Anguish

Page 20

Soon he’ll have nothing to be angry with me for.

~*~*~*~

“You gave him fuckin’ cookies!” Mack roars.

I was wrong. He can find more things to be angry about. Like me giving cookies to a man who apparently wants him ‘in the ground’.

I didn’t know. Yeesh.

“I didn’t know who he was!” I protest.

He leans in close, his eyes wild. “Cookies. Fuckin’ cookies.”

I throw my hands on my hips. “I was being a good hostess, looking after you and your stupid friends.”

“He ain’t my friend,” he snarls. “He’s my brother, and he wants me put out.”

Brother. I figured.

“Well, how was I supposed to know? He came to the damned door. And, I’ll have you know, he checked me out. I was still nice though, because I was trying to impress you. Beats me why,” I snap putting my hands up. “You’re always so fucking moody!”

He blinks at me, then growls, “He checked you out?”

“Yes.”

“He ask you anything else?”

“If I was with you,” I add.

“With me?”

“You know, your woman.”

He blinks again, then mutters, “Fuck.”

He spins around, pulling out his phone. He presses it to his ear and barks, “Maddox?”

Silence.

“Need a watch on my joint. I’ve got a problem, and I need to make sure that problem doesn’t get close to Jaylah and Diesel.”

My heart stutters. He used our names. Melt.

“Fine, hurry it up.”

He ends the call, and turns back to me. “You tell him anything else?”

“Ah, no.”

“Good.”

He turns and storms down the hall. “Mack?” I cry, before he reaches his room.

He looks back at me. “What?”

“Why does he want you,” I hesitate, “in the ground.”

His face hardens. “Because I took his wife, fucked her, had her baby, and now she’s dead.”

Oh, boy.

Shit just got real.

CHAPTER TWELVE

MACK

“You didn’t fuckin’ tell me any of this shit,” Maddox snarls, pacing the living room.

“Shit, Mack,” Krypt grunts.

“Mack,” Santana says softly, her eyes disappointed.

“Yeah,” I growl. “That’s because it wasn’t any of your fuckin’ business.”

“He wants you dead, he knows where you live—it’s my fuckin’ business,” Maddox retorts, his voice hard.

“He’s my brother.”

He stands, walking over and gripping my shoulder, hurling me closer. “And so am I.”

“You think I forget that?” I growl.

“That fucker came to your front door. Fuck knows what he would have done if you answered it.”

“He wouldn’t have done any-fuckin’-thing because he’s a piece of weak shit.”

“Don’t matter. Your baby is there.”

I flinch. He always has to shove that in my fuckin’ face. Like I don’t already know every second I lay my eyes on that boy.

“Low fuckin’ blow,” I hiss.

“It’s the truth,” he grunts, shoving me back.

“All I need from you is to make sure my house is watched. That’s it. This ain’t club business, and there’s no reason for that to change.”

Maddox runs his hand through his now short hair. “I’ve got shit goin’ down left right and center. I’ve got cops questioning me, an angry fuckin’ biker club, and a bunch of drug runners from Mexico still out for my blood. Last thing I need is more shit.”

“I’m askin’ for someone to keep a watch on my place when I’m not there, not a fuckin’ war.”

“He wants you in the ground. It’s a war.”

“He’s my fuckin’ problem,” I warn. “Stay out of it.”

“Not gonna happen. I’ve got people I care about all around. Who do you think he’s goin’ to target for revenge? Fuck, Mack, why didn’t you tell me?”

“None. Of. Your. Fuckin’. Business,” I grate out.

“Fuck, bro,” Krypt mutters. “It is our business.”

I take a deep breath for calm. They don’t fuckin’ get it.

“Anything else we should know?” Maddox snaps. “Or is that it?”

“That’s it,” I grate.

“Fine, I’ll have people on your fuckin’ door, but we’re goin’ to sort this out, Mack. I don’t need more shit.”

“You’re not doin’ anything; I am.”

He steps closer again. “We’re done talkin’ here. The decision has been made. Take care of your kid and that nanny, and we’ll work out the rest.”

He turns before I can answer and storms out, Santana rushing after him. Krypt stands, gives me a hard look, and leaves.

Fuck me.

This shit just gets worse.

~*~*~*~

JAYLAH

“It’s been two fuckin’ weeks.”

I cringe at the aggressive voice flowing through my phone.

“I know, and I’ve got some of the money for you.”

“I don’t want fuckin’ some, I want it all. I’m sick of waitin’. These repayments are doin’ fuck all.”

I swallow, staring down at Diesel who is sleeping on my bed, beside me.

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