Page 36 of Chased

And then on Thursday, when Sanchez saw Madison and Breanna heading over to the newly renovated barn that they were turning into a rec hall, he told Caitlyn McCall, who was the head of the construction crew for that project, that he was going to go over and make sure the interior was prepped for sheet rock and paneling.

Because he was good that way.

Of course, Cisco and Matéo had to trail along with him. The three of them usually stuck together, but ever since Madison showed up, his two cousins had been like burrs on the fucking hem of his jeans. Stuck tight and practically impossible to dislodge.

He knew they didn’t like his fixation with Madison. They were convinced it was all sexual, and he swore they thought that if he once fucked her, he’d abandon them like puppies on the side of the road.

Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to fuck her—that’s how a woman twined herself around you and made your life hell. And Madison wasn’t like some girl in a bar that he never had to see again. She was everywhere he fucking went. So if he got involved with her, it would have to be for real.

That was a complete no.

He made his way quietly into the back of the barn, shushing his idiot cousins, in time to hear Madison and Breanna talking about how maybe they should have a mural on the wall behind the bar.

“I could paint it,” Madison was saying. “I’ve been painting all my life. Just as a hobby, but I love it. I usually work in oils, because I like to blend them and acrylics dry so fast. But I could do acrylics for this.”

She gave a little sigh. “It would be so awesome to have an art project again. I can’t wait until I have enough money to build up my art supplies. But they’re so expensive, and I’m saving up to pay Sanchez back for the lavender debacle.”

Fuck, Sanchez thought. He didn’t want her money. He especially didn’t want it if it meant her giving up things that made her happy.

And then he wondered why he fucking cared if she was happy.

He didn’t, he assured himself. Just like he’d kept assuring himself of it night after night when his wolf watched her cabin from the shadows of the forest. He was just keeping tabs on her, making sure she really wasn’t a threat to the Ridge.

It took him until Friday to admit to himself that was a lie. He’d spent his life stalking people and getting inside their heads, and he knew Madison was no threat to the Ridge.

Only to herself. Every night, before she went to bed, she spent some time with the lights out and the window open, looking out at the forest.

He could feel her animal wanting to manifest itself and roam outside. He was almost positive now it was a rabbit, despite the fact that it had an overdose of attitude. He was getting the feel of its presence, sensing its thought patterns, the way he always did when he was stalking a target.

Madison and her rabbit—lapin—were getting comfortable here at the Ridge, and that was dangerous for her. What if she started feeling so safe she Changed and went too far into the forest, and somebody’s wolf went after her, without knowing who she was?

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. And so he somehow ended up at Breanna’s house on Saturday night, pretending to watch an idiotic teenage werewolf show.

Sugar would have laughed his ass off, if he knew. Hell, he probably did know, since he knew everything that happened at the Ridge. Either he used silent surveillance drones, or he and Thanatos had some kind of magic voodoo power.

But Sanchez didn’t give a fuck what they thought. He didn’t want Madison walking back to her cabin alone, late at night.

And he especially didn’t want her walking back with fucking Boomer.

He got to Breanna and Switch’s late, on purpose, because they were having a backyard barbecue first, and a barbecue meant talking to people about bullshit.

This was a thing he didn’t do, and he wasn’t about to start now.

So he glared at the guys who stared at him like he had three heads just because he’d showed up to a social occasion. And okay, he’d shaved for the second time that week and put on jeans that had barely any holes or frayed places in them. And he’d buttoned his shirt and tucked it in. Big deal. The cologne was only so no one would come near him.

Once more, he hadn’t been able to shake Cisco and Matéo, so they were lurking behind him like fucking Mafia bodyguards.

At least Breanna was cool and didn’t make a thing about them showing up unannounced, even though her eyes got really wide when Switch elbowed her and jerked his head in their direction.

She just offered them burgers and chips and shit, and acted like they came over all the time. Boomer finally managed to pick his jaw up off the ground and went back to talking to Madison and Mikey, and Gunn looked like he was trying not to laugh. Boomer’s brother just gave him a little amused headshake and tossed him a beer.

He took it and walked over to rest his plate on the porch railing, kind of near where Madison, Dealer, Boomer, Mikey and Breanna were now arguing about what movies were total tear-jerkers.

As if it made sense for fucking anybody to cry over a made-up story happening to actors.

Boomer’s pick was The Dirty Dozen, of course. Typical tragic war movie where everyone fucking died, which just showed they sucked as soldiers.

Dealer claimed his was The Sting, because the con was so beautiful it brought him to tears. Nobody believed him; Dealer lied all the time, just like he stole. For practice.