Chapter Ten
Max
Ashort trip to McDonalds later, I return with enough food to feed an army and an expectation to find that Ember’s tried to escape, or something equally as bad. Wouldn’t put it past her to burn the entire motel down.
I find neither. She’s still in bed, eyes closed, body still, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Is she sleeping?
Flame dispels that by blinking open her eyes and staring at me. The dark spots beneath them have worsened, and they’re more bloodshot. It looks like there’s a burst blood vessel in her right eye.
When we get back to HQ, I’m taking her straight to medical. Whatever’s going on with her, she’s certainly not okay. Now, I could—and would enjoy—torturing information out of her, but I’d rather expedite finding the problem so I can work on a solution.
“McDonalds?” she sneers. “What are you, five? Did you get yourself a happy meal?”
I bought you your first ever happy meal. I still remember how she gazed up at me with stars in her eyes. She was fucking thrilled when she pulled a plastic dinosaur out of the crinkled paper bag.
“Nope, but I am a growing boy, so I got a lot of food.” As in, I don’t know her preferences, so I may or may not have ordered the entire menu.
“If I untie you, are you going to come at me with another makeshift weapon?” I ask her.
She considers this for a beat. “Probably.”
“Sounds like fun.” I set the three overflowing bags on a desk and take a seat by her on the bed. A few quick tugs later, and her hands are free. There are angry red marks around her wrists—looks like she did try to escape in my absence.
Transporting her isn’t going to be fun. It’s safest to sedate her, but I find I don’t like the idea of her unconscious. I far prefer it when she tries to tear my head off my shoulders.
I’m not sure what that says about me, and frankly, I don’t much care.
She sits up slowly, reaching down to scratch her thigh. “Any chance you have a spare set of clothes in your mystery duffle bag? I’m cold.”
“I can tell.” I leer at her breasts—nipples hard enough to poke through the fabric of her bra—and she snarls.
“You can have a sweater,” I decide, retrieving one from my duffle.
“How magnanimous.”
“Considering you’ve racked up three attempts on my life in less than a day, it certainly is.” I carelessly toss the fabric of a black athletic sweater at her; she catches it one-handedly and pulls it on. Quick reflexes, I note.
“Any preferences?” I ask.
“I’d shoot you in the head for some fries.”
“You’d shoot me in the head anyways.”
“True, but I’d be much more satisfied if it gets me fries.” She stares hungrily at the bag.
I suppress a smile. She’s fucking adorable when she wants to kill me.
I open one of the bags, rummage around in it, and walk across the room to hand it to her. She eyes it for a moment as if it’s a nuclear bomb and not a bag filled with food.
“Shake it,” she demands.
I arch an eyebrow. “Are you expecting it to blow up?”
“One can never be too safe in our line of work.”
“Fair enough.” I give the bag a few shakes; when it doesn’t explode, she grabs it from my hand and reaches in, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth at once.
When was the last time she ate? I don’t think she had anything at the casino; she wasn’t drinking and wasn’t eating. So, it’s been at least twenty-four hours.
Longer, if Dagon has a habit of starving her, which wouldn’t surprise me. Guilt pangs at my stomach, but it’s quickly followed by annoyance.
I have to remind myself that this is not my Ember. This is not the girl who cried when I left for college, hugged me like I was her favorite human, and taught me how to read. This girl—woman—is an assassin who has probably killed dozens of men like me, if not more.
This is a girl who doesn’t remember me. Who probably doesn’t remember herself.
I take a seat at the rickety desk, open a different bag, and devour three burgers in under five minutes.
Ember watches me with raised eyebrows. “Wow. I’ve met dogs less food-obsessed and messy than you.”
She’s still working through a ten-piece chicken nugget box and fries.
“Do you like dogs?” I ask. I have a German Shepherd waiting for me at HQ, though he’s currently hanging out with Greyson and Scarlett. I wouldn’t trust Grey to supervise an animal for shit, but I do trust Scar. She has a black cat—Lucifer—who she dotes on and adores.
She dunks a chicken nugget in sauce, brows furrowing. “I… don’t know,” she admits quietly, appearing momentarily confused. “Not from the recent experiences I’ve had with them.” Something dark passes over her face.
My chest tightens, again. If she hadn’t disappeared, the trajectories of both of our lives would be vastly different.
I’d be a vet with a staggering inheritance that precluded me from ever needing to work; she’d be whatever she wanted to be.
We’d probably already have a house and be well on our way to building a family, complete with a dog.
We’d both be fulfilling the dreams we had, before life fucked us in the ass, sans lube. Her loss and my parents death changed me, igniting a rage that made the thought of doing anything good for this world, which took everything from me, vaguely repulsive. So, I chose to kill instead.
I look forward to unraveling exactly what took Ember down the path that made her into this woman. That should start with some small talk.
“Do you like cuddling?” I question.
A hapless shrug.
“Affection?”
“Not particularly.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Why?”
“Because it always comes at a price.”
“Flame.” My tone is filled with a soul-aching sadness. “Real affection is never conditional. Only the fake shit is.”
Her brows furrow. She looks confused, and suddenly so, so young.
“I wouldn’t know,” she admits quietly.
I want to scrap any planned punishment, pick her up in my arms, and spend the next three or so years holding her, proving that genuine affection is not conditional, and reminding her that she does love it. At least, she used to.
Fuck. My head, heart, and cock, are waging a battle with each other. My head tells me to treat her like the threat she is; my heart tells me to wrap her up in a blanket and recite the story of our childhood to her, hoping it jogs her memories; my cock cares about nothing but fucking her raw.
I go with my head.
“Eat up.” I jerk my chin at her picked-at food. “We have a long drive ahead of us, and I’m not in the mood for any pitstops.”
“How long a drive?”
I smile at her. “Already planning your next escape attempt? I wouldn’t bother, Flame.” We’ll be at headquarters by early morning. She’ll get her beauty sleep, foregoing whatever crash she referred to, and I won’t worry about her trying to rip my head off my shoulders.
When she wakes up, she’ll be safely tucked away in the Nighthawk’s compound. Far outside of Dagon’s reach. Then, I can figure out how to deal with Hurricane Ember and all the complications she’s about to bring to my doorstep.
Which are many.
I let her finish up her food in relative peace—if she doesn’t count me ogling her and drinking in the fact that she’s here, and until further notice, she’s mine.
Then, I walk over to her to rebind her wrists.
“Is that really necessary?” she grumbles.
“Yes,” I confirm, finishing up. I dip my hand into my pocket, curling my fingers around the syringe hidden there. “As is this.”
I pull out the syringe, take the cap off with my teeth, and sink it into her neck, hitting the plunger.
Ember scrambles away from me, gasping and frantically raising her bound hands to swat at her neck.
“What—” she gasps, blood draining from her face. “What was—”
“Just a little something to put you to sleep. You’ll wake up feeling good as new.”
That’s a lie; in reality, she’ll wake up with a dry mouth and headache, so I’ll have a bottle of water and ibuprofen ready for her.
“You… you—” she swallows, eyes drooping, falling onto the bed. “Oh, fuck.”
“You’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Let it do its thing, Flame. I’ll look after you.”
She’s asleep by the time I finish talking.
I unbind her wrists, pull a pair of sweatpants from the duffle and dress her, then put extra-thick socks on her feet. I wouldn’t give her shoes even if I had any, but I also don’t want her to get cold.
Then, I pick her up, grab my duffle, and head out to the car.