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Over the last year she’d gotten Mamba to open up, which was huge because the man lived his whole life dealing with his issues by himself. He’d gotten so used to hiding behind his tough guy, cage fighter persona it became a part of him, but little by little she was chipping away at his hard shell. She’d made progress but these last few weeks he’d taken a few steps backward and closed up on her again. It frustrated, and worried her at the same time.
* * *
Between his timein prison and living the outlaw life, Mamba slept with one eye open most nights, so he was wide awake when a scratching noise on the first floor invaded his thoughts.
He’d wanted to spend another night in the living room after finding those damn roses, but Mandy’s suspicions were already on overdrive. Her accurate perception already zoned in on his mood this afternoon without him adding to it.
He slipped out of bed, pulled on his sweatpants, and grabbed his gun shoved in the back of the nightstand drawer. His eyes roamed over Mandy peacefully sleeping, then he left the bedroom and went down the stairs to the first floor. He kept the lights off so he could prowl around without anyone being able to see inside the house. The wall of windows creeped him the fuck out giving the whole house a fishbowl effect. Not the greatest feature when a deranged stalker might be on your ass.
He checked the front door locks, then the slider. He turned from the door and the security light on the lower level of the deck flashed on. He pulled his gun out of his waistband and peered through the glass, then he eased the door open with his head on swivel. He edged to the railing and looked to the lower level. Nothing.
He slowly moved down the steps turning in all directions. Something rustled behind him. He pivoted. His chest constricted and his heart raced as he raised his gun clasped in both hands.
“Motherfucker!” Mamba lowered his gun as a raccoon the size of a medium sized dog skittered across the decking.
Mamba leaned his back against the railing as the adrenaline coursed through his body. He should’ve shot the damn thing on principle for scaring the shit out of him. When his strength returned, he trudged up the stairs and into the house locking the slider behind him. His fuckin’ nerves frayed worse than before.
He laid his gun down on the kitchen counter and reached into the fridge for a beer. He pressed the cold beer to the raging pulse in his neck his gaze drawn to lights in the driveway. He moved to the front window in time to see a car backing out of the driveway. He strained to see the make of the car but the security lights flashed off and he was only able to see a dark, large sport utility like a Jeep Wrangler.
What the fuck? Had someone turned in the driveway by mistake. He doubted it at two in the morning. He also didn’t believe in coincidences. The fuckin’ roses yesterday with the cryptic note, and now someone in the driveway in the middle of the morning. No fuckin’ way. The minute the sun came up they were heading back to Vegas. He’d thought by leaving Vegas they’d be safer but he’d underestimated Marita’s reach. At least there he had the protection of his brothers close by.
He drained the rest of his beer and sat in the same chair as the night before. He’d have to tell Mandy some version of the truth since she was already suspicious. He situated his big body trying to get comfortable for another night sitting up in a chair, but there was no way he’d be able to sleep now. He rested his gun in his lap coming to realization he’d have to come clean with the Serpents too. He thought he could take care of this himself but he’d need his brothers. He’d dug a hole for himself buying shit he couldn’t afford and getting himself in debt. What his shrink in the joint would’ve called transferring one addiction for another with the same shitty results.
* * *
“I have no problem leaving,but I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” He’d said those words a lot the last few days.
“And that’s not an answer.”
He slung his duffel over his shoulder and picked up her overnight case skillfully ignoring her remark. Right now, he just wanted to get back to Vegas. He’d already put a call into Python for an emergency church meeting at the Gold Mine. He could’ve called Cobra, he probably should’ve called Cobra, but he wasn’t ready to face his prez’s questions yet.
They wound their way down the mountain road away from Cobra’s cabin with Mamba glancing in the rearview mirror every three seconds. He couldn’t shake the wonky feeling someone was either watching them or keeping tabs on them and it was fucking with his brain. He was used to being the one in control of a situation. The hunter, not the hunted.
When they hit the two-lane road leading them back to Vegas Mamba relaxed, slightly. He loosened the grip on the steering wheel and focused on Mandy. Engrossed in something on her phone she may not have noticed his silence or his edginess.
“You doin’ okay, babe.” He kept his tone light like he wasn’t worried and pissed off at the same time.
“I think I should be asking you that question.”
“Nah, I’m fine.”
“Okaaaay.”
“When we get back to Vegas I gotta stop at the Gold Mine.”
“All right but drop me home first.”
“I want you to come with me.”
“Why?” She turned in her seat, her brow knitted together. “We have to pass the house on your way.”
“I don’t feel like making the extra stop.” That made no fuckin’ sense.
Mamba’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror where a dark utility vehicle suddenly appeared behind them, close behind them. Mamba glanced at Mandy to make sure her seatbelt was on. Since she’d gotten larger, she didn’t like wearing it and even had him dismantle the annoying alarm.
“Put your seatbelt on.”
