Maddox

by Megan O'Brien

  He grinned when he saw me, flashing those dimples I adored as he shoved off from his bike, moving to open my door.

  “Hey, baby,” he greeted with a familiarity that spoke of years of intimacy rather than the several weeks we’d known each other.

  “Hi.” I accepted his hand as he pulled me up. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine.

  He pulled back. “Been a long fucking few days,” he growled.

  I was relieved I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

  “Where are your glasses?” he asked gently, his callused fingers drifting over my cheek.

  I looked away shyly. “I thought I’d wear contacts for a change. With my schedule at the bakery, I usually don’t have time and they sort of bug my eyes,” I admitted.

  “You look beautiful,” he replied. “But I like the glasses. Thanks for making the drive,” he added, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and walking us into the unassuming restaurant he’d chosen. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this little joint has the best damn Mexican food you’ve ever had. Cal, our former prez, loves this place.”

  “I have to admit something.” I waited until he looked down at me with concern. “I don’t like Mexican,” I shared with a wrinkled nose.

  For a moment he looked adorably befuddled. I couldn’t help but let him off the hook. “I’m just kidding.” I laughed. “I love it. I just had to mess with you.”

  He pinched my backside, making me squeal. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

  We walked inside the small but romantic restaurant outfitted with candles on the tables and low lighting.

  “Mr. Black,” the host greeted warmly. “Right this way.” He led us to a booth in the back where Maddox surprised me and slid in next to me, rather than taking the seat opposite.

  “A margarita to start?” the host asked.

  Maddox looked to me.

  I shrugged. “I can have one if we have a long dinner.”

  Maddox gripped my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze as he nodded to the host.

  “I didn’t realize you were famous,” I teased after the man had walked away.

  Maddox chuckled. “Not famous. But the club’s reach extends beyond Hawthorne. We have alliances in a large part of Nevada.”

  “Not in Vegas,” I couldn’t help but reply.

  “You’d be surprised,” he murmured cryptically. “Your uncle won’t be the head of Vegas forever.”

  A move like that wouldn’t be without bloodshed, but I didn’t want to darken the mood, so kept my thoughts to myself.

  “How was work today?” he asked.

  “Fine,” I replied. “Aside from the visit from my uncle and Bruno that I told you about, it’s been pretty quiet the last few days.”

  His brow creased with concern. “I appreciate you sharing that. But I don’t know about you listening in to conversations. Angelo is many things but dumb isn’t one of them. I don’t like it.”

  I shrugged, taking a sip of the margarita that was placed in front of me. “They talk regardless of me sharing it or not. I might as well make some good come of it if I can.”

  “I’d feel better if you were closer,” he shared, “where I could keep a better eye on you.”

  I looked down at my glass, my finger swirling the condensation on the glass. “Well, I’m not. And I’ve dealt with my uncle a long time,” I murmured.

  “Wish that wasn’t true.”

  “Me too,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “How was your day?” I asked, wanting to get the attention off me.

  “Fine. Took Liv with me to restock the bar for a little while. She’s stir-crazy living with my parents.”

  His sister, Olivia, had moved home recently with their cousin Wren. Wren had encountered some sort of danger at school in Portland, but Maddox had been hazy on the details.

  “The bar your dad named after you?” I verified.

  “Mad’s.” He nodded, looking as close to sheepish as a man like him could. “I work shifts a couple of times a week but help more with the business side. We’re looking into expanding—potentially near here, actually.”

  “How do you know how to do that?” I asked, my interest piqued.

  “Practice on the job.” He shrugged easily. “And I’ve got a business degree,” he added just as our waiter appeared.

  We ordered an appetizer to share and our entrees, and then I asked, “You have a business degree, really? From where?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t sound so surprised. And I didn’t stray far. Hawthorne Community College. My ma’s probably got my diploma somewhere if you doubt it.”

  “I didn’t mean to sound surprised.” I was quick to apologize. “It’s impressive is all. I’m not great with numbers or marketing,” I admitted.

  “I’m happy to help,” he offered, his tone sincere. “Anything you need.”

  Our appetizer appeared and we dug in to the delicious ceviche.

  “Oh my God, this is awesome.” I groaned in appreciation.

  “Damn, it’s so fucking sexy to watch you eat. Well, to hear you eat, actually,” he amended.

  I blushed, feeling self-conscious.

  He squeezed my thigh. “It’s hot, babe. You enjoy your food. As you should.”

  “I just didn’t realize I even do that. I usually eat alone.”

  “Good. Any other man heard those sounds you make—we’d have a problem,” he replied. At first I thought he must be joking, but the look in his eye told me he was completely serious.

  “So, Olivia’s not taking well to living back at home?” I asked, turning the conversation back to his younger sister.

  “She’s fine.” He shrugged. “She and my mom are close, our whole family is, but my pop is definitely protective.”

  I snorted indelicately. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  “Shows you’re paying attention.” He nodded, not perturbed in the least at my assessment. “Anyway, I think she was enjoying the freedom of being away at school. The shit with Wren was unexpected.”

  “Have you figured out who’s stalking her?” I asked with concern.

  His gray eyes hardened. “Not yet. Max, her man, will have someone’s head over it. That’s for sure.”

  “I hope she’s okay,” I murmured as our entrees were placed in front of us. My fajitas smelled amazing.

  “She will be,” he stated with conviction. “The girls would like you,” he commented, his tone much lighter as he dug into his own meal.

  I wasn’t so sure about that but nodded silently nonetheless.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “I believe you believe it,” I conceded. “I just still think you’re living in a fantasy.”

  He looked over at me, his eyes piercing. “Maybe I am. Maybe that’s okay. Far as I’m concerned, world’s what you make of it.”

  That was a nice thought when the world worked in your favor.

  “What?” he demanded when I remained silent.

  I poised my fork over my food, unsure if I should share my thoughts.

  “Francesca,” he prompted gently.

  “Why do you call me that?” I demanded in frustration.

  He cocked his head to the side, assessing me thoughtfully. “What, by your name?”

  “Yeah, it’s my name, but no one calls me that.” I repeated what I’d told him the first time we’d met.

  He nodded. “Except your uncle, I remember. If you really hate it, I won’t, but I think it’s a fucking shame—with how much you hate him, and for good reason, it doesn’t seem right to give him the gift of being the only one who can call you by your given name.”

  Well damn, I’d never thought about it that way. He was right, but even still, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get past the negative association of my uncle with my formal name.

  “So the world being what you make of it, that didn’t sit well with you. Why?” he pressed.

  I shrugged. “I just think that’s another fantasy, Maddox. The world can be made by those
who have the means and support to make it so. Clearly, you’ve had that. And I’m glad for you. But it’s just not the world I live in.”

  To his credit he didn’t argue my point. Instead he did something far more challenging. “I want to know you, Francesca. Will you tell me?”

  I sighed. “I have a roof over my head, and my basic needs are met. I’d much rather spend tonight talking about lighter things and enjoy myself. Okay?”

  He made a grumbling noise I was becoming familiar with. “Can’t wait for the day when your basic needs being met isn’t your fucking bar in life,” he growled. “But I get it—for tonight, I get it.”

  He walked me to my car after a dinner that had taken a decidedly lighter turn toward the end. He’d shared some hilarious stories of him and his friends growing up, and I’d shared more about my nonna. I’d enjoyed myself just as much, if not more so than the last time I’d seen him.

  “Francesca.” The sudden wariness of his tone caught me off guard as we walked through the now empty lot to my car. He waited for my eyes as I looked inquiringly up at him. “About that drop you told me about, the one you overheard your uncle talking about—you sure you got those facts straight?”

  “Absolutely, why?” I asked, confused.

  He ran a hand over his mouth in agitation. “Thing is, there was no drop. And while my brothers were there waiting on it, Max’s house was attacked. Wren was almost kidnapped.”

  My stomach dropped as his skepticism reared its ugly head. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

  He didn’t deny it. “I did.”

  “Why?”

  He eyed me steadily. “Because I wanted to take you on a proper date. You deserve that.”

  I cocked my head to the side, both afraid to ask the question in my head and at the same time compelled to do so. “You don’t think I purposefully gave you wrong information?” I challenged.

  He eyed me steadily. “Not for a second.”

  I breathed out a small measure of relief before resignation took hold. “But your club does.”

  His nostrils flared as he stepped closer, clasping my face in his hands. “I’ll admit they might. What happened to Wren shook the club. But you know what? For the first time, I don’t give a fuck what they think. It’s you and me, baby.”

  I swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to lose anything for me.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want that either. I also know what I need. And that’s you. I can’t lose you,” he decreed, his nostrils flaring. “And this shit with your uncle? He likely deliberately fed you wrong information. You’re in danger. I want you to come back to Hawthorne with me, tonight.”

  My eyes popped wide. “I-I can’t, Maddox. The bakery—”

  “The bakery is a business. This is your life we’re talking about,” he argued vehemently.

  “The bakery has been my life,” I declared passionately. “It’s all I’ve had for years, Maddox. It’s all I have left of the family that loved me. I won’t abandon it.”

  He hung his head for a moment, his hands still cupping my face, before his eyes met mine again. “This doesn’t feel right. And if you’re determined to stay in Vegas I can’t guard you properly with his eyes everywhere.”

  I offered him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. I’ll be fine.”

  “I understand you love that bakery,” he replied, “but we gotta figure something else out here, sweets. It may not be tonight, but it has to be soon. Staying in Vegas isn’t a good option. I want you in Hawthorne, with me.”

  “But we’ve only known each other….” I trailed off.

  “I don’t give a fuck how long it’s been. You’re my girl.” He spoke as though his word was law, with a finality and confidence that warmed me from the inside out.

  After a moment, I nodded. We’d sort the details later. For now, I couldn’t deny the look in his eye or the fact that I wanted to be closer to him too.

  His hands moved lower, grasping my hips as his lips met mine in a passionate kiss. I gripped the material of his tee, trying to steady myself as my knees went weak. His lips were full and firm as he caressed my mouth. When his tongue met mine, my answering moan spurred him on. “Christ, I want you,” he murmured against my lips.

  “Soon,” I agreed breathlessly.

  “Anything feels off, you call,” he ordered once we’d reluctantly pulled away. “And I want you checking in often.”

  “Okay.” I got into my car, him watching my movements with a conflicted expression that spoke of how wrong he felt it was to let me drive away.

  And I had to admit, it felt wrong to me too.

  Chapter 6

  FRANCESCA

  It was close to midnight several days later but I couldn’t sleep. I hadn’t heard from Maddox all day, which was unusual. He usually checked in at least once a day and called around the time he knew I went to bed. This was the first time since we’d met that I hadn’t spoken to him, and I instinctively knew something was wrong. Both my calls had gone straight to voicemail and my texts had gone unanswered.

  I lay staring at the ceiling imagining every possible terrible scenario, ranging from him being hurt to him having met someone else. When my phone rang, his name flashing on the screen, I was immediately relieved.

  “Hi,” I answered, my tone cautious.

  “Babe.” His response was tense and tired all at the same time. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been a fuck of a day. Wren was taken.”

  “What?” I exclaimed, sitting upright in bed. I’d never met Wren but Maddox cared about her and therefore, so did I. “How can I help?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Xander, Max, and I went to an address we’d been given looking for this asshole earlier today. But he was already at my house—took her right out from under Caleb’s nose,” he snarled, referring to his younger brother.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed. “Do you know who he is? Where he took her?”

  “His name is Jared Waters. I guess he went to school with Wren and Liv. We had no idea he was the one stalking Wren. He had pictures of her all over the house we broke into. He’s obviously twisted.”

  He said more, but the blood had already frozen in my veins, my ears ringing dully. “Do you have a picture of him?” I asked through numb lips.

  “Yeah, why?” he asked, confused.

  “Send it to me,” I demanded. I needed to be sure.

  A moment later my phone pinged with an incoming text, a familiar face appearing on my screen. “Oh God,” I breathed.

  “Francesca, what? Do you know him?” Maddox demanded sharply.

  “I do. He’s my cousin,” I murmured.

  “What the fuck?”

  “I’ll explain when I get there, I’m coming.” I was already up and out of bed and scrambling to get dressed.

  “It’s the middle of the night, baby. I don’t want you driving,” he argued, protective of me even when his friend’s life was in danger. “And you wouldn’t be back in time to open the bakery tomorrow,” he added.

  My answer was surprisingly easy. “It’s okay, this is more important.”

  “You’re sure?” he pressed.

  “I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll rack my brain on the way there. And I want to be there for you,” I added softly.

  “Baby.” His voice was soft with tenderness. “I’ll text you Max’s address. We’ll likely be gathered there first thing in the morning, right around the time you hit town.”

  “Okay. I’m leaving shortly,” I replied.

  “Check in with me on the road. You’ve got your glasses?” he asked with concern.

  “I do,” I assured him. “Take care of your family. I’ll be there soon.”

  I couldn’t explain the urge to be by his side; it was instinctive. Maddox had been my rock since the moment I’d met him. Even if I couldn’t help find Wren, I wanted to be the same for him.

  When I pulled up to the remote
mountain house on the outskirts of Hawthorne after a long drive, I was exhausted. I’d checked in with Maddox several times as instructed, assuring him I was fine. He had to be more exhausted than I was after over twenty-four straight hours trying to find Wren.

  My headlights captured Maddox, head bowed, hands clasped over his knees as he sat on the front stoop waiting for me. He stood up, stalking over to me as I cut the engine. He opened the door for me and pulled me up and into his arms. I’d come to love being held by Maddox but this was something different. Something more. He embraced me, his nose buried in my hair breathing me in as though assuring himself I was really there.

  “You okay?” he demanded roughly.

  “I’m fine,” I was quick to assure him. This wasn’t about me. “I just thought of something that might help. I never saw Jared much—we were never close,” I continued. In fact, Jared had always given me the creeps. “And he lived here in Hawthorne with his mom. But he did come into the bakery a few weeks back. I overheard him bragging about a house he’d bought here. Maybe… maybe that’s where he took Wren?”

  Maddox took my hand, towing me toward the house before I’d even finished the sentence. We walked into a great room with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. But I didn’t have a moment to enjoy the view as every eye in the room turned to assess me—and none of them were welcoming.

  I felt Mad’s hand press to my lower back, reassuring me that he was there.

  “What’s goin’ on?” A man with dark hair and eyes glowered.

  “This is Francesca,” Maddox introduced. “She might know where Jared would take Wren.”

  The man’s eyes sharpened, distrust radiating from his every pore. “You’re the source.”

  I bit my lip, looking up at Maddox for guidance. I hadn’t been prepared for this level of animosity, though given the circumstances, I should have been.

  At his nod I spoke for the first time. “I am.”

  “And how would you know where Jared would take Wren?” he demanded, and I knew then what I’d guessed from the start. This was Max, Wren’s man.

  I took a deep breath. “Jared uses his mother’s maiden name. His father is Angelo Rossi.”

  “And you know this because…?”