Lead Me Not (24 page)

Maxx pulled off his beanie and dropped it on the table. He picked up his mug and blew off the steam before taking a sip. I sat there, staring at him, my tongue tied up in knots.

“So, thanks for leaving me stuck with Kristie, by the way,” he joked, taking another sip.

I laughed nervously, cutting my muffin up into small pieces. “Yeah, sorry,” I muttered.

“Sorry? I’ll leave you to talk about ‘solidifying your support systems’ for an hour and see how you feel.” He was being relaxed, teasing me with a twinkle in his eyes.

He looked happy.

It took me aback for a moment. I wasn’t used to seeing him this way. I had grown accustomed to the tortured brokenness hidden behind an overly confident exterior.

But today Maxx was laid-back, as though by acting casual, he was trying to make me forget how he had fallen apart. How he had shown me a side of himself that was scared and unguarded.

This time when I laughed, it was real. “That sucks. She
can
go on a bit,” I conceded.

“You think?” Maxx scoffed, reaching across the table and snatching a handful of my crumbled muffin.

“What is it with you and stealing my food?” I asked as he chewed.

“It just tastes better when it’s yours.” And there it was. The sexual innuendo I had been waiting for. But it didn’t irritate me the way it once would have. Instead, it set my skin on fire.

Two girls passed by our table, and I noticed the way they glanced down at Maxx and flashed their best flirty eyes at him.
But his eyes never left my face.

I squirmed at being the center of his intense attention. “So, about Tuesday,” he began.

I held up my hand, stopping him. “Do we really need to talk about it?” I asked, mildly mortified to be talking about our encounter in the middle of a coffee shop, where anyone could hear us.

Maxx’s face darkened, but then it cleared. “I was just wondering when we could do it again?” he asked, and I jumped at the touch of his hand, reaching under the table to touch my thigh.

“Um . . . ,” I stuttered.

His fingers traced lazy circles on my jeans, inching slowly upward. I covered his hand with my own, pinning his palm to my leg.

Maxx chuckled and removed his hand. “Well, I’m game whenever you are,” he stated breezily, as though talking about the weather. I got the impression that my lack of response had hurt him. And being the person that he was, he covered up the hurt with unaffected seductiveness.

Before I could respond, Maxx got to his feet and pulled his beanie on. His hand briefly touched my shoulder before he gave me a smile and left. The entire exchange had lasted five minutes, and I was left confused and annoyingly turned on.

That boy was bad for the heart.

I wanted to see him again. Even though I knew I should ignore the urge, I didn’t. Who was this girl with such a lack of impulse control?

I pulled my car into the parking lot of the abandoned department store where Compulsion was happening tonight. My legs wanted to run toward the booming music, but my nerves held
me back.

Now that I was here, I wasn’t entirely sure what I had been thinking. The Maxx Demelo who belonged here wasn’t necessarily the man who belonged with me. He scared me. He terrified me. He fascinated me.

I tucked my cell phone into my purse and looped it around my arm, securing it close to my body. My heart thudded in my chest almost in time to the bass, which I could hear bleeding into the night air.

I headed toward the line of people who waited just as they waited every single time Compulsion came alive—wanting their chance, hoping they were enough to be given it.

I approached the front of the line and watched as more and more people were turned away. I never understood why some were allowed inside and others were told to leave. There didn’t seem to be any rationale to it. Randy, the scary doorman, always seemed to relish the tiny bit of power he had as the gatekeeper.

But after that first night, when Brooks and I had been turned away, I hadn’t had a problem. I know I would never look the part. I still didn’t fit in with the people who came here, but it was as though I had a magic pass that I wasn’t aware of.

Again, I stood in front of Randy and the other bouncer. He gave me a cursory once-over and then held out his hand for my money, which I put in his outstretched palm. He grabbed my wrist and roughly turned my hand over, pressing the stamp on my skin.

Just as I moved toward the door, I noticed another group being told to go home. The girls, dressed to the nines and way more clubbed-out than I was, started throwing a fit.

One girl wearing a dress cut so low that her boobs were in serious danger of flopping out pointed at me while curling her lip. “Why does that bitch get in and we don’t? She’s a total waste!”

I flushed in embarrassment at the unwanted attention I was receiving from the people in line. They all seemed to be judging me. And clearly I was coming up short. Pardon me if I didn’t dress for the goth and metal crowd.

Randy gave the girl and her friends a nasty glare. “Get the fuck out of here. Some people belong here. Others don’t.
You
don’t,” he growled. I knew the look he was giving them. It was the same one Brooks and I had received that first night. I shuddered, almost feeling sorry for them.

Boobs girl huffed and puffed in indignation, pushing her obviously surgically enhanced chest out for optimum effect before stomping off with her friends in tow.

The other bouncer, whom I had never bothered to pay attention to before, turned to look at me. I was still lingering just in front of the door, and he gave me a pointed look to get moving.

“The fun’s in there, baby. Though I’m sure I can find something for you to do out here if you’re interested.” He grinned and then licked his lips. He was cute in a rough-and-tumble sort of way, with a buzzed head and a face full of metal. I knew, without a doubt, that I couldn’t handle this guy’s idea of
fun.

I hurried inside the club, followed by the bouncer’s laughter. The club was as it always was—dark and oppressive, but with an energy that couldn’t be described.

I wanted to dance. I wanted to get wild. It’s what people came here for. How easy it was to forget who I was and why I was there. The appeal of it was never lost on me. But I wanted to find Maxx. I had to talk to him here, on his turf.

I started pushing through the crowd, trying to search the shadowed faces for the one I recognized. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I remembered how hard it had been for me to find Renee, and I had been able to do so only with Maxx’s help.

Maybe if I stood by the bar, he’d find me. He always had before.
I ordered a beer and leaned against the wall, watching, waiting. I was nervous. Actually, I was a mess. I hadn’t thought this search-and-rescue mission through.

What did I hope to accomplish by tracking Maxx down at the club? I really had some unrealistic, no-way-in-hell ideas when it came to Maxx Demelo. I could admit that I was already succumbing to the daydream in which I was
that
girl, the one he would change for.

But I blamed him entirely for making me feel that way. Because he made me think that I
was
that girl, that he was counting on me to pull him out of the chaos he found himself in.

I didn’t even begin to understand exactly what demons he was facing, the struggles he dealt with on a daily basis. I was given glimpses of a tortured soul barely treading water.

Or was that my overly dramatic mind looking for the person who needed me to save him?

Who fucking knew? Maxx had screwed royally with my head.

I wasn’t even trying to be subtle as I perused the room, seeking him out. I inadvertently caught the attention of a few less than savory individuals, but I straightened my spine and quickly turned away, hoping the obvious rebuff would be enough to dissuade them.

And then I found the person I
didn’t
want to find.

Brooks was out on the dance floor with a girl I vaguely recognized. Brooks was a really bad dancer, as in shouldn’t-be-out-in-public-with-moves-like-that bad. But this was a place where style and technique didn’t matter, which was lucky for him, because he looked like he was in the throes of a full-on body spasm.

The girl he was with was cute in an unassuming way. She had blond hair that was very similar to my shade and style. She had clearly done a Google search on club attire and had gone for the
most extreme example she could find. She was decked out in head-to-toe black leather. She had a flickering glow stick between her teeth, and she bobbed her head around in awkward, jerky movements. She belonged here about as much as I did.

I ducked behind a couple dry-humping beside me, hoping to hide from a possible Brooks run-in. That was absolutely the last thing I needed.

I was so busy making sure that Brooks and Catwoman didn’t see me that I didn’t realize
he
was behind me until I felt a hand curl around my waist.

“What are you doing here?” Maxx asked, his breath fanning across my cheek. My heart thumped in an uneven tempo in my chest, and I had the urge to lean back into his touch. The heat of him seared my back, and every nerve and synapse in my body tingled in anticipation.

I turned around to face him and realized immediately what a bad idea coming to Compulsion was.

Maxx was stoned out of his mind. I couldn’t see his eyes beneath the bill of his cap, but he swayed on his feet, and his lips stretched in an exaggerated smile that was anything but normal.

“Is Red Riding Hood looking for her wolf?” He smirked, and his words were deadened and slurred. The bartender brought him a drink, though I hadn’t seen Maxx order one. He picked up his cocktail and took a long swig.

I shook my head, infuriated with myself for being so naïve. And I was angry as hell with him for being wasted. This wasn’t a man looking for any sort of salvation. This was a man enjoying his trip to hell.

Maxx’s fingers dug into the exposed skin at the hem of my shirt. I could feel the pinch of his nails as he squeezed. He leaned in close to me, until we were breathing each other’s air.

“I’ll eat you up, little girl. Would you like that?” His voice was rough and hoarse, as though he had been screaming. He was being strange. I had yet to meet this particular incarnation of Maxx’s personality—the strung-out egomaniac. And I could tell right away that I didn’t like this version one bit.

I pulled out of his grasp and took a step backward, knocking into a girl behind me.

“Watch it,” she yelled, elbowing me in the back. I stumbled forward, and Maxx caught me. My chest collided with his, and for just a moment I felt him relax. His arms came around me, and he cradled me to his body. The seconds passed as we stood there with Maxx wrapped around me.

He leaned down to press his cheek into my hair, and I felt something drain out of him. His shoulders drooped and his knees bent, but his arms tightened their grip. “Aubrey,” he murmured into my ear, and I could feel the cold tip of his nose glide along the side of my neck.

Maxx sagged into me, and I staggered under his weight. “Maxx!” I yelled into his ear, trying to pull back. He stumbled toward the wall and leaned heavily against it. I reached up and yanked his cap off his head. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black. Even in the horrible lighting, I could see there was something very, very wrong with him.

“What did you take?” I raised my voice loud enough for him to hear me over the pounding bass. Maxx rolled his head from side to side but didn’t answer.

I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and gave him a shake. “Maxx, goddamn it, what the hell did you take?” I screamed into his face. He pushed my hands away with fumbling fingers.

“Back the fuck off, Aubrey. Just leave,” he growled. After a few minutes, he pushed himself off the wall and lumbered through the crowd. I took off after him, shoving and nudging people as I followed him. People attempted to stop him, and he was less than
civil in brushing them off.

I was scared. Maxx’s movements were sluggish and unsteady. He seemed to have a hard time staying upright. There was no way I would let him out of my sight.

Maxx headed toward the back of the old department store and had almost made it to the exit when a guy who looked a lot like scary Randy, the doorman, grabbed him. He sported a green Mohawk and some sort of tattoo beneath his right eye. He was big and beefy, looking as though he ate kittens for breakfast. And he appeared to be extremely pissed off. At Maxx.

Shit. What the hell was going on?

Mr. Mohawk yanked Maxx through a door at the back of the room. I hurried to follow him, not thinking beyond the fact that some scary-looking dude had taken him. Any thoughts about my own safety had flown out the window.

I pushed open the door, which led to a dimly lit hallway. I could see a sign that read “Staff Only” beside a door that was starting to close.

I practically ran so I could catch it before it shut. I used my shoulder to shove it open and slipped inside. I could hear shouting. I followed the noise to a fire exit. The thump, thump, thump of the music made it impossible to hear the words being screamed. People were angry, bordering on homicidal.