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Chapter 9
Lennox
Despite my best effort, I’m unable to completely muffle my yawn while sitting at my desk.
I waited several minutes after Maddox drove away from Rochelle’s house before heading in the direction of the clubhouse. I wasn’t trying to stay hidden when I waited outside Jake’s. If anything, I wanted him to know I was watching him. I needed him to know I wasn’t scared of him, after I got past the tremor in my hands once I was in my car. It was an effort to regain that power I felt like he stripped from me.
I don’t know if he went back to the clubhouse or ended up somewhere else, and I didn’t realize my mistake until I got to the clubhouse and every damn bike there looked exactly the same. I wouldn’t have been able to pick his out from any of the others.
I don’t know what to think about the man who got there an hour after I arrived and knocked on the window of my car. BISHOP was stitched into the patch on his vest. He asked if everything was okay and if he could help me with anything. When I declined, he simply walked into the clubhouse. He didn’t ask me to leave or challenge me.
I waited outside until the early morning hours, sitting in my car, trying not to fall asleep until the sun was cresting over the horizon. When Maddox exited the front of the clubhouse with a disposable cup in his hand and began walking in the direction of my car, I got the hell out of there.
A few hours of sleep was all I was able to manage, and I’m feeling it in every bone in my body. I freeze each and every time a shadow crosses in front of my door. I’m waiting for the chief or Colton to come chastise me for going to the clubhouse in the first place after the shitstorm I caused yesterday, but neither of them do. It seems neither that Bishop guy nor Maddox reported my presence on the property.
Thinking of the second man from last night and his nickname makes me think about Maddox.
UGLY.
What a damn joke. I can despise the man and still consider him good looking. I’m considering that maybe it’s a reference to who he is on the inside rather than his outward looks when I hear chatting.
I have to be losing my mind with this cycle of sleep deprivation I’m in because there isn’t a damn chance that the voice I hear actually belongs to the man I’ve grown to hate. Just to make sure and because I’m in desperate need of another cup of coffee, I leave my office, finding Chief Monahan standing outside of his office speaking to none other than Maddox. The man is wearing his leather cut, grinning at my boss like he owns the place.
“Ah! Detective Maison,” the chief calls, holding his hand up and waving to get my attention.
“Yes, sir?” I ask as I approach, catching the weird twitch of Maddox’s lip as I walk toward them.
An unwanted chill rolls up my back, memories of that night resurfacing. The man didn’t insist I call him sir that night but it’s clear he doesn’t like it when I say it to someone else.
“I’m teaming Mr. Maddox up with you for a ride-along.”
I slow blink at my boss because in what fucking world would anyone think that’s a good idea.
And since when does he call him by his surname? When he was insisting on the man’s innocence, he referred to him by his nickname.
“Sir?” I question just to verify but also to annoy Maddox.
“He’s going to spend the day with you,” the chief says before turning and walking back into his office.
I walk away, feeling Maddox close behind me. I’d never argue with my boss in front of a civilian. Hell, I respect the man enough not to do it in front of one of my fellow officers, but this shit just isn’t going to fly.
My office feels even smaller than the closet it is as Maddox follows me inside. I stand behind my desk, waiting for him to take a seat in the only other chair in the room before walking back toward the door. He makes to stand again, but I wave my hand.
“I’ll be right back,” I snap, giving him a smile I intentionally pray he reads as a sarcastic effort on my part. I pause at the doorway. “Don’t touch anything.”
His eyes drop, the blue in them shifting as he lifts them the length of my body. “Sweet Lennox, you know I don’t touch anything without asking first.”
“Jesus Christ,” I growl as I leave the room.
Now is not the fucking time, and it never will be, to be reminded about his uncanny ability to make me beg, only to then ask if what I’m pleading for is okay for him to do to me.
