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I’m not sure if I’m entirely happy to be finding common ground with Maddoc, but I can’t deny that I relate to his drive and dedication.
“I understand fighting for that,” I add when he turns his gaze sharply in my direction. “It doesn’t matter what we want when we have people to take care of. It doesn’t matter what we have to do or how fucking hard it is, as long as it means things can be better for the people we care about.”
Something passes over Maddoc’s face, as if he’s surprised by my words. The corded muscles of his neck move as he swallows, and then he nods. “Exactly.”
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and it strikes me that I don’t even know how many sacrifices he’s made for the people he leads. How many nights he’s gone without sleep, how many tough calls he’s made. How many times he’s put their survival over his own.
Fuck, I hate this feeling of connection.
I don’t want it, not with him, so I look away, blinking quickly. My emotions feel constantly raw and exposed these days, and talking about Chloe has only reminded me of all the ways I failed to protect her enough.
I swipe at my cheeks, trying to banish the tears before Maddoc notices them. “I should go.”
“Not yet,” he says, taking my chin and turning me back to face him, not letting me hide.
I know he sees that my cheeks are wet, but he doesn’t offer me any false comfort, thank fuck. I may understand him, but we’re not friends, and we’re sure as hell not anything else.“I’d like to see a picture of your sister first. Do you have any? We’ve got our people watching the West Point gang.”
“To try to find Chloe?” I ask, hope surging in my chest.
“No.” His eyes go hard again. “For… other reasons.” He gives me a tight smile. “But if they know what she looks like, they can keep an eye out for her too. Maybe even get an idea of what McKenna is doing with her, and if—”
“If she’s okay?” I interrupt before he can say something worse. I don’t give him a chance to answer because I don’t want to hear it. Sheisokay. She has to be. “I have a ton of pictures… on my phone.”
I arch an eyebrow, reminding him that he’s the one who has that particular device, and he laughs—a dark, gravelly sound that seems to resonate through my entire body.
“Right,” he murmurs, then pulls it out of one of the desk drawers.
He tosses it over to me, but not before I notice a familiar envelope at the bottom of the drawer. It’s the one containing the money I offered him the night I showed up at that bar.
I’m a little surprised it’s just sitting there, unused and seemingly forgotten, although I guess I shouldn’t be shocked. Having seen how large their territory is and the lifestyle they lead—not crazy extravagant, but definitely in a different stratosphere than Chloe and I have always lived—it’s hard to imagine that the few grand I offered for the Reapers’ help means much to them.
It doesn’t really matter that they haven’t spent it yet, though, so I pull my eyes away and don’t comment on it as Maddoc slams the drawer closed again.
I unlock my phone, pulling up my photo gallery and then having to fight off the hot prickle of tears all over again as I start scrolling through pictures of me and Chloe. They’re mostly stupid pics we took while we were just goofing off and having fun, but before I can find something more posed that will give him a good image to share, Maddoc crowds in next to me and takes the phone out of my hand.
He swipes back to a picture I just passed. Me and Chloe in the middle of dying our hair last summer.
She put hot pink streaks in hers and I went candy-apple red for a month. You can’t see that yet in the picture, though. It’s a selfie she snapped while we both had our heads wrapped in Saran wrap and our tongues out for the camera.
My breath hitches, pain lancing through me. She looks so fucking happy.
Maddoc swipes again, to a picture of Chloe laughing, her head tipped back. He scrolls through a dozen more pictures, and I have to curl my hands into fists to suppress the urge to snatch the phone back.
This man has seen me terrified and angry. He’s seen me raw and helpless. He’s seen me naked. Hell, he’s had his fingers inside my body, and still, none of that makes me feel as vulnerable as letting him see these candid glimpses of what I lost when Austin McKenna took my sister.
But if it will help him help me get her back, it’ll be worth it—even if I feel bared in front of him and oddly embarrassed by the smile that tugs at his lips as he flips through these little snapshots of my life.
“Will any of those help?” I finally ask, chewing on my lower lip.
Maddoc looks up, an unexpected softness on his face that throws me off kilter.
“Yeah. They’ll help.” His eyes rove over my face like he’s seeing it for the first time, and he reaches up to brush my cheek with his fingertips, holding my gaze. “You know, not everyone would do what you’re doing.”
I shake my head. “Anyone would, for the person they love. Isn’t that what loyalty is?”
“It is,” he says, something flaring in his eyes that’s completely at odds with the gentleness of his touch.
The confusing combination pins me in place as he trails his fingers lightly over my skin, leaving a cascade of soft tingles in their wake and making the air surrounding us feel electric.
