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“Max, I’m not feeling so good,” she says, and when I turn around she sways into me. I grab her by the arms, and something feels off. Her right shoulder is hot. I look under my hand, and the stain of dark crimson red is soaking through the long sleeved shirt she’s wearing.
“Fuck! Tess, why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?” I ask her but her head falls back and her eyes close.
Through all of this. Through planning out murder, taking someone’s life, waiting for the cops to show up, court and even that final echoing slam of the prison doors, I have never felt fear. Not once has this blood running cold, heart-stopping, cold, clammy sweat, type of fear swamped me. Now, it runs down me in buckets. Now, it nearly overtakes me. My fucking knees are buckling.
I go to the ground with her in my arms. I have the strangest urge to gather her close to me and rock her. Instead, I guard her head and gently fix her on the ground. I quickly take her shirt off. It looks as if it’s a graze in and out, but there’s blood, and the fact that the dark red is marring Tess’s beautiful pale skin is obscene to me. Disgust gathers in my stomach. I may not have pulled the trigger, but I am responsible. I tap down my guilt and work on cleaning the wound. I hear twigs breaking in the background. My hand goes to the gun I have stuck on my back, in my belt. I don’t have time to take cover, and even if I did, I’m not leaving Tess. I do the only thing I can. I move standing in front of Tess and aim my pistol and wait.
“Woah, son. It’s just us. When you didn’t show up, thought you might need reinforcements,” Marcum says as I carefully take my hand off the trigger.
“Lost the fuckers, before we crossed into the marina. What the hell happened? I thought you had the law tied down?” I hurl the accusation at him while turning my attention back to Tessa.
“Shit, what happened to Tess?” Marcum asks as more men move in.
“I think she was grazed. I didn’t know until just now, but shit she’s unconscious.” My hands are shaking as I go back to work on her. Marcum pushes me out of the way as he and Ride, go to work on Tess. They were both medics in the military and know more about this shit than I do, so I defer to them. Ride was actually a medic on the battlefield. I clench my hands in my fists as they take over.
“She’s okay boy, just a graze. Maybe she just fainted from fear. See?” Marcum says, clapping his hand on my shoulder.
“Max?” Tess says, and her voice does sound stronger.
I push Ride out of the way and gather her in my arms. I need to hold her and make sure she’s okay. Now I give into my first impulse. I hold her close and rock her. I don’t even care that my old man and the rest of the men are standing around us. I give into the urge.
“I got you, Kitten. I got you.” I tell her.
I pick a few sticks out of her hair and pet it gently, clasping her to me. It’s that moment, however, I notice Tess’s white tank top is smudged with dirt and mud. My hands are holding her, petting her and I see it.
My hands are stained with Tess’s blood.
Max has been acting strangely since we made it back to the compound. I’ve been sent back to our old room like a naughty child. I’m okay with it because I honestly don’t feel good. Ride stitched me up, and Cherry made sure to feed me, but a few spoonful’s of soup and some crackers was all I could manage. Now I’m lying on the bed wondering what in the world is going to happen next. I’m almost asleep when Max finally comes through the door.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Kitten. How are you feeling?”
I give him a small smile.
“Yeah, that’s about what I figured,” he says sitting down on the bed beside me. His hand moves over the side of my face. His thumb is against my skin and his eyes look troubled.
“Are you okay?” I question him, wishing I had the magic words that would fix, not only this but go all the way back and fix everything for him. I don’t though, and I hate the helpless feeling that I have because of it.
“I’m sorry about today, Kitten. I’ve been stupid thinking I have it all under control. I think having you, made me forget who I am, what I’ve done. I’ve been living in a dream world.”
His words are scaring me. They sound so…defeated. Worse it sounds like he’s regretting me, and that hurts. “Max…”
“Tess, I’m going to leave. Marcum and the boys are going to make sure you’re sorted out with the police. I want them to know that you were never a willing participant in anything. I’ll make sure you’re protected, and then you can go back to your life. I had Marcum pay your student loans off. You can go back to law school, and live the life you want.”
Tears well up in my eyes. My heart cries out no. “Max, I can…”
He bends down and kisses me, stopping my words. Tears are falling, unchecked, from my eyes, and he tries drying them with the pad of his thumb, but they are coming too often.
“Shhh…Tess, it will be okay. We knew from the beginning this was a short ride, it’s just somewhere along the way you made me dream of more. It takes a special woman, Kitten, to make a man who is dead inside, dream.”
How can such a beautiful compliment tear your heart right out of your chest? I wrap my arms around his neck, to bring him closer to me, the tears running unchecked. “Don’t do this, Max. Don’t do this.”
His hand wraps in my hair, but it’s different. There’s nothing sexual about the way he’s holding me. “I’m sorry, Kitten. I’m so damn sorry to have ever gotten you mixed up in this.”
His words hurt and anger me at the same time, but I’m scared. I love Max. It wasn’t supposed to end like this…it wasn’t supposed to end. That’s where the anger comes in. I’m mad at the situation, I’m mad at how quickly things change, and most of all I’m really mad that Max can just let me go so easily.
“You’re overreacting. We’ll go to Aruba early. We’ll get lost overseas, Max. We can do it all still, we just need to get out of town!” I tell him, and I sound panicked. I know it. I can’t let him leave me behind. I don’t want him to leave me.
He stops my words with a kiss. A sweet, intense kiss unlike any we’ve ever had before. It also tastes of goodbye. I claw at his shirt, trying to rip it from him. My tongue goes on the attack, and I do my best to own his mouth. I am the aggressor now. Max pulls me away, and there is sadness in his eyes.
“Stop, Tess.”
“Is it so easy? So easy to push me away? To get rid of me…”
“Damn it, Tess!”
“Nothing has changed, Max! Nothing! I’m still here. You are! We just need to leave!”
“I am leaving!”
“Together!” I yell back at him, and he stands up, moving away from me.
“I got you shot, Tess! If that bullet had hit just an inch over…”
“It didn’t! You didn’t shoot at me! They did!”
“Because of me! You shouldn’t have been in this situation! I put you there. I turned you into a target.”
“So this it? It’s over? Why did you even ask me to go with you? Why…”
“Because I wanted you! Damn it, Tess! I wanted you!”
It feels like a knife in the heart. His words bring the final death knell. Wanted. That’s the difference. I love, Max. He want me. I’ve been living in this intense dream world that Max has woven around me. I let myself become a part of it and build this fairytale. I did it subconsciously even while feeling like it was all going to go wrong. I let myself believe. I let myself fall in love with someone I never should have.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” I murmur to myself.
“Tess…”
I turn to the side; away from him. His voice hurts me; his face hurts me. Right now, everything about Max hurts.
“I’m going to take a nap; I’m not feeling so well.”
It’s not a lie—not even a little bit.
“Damn it, Tess…”
I don’t answer him. There’s no movement, no sound in the room. I close my eyes, trying my best to close everything out.
In a few m
inutes, I hear the door to the room close. Then and only then, do I give in to the tears that have yet to fall. I cried some in front of, Max. These are nothing like that. These are rivers of tears. A torrential downfall and each one is yanked, ripped and torn from my very soul.
I’m so fucking, stupid.
“Who the fuck is the mole?” I yell punching my fist down on the table. If I weren’t Marcum’s flesh and blood, he’d have my ass, and he’d be within his right to do it. I can’t help it. All I can remember is Tess’s face and the pain staring back at me in those green eyes of hers.
“Cool it, Dawg,” Dusty says, and I barely resist the urge to tell him to fuck off.
“Who is it, Marcum?”
He knows. I can tell by the look of him. He’s pissed, and he’s breathing fire. He’s madder than hell, which is good, but I need to know who the fucking asshole is so I can end him myself.
“You need to sit down, boy,” Marcum says. I ignore him too, and remain standing there—just waiting. He crosses his arms and matches me stare for stare. It’s a battle of wills, but I’m too fucking exhausted to wait him out. I cave and sit down.
“Jenna.”
That fucking bitch. “Where the fuck is she?”
“I have Ride and a couple of the boys out trying to locate her. She’s hiding.”
“She better be hiding deep,” I growl.
“Boy, you need to learn to control your shit. You can’t end every fucker that messes with you. That’s what got you into this mess to begin with.”
“Fuck off, Marcum.”
The old man stands up in front of me. I know what’s coming, and I could fight it, but I’m not going to. I want the fucking pain. It’ll give me something to worry about besides letting go of Tess. I wasn’t expecting Dusty and Bramble to grab me from behind though and drag me out of the chair. There’s a look in Marcum’s eyes that I’ve only seen one other time. The day they closed me up in the pen, and I told him not to visit me or have anything to do with me again. I blamed him for Renee. I shouldn’t have. I’m a sad ass fucker. Hell, a part of me is blaming Marcum for Tess being shot.
“I allow you to do shit I’d kill other men for, Dawg. I love you, boy. You’re my blood, but you need to get your head out of your fucking ass,” he says, and the hush in the room is huge.
He’s claiming me as his, even after I told him never to do that shit. The secret is out, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I’m too messed up in the head right now. His fist comes in contact with my jaw and my head jerks back violently. It’s a fucking loaded hit, and I stagger against my captives as a result. I’m unsteady as hell from the direct hit, but even I can tell he held back. There’s a reason Marcum leads the roughest bunch of bastards in the South.
“Leave us alone,” Marcum says, sitting back down. Dusty and Bramble let me go, and it takes everything I have not to fall to the ground like an untried pup and embarrass myself. I manage to sit down and breathe through the pain.
The room clears quickly. When Marcum demands something, there aren’t a lot of men who wait around and question it—none that are alive anyway. He sits there with his fingers tapping against the table. His fingers are large and beefy; they are covered in ink, and he has huge rings on three fingers. One is of a skull, the other an insignia, and the third an eagle. The man is intimidating as hell, but his hands are fucking scary. They would make a lesser man tremble and probably have; too many times to count.
He relaxes in his chair and pulls out his smokes. He doesn’t speak but motions with the pack. Right now, it sounds like an excellent fucking idea, and I take one. He pulls out his silver lighter. The cap flipping back and clicking into place is the only sound in the room. He holds the flame out for me. I lean in and toke as he lights. The nicotine blasts my senses, as I watch him light his own and close his lighter, putting it away.
“You’re being a stupid fool,” he eventually says.
“Probably.”
“Fucking hell, at least own it. Goddamn! Did that rotten blood on your mother’s side destroy you? Son, you need to start thinking with your head.”
“Lay the fuck off, Marcum. You’re the one who put your dick where it shouldn’t have been.”
“That doesn’t mean you follow my path. Jesus H. Christ.”
“I fucked up. I get it. But there was no way that motherfucking piece of shit was going to draw another breath after taking my child from me. I squeezed the life out of him and rejoiced while I fucking did it. You can’t tell me you would have done it differently.”
“I would have done everything different!” he growls, and he barely gets it out before I interrupt him.
“No, you wouldn’t have. You would have…”
“I would have sent that son of a bitch to hell piece by piece! What I wouldn’t have done was ended my own fucking life in the process! Always cover your ass, Maxwell. You do not leave your ass swinging in the trees.”
“I…”
“You went off half-cocked, like a stupid motherfucker and…”
“And did what a man does!”
“Really, asshole? My way, you’d be with the woman who is in the other room crying her heart out over you. The kind of woman who supports a man and makes him strong. Not tears his ass down.”
“Like you’re an expert on women,” I come back at him, but it’s weak. I know it is, and he knows it is.
“Are you done blubbering out of your asshole and finally ready to listen to your old man?”
“I don’t…”
“I guess not.”
I take a breath and bite my tongue. Everything is fucked up. Marcum might be a lot of things, but he’s not wrong about this.
“It’s too late,” I say the words I believe down deep, half hoping he’ll tell me I’m wrong.
“Maybe,” he says, and that one word is fucking hard to hear.
Max has been MIA. I have no idea where he is. After our last conversation, I’m not sure I want to talk to him again. Instead I find I’m lying here, feeling sorry for myself. My arm hurts, I’m sick to my stomach, and I have a headache. I’m also acknowledging that my choices are coming back to haunt me.
I am officially a felon now. The cops were shooting and intent on apprehending Max, but they didn’t care that I was there. They no longer consider me collateral damage. I am a part of the problem in their eyes. I can’t be surprised about it. I made my own decisions. I chose Max. He pretty much gave me an out after that first day. I didn’t take it. I ran straight into the shit storm that I’m in now, and I’m pretty sure I would do the same thing again. I love Max. That’s a constant. The plain truth is, I’ve gone too far to turn back. If he doesn’t push me away…
Cherry helped tape up my stitches so I could take a quick shower. My arm hurts like hell, but the injury is superficial. I only needed three stitches. Ride gave me some pain medication, but I didn’t take it. I opted for Tylenol instead. Pretty soon, I’ll need to face reality on a lot of things…
“You’re looking better.” Max’s deep voice grabs my attention. I’m looking out of the window wondering exactly, what is going to happen next and scared of finding out. I guess it’s out of my hands now. I try to mentally prepare myself for whatever Max is going to tell me. Before I can turn around, he’s standing beside me, pulling the curtains closed over the window. “Standing in front of a window might not be the wisest thing just now, Kitten.”
He pulls me away from the window, and we sit down on the bed. Nerves are overtaking me, and I’m not sure what to say to, Max. “I thought the compound was locked down?” I ask instead and hope he doesn’t notice how strained and timid my voice sounds.
“It is, Kitten. It is. We’re safe here for now.” His hand cups the side of my face, and I lean into it and close my eyes. I take a deep breath and let his scent and presence envelope me. It calms me. As long as Max is here, then I’m okay. As long as he’s with me, we’re okay.
“What comes next, Max?” I ask the one question that won’
t leave me alone. The one question I’m terrified of knowing the answer to, but have to know either way.
Max sighs and joins our hands together. I watch him, and he’s staring at our linked hands, deep in thought. I hold my breath and bite my tongue against the questions I want to ask. I’m afraid to spook him. I’m petrified he’s going to leave me behind. That’s it. That’s what everything boils down to. Is Max going to leave me?
“We need to talk, Kitten.” There’s a sentence to ease the fear that’s gripping your heart. Not.
“Save it, Mad Max. You are not leaving me behind. It’s not happening. You asked me to go to Aruba with you and other places from there, and I’m doing that. It’s done; we made our choices, and there’s no going back. You might as well just…”
His lips crush mine, stopping my nervous tirade. The flavor of him in my mouth makes me moan. I feel his hand grip the side of my neck and his thumb slides up and down against the center of my throat in a steady movement that accentuates the drumming of my pulse. He bites on my bottom lip, and I gasp from the sting, and then murmur approval as his tongue slides along the worried skin, soothing it. I raise my hand to pull him close, and my body goes still and tight from the pain. Damn stitches.
Max pulls away when he feels me tense up. “I’m sorry, Kitten,” he says, helping me bring the arm back down. It might be just three stitches, but I guess the placement of them, or whatever, makes them hurt with every movement. It’s either that or the fact I refused the meds that Ride warned I would need. “Tess, I have to give you the option. Marcum and the boys can make sure you go back to your life. The police will release a statement saying you were held against your will, and that I only released you once I had jumped the border. You won’t need to worry about anything and your life can go back to…”
It’s me who stops him this time. I put my fingers against his lips.
“You said that earlier. No, Max. I don’t want to go back to life before you.”
“Tess.”
