Page 43 of His Innocent Muse

He whips around the car, his quick maneuver slamming me into the center console. My hip snaps on the seat, and I narrowly bite back a yelp, both hands flying to the burn.

“Lucky for you, Boss is a hell of a lot nicer than me,” he says, pretending to ignore how I’m shaking, but his eyes keep shooting over to me.

I pant through the pain and peel the fabric back. Not bleeding, but the skin is raw and on the verge. Maybe they’ll let me borrow some of that ointment before…

Well. Whatarethey going to do with me, anyway?

“If he doesn’t w-want the money,” I say, holding the door handle to keep from flying around, “why’d you come after me? Why were you at the house?”

“If you were mine, I’d beat your ass raw and cuff you to my bed,” he grunts like I didn’t speak. “Wouldn’t be a solitary fucking moment of freedom for you after this shit. Shiner or nah.”

I hug my waist, my lungs whining in protest. That scary cold feeling is coming back, like I’m going into shock. I’m trapped in his car. My only option is to throw myself onto the road and possibly get run over if he decides to…

“Relax, shnookums, I don’t have a death wish. Besides, you’re not exactly my type.” He whips another turn, glancing at the clock like it personally offends him. Three AM. Happy birthday to me. “What are these people doing out this late, anyway? I’d be rubbing one out if I weren’t delivering you to your keeper. Y’know, alone, in my own place, like a normal person at this fucking hour.”

I shake my head. "Answer me."

He raises a brow. “Excuse you?”

“Why’d you come after me?” I ask. “Why did you have to…”

“Find you?” he asks, no nonsense, no sympathy. Just mad at the world and failing at not taking it out on me. “’Cause you pinned the tail on the wrong ass, dolly. You belong to Vie De Mort now. Wild dogs couldn't keep Ghost away. Now, do me a favor, 'cause once again I don't feel like getting my balls ripped off—take a few cleansing breaths, and try to stop crying. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Shame heats my cheeks and I swipe the tears out from under my eyes. I’m not worried about him hurting me. I’m tired, angry, confused, and every part of my body hurts. Grime from the dirty bathwater still clings to my skin and mouth, my lungs are screaming like I never came up for air. Damian’s lingering touches are making me want to claw my skin off, and if Mayhem yanks this car around one more time—

Mayhem knicks the curb when he parks, and another whimper escapes me. Dick. God, I hurt so bad.

Mayhem doesn’t open my door, but he does wait beside it. I’m tempted to lock the doors, or hit him with it. I don’t remember the last time someone made me so angry.

Doing this for attention. Really? What attention does this get me? A conversation about stealing from the Saint family? A moment in Ghost’s presence, a second to reopen the wound? The opportunity to hear him tell me to leave?

The pitiful hope he’ll ask me to stay?

Who does this for attention? And better yet, who throws that sort of accusation around?

I give up and step out, staying as far away from him as he’ll allow. I’m grateful he doesn’t try to steer me or hold my hand like Ghost does, but he’s still too close for my taste, dogging my steps like a bodyguard.

I am so. Over. Walking. I can tell by the irritation on Mayhem’s face he thinks I’m intentionally dragging, but I’d give anything to sit. Or be carried. I crave a soft touch right now, but not from him. Not from anyone but Ghost, really, and I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll get that.

There it is still, though. Hope. Rotten, cruel hope.

The entryways are still lit, weirdly enough. A soft thrum runs through the floor, the exit lights illuminated on the floor. It’s even warm, like it’s occupied, but I don’t see anyone. Surely a museum isn’t open this early.

“How’d he know I was gone?”

“Hm?” Mayhem stalks toward the elevators, adjusting his jacket as he hits the call button. “Oh. Thai food. Brought ya dinner, but you were off fucking around. You better hope Eustice didn’t throw this out, alright? I’m taking it as a pain-in-my-ass tax.”

I flinch, and in a moment of exhaustion, I square my shoulders. “I’d appreciate it if you would stop threatening me, Mr. Mayhem.”

He turns to face me, working his jaw angrily. “I don’t make threats,” he says. “I make promises. And you’d be dead if I didn’t double back to check that house, so maybe we should be a little nicer to our elders, eh?”

“You could’ve left.”

“I know you’re not gonna argue with me.”

“You could’ve,” I say again. “You could’ve let it play out and told Ghost you were too late. Y-You could’ve just turned around and gone home. But you didn’t. You made your choice to help me, so I thank you, but that doesn’t excuse your attitude.”

“You found her!” The other brother, the mountain, speeds up to get near us before Mayhem has a chance to respond. He flanks my other side, and I nearly hit the ground in a panic. “Boss just ran upstairs. Hey, you okay?”

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