Page 56 of Take
I BENT MY KNEES, RESTED my arms on them and hung my head, closing my eyes. I fucked up. I put off telling her the truth about the job and what I was feeling for her until it was too late to fix what I’d done.
She was right. It wasn’t just her I’d fucked over; it was Xamien. Despite what I tried to ignore, he was my friend. Was being the optimal word because Xamien would kill me when he heard about this.
“Jesus.” I put my hands in my hair as the overwhelming need to go after her hit me. I knew she hadn’t left; I could hear her on the porch swing as it creaked back and forth. Shit, I couldn’t stop my ability from honing in on her wherever the hell she was.
How the fuck did this get so out of my control. When I met her six months ago, I’d known then something was different. I stalked her for fuck’s sake. When I was away from her, it was as if I’d left my heart behind so it could stay with her.
But I fought it. I pretended it wasn’t more than lust when I knew it was.
“Would you have killed her?”
I jerked my head up, seeing Holden standing in the doorway. I was so focused on Max I blocked all other sounds out. He had his hands in his pockets, and for once, no judgment in his expression. I even thought I saw a flicker of sympathy.
“No.” I may have tried to convince myself otherwise, but she . . . Max made me feel as if I was breathing pure, untainted air. She fed me the life I’d submerged into the earth with Beth. I took the job to be closer to her, to protect her, and at the same time, my self-destructive side took it to try and convince myself I didn’t care about her. That I could do the job and walk away with my scattered fragmented pieces.
What I hadn’t realized was Max had been slowly repairing me without me even knowing it. I didn’t give a fuck about my Ink being healed and I took the job so no other bastard would kill her.
I took it to make her mine.
None of it mattered now.
“Stop thinking of what you’ve done and fix it.” I snorted and Holden’s lips pulled downward with that disappointed glower he would always give me when I fucked up as a kid. “It’s salvageable, bro, and she’s worth it, isn’t she? Worth trying. Worth whatever it takes?”
She’s worth everything. “Fuck yeah.”
“Give her some time then talk to her. Not your bullshit, Wasp, really talk to her.”
My head snapped up as my ability picked up someone approaching the house. I jumped to my feet and was shoving past my brother when he called, “It’s just Guise. He’s staying a few days.”
I made it into the living room just as the front door open. Guise stopped and we stared at one another for a minute. I hadn’t spoken to him or seen him since that day he and Holden found me; watched me dig for Beth.
He chin-lifted to me. “Wasp.” He strode into the kitchen and pulled a mug from the cupboard then poured steaming coffee into it.
And typical Guise, he didn’t make a big deal of the reunion.
Guise was a Visionary, meaning he had the ability to see real damn far. The odd thing was he wore glasses, light rimmed, subtle and sitting casually on the bridge of his nose. They made him look intelligent and warm when Guise was anything but.
The Scar was clean cut, dressed immaculately and there wasn’t a tattoo visible, although he had to have his Ink somewhere on his body. Guise lived with one purpose in mind—kill. He may do it quietly and with finesse, but when he slit a man’s throat or decapitated a body, it was as if he was cutting up a watermelon. Smooth, easy and without concern. Unlike me though, Guise didn’t take money for his kills.
Guise was also my brother’s best friend. Was mine at one time too when we were kids, although he’d been much older than me. Adrian gave me updates on him and Holden, whether I wanted them or not. Over the years, I just accepted the info and there was a slight wave of relief when I heard something; it meant they were alive.
The swing stopped rocking and Max’s weight shifted. I heard every step she made as she walked across the porch to the door. She walked in the house and Guise’s eyes roamed the length of her. I watched as the corners of his mouth tilted upward, then the barely noticeable straightening of his back.
No fuckin’ way. A low growl simmered inside me and I curled my hands into fists. I had no misconceptions of what Guise looked like to a woman—muscled, tall, dark hair like mine, and stark defined features that softened with the glasses—a costume of disguise. Exactly, how he got his nickname. Nothing was as it appeared.
The air shifted when Max saw me and froze. Her red rimmed eyes glared and every second she looked at me was like she was squeezing her hand around my heart and attempting to rip it apart.
I deserved it. Shit, I deserved a hell of a lot worse for all the shit I’d done in my life.
And Max . . . Max was made up of all goodness. But she was also made up of contradictions. Quiet and subtle on the outer edges while attempting to keep herself locked behind her shielded mind, but beneath that—fire. And I’d felt the burn of that fire blazing with her unrestrained anger. But I’d rather have her anger than the closed-off girl I’d met six months ago.
I watched Max, every muscle stiff, pulsing and eager to respond to what I was fighting—myself. Guise walked toward her holding out his hand to pass her a coffee, the perfect fuckin’ gentleman and yet . . . Guise was the perfect deception. He’d slip his knife between her breast bones without a backward glance or regret if she was a criminal who hurt the innocent.
Just like I would. Usually. Normally. Fuck, I wasn’t so sure if I could do it anymore and in a way it made me want to do it just to prove that I could. But the thought of never having the chance with her . . . I’d already lost her.
“Thank you.” She nodded to Guise and her voice drifted across the twelve-foot space between us like a sparrow on the wings of a gentle breeze. The way she said thank you hit me and it had my legs already running toward her. And it was totally fucked up because I wanted to drag her back into the bedroom and fuck her until she forgave me.
“You’re welcome . . . Max,” Guise emphasized her name in a slow drawl.