2. Maddy

Chapter 2

Maddy

Never ask yourself what's the worst that could happen? Because it'll happen. And then some.

How else could I have gotten myself here, in this kind of mess? I looked around the room. It was fairly nondescript, nothing to write home about. Not that I could write home anytime soon, anyhow.

Jesus, what I wouldn't give for my cell phone right about now.

I lifted my suitcase onto the bed, silently unzipping it as I listened to the sounds of the house around me. It was eerily quiet, especially knowing that four men were directly below me in the kitchen, most likely discussing what to do with me. I pulled out my toiletries, and my few things for the bedside table, leaving only my clothing behind. I had very little with me, much less than I would have liked, but the detective — Mercado, I think his name was — didn't exactly leave me much time to gather my things. He'd even had the audacity to limit me to two bags. Asshole.

The distraction provided by unpacking my meager belongings ended all too soon. I sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. Now what? What was I supposed to do with myself for however long I had to be here? If I had my phone, or a laptop, or something, I could make myself useful. I could continue working. Who was I kidding? I'd probably be sitting here scrolling TikTok or Instagram, pretending to be busy. But that at least would have been something . I had nothing.

Begrudgingly, I decided to head back downstairs and face the music — or the four men who were now my caretakers, as fate would have it.

I hesitantly tiptoed my way down the stairs and back towards the kitchen. It was the only part of the house I had seen so far. With the size of the place, that left a lot to my imagination.

The soft murmuring of voices grew louder as I approached the kitchen. I snuck quietly closer, trying to avoid detection as I listened in.

"All I'm saying is that you could have given us a heads-up, Niko. Shitty-ass move, bro," a voice spoke, every word laced with frustration.

"No fucking kidding," another voice agreed.

"You're right. I should have given more warning. But the situation was dire. And it's Quinn. How was I supposed to say no?" I recognized that last voice. It was the man who had answered the door. Nicholas, I think. No, it was different. Nikolai. That was it.

"Niko's got a point," a lighter, more high-pitched voice answered. "Quinn bailed our asses out of more than a few scrapes in the desert. None of us would have turned him down if we'd been the one he asked.."

"True, but—" The voice, one that had spoken before, stopped abruptly. I swear I could have heard a pin drop.

I stood stone still, not wanting to be caught lurking.

"Madison? Is that you?" A voice called to me. It was the big, burly one. The one who looked like a tank, but had shown me kindness in the kitchen upon my arrival.

Shit. How had they heard me? Well, there was nothing for it. Might as well get this over with.

With a deep breath, I stepped further down the hallway and into the kitchen, no longer softening my footsteps. I plastered a smile on my face as the four men came into view.

I opened my mouth to speak, to say hello, to say anything really. But no words came out. Instead, I offered a tight-lipped smile and a half-assed wave.

"Come in, Ms. Ayers. Can we get you anything?" The burly guy stood from the table with a huge smile on his face. He was kind, and I appreciated it. It was a hell of a lot better than the looks the rest of the men gave me. The skinny one next to him, with long hair, kept his arms crossed over his chest, his own lips curled into a smile that mirrored my own fake one. The man at the far end of the table was another story. Older than the lot of them by the looks of it, he sat, surly and sour, not even bothering to offer me even a fake smile.

The leader of the group, Nikolai, was the hardest of all to read. His face was stoic and unyielding, showing no emotion whatsoever. His eyes, however, were another matter. Those showed the worst thing someone could have shown me in that moment: pity.

"I'm fine, thank you," I answered politely, breaking the awkward silence that followed the large man's request.

With a piercing, somehow knowing gaze, the large man smirked. "And when was the last time you ate?" A single eyebrow raised as he took in the flush that rushed to my cheeks.

"I… well… it was…" I stammered, realizing all too quickly that I actually did not know when the last time I had eaten was. In truth, the police had given me food and water over the course of the last two days, but I honestly didn't think I touched it once, instead letting the crackers and snacks crumble between my fingers as I fidgeted nervously, far too many times to count.

"If you can't easily remember, then it's been too long. Sit. I'll make you something." The large man chuckled lightly as he made his way into the kitchen. In truth, my stomach had long since passed the grumbling stage and had settled firmly in the achy feeling of anxiety and emptiness. Food would be good for me.

I sat at the table cautiously, feeling the tension that lay thick in the room. This was easily one of the most awkward moments of my life.

"So…" I began, trailing off as I searched for something to say. The silence was deafening. "So, you all live here together?" I finished la mely.

"We do." Nikolai sat down opposite me at the table with a huff as he answered.

"Like… together together?" The words were out of my mouth before I could think better of it. Immediately, I felt the heat of a blush rise in my cheekbones. What a stupid thing to say! These men were taking me in when there was nowhere else safe for me to go — and I was sitting here, essentially accusing them of being gay together in some kind of polyamorous love fest?

Nice going, Maddy.

Laughter bubbled up from the kitchen as I lifted my head to see the large one — I really needed to learn their names — bent over in half, literally smacking his thigh as he roared with laughter.

Wiping his eyes, he choked out, "You think we're all together? Like, romantically?"

"Well, sexually, at the very least. Doesn't have to be romantic," I muttered under my breath with a shrug, though not quietly enough as four pairs of eyes landed on me, the large one in the kitchen redoubling his guffaws.

"Ooh, a feisty one. I like her," the big guy snorted with a shake of his head. I simply shrugged in response.

"To answer your question," Nikolai began, "No, we are not all involved in any kind of sexual or romantic way."

"But you all live together? The four of you?" I couldn't help the look of suspicion that crossed my face, raising my eyebrow so high it might have gotten lost in my hairline somewhere.

"We do," they all said in unison. I must have given them a look, because the thin one continued with an explanation.

"We all served together in the military for years and decided to set down roots here after we all left the business, as it were. Sully actually came up with the idea," he explained, pointing towards the large man in the kitchen, preparing me food. Sully. I tried to commit the name to memory.

"And you are?" I asked. "Sorry, I'm terrible with names."

"I'm Jax. I'm the tech wiz," he said with a smirk.

"Sully! I cook things." The large man called from the kitchen again, waving a spatula. I answered with a nod.

"And the grouchy one at the end there is Deacon," Nikolai answered when the brooding man with arms crossed spoke no words. His face set in a scowl, he pushed back from the table, roughly enough the chair scraped abrasively against the floor as he stormed out of the room.

"Don't mind Deacon. He's a quiet one and he just needs a bit of time to process," Jax muttered, leaning in towards me as he brushed his long hair back from his face with a hand.

Before I could respond, Sully had returned to the table with a plate for me. I stared at it for a moment as tears pricked at my eyes. Why the fuck was I getting teary-eyed over a grilled cheese sandwich and sliced apples? I hadn't had it in years, but the pang of nostalgia hit me like an arrow straight through the chest. These men might be helping me in my hour of need, but this wasn't home. This wasn't my life.

I missed my parents. I missed my family. I missed my friends.

"Do you not like grilled cheese? I can make you something else. Anything you want, as long as we have the ingredients." I looked up to see Sully looking down at me with anticipation in his eyes. The poor guy just wanted to be nice, and here I was, unintentionally refusing his kindness.

"No, I love it, actually. I just haven't had it since I was a kid and…" I trailed off, not knowing how to admit to this group of virtual strangers that I was caught in a vulnerable moment of sentimentality. No, there was no way I could do that. Luckily, as I glanced from one man to the next, I saw a similar look pass over their faces. Understanding. In the silence of the moment, I knew that each of them understood exactly what I was feeling.

The realization should have been a relief, but it only filled me with discomfort as anxiety warred with the carefully crafted mask of neutrality I was barely hanging on to. My facade of indifference was wearing on me, and I felt as though I would burst at any moment. Once it did, the shock, panic, and fear would grip me once again, as it had almost every hour since I had walked down that wrong hallway.

I dug into the food before me, letting it fill my belly with something other than worry for the first time in twenty-four hours, if not more. Before I knew it, the food was gone, only crumbs remaining on the simple stoneware plate. When I lifted my eyes once more, I was met with the glittering glee that lit up Sully's face. Looking to his left, I saw Nikolai standing at the high-top counter, his fingers lightly flipping through a black folder. A flash of an enlarged photo caught my attention for just long enough to tell me exactly what it was he was looking at: my police file.

Suddenly the moment's respite granted by the food that had just warmed my belly vanished like it had never been there at all.

Visions flew through my mind, one right after the other, like a vintage Rolodex on perma-spin mode.

My chest tightened sharply as I struggled to draw breath into my aching lungs. With my vision swirling, growing blurry, and dim, I felt a hand touch my shoulder.

Fingers dug in lightly and turned me until I sat sideways on the chair, facing a man I could not recognize in my visual haze.

Those same fingers touched my chin, lifting my frightened eyes to meet his steady ones.

"Breathe," he said softly. I recognized the Russian accent before I could determine his face. Nikolai. "Deep breaths. In. Out. That's it."

I tried to breathe, but each inhale came in shuddering, uneven rhythms that did little to send oxygen to my scattered brain.

"Slow it down," the soft voice commanded. He lifted my hand from where my fingers clutched at my thighs, bringing it to rest open-palmed against his chest.

Immediately, I knew why.

The slow inhale and exhale of his breath. The calm, steady rhythm of his heart.

I steeled myself, focusing on those patterns until my breath matched his.

"That's better," he said after a short while. He hadn't rushed me, but silently guided me back to reality. "You were having a panic attack."

I could only nod.

Slowly, he stood, pulling the chair beside me and making himself comfortable.

"I know this isn't good timing, but we really need to discuss this folder," he stated, holding up my police file in his large hand.

"Niko, I'm not sure that's a good idea. She just went through hell," Sully countered, his brow furrowing in concern. I appreciated that more than I could express.

"No, Niko's right. The faster we get more detailed information, the better." Jax stated matter-of-factly, walking to the kitchen to refill his glass.

"I already gave my statement to the police, several times in fact," I argued. I did not want to go through that again.

"I understand you don't want to go through it again, but it only happened a day ago. Often, the information one gives in the original statement isn't entirely correct. Memories get forgotten or distorted because you are in shock. So going through it again will give us more insight," Niko explained softly.

"I don't know what more I could say. So, I'm not going to say anything." With all the attitude I possessed — and a bit of a flight response triggered — I pushed my chair back from the table, walking away from the men in the kitchen with my arms wrapped protectively around my chest.

"Ms. Ayers, please wait. We need to—" Nikolai called after me, but I tuned him out immediately, climbing the stairs two at a time in search of the refuge my room offered me. Closing it behind me with a loud crash, I breathed a sigh of relief to see a lock on the knob.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as the lock clicked into place.

Privacy, and a moment's peace at last.

If you could even call it peace.