Page 41 of Cook

“Obviously,” I said, my voice rough.

I didn’t have a weapon now, so I scanned the bare living room and kitchen. What could I grab to defend myself? Bou might be harmless with that pregnant belly, but Wilde—probably her baby daddy—was pure muscle and tattoos. I tried to look over Wilde’s broad shoulders and to the front door. Could I make it out if I ran? I could dodge Bou, but Wilde would be on me in a second.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Bou held out her hands, palms facing me. “I’m Bou. This is Wilde. We’re Cook’s friends.”

I narrowed my eyes. “He didn’t say you were stopping by.”

My hands balled into fists. Cook had mentioned Bou as Celt’s sister, but nothing about this Wilde person. My gaze darted between them and Cook, but none of their expressions eased the roiling fear in my gut. I would fight my way out of this before I let them take me. I would die before I let them take me back to any of the shitholes I’d been in before. And I’d be damned if I’d become a slave to them too.

“Sorry about that,” said Bou in a kind tone, the complete opposite of Wilde.

His eyes shot down to my hands, and a vein in his neck twitched under the rose tattoo. He braced his feet shoulder-width apart, somehow taking up more space than seemed possible. I bet he rode a motorcycle too. His leather jacket pulled against his shoulders.

Bou, talking straight to me, said, “Cook said he had to run out to get some food for you two, and he asked me to stop by.”

“Then why is he here?” I jerked my chin at Wilde.

“She’s my ol’ lady,” he said. “Where she goes, you can bet your ass I’ll be there.”

I pinched my lips and scowled. “Do you use her?” I hesitated. “She’s your sex slave?” Just as Signora used me and the others.

Wilde stepped toward me, and I tried not to run away. I didn’t understand his reaction, like he doubled in size before my eyes. His jaw jutted out, and he snarled, “I would never—”

“Wilde, stop.” Bou put her hand on his chest, and he deflated underneath her touch.

Though his chest continued to heave with the deep breaths he took. Bou’s hand moved right above his heart, soothing him. And he responded by focusing his entire being on her. Having never seen a man settle like that, I cocked my head curiously.

“Maddie,” said Bou, turning back toward me, “we just came to see you. Wilde’s with me because we were running errands. That’s all.”

“But why are you here?” I demanded, darting my gaze to Wilde.

With Bou’s hand still on his chest, he backed up a step... and then another. He stood behind her, and he looked a little less imposing when he was no longer near me. Even less imposing when his pregnant girl stood between us. Pregnant, soft, nurturing—Bou cradled her belly as if the baby was already in her hands. Bou didn’t want any problems, and she obviously didn’t think I was a problem if she was willingly putting herself between her man and me.

“Cook asked me to bring you somegirl things,” said Bou like it was the simplest thing in the world.

She took off a backpack I hadn’t noticed her wearing and pulled a shopping bag out. Wilde stepped outside and returned, carrying a couple more bags. He put them on the floor inside the door, staying away from me. Good.

“I didn’t know what you would like,” continued Bou. “Cook didn’t know what size you were either, so I brought you a collection. When you’re feeling up to it, we could go pick out some things that fit your taste. Although you looked pretty good while dancing.”

My taste? I almost snorted. Who cared what I wore as long as it didn’t include lingerie and having my ass hanging out for the world tosee or grab? Instead of arguing with Bou while her man scrutinized me, I nodded. It was the most I could do when backed into a corner.

“Okay.” Bou smiled. “Do you want to see what I bought you? Maybe we could try some on?”

She extended the bag to me slowly, like I was a spooked animal.

Probably not far from the truth. I had been caged more times than I could count.

Slowly, I took the bag from her and looked inside at the mixture of fabrics and colors. “You’re really giving all this to me?”

“Yeah. Some of it I just can’t wear anymore.” Bou rubbed her belly and laughed. “I may never get my figure back. And honestly, I needed to do a big blowout of my closet before we move into our new place. Gotta make room for Wilde’s shit too.”

He scoffed. “My shit?”

“Yeah, your shit,” she said, and they shared a knowing look.

I’d never heard a woman talk to a man like that before. Yeah, Signora bossed her minions around at the mill, but she paid them to do a job. Most of the men I’d met would’ve backhanded me for saying such things.

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