23. Maddison
Maddison
I’m nervous. My nails picking at the skin on my fingers as I wait for Ash out the front of the event. I’m far enough away that I’m not catching anyone’s attention, thank goodness. Because no amount of finger combing will fix my hair, and I can only imagine what my makeup looks like right now.
I shoot of a text to Roxy to let her know I’m leaving, and she lets me know she’s about to sleep with the server she met earlier, and it makes me giggle.
Guess we are not all that different, then.
Glancing up through the tall metal gate, I watch the front entrance, people milling about, cameras still flashing.
The need to run away is strong.
I made my appearance. The event was a success. And the thought of walking back into that hall where I know Malcolm is schmoozing the guests makes me physically ill.
Where is he?
Although I’m itching to leave, I can’t wipe the grin off my face. Before, out there in the garden, was... Life changing. It was everything. For a girl who struggles to feel life buzzing in her veins, I felt a lifetime of it in that one moment.
He gave me that.
He brought that out of me. I’m addicted already, wanting another fix. Wanting to get out of here as fast as possible, because I know he’s going to take me back to the club where he'll give me another hit.
My eyes are glued to the front door, waiting, watching, needing to see him. I'm antsy to see him; this small amount of time apart is making me feel uneasy.
Suddenly, a loud scream explodes in the night air. Everyone is running to the front of the hall, chaos erupting in an instant. I jump back from the fence with a gasp, hands trembling by my face.
A man hangs from the roof by his neck, a rough rope cutting into his windpipe. His face is an awful purple colour; mouth opened in a silent scream.
My hand jumps to my mouth when I see that his hands are missing, blood spurting down on the guests below.
Just bare stumps, red and gore, flesh cut without a care.
My stomach turns, fear crawling up my spine.
His once expensive suit is mottled in crimson, and his thick body hangs lifelessly in the air, off the tall building.
The sounds of cries and screams fill the air, sirens starting off in the distance.
And then, as my eyes rove over the man, I notice who it is.
Malcolm Hargrove.
The senator.
Petrified screams sound far away as I watch, frozen, eyes wide on the man swaying from the roof. What the hell?
Finally, I hear it. The familiar heavy rumble of a motor coming around the corner, and when I glance back, I know it's him. His Harley shines under the streetlamp, his dark hair flailing in the wind.
Ash in a torn suit, riding his motorbike, does something catastrophic to my insides, and despite the fact that a man I know has obviously just been murdered, I can’t take my eyes off him.
Immediately, he pulls up, giving me a wicked smile, baring his teeth at me as his wild eyes find mine.
But my legs are frozen, looking back at the man hanging from the roof, dead by the looks of it.
Ash doesn’t give him a second of his time, not even bothering to look at what’s causing the obvious mayhem, as red and blue lights flash in the distance.
“Are you coming, Angel?” Ash rumbles from behind me, acting oblivious to the man who's taking everyone's attention.
“B... but Ash,” I stutter, my hand pointing towards the building.
Ash just smiles wider, an unhinged look falling over him. Not bothering to wait another second, he grips my hips and lifts me onto the back of the bike, not even caring about a helmet for either of us this time before tearing away from the event.
“Ash...I...,” all the words that I want to say are jumbled in my throat, and I can't get them out.
The further we get from the event, the more I feel the tension in my body release.
The cool wind batters me as Ash weaves through cars; my dress hiked around my thighs and my arms circling around Ash’s body in a tight grip.
Lights blur together, and the heavy rumble of the motor beneath me settles me in a way I haven’t felt all night.
A manic giggle bursts free from my lips before I can stop it
Malcolm’s dead. Murdered.
At the very event thrown in his honour, his body was thrown off, dismembered. And he’ll never touch me again.
The thought has me raising my eyes to the high rearview mirrors on the bike, my mouth parting as a heavy realisation hits me. I don’t know how I know, but nothing has ever felt truer than that. And when his eyes meet mine in the reflection, I know.
Ash winks at me, his hand reaching behind to grip my thigh. My eyes narrow on the tiniest speck of blood that still lingers on his cheek, and my heart stutters.
I don't say anything. I can't. What words could I even offer right now?
I wait for the familiar feeling of fear, the realization that my arms are currently around a killer, but it doesn't hit this time. Remorse doesn't even find its way into my heart as I think about the senator and the gruesome death that has found him.
Instead, my heart races with gratitude as my chest presses against the muscular back of a devil. My Devil. My smile must mean that I'm just as evil because I can't wipe it off my face.
“Thank you,” I whisper to his back, unsure if he'll even hear it. “Thank you.”
Wind whips my hair into wild tangles, my pulse racing fast as the bike cuts another corner, racing off into the night. Night air has softened into a warm caress, the kind that flows over us as I hold him, the city lights streak past in a blur of gold and neon.
Every curve of the road, every twist of Ash’s bike under me sends a thrill shivering through my veins. Mixed with the realisation that he just killed someone for me... it’s intoxicating.
My hands grip his suit jacket, wanting to feel his warmth through the material.
I couldn’t get rid of my smile even if I wanted to.
I’ve never felt freer. Never felt more grateful or alive than I have tonight.
Warmth leaches from his hand around my thigh, settling deep in my core as I meld my body closer to him, needing to feel all of him pressed against me.
I lean into his warm, muscular body, feeling safer and more secure than I have my whole life; even though I’m flying through the city with no helmet or gear, arms circled around a killer. And that realisation has my heart twisting inside my chest.
Tonight, during a night I’ve been dreading, he managed to make me feel things that I never thought would be possible.
Yet, he dragged them out of me, chasing me like a predator and taking me like a wild animal. I forgot where I was. Forgot who I was meant to be. And just was.
He has a knack for doing that, making my mask fall off and the authentic feelings in me bubble up. It might be his personality of being unapologetically himself in every aspect of his life. He wears his heart on his sleeve; despite being one of, if not the most, dangerous men in the country.
He is a walking contradiction. And I think I’m falling.
Ash takes a sharp turn, and the roar of motors sounds behind me. It’s powerful, vibrating through me as the sound overtakes all of my thoughts. The air whooshes out of my lungs when I turn my head and look behind us. Hundreds of bikes stream behind us, the sound like a wild beast in the night.
It makes my very bones tremble with the sheer size and power .
“Who are they?” I gasp over the wind, hugging into the perfect body in front of me.
Black hair blowing in the wind, Ash turns his head slightly and I see his boyish smile, that damn dimple popping out. He looks so alive in this moment, so young and free. Revving his bike with his inked hand, he chuckles. “It’s the Devil's, baby. Our men.”
I’m high by the time Ash pulls the bike down a quiet street, slowing to a stop.
Confused, I take in the surroundings. It’s the Shade Casino, not that I’ve ever been.
With a dark, sleek exterior, I’ve heard the interior is even darker.
Everyday people like me don’t step foot in a place like Shade Casino.
Usually lights sparkle outside, luring in a crowd to spend their cash, but right now it stands dark and silent. Not a soul around. No security, no line of waiting patrons. Nothing.
Bikes surround us and the building, the Devil’s becoming rowdy. The air is electric, my hair standing on edge. Something is about to happen... I can feel it in the way that electricity zaps in the air, all of my senses alert.
“What…What are we doing here?” My voice wavers, catching in my throat. I’m not sure if I really want to know what’s going on. The feeling swirling around in my stomach tells me it can be nothing good.
Ash turns his head, a crooked grin tugging at his face as his eyes twinkle. They look almost black in the dark, endless pools of deadly water.
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he drawls, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.
My brow furrows, but I can’t help the thrill that skitters through me. There is something about a man being so unashamedly bad that makes my breath quicken and my core tighten.
Ash reaches into what I think is a saddlebag and pulls out a shiny object. A glass bottle with liquid and what looks like a rag shoved into it. When he brings it closer, a sharp chemical smell assaults my nose, causing it to wrinkle in disgust.
Dark lashes flutter upwards as Ash turns in his seat again, taking in my reaction, but my eyes are glued to the bottle. I thought these things only existed in movies. Where the rag is lit on fire and thrown like a bomb, causing mayhem.
When I finally drag my eyes to his, I tense, chewing on my bottom lip. Dark pools of intensity are laser-focused on me, and only me, watching for my reaction.
I’m not sure if he is waiting for me to beg him to stop or cry and plead. But he isn’t going to get that. Not tonight.
A dark brow raises, the small movement a dare. The click of the lighter seems to echo, which can’t be right as the entire street is rumbling with strong engines and feral, untamed men. But in this moment, it’s just me and Ash. The bike beneath us, the destructive bomb between us. Eyes locked.
The flame lights his perfect face in an orange glow, causing his manic look to seem outright feral, and God, does it do things to my insides.
I swallow; eyes locked on his. His crooked grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, teasing, almost daring, as if he knows the risk and wants me to taste it too.
The Molotov burns lightly in his palm, a small promise of chaos, and I feel the heat of it almost through the glass.
My fingers hover over it, and for a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of us, the bike, and that dangerous little flame.
This is crazy. Outright batshit crazy. This isn’t me, a small voice cries in my head. But isn’t it?
I think back to tonight’s events. The crimes hidden in perfectly tailored suits and pretty gowns.
The men who I know are evil, yet their polished exteriors hide it from everyone else to see.
The charade of it all. The version of me that has been perfectly carved out, no matter if it’s slowly killing me.
I don’t know who I am, and who I have been told I should be.
All I know is that right now, in this very second, I feel more alive than I have my entire life.
I can feel the organ in my chest beating a fast song; I can feel the air rushing in and out of my lungs.
The engine between my legs makes me feel powerful, and the man in front of me makes me feel out of control in all the best ways.
For the first time since I can remember, I’m not pretending. I know this is wrong, but I don’t seem to mind that fact right now. What he did for me tonight... taking away one of my demons. It’s changed everything in my mind.
My manicured fingers brush his inked ones as my hand closes around the lit bottle of demolition, the smell of smoke and chemicals adding to my excitement.
My choice made. My choice.
A perfectly straight, white smile grins back at me. Heat and something…intimate, dances in his eyes as he leans forward on the bike, giving me room to do what I need to do.
I inhale deeply, watching the flames dance in the dark, a wicked smile curving on my face. Over my shoulder, dozens of flames light, everyone holding their breath in anticipation.
Cocking my arm back, I throw it with all my might at the dark building. Seconds feel like hours as I watch the flames pummel forward, glass shattering.
Flames erupt, snaking over the doors at the entrance, casting a brilliant glow in the dark street. A deafening cheer erupts behind me, my head whipping around to see the dozens of other flames flying towards the casino.
I don’t get to look for long, don’t get to see the carnage and flames. Because Ash is gripping my face and pulling me into the fiercest, hungriest kiss I’ve ever experienced. He devours me, his tongue slipping into my mouth as he growls a rumbling sound.
He pulls away slightly, his eyes flicking between mine. “Mine,” he hisses. His eyes dart to the pack of men behind me. “Ours.”
And for once I feel like I belong, a feeling that I’m not accustomed to. It causes an ache to build behind my eyes, and my lip trembles.
Ash leans in for one more quick kiss, tugging my bottom lip harshly between his teeth before pulling away, his breath ragged and uneven, before he straightens on the bike, giving it a deafening rev.
We pull off the street, racing down the road, leaving the fiery mess of the casino behind us, roaring and angry.
Engines follow us, a convoy of devils, streaming down the highway, weaving in and out of the traffic, back to the club.
Back to the little slice of hell, carved out for people like them. Like me.