TWENTY-ONE CHALLENGE ACCEPTED
TWENTY-ONE
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED
The guards eye me as I walk toward their ride. I know I’m not at all terrifying, but the fact that they study me as if I’m a walking explosive tells me how deeply Maxim put the fear of God into them.
I can just imagine it involved a hacksaw and a platter à la Salome and John the Baptist’s head.
Humming happily, I continue my saunter toward the SUV.
One, like a smart man, climbs out and waits for my approach.
“I’m going to New York in Shay’s car,” is my greeting.
“We had orders to take you in ours.”
“Then you can ask for new orders.”
“Ma’am—”
I cringe. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, please.”
“I’m following orders, miss.”
I gag. “How is that worse?”
The man’s lips twitch. And, huh, if Maxim didn’t have my ovaries in a twist, I’d probably even admit he was hot. “Ma’am is better then?”
“Barely.” I heave a put-upon sigh. “Wait a second.”
Me: Leaving for NYC in my car now
Maxim: With guards trailing you?
Me: Yes.
A message pings on the guard’s phone.
“There? Happy now?”
He shoots me an apologetic smile. “The last guard who failed you lost an arm, ma’am. I prefer to err on the side of caution.”
My brow lifts because I didn’t receive an arm.
“Understandable. Okay, I’m going, but I’ll be stopping off to collect Wynter. We’ll be heading to the city afterward.”
It’s a lie, but I refuse to get into the BS about turf, etc.
“Of course.”
Me: Are you removing body parts from people and NOT gifting them to me?
Maxim: You’d have a limb graveyard if I did
Me: I meant in specific relation to limbs removed as a result of failing me, or you failing me, I suppose
Me: In fact, is that what this limb removal stems from? An insecurity?
Maxim: Practice amateur psychology on me when I’m in person and not in a meeting. See you tonight, kotik. Try not to get into too much mischief before we next meet
Well, that sounded like a challenge.
Didn’t that sound like a challenge?
I heard a challenge.
The humming turns into outright singing as I arrange my snack station in the car, make sure my water’s close at hand, tweak my little ladybug charm on it, and then select the right playlist before setting off.
Behind me, I notice the Irish and Russian guards trailing me and shake my head at my little baby ducklings.
“Whoa, you have an entourage?” Wynter greets after she drops her bag off in the trunk.
“Yep. Story of my life. There are more in our street this weekend too. Some for me, some for Shay. Don’t you have any?”
“Nah. My family’s rich but we’re not Rockefellers. I had no problems in the city so I convinced them to keep it low-key here.”
“Was that wise?”
“At least your guys are discreet. My daddy sets bikers on me!”
“Yeah, the opposite of subtle.”
I may have grown used to the ride to the city, but that doesn’t make it any less boring, so Wynter’s company definitely keeps me going. I’m more of a passenger princess, to be honest, and I’m beyond happy that Maxim offered to do the commuting because, ugh, what a drag.
Despite the fact that Wynter has me in hoots about this Ukrainian woman who lives with two of her dad’s brothers and palms off pets on random people, I try to be cautious with the snacks because of the dress I’ll be wearing, but who am I kidding? Your girl needs carbs to get through the tedium.
“You’re so lucky having Shay as a confidant.” She moans, chowing on some Skittles before giving me the bag.
“I’m beginning to think you have a crush on him!”
“Nah. He’s pretty though.”
“He is,” I agree. “Too pretty for me. I like them a bit rougher around the edges.”
“I think your idea of rough around the edges and mine are poles apart,” she teases.
“Seeing as you live on an MC compound, no shit, Sherlock!”
Wynter chortles. “Having seen all those scars, I can’t deny Maxim’s a scrapper.”
“Scrapper,” I deride. “He has ink, too. This massive tiger on his back. It’s freakin’ huge.”
“Ohh, I saw that at the first rite! Why a tiger, anyway? Thought the Bratva had stars inked on them.”
“Pfft. Like Maxim would get caught. They only have those done if they’re inside. The tiger’s an oskal.”
“A what?”
“Big ‘fuck you’ to The Man.”
“Hot!”
“He’s mine! No more peeking. Even inside your head.”
“You going to lock him in a purdah?”
“I should. Tonight’s going to be such a pain. He’s already said that all the society bitches sniff around him. It’s why he wants me there.”
“Why did he wait so long to ask you, do you think?”
“I don’t know. He’s always been cautious around me.”
I give her a sanitized version of our beginning. Minus the kidnapping. And the decapitated head. And… the other body parts.
“Maybe you showing up at his house was like ‘Open sesame.’”
“If it is, he’s the one who won’t put out,” I grumble.
When she bursts out laughing, I grin at her, delighted in her amusement.
It’s not that I’ve never had girlfriends. My sisters and I are close, after all. But Wynter’s different. She doesn’t have to be friends with me. We’re both gliding too close to the sun together and it’s beginning to feel like teamwork.
I’m almost disappointed when signs for the Jersey Turnpike pop up on the highway.
“That’s the fastest that journey’s ever gone,” she declares.
“Same. We need to hang out more. Ya know, without murdering people or being a taxi driver for a bunch of drunken Rhos beforehand.”
Her smile quivers. “It’s only going to get worse.”
“Yeah. But we’re in this together, right?” I put words to my nascent hope.
“We are,” she concurs a touch wispily. “We should go to the cinema club next week.”
“Sounds good to me. Want me to invite Shay? You can sit next to him.”
“Shut up.” She squeals.
Mid-squeal, I receive a call from my guards, who must’ve gone on red alert the second I nosed my car toward the turnpike.
“Where are you going?”
Ah. Not my guards. They sent in the big boys.
“Just heading to Jersey, Maxim.”
“Why do you never go where you say you’re going?”
“That’s not true! Everyone needs a detour.”
“The guards told me you picked up Wynter Kinnock.”
“Yep.”
“You know who she is, Victoria.” He grunts. “You can’t take two SUVs of Russian and Irish guards into MC territory without consequences.”
“My dad won’t mind,” Wynter chirps, brows wagging at me. “Honest!”
Thank goodness Maxim didn’t diss the Sinners. That’d have been awkward!
“God help me.”
We both snicker and she sticks out her tongue at the console.
“I can have some brothers escort her to and from the clubhouse?” Wynter angles.
“That would be helpful,” he says grimly. “Tell your father I’ll coordinate on this end. We’ll talk about this later, Victoria.”
“Can’t wait.” As he cuts the call, I ask, “Now, do you think this Amara lady has a dog…?”
Hey, he’s the one who threw down a challenge.