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Taking the pipe from Kavanagh, and not even daring to look behind me at Roxanne, I release her hand and immediately feel her fingers slip into the back pocket of my jeans, gripping tight, before I lean down to snort a line from the tray.
Throwing the pipe back on the table, I use my thumb to wipe away any residual powder and step back from the crate, taking Roxanne’s hand back in mine. Within two minutes, the buzz has kicked in, and I can feel my heart racing inside my chest as a warm glow spreads through my body. Numbness tingles at the back of my nasal passage and throat, making me feel like I can’t swallow. Kavanagh wasn’t wrong about it being good. I feel fucking wired.
“It’s good shit, right? Now let’s get down to business.”
I give him a nod before I pull my phone from my jacket and send a message to Bowser to bring the cash. A couple of minutes later, a vehicle pulls up outside followed by the thud of a door slamming shut.
Two of Kavanagh’s guys move past us, stepping round the corner into the aisle where I can hear Bowser as he heads this way.
“Easy, fellows, just bringing the cash,” he says as the two guys raise their guns at him. When he steps round to meet us, his eyes widen at seeing Roxanne, but he quickly masks his surprise.
Bowser hands me the holdall. “Thanks, man,” I say, slapping him on the shoulder as he takes up position next to Roxanne so she’s sandwiched between the two of us.
I drop the bag at Kavanagh’s feet, and he quickly has a guy come to check it. He crouches, opening the bag and lifting a few wads to check they’re legit before giving a nod to Kavanagh.
As soon as the money is exchanged, Bowser brings the van in, and him and Rocky load the crates into it. Once all the goods are loaded, Bowser and Rocky head out to stash it at a new warehouse.
“Nice doin’ business with you, Lawler. Let me know when you need a new shipment. Maybe you’d be interested in getting your hands on some weapons. I hear there’s a war brewing.”
“Yeah, maybe, Kavanagh,” I say, brushing off his jibe about weapons. He knows full well I don’t deal in guns. That was Theo’s business and now Rogers’, among other things.
We make it back to my bike before Roxanne gives any sign she’s pissed at me, if you don’t count the numerous half-moon indents she’s left in the side of my hand. Breaking our hand hold to grab the helmets, I turn, offering hers to her, to see she’s standing with her hip cocked and her arms folded over her chest.
I find her stance and the scowl she’s wearing amusing, but I don’t have time to revel in it. I shove the helmet into her chest, and say, “Get on the fucking bike, Roxanne. This is not a place you want to be left alone.” She stares at me for what feels like the longest time before she snatches the helmet and puts it on.
I do the same and climb on, offering her my hand as she steps forward to climb on behind me.
“Fuck you,” she spits out, shoving my outstretched hand aside.
I pull into the garage, and Roxanne is off the bike before I’ve even killed the engine. I’ve just got the stand down and placed my feet on the floor ready to climb off when she shoves me. It’s not hard enough to push me off balance, so I jump off the bike and go after her as she stomps toward the house, opening the door and slamming it closed in my face. Getting inside, I see her heading for the stairs and give chase.
“Roxanne,” I bellow after her, and she increases her speed up the stairs, taking two at a time. I reach her just as she attempts to shut the door in my face for the second time tonight. I’m getting pretty fucking pissed about that. Jamming my foot in the door, she shoves hard against it, but it’s like having a toddler stomping on my foot and does nothing.
“Stop being so damn childish,” I taunt, giving a little experimental push on the door. The door swings open in an instant, and had I not been ready for it, I’d be on the floor. I step inside the room as Roxanne steps into me, fronting me up.
“Childish? Fucking childish, Maddox. This is not childish, slamming the door twice earlier was childish. This? This is me preventing a murder. Your fucking murder for putting me in a situation I had no control over, no fucking idea about. And drugs? Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is wrong with you?” She spins away from me, but in the blink of an eye, her hand connects with my face. I let her have that one, but when she swings again, I snatch her wrist mid-air and drag her forwards. She flails wildly, trying to escape my hold, and when she lands a sneaky punch to my ribcage, I grunt at the impact, almost releasing her.
Any buzz from the line of charlie has well and truly gone now, and I’m more than fucked off with being swung at. Throwing her over my shoulder, she shouts and hollers for me to put her down, so I do.
Dumping her on the bed, the air is knocked out of her for a split second from the impact, just long enough for me to cage her in, pinning her wrists to the bed above her head.
“Stop fucking fighting me and listen.”
“Listen? To what exactly, huh? You’ve given me nothing. A whole lot of fucking trouble and threats but nothing else.” She takes a breath, turning her face from mine.
Holding both her hands in one of mine, I bring the other to her face, turning her back to look at me. “You need to trust me.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they were the wrong ones.
She lets out a mocking laugh. “Trust you?” Her eyes narrow, and she raises her head from the bed a fraction, her lips almost meeting mine. “I’ll never fucking trust you again. You had my trust for four years, Maddox. You and Zak were the only ones I trusted. But you ruined it. Fucking obliterated it. So don’t you dare ask me to trust you.”
Her words fucking gut me. I know what we did to her, but she doesn’t understand. I see the truth in her eyes. She hates us. But I see more there too. Feelings from long ago, and I watch as her chest rises with anger, the pulse at her neck fluttering wildly, and as I adjust my position above her, my groin brushes hers. I know she can feel me, feel how turned on I am, and her eyes spark with arousal.
Her tongue flicks out, wetting her bottom lip, and my eyes follow it. When my eyes meet hers again, I see the challenge in them, taunting me to make a move. And I do.
Tilting my hips, I watch as her back bows, it’s minute but enough to invite me in further. I do it again, and this time her lips part on a silent moan, and I’m gone. Slamming my lips down on hers, I grind my hips again, harder this time. She fights it, but as my tongue delves into her mouth, taking what we both need, I thrust my hips once more, and she relents. My free hand wraps around her throat, and she whimpers as she bucks beneath me, chasing relief from this burning desire running through us both. A desire fuelled by years of pent-up anger and hate.
I don’t care that she doesn’t trust me. I don’t care that she hates me, is pissed at me. All I care about in this moment is stripping her down and fucking her till she understands she’s mine.
Breaking the kiss, I tear my jacket and t-shirt off, tossing them aside, then I grip her waist, lifting her and tossing her further up the bed. She flops back down breathlessly, watching me intently and taking in every inch of my body with swollen lips and arousal blown pupils. I sit back on my haunches and strip her jeans from her body. As my eyes land on her black lacy thong, I let out a growl.
