The way her mouth dropped open before she slapped her hand over her eyes was pretty telling too. I might even be willing to bet she was doing everything she could to look into my room. Finding me naked might have been a shock, but she didn’t look panicked about anything other than being caught.
This is most definitely payback for calling Rex insane for his involvement with Lucy. His obsession with her barely made sense to me because he didn’t even know her, but here I am, calling her mine and admitting I’m not going to let her go.
“Winger,” she calls, and my attention shifts directly to her. “Why am I really here? Why not kill me or just let me go?”
It’s hard to maintain eye contact with her after the question, but I force myself not to look away. The reasons she’s here now are so different than how they started. I don’t know how much truth to give her. “I told you. I knew you were following me, and I needed to know why.”
“Okay, that explains why you brought me here. I can even understand that, but why am Istillhere?”
“If you weren’t here with me, you’d be dead.”
“It was just a stab wound.” She rolls her eyes as if I’m exaggerating.
I shake my head, letting her hear the truth in my next words. “You were on borrowed time the minute you dropped the lawyer in the city.”
“What?” she scoffs.
“You might have gotten away with it if you didn’t come back, but you did. I’m saving you the only way I know how.”
“So now I’m yours. That’s what you said, right? People will think you’re fucking me.” She looks down her nose at me in disgust. I know it’s too much to ask that she see reason and be fucking grateful, but damn, does she have to make it seem like she would rather be dead than be aligned with me?
I get pissed at myself, her for putting me in this position, and everything that led up to this point. “Don’t worry, princess, it’s only so the people who are actually loyal to me don’t kill you on sight. The claim is as artificial as your personality. It means nothing. You mean nothing. When I make sure everyone on that list is dead for even thinking they could fuck around in the city, then I’ll put you back in your miserable, lonely life.” I don’t remember standing, but somehow, I’m looking down at her.
I need to get the fuck out of here. I don’t look back over my shoulder as I head for the door, but I do deliver one final warning. “There are cameras in every room but yours, and the windows and doors have alarms. If you try to leave, I won’t stop them from killing you.”
CHAPTER21
MAXINE
Iknow it’s coming, but I still jump when the door slams in Winger’s wake. I’m still processing everything he said, but my mind focuses on his parting words about the cameras and what would happen if I tried to escape.
That’s easier than addressing the lump in my throat. He didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know, but his words still hit their mark, making me feel like filthy garbage.
I glance around the room, looking for the cameras he promised, but come up empty. Just in case, I head to my room, closing the door behind me before I flick a stupid tear off my cheek. I don’t even know why I’m all mushy other than I’m pissed off. I’m probably due to start my period soon too. Fucking lovely.
* * *
After two daysof sulking around the apartment, I contemplate trying to escape because I’m going stir-crazy, which doesn’t even really make sense since I stayed in my own house for days on end without any issue.
I gave up looking for the cameras yesterday. Part of me thinks he was bluffing, which is why I’m standing in the big window, running my hands around the edges to see if I feel any contact wires.
A hard knock on the door tears a scream from my throat as I catapult myself off the windowsill, looking around. I couldn’t open the door if I wanted to, since it’s locked, but I do walk over and call out a hesitant, “Yeah, who’s there?”
“Get out of the window,” comes a gruff bark. I back away from the door. Holy crap, there must be cameras, and someone is watching them right now. I throw up a double finger salute and spin around to make sure it’s seen before retreating back to the bedroom.
I hate knowing there’s someone out in the hall, and even worse, someone capable of watching my every move. I really wish I would have just stuck to the plan of playing along instead of asking questions that got me the same answers.
The slamming of the heavy main door draws my attention. I rush over to my door and peek out to see who came in. Even with his back to me as he strips off a leather jacket, I know it’s Winger.
The minute I realize I’m leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed like some jilted girlfriend whose man just got home from a three-day bender, I adjust my stance and my features, determined to keep my cool this time.
Without acknowledging me, he saunters over to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. When he brings the bottle up to his lips, I notice his knuckles are split and angry.
I’m already inching closer to him to get a better look. My eyes roam over him from head to toe, but I don’t see any other evidence he’s hurt. A sense of relief washes over me. “What happened to you?”
“It wasn’t William Andrews who hired someone to kill you,” he tells me after draining the entire bottle. It feels like he’s purposely not looking at me.
I recognize the name as one on the list I had the address to. “You talked to him?” I follow behind him as he heads to the bathroom.
