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“I told you; I had markers I called in.”
“Yeah, okay,” I answer, letting it go and feeling the disappointment settle inside. Why did I think something had shifted with us since that day I decided to go with him? How did I forget the real reason I am in Max’s life? I pull away, thinking now would be a good time to get some distance. To reassess exactly, what the hell I’m doing.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls, holding me even though I’m trying to get away.
“I just need some air,” I lie. I’m hurt, and I shouldn’t be. I’m stupid.
“Damn it, Tess!” he growls when I finally manage to get off the bed, and I’m doing my best to stop the tears. I’m not a crier, so I don’t even know why I want to cry! But, I do. I absolutely want to cry, because I feel helpless, and I hate that feeling.
“It’s okay, Mad Max, I get it. I do. Just because I tell you about my life, it doesn’t mean we’re sharing. I’m your hostage. I just forgot for a minute exactly what kind of relationship we have.” Those words bring out the tears. I hate that they are falling, I hate that I can’t stop them, and I hate that Max caused them.
“Will you calm down?”
“I am calm!” I argue.
“Then why are you crying?” he asks confused, and he should be. I am. So, I give him the truth.
“I don’t know!”
“Jesus, this is why I don’t do relationships. You women are crazy. Get back in bed, Tess.”
“I want a drink,” I grumble, glad when the tears seem to disappear as quickly as they appeared. Maybe I am just raw from talking about Rory. I don’t allow myself to go there very often.
“Hell, I need one, but if you want to hear this damn story, get back in bed.”
“Why? You don’t have to tell me, after all, I’m just…”
“Shut it before I tan your hide. And trust me after the workout I gave you this evening, doing that will leave you hurting, and not in the way you like.” His words are supposed to be a threat. I know, but I can’t stop the quiver of awareness that travels down my spine. “Fucking hell, Kitten, get that look off your face before I fuck you and me both into a coma.”
I huff and get back under the covers. I try to hold my body stiff against him, but he turns so that he spoons me from behind, and the heat from his body weakens my resolve. Max wastes no time taking advantage of that when he kisses the curve of my neck. Just one soft touch from him and my mind goes to mush.
“First, Tess, let’s clear up the fact that you are not my hostage. You stopped being that when you let me touch you. Whatever this is, I think it’s safe to say that we’re in it together now, right?”
I release a pent up breath at his words. He’s right. There’s no one holding me to Max now, but myself. It’s time I owned up to that.
“You’re right.”
“Second, it’s not that I mind talking about Marcum, It’s just… I never really have before. Marcum feels like he owes me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve told him he doesn’t, he still feels like he does.”
He burrows his head against the back of my neck kissing me. It’s distracting, and maybe that’s what he wants. I’m not sure. I try to grasp his words, but I can’t help feeling like a very big piece of the puzzle is missing.
“Why would he feel like he owes you? Did you save the life of one of his twenty children or something?”
He squeezes me and laughs, “Tess.”
“Well, I mean it can’t have escaped your notice that Marcum has a lot of kids, Max. The man must have like super sperm or something.”
“Can we not talk about Marcum’s sperm while we’re in our bed?”
I smile when he says, our bed. I can’t help it. “Why not? Do his little soldiers intimidate you, Max?” I joke.
“Jesus. How is it you always manage to bust my balls, Tess?”
“It’s a gift?”
“I’m beginning to ask myself which one of us actually got taken prisoner that day.”
His words give me a funny feeling, and it warms me. I don’t want to give myself time to dissect it though. I’ve already had one irrational, emotional outburst tonight. “Okay so, Marcum?” I prompt because I really do want to know. Max is a mystery, and I want to know more and more about him.
“He’s my old man.”
I blink in shock. Shouldn’t that have been in his file? How did I not know that? “Your records never mentioned it! How is that possible?”
“Because the old fucker has super sperm?”
I slap backwards, grazing Max’s leg that he has half draped over me. “You know what I mean.”
Max sighs, his breath soft against my skin. “You’ve read about my mom?” he asks, and I swallow hard because I have.
Max’s mom had been raped as a young girl. It broke her mind. She spent her troubled life in and out of hospitals and being strung out on drugs. She got pregnant at the age of fourteen and had the baby—Max, while a resident in the state mental hospital because she tried to kill herself. I couldn’t even imagine how it would shape someone to know that the person who gave birth to them struggled with so much. What kind of scars would that inflict on you?
“I’ve read,” I whisper, like a guilty secret, wrapping my arm behind me and pulling him deeper into me, as if to protect him.
“I’m okay, Kitten,” he kind of laughs, like he knows what I’m doing. “It was a long time ago.”
“How did she and Marcum meet up?”
“Marcum is a horny bastard, until Cherry he never cared much where he stuck his dick.”
“But she was fourteen, Max,” I answer, and I can’t help the disgust that’s in my voice.
“That’s part of the reason he and I are just now starting to work through shit. He says he didn’t know how young she was, or what shape she was in. Said she flat out lied to him.”
I turn over to face him, fitting my body tight into him and kissing his chest, trying to ignore the tears that have started up yet again. “You believe him?”
Max lets out yet another sigh, this one louder and more disgusted than before. “Sometimes. Most days I guess. I’m not sure how much he would have cared about her situation, but I don’t think he would have touched jailbait. Who knows? Men are stupid when they think with their dick. I’ve managed to follow in the old man’s footsteps, despite trying like hell not too.”
I can’t argue with him, but I can’t help the way those words cut. Max must feel the change in me because he kisses his forehead. “Wasn’t talking about you, Kitten.” That’s nice, but then again what we’re doing isn’t exactly healthy. I let it go. I could second guess and go back and forth about Max forever. I do that enough already.
“Your file said your uncle raised you. Why didn’t Marcum?”
“He didn’t know about me. Bastard came into my shop one day wanting some ink for him and his boys. Said he heard I was good. One of the men who work in my shop mentioned my mom’s name. We’ve been feeling our way with each other ever since.
“Holy hell.”
Max laughs, though it’s not a happy one. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, Kitten.”
“Your father needs to think about getting snipped, so his soldiers only shoot blanks,” I tell him, and my eyes are starting to grow heavy. The combination of multiple orgasms, crying, and the emotional talk with Max, combined with the warmth of his body is slowly dragging me toward sleep.
“Cherry is making him. We get settled out of the country; I’ll do it too. He reminded me recently we share the same DNA. That sure as hell can’t happen. We don’t need to take any more chances.”
My blood runs cool at his words. He’s right of course. I hadn’t even been thinking of that, and we’ve been going at it like rabbits. Max is always super careful though. He never takes me without protection. That’s a must for him. Every single time he makes sure he wears a condom. Except for that day one the beach.
“I need to go to sleep, Max. You’ve worn me out,” I murmur because I need to change
the subject. I need to think about something else. Anything else.
“Sleep, Kitten. We have a lot of things to do to get ready and we leave soon. I’m glad you’re going with me,” he answers.
“I am too…Night, Mad Max,” I whisper, letting sleep claim me. I try to shove my worry away. It was just one time, and it was nowhere near the right time of the month. I’m sure everything will be fine.
I’m sure…
Four more days. Four more days, and I will have officially skipped the border with Maxwell Kincaid. I’d ask myself what in the hell I’m thinking, but I know. Max is dark; there’s not a soft damn thing about him. If I made a list of pros and cons, there would be only one pro. I get more time with the man I love. The cons would be a mile long, but all of them together don’t equal what I’d have to gain. Four more days. With each day that passes, I’m surer of my decision. Unfortunately, that feeling of impending doom is also increasing. Tonight my panic is almost at the surface. I know Max can sense it. He keeps casting me these looks, and I keep trying to pretend I don’t see them.
“Aren’t you going to read your fortune?”
Max’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I try and drum up a smile for him. We’re sitting on the couch watching football, or rather Max is watching. We’re eating Chinese takeout that Marcum had one of his crew bring by. I’m not a big fan, but Max likes it, so I’m dealing with it by having fried noodles. The stench from whatever cabbage crap Max is eating however, is doing a number on my stomach. I hold out my hand for the cookie, and he drops it in my hand.
“Who’s first?”
“Considering the last fortune I read was the newspaper the day I met you, and it told me to go back to bed and not leave the house. I’ll let you go first.”
He shakes his head at me, but cracks open his cookie.
“Practice makes perfect,” he reads and looks over to me with a big smirk on his face. “You know what that means, Kitten.”
Just the look on his face is enough to make every feminine part inside of me clench and moan in response. “Down, Casanova, it’s only been an hour since our last workout.”
“I’m sorry, Kitten, I didn’t realize you required recovery time.”
“At least one of us does,” I respond shaking my head at his smile. He puts a kiss on the top of my head and gives me a half hug. “Okay, Kitten. Enough stalling, crack open that damn cookie!”
“Jesus, you’re like a kid! Are you like this at Christmas?”
“Worse, now quit stalling and show me what your damn fortune says!”
My hand trembles while I break the cookie apart. I don’t know why I would rather not read it. I just know I don’t want to. I pull out the small paper while holding my breath. Finally, I release with a quiet huff of air and read.
“It is easier to resist at the beginning than at the end,” I read aloud.
It’s just a cookie, but the words lay there between us. I look up at him, and he’s smiling.
“Look there, Kitten. Confucius is telling me to fuck your ass tonight.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what it was talking about,” I tell him, but I laugh as I’m sure he intended.
“Tomato, to-mat-toe,” he shrugs.
His hand slides against my neck and he pulls my lips to him.
“Max,” I half moan, half protest.
“Tess,” his brusque voice whispers back, then his sweet lips touch mine, his tongue coming out to tease...
Rinnnnnng.
The sharp shrill of the phone rings. We don’t answer it, for obvious reasons. There’s a procedure to be followed. I know Max and I both are holding our breath. That phone isn’t supposed to ring. The club uses Max’s burn phone. The only time the house phone is supposed to be used is if there is trouble. The phone rings a few times and then stops. Simultaneously, a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. I’m almost starting to breathe normally, and I know Max’s body starts to relax when the phone rings again. Shit.
I look at him, and he gives me silent encouragement. My hand shakes as I reach over to the phone. I clear my suddenly dry throat because it feels like my tongue is heavy, and I may choke on it.
“Hello?” I answer, my hand holding the phone as if it were my greatest enemy, and I think it might be right now.
“Hey Cherry, Marcum wanted to make sure you weren’t having trouble, asked me to call.”
My heart flips over in my chest as one of Marcum’s men speaks over the phone. I can’t even remember his name, but I know what this call is. It’s a warning; the cops are on to Max. “I’m on my way. One of the twins fell asleep and put me behind. Tell him to stop worrying.” I feel Max get up and his harsh curse echo in the room.
“Got it. Better get a move on, Cherry. Marcum has been going crazy the last ten minutes.”
“Will do.” I hang up and jump up going to get the overnight bag that I’ve packed for me and Max. I stuff the forgotten fortune into the pocket of my jeans.
“Time?” Max barks, putting on his hiking boots and then looking out the windows carefully.
“He mentioned ten minutes?” I answer, panic swamping my voice.
“Fuck!”
That pretty much sums it up I think, running back into the room, the backpack over my shoulder and my tennis shoes now firmly on my feet. That uneasy feeling in my stomach intensifies. “How did this happen? I thought Marcum had the police nailed down?”
“If they’re using safeguards, that means there’s a mole in the club.”
“Great,” I whisper and those damn tears I seem to keep crying lately, are breaking to the surface. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to hold them back, as Max takes my hand.
“I can’t leave you here, Tess. There’s a chance they will shoot first. We’ll follow the trail we marked and make our way to the meeting point with Marcum. You’ll stay with him.”
“You’re leaving me behind?” I ask, and I’m sure the worst feeling in the world is having someone you love, admit that to you. My panic, hurt, and fear all roll together, and I fight to keep from drowning because that’s how it feels.
“Let’s go,” he says, not giving me an answer. His hand wraps around my wrist, and we go to the back door.
He opens it carefully. My body is strung tight. I had this thought that the minute we opened the door a hundred guns would be pointed at us. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. However, in the distance I can hear sirens. They’ll be right on our heels. Max takes off running, pulling me with him. My legs feel like jelly, and even the salty ocean air is doing nothing to help me breathe. Why was staying at the beach such a good idea? It’s so wide open! We should have already been in the hills. You can hide in the hills or something right? My heart is beating so hard; it’s robbing me of air. I swallow down the bile that keeps trying to rise in my throat. I can hear yelling and chaos behind us. I don’t turn around to look. I’d rather not know.
We’re headed down the beach to a small shed. There’s a side by side ATV that the club keeps. I know the plan because Max and I have gone over it so many times. We get in it and take off, going over our escape plan in my head. At the end of the beach there’s a pier, under the pier, there’s a walkway that cuts back into the main drag. That will lead us into a marina full of sailboats. From there a quick turn and we can be back to the swamplands—an area that will make it harder for us to be tracked. It all sounded well thought out when Marcum and Max discussed it before. Now it sounds and feels like sheer lunacy.
Max opens the shed door, and I stand there stupidly because that’s what you do when you’re in shock. I’m staring around looking lost. I feel lost. That’s when the bullets start. They sound distant? Or maybe it’s just that way because of the dull roar and feeling of unreality in my head. I’m not sure. The bullets pinging off the ground feel close though. Bullets must hit the sand because it dusts around me as the gunfire grows. Apparently whatever has happened makes them think it’s safe to fire around me? Or, Max is right, and it’s no holds barred.
>
“Tess, damn it! Take cover!” Max’s voice jars me; it’s either that or the bullet that whizzes by us when he comes out and grabs my arm.
I feel a sharp sting of pain, but I don’t have time to worry about it because Max is manhandling me into the ATV. I barely have time to hang on before he’s behind the wheel, and we’re sliding out of the shed, backwards on two wheels. It fishtails in the sand; bullets hit metal and Max’s hand shoves my head down, hard. He keeps his hand there for a few minutes; he needed not worry, because I’m busy trying to suck air into my lungs, and I’m too terrified to look up.
“Keep your head down, Tess. We’ve lost the ones on the beach, but we may yet get caught when we cross back through the marina,” he barks. I don’t respond. I’m not sure I have a voice.
It’s hitting me. I’m not sure it had until this point. It is now. I’m on the run with a wanted felon. I’m no longer a hostage. I’m someone who has aided a known felon. As we somehow make it through the marina and continue into the swamp, still in the ATV for now, the only thing I can think is…
Now I’m a wanted felon, too.
I’m a fucking asshole. I thought I had everything under control and handled. I was so damned wrong. I look over at Tess. She’s pale, and I don’t think she’s said two words to me since we parked the ATV and started hiking. We’re almost to our meeting point with Marcum and the boys, and I know that’s where I will lose her. It’s for the best. I have been living in a dream world. Marcum will fix it so that the cops treat Tess as an innocent victim. Her life will go back to normal. She will still have a life, and she’ll be happy. Tess deserves happiness.
“We’re almost there, Kitten.” She doesn’t answer. Is she mad? I’m feeling guilty and I shouldn’t. She made choices, the same as I did. I warned her and warned her.
“Max?” She whispers about five minutes later. I stop as she stumbles against me.
“Yeah?” I ask, and my voice sounds hateful, but then I feel hateful. I resent that she’s giving me the silent treatment. I resent that I’m in this position to begin with. If she had just stayed away from me. If she had never walked through those doors at the prison…
