The girl, who is quite ditzy by the looks of things, is running her hands over Max’s massive arms, smiling up at him with clear invitation. He isn’t touching her; he’s just watching her. “Why did you bring me out here, Kayla?”
“You didn’t call me back after the other night.”
He grunts. “Didn’t want to.”
God, prick.
“But,” she whines, her face falling, “we had fun.”
“We fucked, Kayla. That doesn’t class as fun.”
My heart dips. Max is sleeping with other women. I mean, of course he is; he isn’t with Anabelle anymore. Still, my heart aches for her. She might be angry with him, but she still loves him.
“You’re not being very nice.” She pouts.
“Look, I’m busy. If you don’t have anything to share, then leave.”
She turns with a huff and her eyes fall directly on me. “Why is there a girl sitting by the car?”
Max’s eyes flash to me and I stop breathing.
“Leave,” he orders Kayla.
“But Max . . .”
“Leave,” he barks.
She frowns and struts off, head held high. When she’s gone, Max walks towards me. I have no way out. I can’t go backwards because of the fence, and I can’t go forward because he’s covering my exit.
“You’re causing a lot of problems in there.”
“I know,” I say, my voice shaky.
“Causing problems in my club? That I don’t like.”
He crosses his big arms.
“I didn’t ask to be kidnapped, Max.”
He studies me. “You should have run when you had the chance. Sittin’ here ain’t helping your case.”
“I called Maddox.”
Max flinches. “I said I didn’t want no fuckin’ shit in my club.”
“But you’ll allow me to be stuffed in your closet?”
His jaw goes hard. “Look, girl, I don’t want anything to do with you or them, or whatever they’re doing. Call your club back; tell them to back off.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a phone.”
“How’d you call them, then?” he growls.
“I borrowed one.”
He pulls one from his back pocket. “Call them.”
He thrusts it at me and I reach up, catching it with both my hands. “No. I’m not going back in there. I don’t need that life again. I won’t do it. I’d rather die.”
His brows go up. “You don’t need that life again?”
I look away.
“Look, I don’t particularly like Ingro and his fuckin’ goons so I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take you to Maddox if you tell me what you know about my wife.”
I flinch. “I know nothing about her.”
“You’re lying,” he grunts. “Guess that means you’re stayin’ here.”
I sigh and push to my feet. “Fine, if you take me back I’ll tell you what I know about Belle.”
He nods sharply, then points a finger to the phone. “Move it.”
“No, I’ll call them off when I arrive and not a second before. I’m small, Max, but I’m not stupid.”
He growls and then turns, jerking a finger to the left.
“My car. Get in.”
He sounds like a caveman, grunting single words at me. I don’t argue—I just walk over quickly and climb into his truck. He swings in a couple of minutes later and starts the car. “You don’t wanna be seen, best you put your head down.”
I do as he says and put my head down.
Then I pray.
~*~*~*~
NOW – Pippa
Max keeps his word and drives me towards the compound. About halfway there, he finally speaks. “Tell me what you know about Ana.”
Ana. She calls herself Belle now. I wonder if he’s the reason why.
I consider what I can tell him about her. I don’t want to tell him she lives back here, because it isn’t my place, and I don’t want to put her or Immy in danger. I have to think up a story, something that’s going to work. I think of something that’ll work and share it with him hesitantly. “Her dad recently passed. She had to come back to town for the funeral. I saw her.”
He’s silent for a minute, then he says in a thick tone, “Her dad died?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
Shit.
“I’m not really sure. I told you we weren’t close. I just knew her for a time.”
“When was she in town?”
“Oh. Last week,” I say carefully.
He’s silent again.
“Is she . . . okay?”
Oh. God. Max cares about her. He still cares about her. I can hear it in his voice. I turn and study his face, and even though he has no expression on his beautiful features, his body is tight and he’s clutching the steering wheel tightly.
“She’s doing okay.”
“Is she happy?”
I shrug. “I didn’t get enough time with her, but she’s coping, Max. That’s all I could tell you about her happiness.”
“Is she . . .” His voice turns to stone. “Dating?”
“No. She isn’t. At least, not that I know of.”
He nods sharply.
“Is that all you want to ask?”
“No, but the things I want to know you won’t be able to answer.”