I cross the road, keeping a distance behind her, and when she disappears into a store, I stop.
Leaning against the wall of the building, I pull out a cigarette and light it, my hands needing to keep busy while I wait for her.
When she finally steps out of the shop, a bag is looped over her hand. As soon as she sees me, the smile fades from her face. I don’t like that it does, but she, like everyone else in my life, sees the monsters in me.
Her arms fold over her chest and her lips pull into a pout as she approaches me, and I brace, ready for anything, but not sure what to expect.
She stops in front of me, keeping a little distance between us. “How long are you going to keep following me for?”
I drop my cigarette to the ground and crush it under my boot.
“As long as it takes.”
“For what?”
I meet her eyes and this close up I can see the flecks in her brown eyes. I want to get lost in them. “To know you ain’t going to talk.”
She jolts at my words and shakes her head. Then she leans in, her eyes scanning the busy pavement before she hisses at me, “Believe me, I’m doing my best to forget that day ever happened. I’m not planning on going to the police, so you can stop camping out in front of my place, you can stop following me around town. You’re freaking out my neighbours. You’re freaking me out.”
I watch her rant, not saying a word.
She interests me, which is something a woman has never done. I never cared either way if they were interested or not, but she makes me… feel. I can’t remember the last time I felt anything. That fire in her belly is consuming.
“You done?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not even close.”
Amalia surprises the hell out of me by poking a finger in my chest.
“You need to stay the hell away from me.”
Her touch blazes across my skin, burning everything in its wake. Panic assaults me and I grab her wrist immediately as her lightness touches my sullied darkness. I see the fear rear its ugly head in her eyes, but this time she’s right to be afraid.
“Don’t,” I growl out, releasing her roughly.
She pulls her hand back to her and peers up at me. For a moment, I get lost in her eyes. “Sorry.”
Her apology surprises the fuck out of me. People don’t apologise to me. They don’t acknowledge when they’ve wronged me.
“I won’t talk,” she promises, her head ducking, her dark hair curtaining her face. I want to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but I don’t. “You can stop watching me.”
I shake my head. “Not going to happen.”
“Why?”
I don’t reply. I don’t tell her she’s become a compulsion I can’t shake. Instead, I watch as her eyes go to my kutte. She swallows hard. I don’t like seeing that fear in her eyes, but I know why it’s there. I’m a creepy fucker. I thought… I hoped… maybe she’d see me differently. She’s just like the rest of them.
I push a booted foot against the wall and straighten.
“Watch yourself, Amalia.”
Then I turn and walk back to my bike, ignoring the confusion niggling through my mind.
Chapter Four
Fury
“You can step down,” Rav says. His words lance a hole in my chest. I don’t want to step down. It’s been a month, and I’m completely infatuated with this woman. The compulsion to see her has made me an addict, desperate for his next fix. She’s like my own drug, and I can’t rest until I see her.
“Prez?” I let the question linger in the word and he glances up from the head of the table.
For the past hour we’ve been in church, discussing mundane shit like money dues, runs we’re set to go on. I watched Titch and Levi going back and forth, joking around like arseholes. I held my tongue while Sin spewed his shit, and I ignored the talk of money from Daimon, barely focusing on his words. Until Ravage said I need to step down from watching Amalia.
“Why?” I demand, sounding a little desperate. I feel it. Claws dig into my stomach as I realise that I may have no more moments with her. I can feel the brothers’ eyes on me as the room falls silent.
“Bitch ain’t talking. Ain’t no reason for you to keep going over there every night.”
“She could still talk.” Desperation leaches into my cells. The need to visit her isn’t something I can erase. It could be the order, but I won’t listen to it. She’s embedded inside me too deeply. I can feel her flowing through my veins. Ravage put me on this path the moment he gave me permission to watch Amalia, now, I can’t stray from it. I’m addicted to her. Obsessed.
“Doubt it. You scared her enough.”
I don’t like the idea I might have scared her at all, but I’ve done my job. It’s been four weeks since I put a bullet in Max and the plod haven’t come sniffing around. She could still talk, but I doubt it too. She doesn’t seem the type to spill her guts to the police. Not that I have a clue what her type is, but I feel like I know her from the nights I’ve spent watching her. I know when she comes home from work, which nights she has takeout on and I know she barely has any visitors. She either doesn’t have a lot
