Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gunner
Malcolm and I sat across from each other on my mattress, the stack of cash between us.
Holy shit. That’s so much money.
Like, change my life kind of money.
I had gotten all excited when Lilith handed me a small stack of ones after barbacking Friday and Saturday, but this was out of control.
Malcolm adjusted his glasses, staring straight at it. “You really shouldn’t have done this,” he said.
“I know,” I groaned. “You keep saying that.”
“But now is not the time to focus on the mistakes we made,” he continued, talking to himself as much as to me. “Now we need to figure out what to do next.”
“Maybe Maddox’s uncle won’t realize the money is gone?” I said. “Maybe there are lots of suitcases full of money and drugs floating around the building?”
Malcolm kept staring at the cash, his eyes burning with intense concentration.
It was sexy. I could just imagine the way his big brain was working, puzzling out different ways we could deal with the money.
“There’s no way to return it,” he continued. “And if Maddox is confident that there weren’t any security cameras, I trust that we got away without anyone noticing us.”
I grabbed my cigarettes from the windowsill, my anxious energy building. When Malcolm wrinkled his nose a little, though, I put them back, figuring it was better to smoke outside anyway. “It sounds like you’re saying we got away with it,” I said, feeling a little proud.
Malcolm frowned. “Except that Maddox is mad now.”
I sighed, my heart tightening to think of the look on his face when he left the bar. “He’s just teaching us a lesson or something,” I said, only half-believing it.
“I just don’t understand why he didn’t take the money on his way out. Why would he leave it with us? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to take care of it himself?”
I reached out to take Malcolm’s hand. He looked so worried and stressed. I just wanted to make him smile again. “I understand that he’s going to be mad at me,” I said, catching his eye. “But you don’t need to worry. He’s not going to hold what I did against you. Maddox is intense, but he’s fair, too.”
Malcolm stared at the ground, still frowning. “Why’d you do it, though?” he asked, turning back to look me in the eye. “Why didn’t you just put the briefcase back and leave?”
My heart tightened again. I’d already made a big enough mess of everything. I didn’t want to lie to Malcolm on top of it. “I don’t know,” I said as honestly as I could. “It was just so much money, more than I’ve ever seen. And I felt kind of high on the thrill of what we were doing, I guess. My heart was pounding, and I felt this urgent need to do something big, as big as what Maddox was doing for us.” I shook my head, trying to figure out how to explain the impulse to a guy like Malcolm. “It was just there. I knew I could take it, and I thought of how hard I’d always had to work, and I thought about the asshole who owned that suitcase…” I winced. “I wanted you to think I was every bit as much of a man as Maddox is.”
Malcolm’s face softened as I talked. All of a sudden, he pounced forward, landing against me and pulling me to the bed. His weight felt warm in my arms, and I let out a short laugh from the surprise of it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really am. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Malcolm sat up, putting his glasses back on straight. “You know you don’t have to have a lot of money to impress me,” he said. “And you definitely don’t have to commit some major crime. I’m impressed by you all the time.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, moving the stack of money aside carefully as I sat back up.
“Yeah. You’re totally independent. You do what you want to do, instead of trying to make other people happy. You’re not afraid to take risks, and your heart is always in the right place.”
I cleared my throat, feeling funny from all of his compliments. “Thanks,” I said. “I’m really glad you feel that way.”
Malcolm glanced at the money again. “We’ll have to figure this out later. I should probably get going to dinner with my family now.”
I ran my hand through my hair, still feeling a little flushed from his compliments. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Why don’t I come with you?”
Malcolm startled. “To dinner?” He laughed to himself. “My family requires an RSVP in advance. If my mother didn’t have enough baked brie, she’d never forgive herself.”
“How about next week? I don’t work Sunday night. You always act like it’s such a downer. Maybe I could keep you company. Whisper dirty talk in your ear, crack wise with your old man, stuff like that.”
