Page 44 of Mad Max

“That she means something to you. That you love her.”

Chapter 19 – Cheyanne

I

t’s only happened twice, but I think I’m used to waking up alone after a night of sex with Mad Max. I know I didn’t dream the amazing sex. Hell, as I wiggle out of the covers, I can still feel a bit of him running down my leg that he missed during cleanup.

The bathroom is my first stop. I borrow his toothbrush, not caring if a clean mouth and no morning breath gets me into trouble with him. Hygiene is very important, and I’m pretty sure you can’t get an STD from using another person’s toothbrush. I might have to look that one up. Never had to google that one before. Guess it shouldn’t matter, since we’ve already had sex a few times anyway.

I gather my clothes, the ones I had on when I came in here. I don’t see my packed bag anywhere, so still no clue where that is. I opt out of panties, mostly because I can’t find where he flung them at some point, and who knows how wet they are from yesterday anyway. The skirt works, but it’s too cold to wear the off-the-shoulder number this early. I always get cold in the morning, no matter the temp. It’s weird, I know.

I have zero shame as I go through his drawers. There isn’t much that won’t make me feel like I’m swimming. I settle on a wife beater that I knot in the back and a zipped-up black hoodie. It still covers most of me, but at least it looks more like a long jacket than oversized men’s clothes on me. Okay, it looks like that, too, but I’m not trying to impress anyone. Well, not anyone who didn’t have his dick inside me less than ten hours ago. And from what little I know about him, my lack of fashion sense is not why he keeps putting his hands on me.

His room is the first one down the hall, so it takes me no time to get back to the main bar. I don’t see anyone, but noise is coming from behind the bar. I pass through swinging doors and ignore those in the room going silent as I open the industrial-size fridge and look for breakfast. It’s pretty stocked, but I’m not in the cooking mood. Actually, I’m never in that mood. I prefer the type of food that takes very little effort and is almost impossible to ruin. I might be a certified genius, but a cook I am not.

I poke my head out and look around, grinning when I find what I’m looking for. I grab the milk, search for half a minute for a bowl and spoon, and then grab the Cocoa Puffs off the open pantry shelf. I might not mind being the center of attention, but there isn’t a place to sit in here, so I take it all back out to the bar and pour myself a very large bowl of yummy goodness.

“Think Kooper’s going to shit a brick when he sees you eating his food.”

I shrug as Casper sits beside me. “Shouldn’t have left it out if he didn’t want to share.”

“Never thought we needed to tell someone not to take another’s food before.”

I look at him, spoon halfway to my mouth as I tilt my head, trying to read him. I get that he still doesn’t trust me. Probably trying to put me in my place or something. Not really sure, but I get that he’s trying for intimidation. Too bad it isn’t going to work.

“Pretty sure that’s Roommate 101.” He raises an eyebrow for me to continue. I roll my eyes as I stuff my face, munching around my words as I go. “Label your stuff so people don’t steal your things.”

I see the smirk on his lips out of the corner of my eye but say nothing more as I continue eating. I glance at him as I pour a second bowl, but he just shakes his head as he plays some game on his phone.

I’m not trying to start a fight, just hungry. All there was to eat at the family event was seven different types of chips and dip. Don’t think they planned very well, but despite all my family’s faults, they raised me to keep my mouth shut when something isn’t on the table and you want it. My parents didn’t withhold food, per se, but they didn’t add things I asked for unless it was something they’d already planned. The whole “you get what you get and don’t throw a fit” was a staple in our house. As for my uncle, his philosophy was “if you want something, take it.” As long as it was in the house, it was free rein. So that’s what I’m doing here. I’m not stealing anything, just having breakfast.

I’m half surprised that Casper doesn’t follow me back into the kitchen when I put my stuff away and clean up. What does surprise me is my cell phone on the bar next to him when I get back. I haven’t seen it since I got here. They took it and the burner cell I had with me the other night almost immediately. I know I’ve told the truth since I’ve been here, but unless something happened that I don’t know about, I’m not sure why they’re giving it to me.

But as I grab the phone and turn it on, I understand what I was missing a second ago.

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

He shut off the Wi-Fi and did something to my phone so I can’t access my data. I’m literally stuck to only what’s downloaded. It’s worse than Airplane Mode, I swear. I don’t even know where my laptop is, but at least I synced everything to a private drive before I came here. Even if they do manage to swipe my laptop, I’d still have a way to get to my backup drives. Thankfully, my paranoid uncle taught me that little trick at an early age. Then again, the guy’s stuff was confiscated, and he was forced into jail, so maybe paranoid isn’t the right word. Maybe psychic.

I huff. It’s about all I can do. Doubt throwing a tantrum will do much but give me a headache, and I was never one to cry anyway. Even as a child, my parents boasted that I rarely made a noise. Never saw the good it did.

Think the fact that I just started playing my own game on my phone and not saying anything really throws him.

He chuckles.“Fuck, you’re not like the others.”

I don’t look up from my game. “Keep a lot of people locked up in here with no one to contact?”

“A few.” Now it’s me who chuckles. Glad to know he isn’t lying, at least. “Never had one just roll with it, though.”

This time I do look over at him, and he meets my stare head-on. “Maybe they weren’t telling the truth and were worried you would find it. I have nothing to hide. I told you all that I know. A few hours away from my email won’t hurt me. And the only person who would care enough about me to do anything can’t because he’s locked up.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with a nod.

“Any idea where Mad Max is?”

“Nope.”

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