Me: Consider us even.
Maddox: You think answering a simple question makes up for you ambushing me before a meeting and gluing your tongue to my cock like the stupid kid from A Christmas Story who licked the icy pole?
A cackle bursts out of me.
Me: That is a horrid visual. And for the record, I was being careful. You were the one who rammed into my mouth.
I didn’t mention that before because guilt was gnawing at me, but it’s true. I noticed his rings and was steering clear, and then, boom, he was halfway in, nearly at the back of my throat.
Maddox: If that’s what helps you sleep at night, fine. Regardless, one answer is not enough payment. Be ready tomorrow. You owe me either the honor of returning the orgasm or a fun fact each day.
Me: Nice try. I will never pick the orgasm.
Maddox: Someday, you will, but in the meantime, I’ll be learning a lot. Good night, Tess.
Night, Maddox.
MADDOX
After sending my good-night text to Tessa, I strut into the penthouse as if I haven’t been hiding out for hours, biding my time until Axel calmed down. Vincent Lund obviously squealed to him the second we’d hung up, causing all hell to break loose.
Ryker and Mercy came back tonight. That’s both good and bad. Ryker brings an added level of intensity with him, but they won’t yell with Remy sleeping.
The family room is empty, and I manage to make it all the way up the back staircase, but before I reach my room, a familiar hand darts out, yanking me off my path.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Cash growls once I’m fully inside his room.
Knife in hand, my arm swings out to the side with my rebuttal. “You’ve got some balls, coming at me, when you’re the one who set that shit up.”
A laugh floats from the dark corner. Jax. They were hunkered down in here, lights off, waiting for me. It’s so reminiscent of our teen years, when we used to sneak in and out of the penthouse and share some crazy-ass stories of the mayhem we wreakedwhile Axel and Ryker were sleeping or tending to things. Growing up in a resort was a daily lesson in moderation. That we often failed.
Never one to outright admit his transgressions—wisdom—Cash brushes off my accusation. “I had nothing to do with your inability to stay focused on a goddamn call.”
The sound of Axel’s and Ryker’s voices downstairs drift up to us, and Jax jumps off the couch.
“I got this,” he whispers, ambling toward me. “I want full details later, but I’ll buy you a few minutes.”
I pat his back as he slides through the cracked-open door. “Thanks, man.”
“I called you a dozen times. What were you doing?” Concern laces Cash’s question. He knows he fucked with me at the wrong time. Otherwise, he’d be cracking jokes.
“I was on my phone, trying to do damage control, so I couldn’t answer.” I close my knife, pocket it, and plop down on his sofa, rubbing my forehead as my heart practically beats out of my chest. “I’m in trouble, Cash. Not the fun kind.”
He’s momentarily startled because he knows I wouldn’t admit that unless it was bad. “Lay it on me.”
“That call today was because Vincent Lund’s grandson is being accused of killing another Mafia don’s son.”
Leaning against the wall, he crosses his arms, probably anticipating where this is headed. “Did he do it?”
I shake my head. “No.”
His gaze never veers from mine. “How do you know?”
“Because I did it.”
“What?” he gasps, apparently not following along as well as I thought. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
Bending forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and release a tattered breath. “I caught him hurting a girl, raping her.”
