac nods. “He promised they’d keep their eye out for us.”
Sure they will. Mathis is a small organization with questionable loyalty, and even though I’ve marked their territory as an ally on the city map, I don’t have a hell of a lot of faith that loyalty will hold if they’re the first to find what we’re looking for. But Halston is a big city, and there’s no way to cover all of it on our own.
I turn to look out the window, trying not to let my frustration show, as Isaac, Levi, and Payton go on with their reports. Nothing but more fucking dead ends, but I nod to let them know I’m listening, pinching the bridge of my nose because this shit is giving me a fucking headache.
I’ve had every Reaper I can spare scouring the streets all night, and even though Riley’s… distraction last night lost us some time, Chloe shouldn’t have been able to get ahead of us like she obviously has. She’s just a kid herself, younger than Levi even, and all alone out there with no resources, no one to turn to, and no fucking skills? There’s no way she could have gotten very far.
Then again, she’s Riley’s sister, and Riley’s not just a fighter, she’s also smart, savvy, and scrappy as hell. A survivor if there ever was one. So of course the girl she basically raised must have learned a thing or two about looking out for herself too.
I grit my teeth, but an irritated sigh escapes me anyway.
“Boss?” Isaac asks, jerking my attention back to the three of them.
I nod at him to go on, and he gives me a few more facts that boil down to no one’s seen any sign of the girl. But we will find her. We have to. West Point’s become a real problem lately, and we need her.
I turn to Payton. “Anything from the 17th Street Gang?”
She shakes her head. “They haven’t seen her, but I’ve passed her picture around.”
The picture of Chloe that I got off Riley’s phone.
That day she let me flip through her photos, it was easy to see how much love there is between the two sisters. The kind of love and loyalty that makes what Riley did not just understandable, but something a part of me fucking admires.
That doesn’t mean I can let it slide, though.
I scrub a hand down my face and shake off the unpleasant thought. I’m still too fucking pissed to go there. Right now, I need to stay focused on bringing Chloe in.
“Did you tell them her hair is different now?” I ask Payton, gesturing with my hand to show her the length as I picture the trembling, scared teenager we snatched from the middle of a drug deal last night.
Payton nods. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll still find her.”
Of course we will. It’s the only outcome I’ll settle for. Still, the hair isn’t the only difference between the girl we found last night and the smiling, happy little sister Riley had so many snaps of on her phone. I’ve got no doubt that Chloe has the same thread of strength running through her that makes Riley so fucking appealing, but remembering the way the girl clung to Riley when we brought her back here to the house gives me a twinge of guilt.
I shake it off. The dull, throbbing pain in my shoulder, the shoulder Riley fucking shot me in, is all the reminder I need that there’s no place for that kind of sentimental shit. My loyalty lies only with those who’ve sworn allegiance to me, with the Reapers, and my only responsibility is to do what’s best for them.
Right now, that means strengthening the organization I built from the ground up. Doing whatever it takes to look out for my people. And if that includes making the hard calls—the ones that may or may not result in collateral damage—fine. That’s my job. It’s what a leader does.
Even when he doesn’t want to.
I refocus on the task at hand, pinning the three gang members in front of me with a hard stare. “What about sightings? Did that lead from Ruiz pan out?”
Levi’s the one who shakes his head this time. “It was a false start. Just a teen runaway.”
I narrow my eyes, wondering if Chloe could have played that off. But no. My people know what they’re looking for, even if she managed to change her appearance. If there’d been any doubt that the teen was her, they would have brought her in.
I look back at the map and mark off the areas we’ve already cleared, then give Levi, Isaac, and Payton new marching orders.
I know they’re tired—fuck, we all are—but they’re Reapers, they don’t bitch about being sent out to keep searching. They don’t question why I’m putting so many resources on this. They trust me.
Which is why I can’t let myself get fucking soft about this.
Levi and Isaac head out, but Payton lingers, resting her hand on my bicep. Stroking it a little.
“Did something happen?” she asks, swaying toward me. “It looked like you were wincing a little when you used this arm.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, brushing off her concern and taking a step back so her hand falls away. “A minor injury.”
It’s not nothing, though. No one outside the four of us who live here know that Riley shot me, and I’ve got years of fucking practice ignoring pain. If Payton caught on, it means I let it show.
It means I’m letting my people down.
Her eyes narrow, zeroing in on the bulk of the bandage under my shirt. “Was it West Point?”
“No,” I bite out, my jaw clenching tight. But I force it to relax when I see Payton gearing up to press me for more details and give her a reassuring smile. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s been handled.”
“So this ‘minor injury’ needed to be handled?” she asks, not letting it go. She reaches for me again. “If there’s anything I can do…”
I catch her hand before she touches me, using it to steer her toward the door. I appreciate her loyalty, and she’s got the kind of skills the Reapers have really benefited from, but I can’t let her think there’s an opening for anything more here. There’s not, but give Payton an inch and she’ll take a mile. It’s a quality that makes her a fucking badass when we need one, but not anything I have the time or interest for on a personal level.
I keep my tone brisk. “The best thing you can do for the organization right now is get back out there and keep searching for Chloe.”
She stalls as I try to usher her out. “It’s not just the organization I’m worried about, Maddoc. If you need anything, anything at all, I’d be happy to—”
“Dante,” I interrupt, talking over her to greet him as he walks up behind her.
Payton presses her lips together in what might pass for a smile as she turns to him, but the effect is spoiled by the irritated look she gives him. If I was in a better mood, it would almost make me laugh.
I’m not.
“Hey, Payton,” Dante says with a smirk before turning to me. “Any news, Madd?”
“Not yet, but Payton’s about to go out and get me some. Isn’t that right?”
“Of course,” she says, accidentally-on-purpose rubbing her tits against me as she moves through the doorway, out into the hallway. “Like I said, anything you need.”
“Finding Chloe is important, and I appreciate what you’re doing out there. It’s good to know I can count on you.”
She brightens up a little too much at the praise, but with a nod, she finally leaves.
Dante watches her go. “She’s getting less subtle every day.”
I brush that off. “It’s fine. I’ve got it handled.”
He grins. “If you really had it ‘handled,’ I’m pretty sure she’d have been a lot less irritated about me interrupting.”
I snort. Payton’s attractive, but I don’t want her and Dante knows it. Besides…
“I learned my lesson with Sienna.”
“I know,” Dante says with a flash of sympathy on his face that’s thankfully gone as quickly as it appears. Fast enough that I don’t have time to get pissed off about it.
I don’t need fucking sympathy. Sienna may have screwed me over, but all valuable lessons come at a price, and I’ve never shied away from paying my dues. That’s what it takes to get stronger. Better. To come out on top.
I change the subject, giving Dante a quick rundown on the areas of Halston we’ve already searched… and letting some of my frustration with the big fat nothing that we’ve found bleed through into my voice now that it’s just the two of us.
“How the fuck has the girl managed to go to ground?”
Dante frowns. “I don’t know, Madd, but she won’t be able to stay hidden forever.”
“I’m not worried about forever. I’m worried about finding her first,” I growl.
Dante nods. “You’re right, it’s time sensitive, but have you slept at all, bro? Showered at any point in the last twenty-four hours? Because she’s not gonna get found any faster by you killing yourself here.”
I glower at him. “You’re right, this shit is time sensitive,” I say, ignoring the rest… but it’s fucking Dante, so of course he doesn’t back down.
“It’s not gonna do any of us any good if you snap. But hey, if you don’t want to take the time to actually get some sleep, I could always call Payton back here so you can relax another way. Take her up on—”
“Hell no,” I cut him off. Then I scrub a hand over my face with a sigh when he laughs.
He’s needling me, trying to get a reaction, and it worked. But he’s also fucking right. I’m the leader, and it’s one thing to make sure I’m holding it together when our organization has eyes on me—I’ll always do that, no matter what it takes—but it’s something else entirely to make sure I’m truly good to go when it’s time to move.
And for that, I do need to unwind a little.
“Go,” Dante says, jerking his chin toward the stairs like he can sense he’s won. “Shower at least, yeah? And think about catching some shut eye. Logan and I will hold down the fort.”
It’s the one thing in life I can always count on. My brothers have my back. Always.
I give in with a nod. “I guess taking a few to decompress isn’t a bad idea.”
“And Payton did offer…” Dante starts in, his eyes twinkling as he drags the joke out too far.
I answer him with my middle finger, heading toward the stairs, but Dante’s still not done.
“You want me to get you someone else?” he calls out from behind me, not trying to goad me this time.
He really does know that I’ve got no interest in Payton despite her blatant come-ons, but he also knows that a good hard fuck is my go-to when I actually need to release some tension. What he doesn’t know is that there’s only one person on my mind these days, only one woman I want to sink back inside now that I know how fucking perfect it feels to be balls deep in her tight little body.
Riley.
Right up the stairs, but after what went down in the kitchen, completely out of reach.
I shake my head, waving the offer off without turning around. “I just need a quick shower, like you said.”
I take the stairs two at a time and silently curse Dante’s “helpful” suggestion as I pass Riley’s room and head toward mine, because now I’m thinking with my cock… and I really could use a good fuck right now.
The problem is, last night I had the hottest one of my life, and now nothing else appeals.
Especially because it wasn’t just the hottest, it was also the fucking stupidest.
I let my guard down.
“Goddammit,” I grit out as I reach the private bathroom off the master bedroom I claim as my own, pissed off all over again.
I methodically strip my clothes off and slam my hand down on the faucet in the shower, pushing it all the way toward the left. If nothing else, I can get it to burn off some of the fucked up mess happening in my head right now.
I just got done reminding Dante that I learned my lesson when Sienna fucked me over, but did I? Because as the bathroom starts to steam up and I quickly wrap my shoulder in plastic before stepping under the scalding spray, I can admit—only here, only to myself—that I fucking fell for it all over again last night. That over these past few weeks, I’ve started to… feel things for Riley.
Things that were above and beyond what I’d ever felt for Sienna.
Things I started to think might be real.
But just like with that bitch Sienna, it turns out I wasn’t just wrong, I let those fucking feelings completely blind me to Riley’s actual motives. When she suddenly wanted to fuck out of the blue last night, I wasn’t thinking distraction. I wasn’t worried about whether or not she might be using my cock to break down my barriers. I didn’t even question why she wasn’t with her sister, when making sure the girl was safe was all Riley had cared about since we met her.
I just figured something else was happening. Something between us that I’d been resisting, but that felt inevitable too.
And I figured wrong… but I still can’t get her out of my head.
I close my eyes and tip my head back against the tile with a vicious string of curses, letting the hot water sluice down my face even though it’s doing a shit job of burning out the memories I’d rather bury.
How fucking good it felt to finally take her after holding back for so long. How goddamn perfect she tasted, like honey and smoke and the kind of sex that could fucking ruin a man for all other pussy. How her body opened up to me, how my name sounded when she came, how fucking hot it was when she begged me, fought me, moaned for me…
“Fuck,” I grit out, squeezing my cock—hard and dripping now—out of sheer rage.
At myself.
Because even knowing the truth now, even knowing how fucking wrong I was about it all, I still can’t stop, I don’t want to stop, replaying those memories in my head.
So I give in and do it. Start working over my shaft because if nothing else, I need the fucking release.
I’ve got no interest in drawing it out. I want it to come hard and fast, and my body obliges, balls pulling up heavy and tight as everything that’s pent up inside me prepares to unleash.
I pump my cock harder. Faster. Almost brutally. I hiss from the friction, welcoming it. I want to strip myself raw. Strip away those fucking feelings. Make my dick forget the feel of all that soft, plush, perfect I found inside Riley’s sweet little body.
But fuck, I can’t. I’m never going to forget it. The feel of her is burned into my fucking soul now.
I curse and let my hand slow, sliding up and down my cock as images from last night flicker behind my closed eyelids. I twist my palm over my cockhead, sending a delicious shudder up my spine, and tighten my grip, trying to chase what it felt like to be inside her.
I’ve never had any use for religion and don’t believe in any power higher than my own, but goddamn. Riley’s pussy? It could almost make me a believer. It’s the closest thing to heaven I’ve ever found, and something I didn’t even realize I was craving until I was finally balls-deep inside her.
She’s the perfect mix of softness and strength, temptation and torment, and I still want to break her… but that’s not the memory that sends me over the edge.
I grit my teeth and turn toward the wall, pressing one hand flat against the tile as I lean into it and pump myself faster. My skin practically sizzles, the water so fucking hot it’s gotta be stripping off the top layer and cooking whatever’s left, but it’s got nothing on the heat that explodes in my groin when I picture Riley the way she was last night, at the end.
Not when she was gasping out my name.
Not when she was clenching that perfect fucking pussy of hers around my cock as she shattered yet again for me.
“Jesus fuck,” I hiss, my hand flying as I picture the moment after that. The moment she should have been soft and spent and pliant, completely fucked into submission.
But instead, she’d had fury flashing in her eyes. She’d scrambled for my gun. Raised it fearlessly, with trembling hands but rock-solid determination. Pointed it right at my head as my cum trickled down her thighs, and then pulled the—
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I shout, spilling over my hand with a tortured groan as my release slams into me without any warning, hitting me just as hard and fast as that bullet had.
I slap the tile, coming hard enough that I need a minute. It’s not as good as coming inside her, but it’s pretty damn close. Eventually, the aftershocks fade away, and I mutter another quiet curse, resting my forehead against the wet tile. My shoulder well and truly aches now, I’ve got no doubt I’ve fucked up Logan’s stitches, and every inch of my skin is painfully red from the torturous temperature of the water still beating down on me.
And every bit of that pain serves me right, but I’d still do it again. Fuck, I’d do her again, even if it meant taking another bullet.
Or maybe… especially if it meant taking another bullet.
A truly fucked-up thought that I do my best to drown in a glass of whiskey once I get out of the shower.
But just like everything else about Riley, it’s too fucking stubborn to let go, and when I finally give in and lie down to catch some shut eye, my last thought is of her.
And so are my goddamn dreams.