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Chapter Fifty-Two
RORY
It’s been a few weeks since the motel manager was found dead and the police started hunting his killer—me. Rogan has assured me almost daily it’s under control, but every time I see a cop car, hear sirens, or watch the news, I panic. My heart thrashes and terror sets in, thinking it’s the end, they’ve found me, and I’m going back to jail.
I never do, of course, but it makes me a nervous wreck.
I’m barely sleeping or eating, yet I’m tired all the time and feeling sick to my core, as if I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. That anxious sensation eats me up inside, making every day almost unbearable. Of course the Dixens have noticed and tried distracting me when their words don’t reassure me. Rogan took me on a date, so did Alistair. Hell, even Maddox took me out. It was to a gun range and he snapped, stating it wasn’t a date, but we fucked in the car after…so it was definitely a date.
The only time I feel okay, safe, and happy is when I’m with them. When I feel their hands on my body, their lips on mine, and my screams echoing around when they make me come. Even their innocent touches, like hugs, hand holding, and kisses on my forehead bring me comfort.
They’ve given up all pretenses with me. They let themselves into my apartment, and I sleep in their arms every night…or try. They hold my hand at work, they cook for me, and we explore the city together.
I’ve never felt closer to anyone, so loved and cared for…and yet I’m still scared.
Scared it’s all going to be taken away because I’m still keeping secrets from them and it’s eating me up inside.
Bronson has been calling me almost daily, which doesn’t help. I never pick up, I just watch it ring, knowing I’m going to have to deal with it at some point. He wants them turned in now and expects me to do it. I can’t, I know that, but if I don’t…that’s it for me. I’ll be back in jail, Mischief will be alone, and my brother will die on the streets with a needle in his vein. Logically, I know this, but I can’t bring myself to betray the men who are stealing my heart with each passing day.
“Pet, focus,” Maddox snaps, squeezing my hips before he spanks my ass in punishment. We’re in the gym. We’ve started working out together, since it’s a stress reliever for both of us, though more often than not, it leads to us fucking in the shower after.
That’s the best part of the workout if you ask me.
Sighing, I finish my deadlifts, and we immediately move on to hip thrusts. He’s working me to the bone, trying to exhaust me so I’ll sleep, even if he doesn’t admit it. The music is blaring, and when my set is finished, I feel weak and sick, yet that post-workout strength runs through my body as I stand. He frowns at me, undoubtedly looking at the bags under my eyes.
“I swear to fucking God, if you don’t sleep tonight, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk or think and simply pass out,” he snarls, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look into his dark eyes. “Understand? You need to take better care of yourself.”
“Is that a promise?” I tease, distracting him, but my tone is flatter than normal, even as my heart takes flight and my pussy clenches from the promise lacing his guttural timbre. He snarls and grabs my hand, leading me to the showers.
He strips me down and pushes me under the warm water, and I expect to be forced to my knees, to be punished, but instead…instead, he looks after me. He carefully washes every inch of my body, taking his time, and the concentration on his face makes it seem like this is the most important task he has. He washes my hair next, kneading my scalp and holding me in his arms. Every touch relaxes me until my eyes are almost shut, and by the time he’s done, I’m jelly. He has to carry me out of the shower, dry me off, and dress me.
I’m almost asleep, the least stressed I’ve been in days, as I snuggle into his muscular chest, the scent of his bodywash invading my senses. He kisses me softly and holds me tight, and I fall asleep in his arms as he takes me back to my apartment. When I wake, I find myself cuddled in his arms as he snores in my ear with Mischief curled at my feet. The moon shines brightly through the windows, indicating it’s either late at night or really early in the morning. Either way, I feel rested. I’m still tired, but not as bad as I felt earlier. Unfortunately, as soon as I’m fully awake and Maddox isn’t distracting me or taking care of me, I’m once again lost in my own consuming, destructive thoughts.
I lie there the rest of the night, worried and locked in that state, and when my alarm goes off for work, I feel like crying. I struggle to get ready, and Maddox has to help me, though we do drive to work in separate cars.
All day, I struggle to do basic tasks, my mind completely fatigued. Alistair has to help me make coffee, and I tell Rogan the same information three times. I see the worry in their eyes and overhear them trying to figure out how to fix me, to reassure me it’s okay, but how can they even begin to fix me when they don’t even know what’s wrong? Sure, the murder still weighs on me, but it’s Bronson that’s eating me up inside. Eventually, Maddox demands I go home and rest, and he tells me he’ll know if I don’t and I’ll get the punishment of my life.
I grab my bag and coat and leave after kissing them all goodbye, relieved to be able to hide from it all in my bed. Mature, I know. I thought I was stronger than this, but apparently, I was wrong.
When I get to the parking garage, my world comes crashing down around me, and I know I can’t ignore it anymore becausehe’shere. Bronson is leaning against my car, his face thunderous.
I freeze, drop my stuff to the ground, and wonder if this is when I’ll be arrested again. A part of me is relieved to have a definitive future so I’m not left in the indefinite haze any longer, even as bile rises in my throat. He pushes off the car, and I wring my hands in front of my stomach.
“Dodging my calls won’t work anymore,” he sneers, making me swallow as he looks me over in disgust. “You have one more chance. One. Do you understand me?” He steps closer, not stopping until he’s towering over me, intimidating me. His eyes are hard and his mouth is snarling and his gun flashes at his hip in warning. I’m almost shaking.
“What?” I whisper, confused. Is he not arresting me?
“One more chance,” he repeats slowly like I’m dumb. “You’re either with me or you’re against me. Decide where your allegiance lies. You have two days. If I don’t have anything by then, you go back to jail. You can’t hide or ignore me anymore, and if I have to storm this office building to arrest you in front of them, I will.” He steps back, eyes narrowed. “You have until Sunday evening.”
It’s Friday.
Fuck.
He grins. “Don’t be an idiot, do what you have to in order to save yourself. I’ll be waiting.” With that parting shot, he gets into his car and drives away, leaving me standing there with tears dripping down my face.
What do I do?
I barely remember the drive home, and when I see Mischief, I break down, sobbing into his fur as he whines. I have to make a choice, I can’t stall any longer.
Them or me.
Either way, I’ll be breaking a piece of me apart, but I can’t be weak anymore, I can’t keep running. It’s time to face my sins, it’s time to give up the gangsters or rot for them.
