7. Mack
7
MACK
“ H ere,” Gigi huffs, tossing a pillow and a patchwork quilt at me. “I hope you don’t snore. With my luck it will be loud enough that I can hear it all the way in my bedroom.”
Her words are the same biting sarcasm she always uses with me, but her heart’s not in it. Gigi’s putting up a good front right now, but she’s rattled. I can tell. Her face muscles are tense, brows knitted. Her breathing is rapid and shallow. She’s scared, and she’s trying her damnedest not to show me.
“I don’t snore,” I say. Picking up the quilt, I shake it out and drape it across the couch. It looks handmade. “Did you make this blanket yourself?”
“My grandma did.” She crosses her arms in front of her and lifts a hand to her mouth, nervously chewing on a thumbnail.
“Your grandma?” I say, confused. “Your dad’s mom?”
“My mom’s mom. I never met her.” Gigi’s eyes flick away from me. “I just know she’s the one who made it. It was just always in the house growing up. She must have given it to my mom at some point. I kept it in my room. I didn’t want my dad and Connor wrecking it.”
I contemplate her words. Gigi and Fury’s mom died in childbirth with Gigi. By the time I met their dad, he was already a full-blown alcoholic: a broken man, rarely sober and never around, even when he was physically present. He finally drank himself to death not long after Gigi graduated high school. G and Fury definitely got the shit end of the stick in the parental department. I imagine it must have meant something to Gigi to have a keepsake from her mom’s side of the family, even if she never met her mom’s mom. As old as it is, the quilt is in perfect condition. An image comes to me, of young Gigi wrapping it around herself for comfort when she was feeling low.
Just then, a flash of gray fur appears. It streaks across the living room and jumps up on the couch. When it comes to a stop, I see it’s a cat with bright green eyes and long fur. It stands in the middle of the quilt, eyeing me suspiciously.
“That’s Tedward,” Gig tells me, sounding relieved to change the subject. “He’s not friendly, so don’t try to pet him.”
“Is that right?” I ask. “He doesn’t look like the violent type.” I take a step closer.
“I’m warning you, he’ll take your arm off,” Gigi says, her voice pitching higher. “He’s had his shots, but that doesn’t mean you won’t need stitches.”
I sit down on the other end of the couch from Tedward. His green eyes fix on me, tail swishing back and forth. I don’t move. After a few seconds he comes closer, nose twitching. I reach out a hand for him to sniff. After a moment, he rubs his face against my knuckles and starts to purr.
“Aww, he’s just a big ol’ softy,” I say, scruffing him under the chin. I look up at Gigi, who is gaping at both of us like she can’t believe her eyes.
“How in the hell...?” she breathes. “He hates everybody! How did you do that?”
“Dunno. He seems perfectly fine to me.”
“Jesus Christ.” Gigi shakes her head. “Assholes attract assholes, I guess.”
“Hey,” I protest. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about your cat.”
But Gigi has turned away in disgust. She doesn’t bother saying goodnight, just flees down the hall toward her bedroom.
“I guess she doesn’t wanna talk about it anymore,” I tell Tedward. He chirps in agreement.
I hang out with the cat for a few more minutes, until he decides to jump off the couch and follow Gigi into her bedroom. Removing my cut, I drape it across the back of a chair, then pull my wallet, phone, and keys out of my pockets. I keep my gun on me, until I can get Gigi’s front door fixed tomorrow morning.
My phone buzzes on the side table with a text. It’s, Fury, asking for a status update. I tell him everything’s copacetic over here and that Gigi’s gone to bed. Tossing the phone back on the table and go to find the bathroom so I can take a leak. Just as I get to the bathroom, the door opens and she comes out of it. She’s in an oversized T-shirt that stops just below her ass, and nothing else. She looks cute, and sleepy, and goddamnit if she doesn’t look sexy as hell.
Gigi startles when she sees me. “Sorry,” she mumbles. Her breath smells like mint toothpaste.
“No need,” I reply, my voice sounding thick in my ears. “G’night.”
“Night.” Gigi turns away from me and walks quickly down the hall, giving me a view of her naked legs and the curve of her ass under her shirt that gets my cock’s immediate attention. She disappears into her bedroom and slams the door behind her.
I let out a soft groan. Fuck . Now I’m gonna have that image in my head the whole night.
I suppress the urge to jack off in her bathroom — hey, even I’m not that much of a pig. But taking a leak ends up being a little more effort than I expected it to be. I’m still half-hard as I do a quick perimeter check and make sure all the doors and windows are locked. I push an easy chair in front of the front door so I’ll be able to hear if anyone tries to push it open.
Then, stretching out on the couch, I pull Gigi’s grandma’s quilt over me and try to get some rest.
First thing in the morning, a couple of our club brothers arrive to fix Gigi’s door. She stays in her room for the whole thing. When they’re finished and gone, she still hasn’t come out. It seems pretty clear she’s avoiding me. I decide to give her a break. Now that her door can lock again, I’ll set myself up in my truck outside her house, instead of hanging out in here.
I go to her bedroom door and rap on it a couple times with a knuckle. “Hey. You awake in there?”
“Just a minute,” her muffled voice replies.
“Don’t worry about coming out,” I call back. “Just wanted to let you know the front door’s fixed. I’m gonna head out to my truck. I’ll leave my number on your kitchen counter. Text me or call me if you need anything.”
The door opens a crack. Gigi pokes her head out, looking bed-rumpled and gorgeous. I get a tight feeling in my chest, for some reason, seeing her that way.
“Did you get anything to eat?” she asks. “Any breakfast?”
“I made some coffee. There’s still over half a pot left for you, if you want it.”
Gigi screws up her face in a look of concern. “You’re not going to eat anything, though?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve got some beef jerky in the truck. Don’t sweat it.”
Gigi looks like she wants to say something more, but seems to think better of it. She pulls her head back inside and closes the door. I go back into the kitchen and rummage around in her cupboards until I find a travel mug. I fill the mug half-full and snap the lid on. I didn’t sleep much last night, so I’ll probably need it.
Outside, I start up my truck and do a U-turn, parking it across the street and one house down. I want to keep Gigi safe, but I also don’t want to make my presence to obvious. I’d rather catch these motherfuckers in the act if I can.
Surveillance work is dull as hell, so I settle in for the wait. She mentioned she’s not working today, so I’m expecting to be here for a while. I eat a stick of beef jerky and drink the coffee. I turn on my radio from time to time to catch the news or break up the monotony. I play a couple mindless games on my phone. The only time I leave is to take a leak in some bushes. When the beef jerky isn’t cutting it anymore, I call one of our prospects and have him bring me some fast food. I get a text from Gigi, asking if I’m okay out here. I reply that I am, and ask her if she’s okay. She doesn’t answer.
The light is fading at the end of the day. I’m still in the truck. Gigi still hasn’t left the house. Just when I think we might get through the day without incident, my phone buzzes.
I think I saw someone out at the edge of the backyard
Stay in the house. I’ll go check
Before I can get out of the truck, a loud crash echoes from the back of Gigi’s property. I’m out in a flash, gun drawn. My legs are pumping hard as I round the corner at the back of the house. There’s no one in the yard, but as I look back toward the house, I see a rock-shaped hole in one of the back windows. I rush inside to see Gigi standing in her kitchen, visibly shaken but unharmed.
She’s staring down at the rock about the size of a cantaloupe.
Whore is written on it, in what looks like magic marker.
“What the fuck?” Gigi whispers. She tears her eyes away to look up at me, terror etched into her features.
“Are you hurt?” I ask urgently, scanning her for blood. “Did any glass hit you?”
My question seems to snap her into another emotional state. “No… I’m fine. I have to clean this up.” She swivels on her heel and crosses the kitchen to a small closet. Pulling the door open, she removes a hand broom and a dust pan. Gigi kneels and robotically starts to clean up the glass.
“G, stop. Why don’t you go into the living room. I’ll clean this up.”
“No, I have to.” Her movements start to speed up, growing jerky and almost frenetic. I kneel down beside her and grab her wrists as gently as I can. The contact seems to shake her out of it. She stops moving and looks at me. It feels like she’s not really seeing me.
“Come on,” I say, as gently as I can. “Stop for now. Come with me. This can wait.”
She allows herself to be led to the living room couch. I sit her down, and then after a second, sit next to her.
On impulse, I wrap an arm around her and hug her to me. I expect her to resist. But instead, she sinks into me, burying her head against my chest.
“Sshhh…” I tell her, pulling her closer. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get to the bottom of it, G.”
“I just don’t understand why this is happening,” she whispers. “You know?”
“I know. But your safe, okay? You’re safe.”
I listen to her hitched breathing as she tries not to cry. Sitting on this couch, with this beautiful but prickly woman, I think back to last night, when I managed to get Tedward to come close to me, against all odds. Somehow, this moment feels similar.
I’ve always had a thing for Gigi. Even though I know that for some reason she’s always hated me. But now, being here in close proximity with her, joined at the hip for God knows how long, I realize my feelings for her are deepening into something more than attraction.
I surprise myself by realizing I don’t want her to hate me.
But I’m almost afraid to ask myself what I want her to feel instead.