by James Tate
KATE
MADISON KATE #4
TATE JAMES
Contents
Stalk Tate
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR
Also By Tate James
Tate James
KATE: Madison Kate #4
Copyright © Tate James 2020
All rights reserved
First published in 2020
James, Tate
KATE: Madison Kate #4
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Tamara Kokic
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Models: Zach and Joli
Editing: Heather Long (content) and Jax Garren (line).
Created with Vellum
For my mum.
I miss you so damn much.
Stalk Tate
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1
STEELE
Seven and a half years ago…
A pout pulled at the pretty blonde girl's lips as she scowled at us, and I grinned. It annoyed her that I kept smiling, so I did it more just because it was fun to see the fire in her unusual violet-blue eyes.
Her delicate little hands clenched at her sides like she wanted to punch us both, this skinny little girl against two fifteen-year-old boys who'd been fighting since we were younger than her. It was funny, and it made me want to ruffle her hair or something.
"I don't need you to babysit me," the girl huffed. "I'm eleven years old. I can take care of myself."
My grin spread even wider. She had so much backbone; she reminded me of Arch.
He snorted a mocking laugh at my side, crossing his lanky arms across his chest. "Trust me, Princess Danvers, we have better things to do than babysit some spoiled, little brat while her mom plays gang whore for a week."
"You take that back!" she shouted. "You don't know anything! You're just a-a stupid boy." The girl's face screwed up in fury, and she lashed out, shoving Archer in the chest with her little hands.
He stumbled back a step, not having expected her to actually push him. But he also had a quick temper, and I recognized the flash of anger in his face. He didn't care that this girl was four years younger than us with no clue what a vipers’ nest she was standing in the middle of. He just saw someone challenging him, and Archer D'Ath never backed down from a challenge.
"Okay, come on," I said, angling myself to be slightly between the two of them. "Damien gave us an order," I reminded Arch with a hard glare. "And you have nowhere else to go right now," I said to the girl. Madison Kate. It was a pretty name, but it didn't suit her at all. Not that she wasn't pretty—she definitely was—but she had anger and stubbornness and bravado that contradicted that pretty, girly name.
"Let's just go hang out upstairs," I suggested, "before we get dragged into any more shit."
Archer gave me a grudging nod and turned to leave the seedy bar that we were way too young to be hanging out in. But no one was telling us what we could or couldn't do.
He didn't check if we were following, so I sighed and turned to the girl once more.
"Come on, Madison Kate," I coaxed, "we can just play Xbox and order pizzas. It'll be like a sleepover or some shit."
She frowned at me like I was stupid. "A sleepover with two gangster-wannabe boys? No, thanks. That's not my idea of fun." Her thin arms folded over her chest, and I noticed the red marks on her wrist where Damien had grabbed her arm earlier. It was probably going to bruise, with skin as pale as hers.
I shrugged. "What else are you going to do? You heard your mom. She doesn't wanna see you for the rest of the week."
Her stubborn face faltered, and a flash of real pain showed through. Fuck. Poor kid. She didn't deserve that shit… none of us did.
I let out a sigh. "You'll be safe with us, Madison Kate," I promised her, dropping the hard edge I usually used when I was in the Reaper clubhouse. "We won't let anything happen to you while you're here. Promise."
She scowled some more, then shot an uneasy look in the direction of the main bar, where her mom and Zane had disappeared to. Indecision was painted all over her pretty face, but eventually she sighed.
“What’s your name, anyway?” she asked as her shoulders drooped in defeat.
I smiled, knowing she’d made up her mind to trust us. “I’m Steele,” I replied, holding out a hand to her, “but you can call me Max if you want. That’s what my sister calls me.”
She reached out and took my hand with her delicate, cold fingers. “Well, okay then, Max. You can call me MK.”
I wrapped my hand around hers, pulling her after me as I made my way toward the stairs. “Nah,” I said back, flashing her a grin. “You look more like a Cat to me.”
Her blonde brows dipped low, but she kept following me up the stairs. “You can’t just change my name, Max. That’s rude. And I hate cats; they’re so mean.”
I laughed because she was exactly like a cat, all pretty and soft but quick to hiss and scratch at anyone she didn’t trust. Just like Archer… except, I guess, he didn’t look even the slightest bit soft.
This assignment was either going to be a heap of fun or a goddamn nightmare.
* * *
Present…
Pain wracked my body, and I tried to draw a breath. Only a tiny amount of air made it into my lungs before blood choked me and my chest spasmed.
Fuck. I'd been shot.
I couldn't move enough to get up; I couldn't even turn my head if I wanted to. But I didn't. I never wanted to look away from those beautiful, violet-blue eyes that stared back at me. If she was the last thing I saw before I died...
My ears were ringing a high-pitched whine broken only by ragged, wet gasps as I tried to breathe. I was drowning in my own blood; th
ere was no question about it. I guessed it was just a race to see which killed me first, the bullet wound or asphyxiation.
Movement jolted me back to the present before I even realized I'd started to drift away. Pain radiated through me again as someone scooped me up off the ground and ran.
I tried to scream, but no noise came out, just more blood spilling from my lips as I choked.
"...stay with me, you bastard," Archer's rough demand cut through the ringing in my ears, and I wanted to laugh. Of course he'd still be cursing me out as I died.
More jostling dominated my attention as he stuffed me into the back of the car, and the pain of it all made me black out.
Maybe that was it?
But soft, floral-scented hair brushed my face, dragging me back to consciousness as gentle lips kissed my cheek.
She was here. My girl was here. I couldn't leave her yet... not yet. She needed me; she needed us. I couldn't fucking die. Not now.
"...Max, please don't go," she whispered, her voice choked with the tears that fell on my skin. "Please. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, this is all my fault. Please, Max, please..."
A low rumble of voices from the front of the car reached my ears, but I couldn't make out the words. No doubt Arch was driving like a damn bat out of hell to get me to a hospital. I wanted to shout at him to hurry the fuck up. My girl needed me, and I wasn't going out like this. To some cowardly fuck shooting from the shadows? Hell no. Max Steele wouldn’t be wiped off the board that easily.
Except... I was pretty sure I was dying, no matter how fast my friend drove.
Blood choked me again, and my Hellcat turned my face so it could drain out. It gave me a fraction’s respite. Enough that I could hear her next words clearly.
"You can't die yet," she whispered in my ear. "You can't. I’ve never even told you that I love you, but I do. I love you so fucking much, Max Steele. Please, please don't leave me."
Shit, beautiful girl... if only I had the choice.
* * *
Seven and a half years ago...
Zane's fist landed a hard blow across his little brother's face, and MK's hand gripped mine tighter. It was the only sign she showed of being afraid. Her face, with such delicate features, not betraying anything as Zane beat the shit out of Archer in front of us.
"You're fucking pathetic, little brother," Zane snarled down at Archer. My friend was on the ground after that last punch, and blood splattered the wooden floors. "Is that the best you've got? Grandfather must be getting weak in his old age if that's as good as you've got for me." He delivered another heavy kick to Archer's ribs, and something snapped.
MK flinched this time, just the slightest bit, but I squeezed her hand in warning. I knew she wanted to say something to try and stop Zane from beating up Arch, but it wouldn't do any good. In fact, it'd only make it worse.
A few more kicks with his steel-capped boots and Zane decided he was done. He spat on the floor in front of his brother's body and sneered.
"You'll never go far in the Reapers, little brother. You're too weak." His disgusted gaze ran over me, then flickered over MK with somewhat more interest. It made my blood boil because she was a fucking kid. No bastard should be looking at her like she was a woman when she was barely even in a training bra.
I stepped forward, blocking her from Zane's line of sight and ready to stick my neck on the line. But he turned away before seeing the defiant glare in my eyes.
"I've got a hot date with my girl tonight," he told us with a lazy grin as he wiped his bloody knuckles on a rag. "Don't burn the fucking house down while I'm gone, yeah?"
He shot another sly smile in MK's direction, like he’d just remembered that his girl was her mom. Thankfully, he left before shit got any worse, and a few moments later we heard the roar of his motorcycle peeling out of the driveway.
The moment it was safe, MK dropped my hand and rushed over to where Archer remained lying on the ground.
For a second, I thought she was going to burst out crying. But then she slapped him across the face—hard, too, if his answering groan was any indication.
"What the heck is wrong with you?" she demanded, her little hands curled into fists as she glared down at him. "Why didn't you fight back? You could have killed him, and you know it!"
Archer just rolled onto his back, groaning as he laughed. "It's hilarious that you can't curse, Princess."
She whacked him in the chest, making him hiss with pain and cradle his ribs. Something was definitely broken there. A deep frown marked her brow, but she didn't apologize. It was cute as hell.
"You're so dumb, Arch," she mumbled, sitting back on her heels as I offered my hand to help him sit up. "Why did you pretend you couldn't fight?"
He flashed her a grin, and it tightened a knot in my stomach. Arch liked MK, despite treating her like an annoying tagalong. He saw something in her that spoke to his stained and damaged soul. I saw the darkness in her too, but I wanted to protect her from it. Arch wanted to draw it out and make her embrace it.
"Strategy, little princess," he replied with a grunt as he pushed himself up from the floor and limping over to the bathroom.
She wrinkled her adorable nose, and turned to me for translation.
I just shrugged, offering her a hand to stand up too. "He means by not revealing our strengths to Zane—or to Damien—we're holding the power. If they don't know what we're capable of, they can't ever see us coming."
Her big, long lashed eyes widened, and she followed Arch into the bathroom, where he'd started assessing his injuries. He'd pulled his shirt off. Bruises were already spreading across his midsection. Fucking Zane would pay for that one day. Just another mark against him when the time came.
"You guys are planning something?" MK demanded to know, folding her arms and raising her chin with stubborn determination. "Good. No offense, Arch, but people like your dad and Zane shouldn't have power. They just abuse it to make themselves feel better about their tiny dicks."
I choked on air, my cheeks heating in shock that she'd actually just said that. "Cat... what the fuck do you know about their dicks?"
Archer just snickered as he dabbed blood from his mouth. "You said dick. That's just one step away from fuck. I reckon we'll have corrupted you by the time you leave here."
Her cheeks turned pink, her gaze ducking to the floor. "Whenever that is," she mumbled.
"Hey," I said, reaching out for her again. I couldn't seem to stop touching her—in a totally platonic way. "It'll be soon. Did you say your dad comes back from Europe next week?" The one week forced vacation her mom had brought her on was now coming up on three weeks... but selfishly Arch and I liked having her around.
She sighed, her shoulders rising and falling. "Yeah. I guess." Her gaze returned to Archer, and a deep frown creased her brow. "You're doing that wrong."
He raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror. The unsplit one, that was. He was trying to apply butterfly stickers to the other one, but he hadn't cleaned even the worst of the blood away, which prevented them from adhering.
"You think you can do better, Princess?" He wasn't even subtle in taunting her, but she'd take the bait. She always did. I was starting to think she enjoyed the verbal sparring as much as he did.
Fucking hell. We needed to get her home to her cushy mansion before this life really did corrupt her irreparably.
She just huffed and slid out from under my arm to take the wash cloth from the edge of the basin.
"Sit down," she snapped, shoving Arch to the side of the bathtub like he wasn't twice her weight. "Stupid boys," she muttered under her breath as she went to work cleaning up Archer's eyebrow.
He shot me a smug look while she was distracted with his wound, and I flipped him off behind her back. I didn't even know why we were being so competitive about her attention. She was a full four years younger than us, and neither of us was interested in her like that. But... there was just something there.
Like a past life connection or some s
hit. I dunno. Karma.
* * *
Present...
Every time I started to slide into the darkness, her voice pulled me out again. I clung to that sound like a lifeline, using it to drag myself back from the abyss when the pain became overwhelming.
Her hand gripped mine hard as my dying body was lifted from the back of the car and placed on a gurney.
My lids flickered as her hand tugged on mine like someone was trying to separate us, then they succeeded and her fingers fell away. I focused my eyes just in time to see her ball up her fist and punch a hospital security guard in the face.
I wanted to laugh. I really did. But my body wasn't under my control anymore.
The hospital staff raced my gurney through the doors, and my lids drooped. I needed her. Could I make it through without her voice, her touch pulling me back?
I had to. There was no other choice. I had to survive... because my Hellcat had finally said she loved me.
Love conquered all, right? Even a bullet to the chest.
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