by Sosie Frost
“For your information, John cares about me,” she said.
“Like hell. Were you this stupid before the drugs?”
“I came here to talk to you. Are you gonna listen to me or not?”
“You gonna remember any of it in the morning?”
Chelsea’s voice rose. Zero to hysterical in half a second, as usual. “You’re nothing but an asshole, Maddox. I need help, and you want to make me feel bad.”
Name of the game in our family. “You need help?”
“I just…I need a little money.”
Of course she did. “Here’s the crazy thing about jail, Chels. It doesn’t give you many opportunities to get rich. At least, not the shit I was willing to do.”
“You don’t understand. It’s important.”
“Important like, you’re going to rehab? Or important like, to prevent you from getting twitchy?”
If Chelsea were halfway sober, she’d be even more insulted. Instead she swore at me, our family tradition.
“John wants to leave his family.”
I laughed. “Ain’t no way.”
“It’s true. He loves me.”
“He loves keeping you on the side. You’re cheap. You’re easy. And he can whore you out if he needs a favor from someone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Come on.” I couldn’t look at her. “Is he still giving you that same line? You two are swinging? He likes to see with other guys? Don’t buy his shit, you’ll go broke.”
“You don’t want me to be happy.”
Chelsea was five years older than me, but she acted like she was still thirteen. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what John found attractive in her. Still, she was family. Whatever that meant to her.
“One of us should be happy,” I said. “Why do you need money?”
“Well…If John leaves his family, the divorce will be messy. He’ll owe his wife alimony, and he’s got those two little boys. It’ll be expensive.”
“He’s pulling a big enough salary from the town. Should be easy for him, especially with the pension when he retires.”
Chelsea shrugged. “The thing is, she’s gonna get the house. And the car. He needs money. And I offered to help…”
That son of a bitch. “He wants you to whore again?”
“No! He just said he has some friends who would be very respectful, and they wanted to try some things their wives wouldn’t allow—”
“Jesus, Chelsea! He’s your pimp! He’s not worried about his house, and he’s not leaving his goddamned wife. He wants to wear your ass out before you overdose, probably on the shit drugs he’s giving you.”
“You’re not listening!”
“Neither are you! He’s the chief of the fucking police force. You really think Chief John Craig, devoted husband and father of two, is going to jeopardize his job and his life for a whore he picked up from the wrong side of the tracks?”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
“Yeah, I do. He’s hiding behind the badge, but he belongs in the street with the gang I left. He put enough of us away that he learned all the tricks. Now he’s pulling them on you.”
“Do you know who you sound like?” Chelsea paced the room. “You sound like everyone in this town who said you weren’t good enough for Josie Davis.”
I wasn’t. But unlike Chelsea, I was improving myself. Shedding my past and trying to be the man Josie deserved, not the delinquent trash everyone thought we were.
“I don’t have any money,” I said.
Chelsea got nervous. She didn’t look at me, and she covered the bruise on her cheek. “John knows you’re in town. He mentioned you. A couple times. He said you and him used to have an…agreement? He told me to talk to you and see if you couldn’t renegotiate.”
“And if I don’t?”
“He said you’d remember what happened the last time you couldn’t pay. That you wouldn’t want it to happen again.”
God damn it. That bastard was fucking evil, and there wasn’t a goddamned thing I could do to protect Chelsea or Josie from his cruelty.
He wanted to blackmail me again? It wouldn’t work. The kind of money the chief demanded came from jobs. Important ones. Jobs I didn’t like to do, especially since the only man who could pay them ended up owning my ass for as long as he wanted.
At least it had once given Chelsea freedom from Chief Craig…until the money dried up. Until I tried to make a difference. Until I tried to save her.
A year ago, I told Chief John Craig to fuck off and leave my sister alone.
Three days later, Josie’s store burned to the ground.
For the past year, I was convinced the chief framed me for arson…but then Josie showed me the plans and drawings Nolan Rhys ordered for Sweet Nibbles. Both men had reason to hurt me.
I thought rotting in jail while imagining my revenge was torment. I was wrong. The real torture was now, the tightness eating away at my chest.
Nolan or the chief. Which one was the arsonist?
Or was someone in the town still playing with the matches in their pocket?
“Andrew?” Chelsea frowned. “Are you okay?”
No.
I wasn’t.
I pointed to the room. “This is paid through the night. Stay here. If you need it for another day, tell the clerk to reserve it again.”
“Wait…” She followed me as I shouldered my leather jacket. I handed her the room key and a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet. “Where are you going?”
“Something came up.”
“Now?”
My head pounded, and my gut churned. I didn’t let myself have panic attacks, but the weight on my chest felt goddamned uncomfortable. The run across town wouldn’t feel good either. But I did it. I left Chelsea in the hotel and kept to the side streets as I lurked through Saint Christie like every nightmarish figure the town saw in me.
Too bad tonight I wasn’t causing chaos. I was trying to prevent another crime—or to prevent the same one from occurring again.
I slammed my fist against Josie’s door. Three hard knocks—just enough to scare the piss out of the girl I tried to protect.
The shuffling silenced inside her apartment. The living room light flicked on. She didn’t approach the door. I thudded again, hard, rattling the entire frame.
My phone buzzed.
I swore, reading her name on the screen.
I knew what would happen. She wouldn’t let me in. She’d tell me to go home. She’d think I was acting crazy, that her friends and family and the entirety of the fucking town was right about how dangerous it was around me.
I answered with a dragging sigh. “Sweets, hear me out—”
“Maddox, someone’s outside my apartment.”
My heart thudded, pulsed, and shredded against my lungs.
Josie sounded terrified—not like the pounding scared her, but that she feared who might be lurking on her porch.
Why?
Who the fuck did she have to fear?
Like I didn’t know the answer to that question.
“Sweets, I’m outside. Let me in.”
She edged the door open an inch. The call ended as she fought the chain, threw the door open, and dropped the rolling pin to the floor.
She leapt into my arms.
“You planning on shoving an intruder in your oven?” I held her close, even as she laughed over her weapon of choice. “Next you’re gonna attack someone with a container of Pam.”
“Death by chocolate?”
I touched her cheek, savoring the softness of her skin. “Only way to go.”
Josie’s smile humbled me. She let me edge inside but didn’t say a word. She locked the door behind her—chain and all.
Not something people in Saint Christie did before bed. Then again, most of the residents weren’t armed when they answered the door. Even less wielded baking implements. She didn’t even think to grab a knife.
Christ, why was she worrying about such
bullshit?
“What happened? Why are you protecting yourself with a whisk?” I asked.
Josie pointed the rolling pin at me. “Whisks aren’t good weapons. I’d probably need a heavy spatula at least.”
“Sweets.”
“Or maybe a crème brûlée torch.”
“Josie.”
“Think I could get someone to stick their hand in a blender?”
“I’m serious. What’s got you spooked?”
Josie crossed her arms, hiding behind a white tank top and pink pajama bottoms, complete with embroidered cupcakes. Cute. Sweet. Just like her.
“Random people, banging on my door in the middle of the night?”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
“You remember Saint Christie, don’t you? Eight o’clock was for mischief. Nine o’clock is the witching hour. Bad news comes after dark.”
That wasn’t the reason she was scared. She knew it. I knew it.
That was why she changed the subject.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. My expression hadn’t shifted since Chelsea’s arrival, and I couldn’t soften my words. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” No sense lying. She’d find out soon enough. “I need you to tell me everything you remember about the night your shop burned down.”
That wasn’t a favorite topic, especially since she didn’t remember enough of it to piece together what’d happened. She refused, getting as tough as she could with me.
Wasn’t very tough.
But she never had to be with me.
“Maddox, no.” She shook her head. “You left here last night threatening to murder a man. I’m not telling you a damn thing that might endanger someone else or yourself. Even if it is Nolan’s life at risk.”
I couldn’t believe I was saying it. “Screw Nolan. Tell me what you remember.”
“Why?”
She deserved an answer, but I wasn’t giving it. Not yet. First, I had to know if I was right, and she was the only way I could prove my instincts wrong.
They had to be wrong.
Or we were both fucked.
“I pulled you from the shop,” I started for her. “I carried you outside. You’d fainted. I got burned. Who was the first person on the scene? Who else was there?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Are you sure?”
Josie bit her lip. “Everything is a blur. I just remember flashing lights. An ambulance. Waking up in the hospital.”
“The ambulance came later. After I got you out. Think, Sweets. Who was the first one on scene?”
Josie’s hands trembled. She blinked, struggling to talk through a painful memory. “Chief Craig was there. I think he was the one…”
“Yeah. He cuffed me, before the police or fire department arrived. What else?”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t remember, Maddox. Honestly.”
“Try. Who else was there? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important, Sweets.”
I encroached on her. Hated to do it, but I loved the results. Josie was weak for me, and I could push her. If I could force a memory and make her face the fire, we’d have our answers.
Her chest rose in fierce breaths. So did mine.
“Bob Ragen,” she said. “He…he was there. He called the police, I think.”
Son of a bitch. “He was in a property dispute with you, wasn’t he? What the hell was that drunk doing in his store and not in the bar so late at night?
Josie gave up. She headed for the arm of the couch and sat, staring at me with a furrowed brow and pouting lips.
“What are you getting at, Maddox?”
“Nolan wanted to buy the store. You refused him.”
“Yes.”
“And Chief Craig was the first man to respond on the scene, before the other police officers.”
“Yes?”
“Because Bob Ragen called 911 first.”
“You’re scaring me. Why are you…what are you thinking?”
I hated what I was about to say. I needed a drink and a good fuck, neither of which I’d find in Josie’s apartment, but that was fine. At least I was inside.
At least I could keep her safe.
“I think we have to be very careful, Sweets.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not sure we’re right about Nolan.”
Josie frowned, her breath lost in a sharp exhale. “What are you talking about? Nolan burned down my shop.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
I took off my jacket, tossing it over her couch. She stood, but I pointed her to the bedroom. “I’ll sleep here tonight. You take the bed.”
“Maddox—”
“Don’t argue. You aren’t safe anymore. Neither am I.”
“Why?”
“Because someone in the town burned down your store with you inside, and they framed me for the crime.” The words embittered in my mouth. “And now I don’t know which son of a bitch is guilty.”
Chapter Nine – Josie
“You think Chief Craig burned down my store because he wanted to frame you for arson?”
It didn’t sound any less crazy in the morning, and even less likely after a full night’s sleep.
“I said I didn’t know.” Maddox brushed the towel over his head. He wore his jeans after his shower but nothing else. Droplets of water rolled over his thick muscles. “Something isn’t right, Josie. I’m not going to let you get caught in the middle.”
“If I was any more in the middle, I’d be squished.”
“Can’t have that.”
“You know it was Nolan.”
“Maybe.” He pitched the towel onto the floor. He never did remember to hang them up after he was done. “Maybe not.”
“You want to investigate the entire town?” I asked.
“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”
“Is it for my safety?” I took a breath. “Or is this about revenge?”
“Maybe it’s both.”
I bit my lip. Maddox’s chest raged with muscle, tattoos, and now…scars. Burn scars and flicks of cuts and scrapes that I didn’t remember. Injuries from prison.
Maddox acted like the world was out to get him. I hated that he was right. His family abused him. His gang used his strength for their crimes. The town feared him. And then…the prison sentence.
He should have been angrier. Harder. He should have hated me.
I couldn’t keep the secret forever. I only hoped that maybe he’d understand.
But even I wasn’t that naïve.
I avoided his gaze, but that meant staring at his ink. The raging stripes of color interspersed between the black, tribal curls over his biceps and abs. They were as amazing as they were frightening. I used to love tracing the markings. I loved the name tattooed over his heart more.
Josie.
Just being near him distracted me. I’d longed for him in the shower and cut my ankle shaving. I’d burnt the toast—twice—because he sat once again at my breakfast table and waited for whatever I served. And now, I babbled like an idiot because his chest twitched when he crossed his arms. That hard-packed muscle was the only thing missing from my bed to make my temporary apartment feel like home.
But he hadn’t come to my bed last night, despite my every hope. It was a relief, but a lonely one. Sleeping with him wouldn’t solve our problems. But he wasn’t respecting my privacy. Had Maddox wanted me, he’d have taken me. He stayed away because he was keeping watch over me.
Like he expected something terrible to happen.
Well, I feared it too. The knocking at my door late at night came too soon after Nolan’s threats. I’d imagine him forcing his way inside. It wasn’t a good thought, but I felt safe with Maddox.
Always had.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go to the station and ask a couple questions, but you can’t expect me to believe that Chief Craig is some sort of arsonist. Why would he do such a thing?”
Maddox tugged a shirt over his head. I wished I hadn’t watched how his abs flexed.
Or how his scars shimmered.
“He has his reasons.” His voice dropped. “More than you would know.”
“So tell me.”
He ignored me. “Ready to go?”
“How am I supposed to tell the Chief of Police I suspect he was involved with the arson if I don’t know his motive?”
Maddox tossed me my coat. He held the door open. “I’m his motive.”
“This is Saint Christie, not New York City.”
“You’re right. It’s worse.”
“You’re keeping something from me.”
Maddox slammed the door closed. I stood my ground, waiting for his temper.
“You’re one to talk,” he said.
“What does the Chief have to do with me or you?”
“Who were you hiding from last night?” He shrugged. “And why?”
We both quieted. I twisted against the secret as he approached.
Maddox was a solid force of muscle and strength. He summoned every wicked and depraved fantasy I ever imagined, and we once acted on them. All of them. Even the ones that made me blush whenever I looked at the alligator clips closing a bag of chips.
Everything about him screamed dominance and fierceness, but also safety, protection, and desire.
He balanced that raw edge near me, for me, every day we had been together. We were so wrong for each other, but I still feared losing him, especially when so many secrets and lies separated us.
His arm looped around my back, and his hand gripped my hair. I swallowed as he lowered close to me, his words softer than his touch. I melted. Seized. Shattered.
“Are you in trouble, Sweets?” His whisper rumbled a quiet authority. I knew better than to disobey.
“Now I am.”
“You know you’re safe with me.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I want to help. I’m doing this to protect you.”
I didn’t push him away, but I should have wiggled from his embrace before I dissolved into a sticky mess. His arms tightened, and I stared at his perfect lips, thin and pulled against a hard jaw and harder chin. He was close enough to kiss, just a brush or a nibble. His touch could deliver me from the insanity and back to the only part of my life that made sense.