Chapter Ten
Trenton
“I need in that drawer,” Camille said, shooing me to the side.
I moved over, and she sighed.
“Now I need in that drawer.”
I took a few steps back. “I feel like half my job as a husband is moving out of your way. Have you seen my keys? I have that early meeting with the stupid business guru dude Cal hired.”
“That’s the other half,” she grumbled.
“Huh?” I asked, checking my pockets for the third time.
“Asking me to find things. I’m going to set out a jar, and every time I find something for you, you have to put a dollar in. I’ll be able to buy a new car this time next year.”
I stared at my wife for a moment. “You okay, boo?”
“ Boo ?” she cringed. “Since when do you call me boo?”
I shrugged. “Kostas says it to Becca. She seems to like it.”
Camille made a face, looking utterly disgusted.
“Fuck, what did I do?”
She opened the dishwasher, then paused, still bent over. “Nothing.” She stood, wrapping her arms around my middle, flattening her cheek against my chest. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.”
“Then who is it?”
She pulled away from me, shaking her head.
“Liis?” I asked. “You’ve been weird since the night they showed up.”
“I haven’t been weird,” she said.
She finished the dishes and then began wiping down the counter, gathering crumbs and scrubbing away spattered grease after our quick breakfast. I made the biscuits and gravy, so she insisted on cleaning up, even though she was in a rush to start her morning ritual of checking on Dad before she went to work. I leaned against the fridge, watching her work the dishrag in circles over an already immaculate surface. Usually, I joined her at Dad’s, but thanks to Cal and his guru, I was ditching today. Maybe that’s what she’s upset about. It would be better than Liis starting shit.
“Okay, it’s not Liis. So, what is it?”
“It’s really not. Liis is… great.”
“Great?” I asked, dubious. It was definitely Liis. “That’s it. I’ve tried to let the wives figure it out, but it’s not happening. I’m gonna say something.”
“Babe,” she said, walking over to me. Her warm, slightly wet palm touched the stubble crowding my jaw line. Camille didn’t use pet names often, but when she did, it instantly melted me—and she knew it. “I’m sorry I’m cranky. I don’t know why I feel like this. It’s not you, it’s not Liis, I just feel like I’m about to lose my shit.”
“Hormones,” I said, instantly regretting it. I waited for her to be outraged, but the sharp comeback never came.
“Probably,” she muttered, grabbing a clean rag to wipe the counter a third time. Wait, what? Did I just... survive that?
I enveloped her in my arms from behind, kissing the back of her neck. “You wanna get an iced coffee at lunch and walk around Target?”
She turned, and I could see the slightest hint of a smile on one side of her face. “You always know the perfect thing to say. Your keys are on the bathroom counter.”
I went to the far cabinet, pulled out an old vase, and dug into my pocket, pulling out several wadded-up dollars and dropping them inside. “Because I know my girl,” I beamed, kissing her cheek. “See you soon. Drive safe. Let me know when you get there.”
“Always,” she called to me as I headed for the bathroom.
“Love you!”
When I pulled up to Skin Deep, the lights were still off, the door still locked. I jiggled the key in the door and pulled, leaving the building dark until I walked into Calvin’s office. Flipping on the light revealed Kostas sitting in Calvin’s chair.
A primal, warrior-worthy war cry erupted from my throat as I cocked back my fist, fully prepared to launch just a few seconds before my brain registered the man quietly waiting for me wasn’t a threat—just a smug bastard patiently waiting in the dark to ruin my morning.
Kostas burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face, mate! Priceless!”
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, letting my fist drop. “How did you even get in here? Your truck isn’t out front.”
“Magic,” he said, standing. “You hired a private investigator to tail Maddie, didn’t ya? I’m guessin’ you wanna keep this private.”
“She’s not a fuckin’ spy, Kostas. You’re trying too hard.”
Kostas crossed his arms across his chest. “You came to me because of my contacts. I know the best. Not wasting the insane amount of money you’re paying Joe by getting sloppy.”
I dropped into the armless chair across from him, amused. Kostas looked out of place in Calvin’s chair, his oversized frame crammed into it like a grizzly trying to make peace with a preschool desk.
“She’s in the Grand Rapids facility,” he said, adjusting himself with the grace of a bull in IKEA. “But they’re planning to release her in three months. When they do, she’ll be back home with her parents. Their plan is to implement a security and tracking system for her, that’s the condition upon her return, anyway, per Millie Davidson from the Southern Pointe Country Club. Justine, Joe’s contact in reception, said Maddie isn’t allowed visitors just yet, but a point of interest is who called to inquire when that would change.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Someone shady, I assume?”
“Bingo.”
“Who?”
“Looking into it.”
“You know, though. Someone of interest. To you? To Joe? Who?”
“You’re asking the wrong questions, mate. The caller isn’t someone Madison knows. Could be someone she’s trying to convince to make waves here while she’s inside.”
“How could she convince someone she doesn’t know to bother us?”
“Coin,” Kostas said simply.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “She’s a college kid. No way she’s got that kind of cash. And her parents aren’t gonna bankroll her drama.”
“Maybe it’s money they stand to gain or save. It doesn’t always mean a payout.”
“To screw with me and Cami? Get real, man. Who the fuck would care enough to recruit a college kid to stir shit with us?”
He gave me a slow, deliberate look. “You’ve stirred anyone up lately, have ya?”
I snorted. “Lach. I’m a Maddox. Pissing people off isn’t a recent development—it’s a lifestyle.”
“You might wanna give it a think,” he said. “Could be somethin’ worth knowing. Anyone been poking their nose in where it doesn’t belong? If not, you’d best keep an eye out.”
I rubbed my temples. “Nah. I’m just gonna focus on staying drama-free for the next three months. I’ll deal with it when she’s back in town.”
“You keep calling her a kid with a crush, Trent. Joe found out what she had stashed in her room. Got her parents properly freaked.”
“Do I wanna know?”
“Probably not, but I’m gonna tell ya anyway. Camille’s schedule, spots she hangs out, times, addresses—she had access to your appointments, both your rego numbers, and a journal full of ideas for stirring up trouble in your marriage, planting doubts…”
“We knew she was a stalker the second she showed up at the restaurant.”
“She also had zip ties, duct tape, a mallet, a taser, and the address of an abandoned farm seven miles outside of town.”
My stomach dropped. “What the fuck?”
“You need to sort yourself out, mate. She’s not just some harmless sorority chick. She’s a bloody unstable woman who’s fixated on you. Her journal? Chock-full of plans to get Camille out of the picture. She’s convinced Cami’s the one standing between you and the baby Maddie reckons she’s meant to give ya.”
I ran a hand down my face, trying to make sense of the clusterfuck unfolding in real time. “Wow,” I muttered. It was all I could manage.
Kostas chuckled. “You Maddox lads, I tell ya someone’s cooked up some elaborate scheme to nab you or your missus—or both—and all you can come up with is wow .”
“I’m processing,” I grumbled, standing. I began to pace, rubbing the back of my neck. “So, what now?”
“We find out who rang the facility and what they’re up to, and then make a plan for when she’s released. Even then, it might not be a problem. Heard her parents are thinking of selling up soon.”
“They’re moving?”
Kostas shrugged. “Dunno. It’s possible.”
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I can’t stand this waiting bullshit.”
Kostas clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Either way... we’ll sort it.”
“Thanks for this,” I muttered. “Glad you’ve got all these contacts. Otherwise, I’d be standing around with my dick in my hand, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.”
“Between me, Trav, your dad… nothing will happen to you.”
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about my wife.”
“It’s the same thing, mate. If one gets hurt, the other suffers. That’s just how it works,” Kostas said.
I followed him to the hall and watched him walk toward the back door, fading into the darkness.
I sat back down in the chair, rubbing my face with my hands.
The entrance door chimed, and a few minutes later, Hazel barged through, dumping her bag and everything else in her hands onto Calvin’s desk. Her hair was in two thick braids, blue sunglasses perched just above her hairline.
“No way!” she said, falling into the chair Kostas had been sitting in moments before. She flattened her hands on the desk, her long, navy blue nails extended toward me. “So, get this—my sister Wendy was at the restaurant last night. Saw the whole thing. But don’t stress, okay? She told everyone around her that Maddie is bat shit crazy and there was no way she’s pregnant, or that you’d ever cheat on your wife. Anyone remotely invested agreed, so don’t think for a second people believe it.”
“You have a sister named Wendy?” I asked, racking my brain to remember any times she’d mentioned her.
“Yeah, she was one of the first ones on the roster. So, how is Cami? Is she okay? Wendy mentioned Maddie said some horrible shit. But then Raegan came back in with you all, so… did you take care of it or did she?”
“Mostly Ray.”
Hazel sat back, crossing her arms against her middle, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. “Atta girl. I miss that bitch. How is she? Is she staying for a while?”
“She’s good... I think. Maybe for a week? She doesn’t visit as often now that she’s married.”
“I saw the pics. Rich, hot, retired pro baseball guy? Go Raegan.” She let the silence hang for a moment before cranking up the volume. “Do you copy, Captain Mopey Pants?”
I snapped back to reality, realizing I was staring off into space. “Yeah! It’s all good.”
“It’s not all good. What else happened?”
I exhaled slowly. “Maddie’s not… well. Her parents took her to a facility to get her some help.”
“Oh.” Hazel tapped her nails against the desk, her other hand cupping her jaw, pushing up her cheek. “I almost feel bad.”
“Yeah, maybe cool it with the crazy talk,” I grumbled, standing and stretching my back.
Hazel made a face. “We’ve all got a little mental illness. You’re a prime example.”
I shot her a look.
She scoffed. “Bitch, please. I have anxiety, depression, ADHD, maladaptive daydreaming, and BPD. You don’t see me destroying people’s lives. I’m too busy hurting my own feelings. She’s young, but she’s not a kid anymore. It’s her responsibility to get healthy, whether it’s professional help, to medicate, or both.”
“What have you diagnosed me with?” I asked.
“I dunno, but it comes with stalkers.”
“Funny. So, I’ve got that video conference with Cal and what’s his name.” I pointed to Calvin’s computer.
“Sam something,” she said, standing and moving to the side so I could sit. “Cami would know.”
“She would. Fuck, I miss her,” I said, unable to keep the sadness from my voice. I clicked the mouse, tapped the space bar, and watched the screen flicker to life.
Hazel stopped in the doorway. “Trent.” I looked up to see the concern creating a deep line between her brows. “Why do you look worried?”
“It’s just… it’s a lot,” I admitted.
Hazel nodded, and for once, there wasn’t a joke at the ready. “Whatever you need, you know I’ve got you, right? We’ve all got you.”
“I appreciate that.”
After offering a just flicker of her usual smile, Hazel rounded the corner, heading for her room.
While I waited for Calvin and Sam to log on, I texted Camille to see if she was still at Dad’s. She immediately responded that she was, and my shoulders instantly relaxed. She was safe there. Whatever twisted, B-movie plot Maddie had cooked up for us, no one was getting past my dad.
I almost expected Ashton Kutcher to pop out at any moment. If it were some elaborate prank, Kostas deserved a fuckin’ Oscar. For a dude who owned a handful of small-town gyms, he knew the lingo and gave me updates like he was a professional—or had been one. He had contacts and knew all the right questions to ask. He definitely looked and moved like he could be private security… or something else. It made me wonder what he’d been up to before taking over IronE. Some kind of former military gig?
“Good morning,” Sam beamed, adjusting a tie that could double as a neon sign. His toothy, bleached grin dominated most of his too-tanned face, looking more like someone trying to sell me a timeshare than business sense.
“Morning.” I yawned, crossing my arms and perching them on the desk. “Cal’s gonna be late. He’s in Costa Rica and there’s a ten out of ten chance he’s hung over.”
Sam blinked, thrown off, but only momentarily. “Oh.” A nervous chuckle escaped him. “Well, then. Shall we get started? My fee’s hourly and trust me—I’m expensive.”
“Yeah, like whoever’s still tangled up in Cal’s sheets.” I grabbed a notepad, spinning a pen between my fingers. “Might as well get rolling. By the time he logs on, you’ll have earned enough to fix that janky veneer situation you’ve got going on.”
“Right,” Sam stammered. “ Ahem , let’s kick this off with my background and how my deep expertise in your industry will revolutionize your company’s growth.”
I widened my eyes, nodding slowly. “Riveting stuff. Can’t wait,” I muttered as I scribbled a few lazy circles on the notepad.