CHAPTER FOUR
TESSA
I’m fuming. At Maddox. At my family. And at myself.
Flipping my turn signal on, I wait for traffic to clear to take the final left into my apartment complex. My attention slices to my rearview mirror, snagging on the moronic driver behind me, who sped between two crowded lanes and landed a wheelie moments ago.
After his galling and flirtatious texts, I was plagued with anxiety for the rest of my shift.
I pierced two sets of nipples, a belly button, and five ears.
I inked nontraditional marriage vows down a couple’s spines and a Mardi Gras mask onto the hip of a twenty-something girl who divulged far more about her life than she should have.
And since we had an extra artist on the schedule today, when things slowed, my co-workers let me take some downtime, so I completed a sketch for my upcoming project.
That should have made it a good day.
But instead, Maddox’s suggestive messages kept drifting through my mind.
They were unsettling—or I’d like to believe they were.
Part of me was having a blast, waiting with bated breath to see what he’d come up with next.
I was even momentarily enamored by the picture he painted.
It’s been a long time since someone has made me forget my name or walk crooked.
Not that he’s the man to do it, but the texting confused things. Until I reminded myself that this was all some sort of power play for Maddox. His behavior is likely a cover for something worse. That’s when trepidation snaked around me like a boa constrictor.
I added several entries to my Things That Piss Me Off list, which is my go-to stress-relieving method.
Autocorrect gone rogue; buffets; long lines, especially for stupid reasons, like the freaking self-checkout not recognizing an item; establishments that prohibit lids and straws; newsboy hats.
That did nothing to take the edge off.
It’s not as if he’s never come on to me before.
He flirts with everyone. It’s who he is.
But he usually keeps his distance from me, which I appreciate.
It’s impossible to forget that I’m under his thumb, but tolerable when I don’t have him shoving it in my face.
Or shoving weapons at me for that matter.
He’s done that before too, but this felt different.
When he’d given me the knife last fall, he’d claimed he wanted me to take extra precautions because a member had breached the bylaws and harmed someone.
That doesn’t happen often. The Noires don’t tell employees how they handle those infractions.
But we know. If a member breaks Noire rules, they don’t leave.
They also don’t live. Since there is always a small chance someone might seek retribution on behalf of the member who broke the bylaws and was thus punished, security measures were tightened afterward.
So, his concern nettled me, but it made sense.
This time, he didn’t offer an explanation, and there’s been no breach of bylaws. Which means he’s either hiding things or … I don’t even know what the other option is. My gut roils.
Pulling into my spot, I cut the ignition and gather my stuff. After I stash my small purse inside my work bag, I sling it over my shoulder and hop out of my car. Maddox parks his motorcycle right beside me, despite the sign prohibiting it. Boundaries never seem to apply to him.
“You escorted me home for God knows what reason.” I shoot a dagger of warning at him as he removes his helmet, and I shut my door with my hip. “No need to park. You’re not staying.”
“Didn’t your mama raise you with better manners than that?” he mocks, and I cringe at him talking about my family, even in jest. “You’re not going to invite me in? Offer me some sweet tea?”
He’s dressed in a form-fitted black T-shirt, jeans, and a light leather jacket.
It’s rare that he’s clad in something so casual, and it’s messing with my head.
I have the uncanny urge to lean in and smell him.
Of course that’s followed by a vision of kneeing him in the balls, so I’m not too far gone.
“I’ve got nothing even remotely sweet to offer, so if that’s what you’re looking for, you came to the wrong place.”
“I doubt that.” He mutters that sentence, which only enhances the tantalizing nature of it.
Is he hitting on me? For real? That’s the last thing I need. My pulse gallops, my chest tightening from the stampede on my rib cage.
After I flit my eyes around the parking lot, assuring myself that no one’s around, I plant them on him. “Are you bored? Did you just need to annoy someone today? Or am I missing something? Does someone …” I swallow a lump of fear that enrages me. I refuse to feel weak. “Am I in danger?”
How could that even be? It’s been years. My subconscious is jumping to conclusions.
That night will never stop haunting me.
He scans me for a minute, those wintry irises searing into me with depths of emotion I can’t discern. That’s not entirely new, I suppose. His gaze raking over me is always a perplexing sensation of razor blades and cashmere sweaters. It cuts and caresses.
He glances at my apartment complex. “I thought it was a good time to check the safety of your living situation.”
“That’s bullshit, Maddox.” I clutch the strap of my bag, adjusting it on my shoulder with a heavy breath. “What are you, the La Lune Noire neighborhood watch committee now?”
“At your service.” He winks, and my traitorous stomach flutters.
An unbidden threatening snarl springs from me. I’m close to losing it. Tension claws at my arms, so I take off for the entrance, cursing my favorite black boots because the spiked heel is making it impossible to outrun his mammoth strides.
Why the hell is he following me?
As I swipe my key card to unlock the lobby door, I block the entrance and summon every morsel of strength and maturity I have in my bones to get to the point, cordially. “If there’s something going on or something I should know … Is my family in danger?”
His shoulders sag a bit, as if my question disappoints him. “I’ll always make sure you and your family are safe, Tess.”
There are fleeting moments when the tender side of Maddox penetrates my armor.
There’s something genuine about him beneath all his antics.
It’s one of the reasons he was the person I sought help from when my world crumbled around me.
And I’ll give it to him—he showed up in a way no one else ever had.
Maddox strolls inside, one hand in his pocket, like he’s simply here to hang out.
Not walking into a scene from a real-life horror film.
His gaze sails all over the carnage before it docks on me with a trace of panic.
Still, he tries to mask it, rushing toward me, stooping down, and brushing my hair back.
“You’ll be okay, Tess. I’ll take care of everything. ”
“I didn’t know who else to call.” My voice is like sandpaper, rough and painful, and my heart hammers my sternum.
I glance down. There’s so much blood. It’s everywhere.
And the racket. It won’t stop. Why the hell won’t it stop? My ears are ringing.
“You did the right thing, calling me.” He lifts my chin, his fingers instantly coated in crimson, and the full moon casts a wild serenity on his eyes. “I’ve got you.”
He was amazing, until he fucked it all up.
Still, his vow to protect my family is appreciated, so I soften. “Thank you. I believe you will.” Soft isn’t really my nature, so that’s as much as I’ve got. “Tell me what this is about then because you’re either lying or a nuisance, and you’re not welcome in my space.”
In answer to that, he swings the door open wider, skirts past me, and breezes into the lobby while I scurry behind him, steaming.
As I’m contemplating reporting Maddox to the ancient security guy at the desk, he presses the button to the elevator and greets him, like they’re old buddies. “Good to see you again, Harold.”
“Always a pleasure, Mr. Noire. Got the bike out today?”
“Figured I might as well.” He throws a thumb at me, his brows cocked. “This one was grumpy, so I thought it was best not to ride with her.”
Harold grunts in what appears to be agreement, and Maddox widens his eyes with a commiserating nod. Like I’m the lunatic.
Admittedly, I’ve never spoken to Harold. I’ve never even looked at him. For all I know, he started today. I’m not a people person. What can I say?
The elevator dings. I growl under my breath and step inside. Maddox joins me, waving to the security guard.
And Harold croons, “Good luck, sir,” as the doors close us inside.
Irked that Maddox pushed the correct floor, I brace myself against the wall. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not the one failing Etiquette 101. First, you try to deny me sweet tea.” He slants his head and grumbles a dramatic, “Rude. But I’ve got broad shoulders and a huge dick, so I can take it. Would it kill you to be nice to Harold?”
I cross my arms over my chest with a petulant huff. “Everything that comes out of your mouth is asinine. Are you suggesting that I find out if Harold has a tiny dick?”
His lips twitch, and he tips his chin, like he’s in on a secret. “That’s not the dick you’re interested in.”
That’s what he went with? Our conversation is dropping IQ points by the second.
So, of course, like any self-respecting woman, I stoop to his level. “True. The cock I’m desperate for has my name tattooed above it and instinctively knows where to hit to make me scream.” I bite my lip and sigh a dreamy, “Good times.”
That’s all fantasy. I mean, I’ve had great sex, but no one crazy enough to brand themselves for me.
While I’m not a huge reader, unhinged dark-romance fodder swims in my veins, though in real life, that would be alarming.
But the mere implication worked like a charm.
He’s finally speechless, and his jaw and fists are clenched, as if he were throttling that all-knowing devoted penis.
I’m internally celebrating when an uneasy hunch hits me. “How do you know Harold?”