Page 17

Chapter seventeen

Maddox

U ncle Ricky steps through the door. The room spins as everything happens too fast. He’s commanding, his gaze lethal as he pins it on me. It takes all my willpower not to squirm, but eventually, I narrow my eyes at him. He turns away, likely deciding I’m nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Colt, have you both been wearing masks the entire time?” he barks.

Colt. A jolt of paranoia rushes through my body. How could it be Colt without me realizing it? I stare at him in disbelief, my jaw hanging open slightly as a flash of guilt washes over his face. It’s not possible. I should’ve recognized him, but my brain completely wrote him off as a possibility. It doesn’t make sense. He was behind the counter working. I saw him. When did he slip away to change and disappear? This entire night, I figured I was hooking up with his brother, but it was actually him. All I’ve dreamed about for months— magical. Maybe even the best sex I’ve had in a really long time, and it was only our first time. Imagine how much better it could be. I suck. I super fucking suck. I thought he was his brother. Shit.

“You okay?” Colt asks, staring down at me.

I blink, realizing I was so lost in my thoughts that I missed an entire conversation between him and his uncle. He’s already gone, no longer even in the office with us. The moment I heard Colt’s name, I stopped listening. Fucking lovely. I have no idea what’s going on, and, as if that’s not embarrassing enough, I can’t bring myself to answer him. I can’t speak. He’s watching me with those soulful eyes, and I can’t think. Can’t—

“Breathe,” Colt instructs. “It’s hard to tell if you’re in shock or reacting to finding out my name. Care to clear that up? Are you upset I’m me ?”

His stare is inquisitive. He’s studying me, waiting. But I simply gape at him, still unable to speak. I’m so fucked if I don’t pull myself together. This is everything I wanted, so why does it feel so wrong?

I sigh. It’s wrong because I assumed I was hooking up with his brother—and I was so obsessed with Colt, I pretended it was okay. If I couldn’t have him, his brother would do. And now, I feel guilty. A low gasp escapes my lips as everything clicks into place. The reason he didn’t want me to know who he was. Colt is part of something dangerous. Organized crime. If I’m being honest with myself, I think he might be part of the actual mafia. What did I get myself into? His voice interrupts my spiral. I’ve blanked out on him again. This is so fucking embarrassing. I hate myself so much right now.

“As I suspected, you’re obviously in shock. I’m sorry about all of this,” he waves his hand around, “but we need to move fast.”

The office is empty, but I can hear the scuffle of footsteps and people moving around the rest of the bar. The back door must be propped open because low voices murmur about moving and disposing of—oh god. A body. That’s what that sound was earlier. It was a gunshot. Forget mild panic. My hands tremble as the full scope of everything that’s happening sets in. I’m pretty sure I’m witnessing a cover-up.

“Come on,” Colt reaches for me, but I pull away.

“You can be upset later. The longer we stay—just trust me. Come up to my place with me.” He pleads, offering me his hand again.

I don’t know if I want to go with him, but he’s right. Whether or not they are mafia, they’re still bad men. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be. Tentatively, I take his hand, and he pulls me against his chest. Colt leans down and presses a kiss to my head. “I’ll answer anything you want to ask me upstairs, okay?”

I nod, and he leads me through a hidden door and down a hallway I hadn’t noticed before. It connects to an elevator. Colt keys in a code on the touchpad. The doors slide open, and with Colt leading the way, we step inside. He pushes the number three. A few minutes later, we’re standing in an entryway of a hidden condo. He types another code into his door and leads me inside.

This place is stunning. The sleek industrial design gives the space a trendy vibe. Expensive stonework spans the kitchen, which looks like it belongs on a home cooking show. “You live here?” I stutter, spinning around to see the floor-to-ceiling fireplace and massive windows overlooking the city. My voice echoes in the open space, and when I look at Colt, he’s smiling.

“What?” I ask.

“There’s all this other shit going on, and you haven’t spoken a word since Uncle Ricky arrived. We get up here, and your only question is if I live here?” He shakes his head, running a nervous hand through his hair “You’re something else, Maddox.”

I smile, wandering deeper into his house, but before I get too far, he catches my wrist and pulls me back to him.

“Uncle Ricky needs us to keep a low profile, so you’re staying here tonight.” Colt’s words are a low rumble.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and find you something to sleep in. I’ll set you up in the guest room, and then we’ll go over the plan.” Apparently I have no say in the matter. I’m staying here tonight and honestly, I’m not even the least bit disappointed. That sounds so fucked up. I should be freaked out. I mean, sure—organized crime, dead body… kind of a situation. But Colt? I finally have him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Maddox.” He cups my face, tilting it up toward him. Forcing me to gaze into the eyes that I’ve searched all night for answers. Now that I know it’s completely obvious. The mask was never enough to hide him. His dark eyes search mine, concern flickering before his cool facade locks back into place.

“Are you okay?” He finally rasps, his chest heaving with the question.

I reach up, stroking his cheek, allowing my fingertips to slide against the scruff of his beard. He moans into my fingers, kissing them lightly.

“I’m still a little overwhelmed,” I admit. “But I’m okay. I can handle… whatever that was downstairs.“ I try a little too hard to sound confident.

“Let’s get you in the shower, and I’ll make us a snack. We should eat something.” Colt leads me down the hall, past a door he casually snatches closed, past what looks like a spare room. I look at him, confused. “I thought we were going to the guest room?”

“My shower’s better,” he shrugs, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes.