“Soup?” She licks her lips and slowly sits up sideways.
“Do you need me to bring it to you?” I’m goading her a little, which isn’t smart. I know she’s going to be harder to contain once she’s mobile, but I can’t help myself.
“No.” She snorts and rises slowly from the bed. “I’m not helpless.”
I turn and head back into the kitchen, where I placed the food on the counter. It gives her a little discretion from my prying eyes. When she pulls out the stool, it scrapes along the floor, and she winces before scooting into the seat.
Her eyes are locked on the black takeout containers and boxes as if she’s ready to snatch the food and cram it into her mouth. I push the box of grilled chicken and mashed potatoes toward her once I find it, along with the tortilla soup. She peeks into the box, swipes her finger in the mash, and shoves it into her mouth.
I have a visceral response to it, which catches me completely off guard. I tuck my face down, pretending I’m still interested in my food instead of giving into my true desire to sit and watch her eat like some kind of fucking weirdo.
I leave an empty stool between us but join her at the counter to eat. Her first few spoons of the soup are tentative. I can’t tell if it’s because she doesn’t like it, or if she’s just making sure she can handle it okay.
There’s a brief moment when I’m looking into my box, overfilled with a thick rack of slathered up BBQ ribs, when I wonder why the hell I chose something so messy before I remember I’m not trying to impress anyone. I tear a bone off the end and bring it up to my mouth. I focus on not looking like a pig, which ensures I’m busy enough that I don’t monitor her eating, but I do notice she uses a fork and not her finger to dig into her mash.
When she pushes the containers away from her, I take it as a sign that she’s done. There’s still a lot of food left, but I think she’s full, especially when she puffs out her cheeks with air, like she couldn’t eat another bite.
I give her a few seconds, then try talking with her again. Maybe she will be more amicable now that her belly is full. I know I’m a bear when I’m hungry.
“Maxine,” is all I get out before she tosses her head back and lets out a little groan, but it doesn’t stop me from continuing. “I’m going to lay down some shit for you, and you can do with it what you will, but it will not change the outcome. I need to know what kind of threat you and whoever you’re working for pose to me and my people. I’m not going to threaten you with violence because I don’t bullshit. I don’t fuck with woman or kids unless I’m left without a choice, meaning a gun to my head or someone else’s. Now, that isn’t a free pass. There are people who work for and with me who would have no problem exacting the kind of torture you can’t imagine.”
She tries to interrupt, but I lift my hand and stop her.
“I know you have no concept of what I mean, because you’re still alive. I’m talking about shit that there’s no coming back from, physically and mentally. Believe me when I say I do not want those things to happen to you, or anyone else who doesn’t deserve it, which is why Ineedyou to talk to me. If this shit gets out—you following me home and coming to the club—then it may be taken out of my hands.”
“Oh, you have a big, scary boss.” She makes it seem like a joke, but she has no clue. Rex does not have a conscience when it comes to most people. I turn to look directly at her and let her see the truth in my eyes. Her expression slowly begins to shift until the dismissive confidence slips from her face, along with her smirk.
“Tell me why you were following me while I can still affect how this ends.”
Maxine’s full lips pull down into a true frown. When her lips pucker as if she’s biting the inside of her cheek, I have hope she’s going to crack and give me something.
“I’m not working for or with anyone.”
I let out a huff of frustration. I know it’s only a matter of time before Rex will hear about this. Hell, I’m starting to feel disloyal for not telling him myself at this point. She’s not giving me any signs she’s going to talk, and I’m starting to feel shit for her that I have no business feeling. It goes beyond attraction and admiration.
“Go back to the room. I need to make a call.” My voice is flat. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go, but I can see this is the only way. I can’t risk Rex’s and Lucy’s safety for her, and I don’t trust myself to be with her longer. I’m already dreading what I’m about to do, and I barely know her.
MAXINE
I think I might actually be in trouble.Winger’s words and tone trigger something deep inside me. It’s a survival response I’ve grown to know and trust. The problem is I don’t know how to tell him the truth.
When he pushes the stool back and stands, I blurt, “You helped me in the alley.”
He halts and slowly turns to look at me, completely confused, judging by his bewildered expression.
“There was a man trying to take my bag. You stopped him.” It’s surreal having to remind him of an incident that was so pivotal to me, yet he doesn’t even seem to remember it. Something must sink in, because he slowly lowers himself to the stool while never taking his eyes off me.
“Explain why you followed me and kept coming back to the club,” he orders.
I really don’t want to explain myself, especially when I don’t even understand my own motivations. “Because I’m dumb.”
He glares. “Not good enough.”
“I don’t know, but it had nothing to do with yourpeople.” I should really try not to sound so dismissive.
“Why didn’t you just give him the bag? He could have killed you,” he chastises me, but I don’t think that’s the end of his questions for me.
“Ah, no, he couldn’t have. I was trying to avoid killing him.” Damn it, why did I say that? I’m trying to make it seem like I’m not a threat.
