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“Right, so you’ll be riding around with a raging fever and stoned on pain pills. What was it you said about making good choices?”
“Fuck you. If I remember correctly, you took on one of the slimiest bookies in Vegas to save Virginia.”
Python threw him the fisheye. “Yeah, but that was—”
“Nah, fucker, it wasn’t different.”
They pulled into the Gold Mine’s lot, and Python stopped next to Mamba’s bike. “Be careful.”
“Shit, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were worried about me.”
“Somebody’s gotta keep your crazy ass in line 'cause you sure ain’t capable.”
Mamba held out his fist, and Python returned the gesture. “It’s good to be back, brother.”
“Just don’t go fuckin’ it up again.”
Mamba grabbed his bag of pills, eased out of the passenger seat, and slammed the SUV’s door. He stored the pills in his saddlebag, threw a leg over the seat of his Harley, and paused. Just those few movements made him lightheaded. Fuckin’ sucked to be sick.
He checked his phone, but there was nothing from Mandy. He never doubted she was a woman of her word. It just sucked that she’d meant it when she said they were done. The thing was, she didn’t know that Mamba was a stubborn, relentless son of a bitch who never took no for an answer—not when it came from a woman like Mandy. A woman he knew was his future and was sure she felt the same way. Mamba just had to make her see it too.
He gunned the engine and wheeled out of the lot. He’d start with the nail salon. If Mandy wasn’t there, he’d find her friend Mitzi and see if she knew her whereabouts. One way or another, he was determined to find her and warn her of the plans for Ajax. He didn’t need any more weight or guilt on his conscious.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Mandy hurried around her bedroom, packing essentials, her favorite clothing, and some keepsakes. She grabbed the Elsa doll her mother had bought her when she was obsessed withFrozenand a small book with pictures she’d printed when her family was a unit. Those were the days before her father ran off, before Achilles’ accident, and before Ajax turned into a vengeful thug.
She gazed at the picture of the five of them. Her mother and father were smiling; Achilles was almost as tall as her dad, Ajax, a wiry twelve-year-old, and herself wedged into her mother’s side. People said they were such a handsome family the way they resembled each other with their dark brown hair and golden-flecked eyes. Then, in a poof, the magic disappeared. Her father left his family for reasons her mother refused to discuss, forcing her to work two jobs, and Achilles was strapped to a wheelchair.
Mandy’s moment of reflection wasted valuable time since her window was small, and she wanted to get this done before Ajax came home. She’d already discussed the move with her mother, and they’d arranged for Achilles’ care when she was at work. Her mother became emotional about her leaving, but in the end, she understood.
She zipped up her duffel, slung it over her shoulder, and spun around to get one last look at her childhood room, the only home she’d ever lived in. Of course, she’d be back to visit her mother and Achilles, but it might be a while since she had no delusions of how Ajax would take this drastic move. She’d also interviewed at other nail salons to make a final break from anything connected with the Marauders. She’d meant what she said to Mamba about removing the unnecessary violence from her life.
She turned toward the door, and something on the dresser caught her eye—the handout from Mamba’s first fight in Laughlin. She picked it up, remembering the surprise of seeing him stroll into the cage that night, all swagger and confidence. Her heart jacked up at the memory. A memory to be stored away. She laid the pamphlet on the dresser and turned to leave, but instead, she spun around, picked it up, and shoved it into her duffel bag. Okay, so some memories were harder to ditch than others.
Mandy closed her bedroom door and made it halfway down the stairs when she heard Ajax’s car in the driveway and, seconds later, his footsteps in the kitchen. She froze at the bottom of the stairs and squashed her instinct to escape out the front door before he made it to the living room.
Ridiculous. She chastised herself. If she wanted to be treated like an adult, she might start acting like one, stand her ground, and let Ajax know he couldn’t push her around any longer.
She squared her shoulders, and when he entered the living room, she drew in a deep breath.
Ajax stopped short and slightly swayed. His pale face and pinned, narrowed eyes spoke volumes, along with the scowl on his face.
“Why’re you staring at me?”
Great. Add paranoia to the list.
“I want to talk to you.”
He turned away from her, righted himself, and headed for the kitchen, then reappeared two seconds later, swigging from a beer bottle. Adding alcohol was always a good idea.
He flopped down on the couch and glared at her duffle bag. “Where you think you’re goin’?”
Her heart skipped at his accusing question, but she stayed strong. “I’m moving in with Mitzi.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Mitzi needs a roommate, and she’s been asking me to do this for a while.”
