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I pull my phone out, only half listening to the discussion around me. They’re removing the chip from her arm. Or will. There’s no listening device but a transfer to something like a band on her arm, is what they’re on about.
How’s the angry lesbian?I ask Carlos.
He texts back.Formidable. And angry.
He wants to know when he can bring her over, but I’ve a feeling we’re not returning to the hotel.
Hold tight,I text.Have a drink with her. Will keep you posted.
I put my phone away, tapping ringed fingers against the side of the door where I sit, away from the others. I stretch out my legs.
What I said to MG in the bathroom…fuck. I couldn’t say I was shit scared something horrible had happened when she was gone.
It’s not that I’m not angry. The fury twists inside, pounds hot in my guts and veins. She did enough to sign her own death warrant. But I have fucking feelings.
I close my eyes and rub my hand over my face.
She’s…Magdalena’s somehow important to me. I never fucking buy women shit like the earrings I got her.
I never go and fucking rip apart lines without having an agreement. I don’t do the fucking Hendrick bullshit of safe words and nuance—because yeah, I picked that up, the dynamic between them that made me want to punch a hole in a wall and maybe beat my meat hard at the same time. I set up the perimeters of what’s going to happen if I choose that, and the women say yes or no.
I walk at no.
I fucking dance in hell at yes. I humiliate and fucking give them the experience of a life time, and even if they’re destroyed and in tears, they come back.
Like MG came back.
And yet…what happened with the three of us was hot. And I wanted to let her know I’m sorry I hurt her, that I did kill for her. I did it so that man, who I’m fucking certain worked for Kincaid and his merry band of fucked up drug runners, would never hurt her again.
The bruise on her face alone was enough to start a murder spree.
“Jac?”
Hendrick’s tone is slightly on the wrong side of pissed off.
I don’t look at him, or MG.
Because I know in that moment what the nuance was.
Love. They fucking love each other.
And yet she wants me.
I’m an obsession, one she isn’t sure what to do with.
One that could have real feelings attached.
Fuck me. Do I love her?
I settle on obsession with feelings and leave it at that.
“If there’s a wedding, I’m not coming. We’re not that fucking close, Hendrick.”
“What?” He mutters something. “What the actual fuck are you on about?”
“You and MG. If you’ve picked out the right shade of white for your fence of happy boring shit, I’m not interested. I’ll fuck her when you’re out. Paint it in my own bright hues.”
“You’re a maniac, Jac. I think you’ve lost your mind. Don’t tell me you think I might turn for you. You’re not my type. And you’re the one who sat down and watched. And joined in.”
