Melancholy

I can feel Maddox’s glare burning into the side of my face, but I don’t look at him. I just focus on Kennedy. “Maddox saved me. I’ve been with him since. There isn’t much to tell, aside from the fact that I’m happy.”

Kennedy stares at Maddox, his face full of disgust. “He isn’t the type I would have picked you to go for, Tanie. I hope he’s good to you.”

I can hardly say, “oh no, he’s not” or “actually we’re not together anymore” because that will give the wrong impression. Instead I force a smile and mutter, “He’s fine to me.”

Kennedy narrows his eyes. “You don’t sound convinced. If he’s hurting you, just say the word and . . .”

Maddox snorts loudly, cutting him off. I close my eyes, gathering my calm, before saying, “He’s good to me, Kennedy. He’s the first—” My voice trembles. “—the first man I’ve ever fallen completely in love with.”

Maddox turns to stare at me, his eyes saying so much, even though his mouth is tight. We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, before I turn and face Kennedy again. He’s watching us, suspicion filling his features.

“I don’t have long left, Tanie,” he finally says. “We only get so much time. I’m so glad I got to see you; I want you to know how sorry I am. I let you down, and for that, I’ll never forgive myself.”

If he doesn’t have much time, I don’t want to waste another second. I don’t forgive Kennedy for what he did, but I want information, so I smile and whisper, “I forgive you, Kennedy.”

He beams, his eyes filling with tears. “You’ve just set me free.”

“Now set Pippa free, for me, please,” I plead. “Tell me where she is.”

“I don’t know where she is; I didn’t sell her as a slave. I do know the man I sold her to, however. It’s him who would have sold her as a slave.”

“Then give me his name.”

He sighs. “Jamie Whitman.”

I smile through my tears. “Thank you, Kennedy.”

“Come and see me again, Tanie. Please?”

I nod. “Of course.”

Then I hang up the phone, knowing as well as he does that we’ll never see each other again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

2014 – Santana

“Where’s Maddox?” I ask, walking into the main room of the club house.

“No idea,” Tyke says, lifting a smoke to his lips and inhaling.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“He’s drinkin’ himself into a stupor.”

I turn to see Krypt with Ash, his arm wrapped firmly around her middle, holding her close to him.

“Oh, right.”

“Not sure goin’ to see him is the smartest move, Tana. You don’t wanna tango with Maddox when he’s drunk, and believe me, sweetheart, he’s drunk.”

I sigh, running my hands over my face. I’m tired. It’s been a long, draining few days. Tomorrow we’re going to see Jamie Whitman, to see who he sold Pippa to, and whether or not we have the chance to get her back. I know sleep won’t come easy tonight, because if the news is bad tomorrow, we’re back to square one.

Each day we waste time, she’s stuck in that hell for longer than she needs to be.

“I need to talk to him about tomorrow.”

“I’d leave it,” Krypt advises, his eyes narrowing in warning.

“Maddox doesn’t scare me,” I say, waving a hand. “Drunk or sober.”

“No, but he can be a fucking asshole, and you don’t need anymore shit.”

“He needs to know I’m leaving, Krypt. You know he won’t like it if I go without telling him. I’ll be a few minutes.”

“Your funeral,” he mutters.

“Just be careful, honey,” Ash says, forcing a smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

I disappear down the halls, checking the rooms as I go. Nothing. Maddox isn’t in any of them. I decide to check the sheds down the back. He isn’t in the first one, but upon entering the second, I see him. He’s standing in the corner, half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. I hesitate at the door, not entirely sure what to say.

He looks up when the door closes behind me, and the expression on his face breaks my heart. He looks like he’s just lost his best friend. He sways slightly on his feet, his blue eyes narrowed in pain and his mouth a weak line on his face, as if it’s too hard to scowl or frown. He’s drunk, beyond it in fact. I can see it in his eyes. The bloodshot depths have the answers even before he opens his mouth.

“What do you want?”

His voice is a low slur, not defined, but there all the same.

“I . . . I wanted to see you before I went.”

“Fuckin’ why?”

I cross my arms, tired of arguing. “Because I know you’d want to know.”

“What I want,” he grates out, “don’t fuckin’ matter.”

“It wasn’t my mistake, Maddox. Don’t make me suffer for it.”

“No.” He laughs bitterly. “It wasn’t your mistake. You’ve made that fuckin’ clear, over and over again for the past few days. It’s all on me, and we’re done. So why the fuck are you here?”

An angry pang invades my chest, but I push it back.

“Don’t,” I warn. “Don’t make out like I’m being the selfish one here.”