7. Madison

7

MADISON

His words bring a very clear image to mind, and even though I’ve never seen that much of him, I can just imagine. The rest of him is cut and built, why wouldn’t that part be, too?

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.

I know my face is red, but I keep it guarded, not wanting him to know exactly what I’m thinking. I’ve never seen this side of him. He’s never flirted with me before, and I don’t know exactly what to do with it. “I’m not thinking about it... I’m thinking about how this might just be my last meal.”

He drops his fork and leans across the table. “I. Won’t. Let. Anything. Happen. To. You.” He enunciates each word. He looks fierce, and if I didn’t know him, I’d be scared.

I shake my head. “Let’s talk about something else.”

His jaw flexes, but at least he agrees. When he doesn’t say anything, I start. I point at the tattoos on his arm. “Which one was your first tattoo?”

He cracks his knuckles and then pulls his shirt down and points to a date on his chest.

“What’s it mean?”

He doesn’t look at me. Instead he’s looking down at his plate. “It’s the day I first killed someone.”

I swallow. “First... meaning there’s more?”

He laughs, but it’s not like ha, ha. It’s more sinister, and my stomach drops. “You know what we do, right? I’m sure Jenna’s told you.”

I nod, wide-eyed. “You save people, John. And that tells me that if you’ve killed people then it’s people that were doing bad things.”

He wraps his hand around his neck and rubs it. “That doesn’t make it easier.”

My mind starts to race. I thought I knew everything there is to know about John, but obviously there’s a lot that I don’t. I lean forward, hating that the table is separating us right now. “Jenna said they call you Knuckles because you prefer to fight with your fists instead of your gun.”

I’m watching him closely, and he grits his teeth and shrugs. I can’t stop myself. I reach over and put my hand on his. His is so much bigger, but I still try to wrap my fingers around it. “Talk to me, John. I know you’re a tough guy, but I want to know. Is that why you like to fight with your fists instead of a gun? Everybody makes a joke about it, but it’s not a joke, is it? That’s what you do.”

He’s staring at me, and I try not to get caught up in how handsome he is. Any other time, I’d be trying to figure out how to get away, knowing I can’t hide my feelings for him. But right now, I don’t care what he sees in my face. I need to know.

“My best friend when I was younger was killed by a robber. He was with his mom at the gas station. I think you and Jenna were around five years old then.”

I shake my head because I don’t remember it, but I also don’t remember ever hearing this story. I nod for him to continue and hold my breath in anticipation.

“That’s why I got into the Army. I wanted to defend people... defend my country. But the first person I killed in combat was hard for me. I know if I hadn’t done it, I’d be the one six feet under right now...”

I gasp and tighten my hand on him. I can’t even imagine a world without him in it.

“Anyway, from that point on, I started using my fists if I could. It’s crazy, and I’d never put the people I’m with in jeopardy but yeah, if I can, I use my fists.”

We sit in silence, and I start to imagine everything that John has probably seen and been through. I could almost cry just thinking about it.

John clears his throat. “You ready to go?”

I nod, speechless.

He throws some money on the table and gets up, my hand still in his. He helps me out of the booth and pulls me outside. We’re quiet as we walk to the car and he opens the door for me to get in. I should just get in the car and be quiet. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about all this, but I have to say something.

I look up at him and reach up, putting my palm to his cheek. He tilts his face, pressing into my hand. “You’re a good man, John. The best. Anyone and everyone that is in your life are the lucky ones. Me... I’m blessed to have you in my life.”

He doesn’t agree with me. It’s as plain as the nose on his face, but at least he doesn’t say it. He reaches for my hand and turns it, putting his lips to my hand. Breathless, I stand there and watch him with his eyes closed. He takes a deep breath and then lets me go. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel.”

I get into the car and watch as he walks around and gets in. He’s quiet the short distance back and doesn’t say anything as we walk in the front and get on the elevator, or when we get to the room. I watch him as he watches everything else. It’s obvious even with everything going on in his head right now, he’s still on high alert.

We get to the room, and I know he needs space, but I know he’s not going to leave me here. “I’m going to shower. Try and wash some of this filth off.” And I’m not lying. I feel dirty. It kills me to see my brother living the way he is. John must know exactly what I’m thinking because he interrupts my thoughts.

“Don’t worry about Ethan. I’m going to take care of it.”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t want help.”

“I know. But I’m not going to just give up and stand by while he tears what family you have left apart.”

I grab my T-shirt and clean underthings from my bag. “He doesn’t...” I start but he doesn’t let me finish. He moves in front of me.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you, Madison. Not anymore.”

I bite my lip to stop the tears that I know are coming. This man... this big, rough, tattoo-covered man is going to be my undoing. I nod, step around him, and hustle to the bathroom.

As soon as I shut the door, I lean back against it. Surely I can do this. I can make it one night in the same room as John without making a fool of myself or throwing myself at him. I look at myself in the mirror and have a private talk with myself. He’s your best friend’s brother. He’s doing this because his sister, your best friend, asked him to do it. There’s no other reason besides the fact he’s a good guy. That’s it.

I nod. An intense sadness overcomes me, and I pull my eyes away from the mirror. No more tears. I have tomorrow to get ready for, and I can’t be weak now.