"He shouldn't." I stand too, oddly defensive. "I've got the club now. I'm not that kid anymore."
"So I see." She steps closer, close enough that I can smell that intoxicating perfume again. "The question is, does the club have you, or is this just another game you're playing until something more exciting comes along?"
Her words hit too close to home, and I feel my jaw tighten. "You don't know me."
"No," she agrees, "but I know your type."
"And what type is that?"
"The type that thinks they're invincible." Her eyes search mine. "The type that confuses luck with skill."
"You got all that from one conversation?" I try to sound dismissive, but her assessment stings with its accuracy.
"I'm a good judge of character." She steps back. "It's how I've stayed alive this long."
Before I can respond, she turns and heads for the door. "It's getting late. I should find my motel."
"Wait." I catch up to her in two strides. "Where are you staying?"
"The Pine Haven Inn. Why?"
"That place is a shithole." I run a hand through my hair, making a split-second decision that Ghost would definitely call reckless. "I've got a spare room. You should stay with me."
She raises an eyebrow. "Moving a little fast, aren't we?"
"Not like that." Though the thought had definitely crossed my mind. "You're James's family. That makes you mine too. I'm not letting you stay in that roach motel."
I can almost see the calculations running behind those sharp eyes.
"Alright," she finally says. "But if you try anything—"
"You'll castrate me in my sleep. I get it."
"I was going to say I'd steal your bike and sell it for parts," she counters with a sweet smile. "But castration works too."
As I lead her back inside to grab my keys, I catch Ghost watching us with a warning expression. I know exactly what he's thinking: I'm making a mistake. Bringing James's wild friend home is exactly the kind of impulsive decision he's always telling me to avoid.
But as Maddie walks beside me, her arm occasionally brushing against mine, I can't bring myself to care. Some gambles are worth taking, even when the odds are stacked against you.
And something tells me Maddie Brooks might be the biggest gamble of my life.
Chapter 3 - Maddie
Dice's apartment is exactly what I expected: leather furniture, motorcycle parts on the coffee table, and a distinct lack of anything resembling decoration. What I didn't expect is how clean it is. No dirty dishes in the sink, no clothes strewn across the floor. James always made his brother sound like a human tornado.
"Home sweet home," Dice says, tossing his keys onto a small table by the door. "It's not much, but it beats bedbugs and mysterious stains."
"Charming sales pitch." I set my overnight bag down, scanning the space for exits—old habit. Front door, sliding glass door to a small balcony, and what looks like a fire escape outside the kitchen window. Good enough.
"Spare room's through there," he points down a short hallway. "Bathroom's across from it. Feel at home and all that."
"Thank you," I say dryly, following him as he gives the nickel tour.
The spare room is basic. Just a double bed and a dresser, but the sheets look clean and there's a lock on the door. Not that I'm particularly worried about Dice trying anything. For all his bad-boy swagger, there's something oddly trustworthy about him.
"You want something to drink?" he asks as we head back to the living room. "I've got beer, whiskey, or..." he opens the fridge, "...chocolate milk?"
I laugh. "Chocolate milk?"
