Keeping my arm around her slim waist, I answer just as quietly, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” I cup a hand around her nape and kiss her head. “Go back to sleep.”

I know it’s not Dro because he always has his set of keys on him. I’m not expecting company. Which means whoever the fuck is at the door is either going to stay there or come back later because 1) I’m comfortable. Aylee’s naked body pressed up against mine is a goddamn luxury I’m not about to give up. And 2) If you show up at my place without a phone call or a text it’s pretty much a guarantee your ass is staying outside.

So seeing as both scenarios are unlikely to happen, I ignore the knocks and get back to soaking up every second I have with her.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

The knocks are forceful this time, louder, and followed by, “Yo, Max, open the fucking door, man!” It’s only the sound of Willkie’s urgent voice that finally gets me to my feet. Aylee sits up, pulling the blanket to cover her nudity. I grin when she meets my gaze and ducks her head to hide the flush staining her cheeks. That’s definitely my second favorite reaction of hers. The first would have to be the way her tongue always darts out to nervously run across her bottom lip.

Putting on my briefs and jeans, I lean down and take hold of her chin, “Lick your lips.”

“Max…”

I grin, thumbing at her lip, “You should call me that more often. I like the way it sounds coming from your mouth. Now,” my eyes trail down her button nose and land on her plump pout. “Lick. Your. Lips.”

My dick throbs when she slips her tongue out to lick her bottom lip and it strokes along my thumb. She pulls it between her lips, and the heat from her mouth and the erotic slide of her tongue has me on her in a flash. I take her face between my hands, mold my mouth to hers, and taste the sweetness of her mouth. I’m ready to be inside her heat again when the loud call of, “MADDOX!” brings me back to the goddamn cock-blocker, Willkie.

“I’m coming back and we’re continuing this.” With one last kiss, I reluctantly turn my back to her to answer the door. Piece of shit better have a good reason for why he’s at my place right now.

“Yeah, yeah, hold the fuck up,” I grumble when he knocks again.

Opening the door, I’m ready to ask him what the fuck is up when he barges past me. “Dro got taken in, man. His garage got raided, it’s swarming with cops. I wasn’t there but Baz was. He called me half an hour ago, said shit was bad.” Everything falls to the wayside as I jump into action.

“Where is he now?”

“Downtown. Haven’t heard anything from Baz since it went down.”

Heading back to my room, I tell him over my shoulder, “Let me grab a few things and we’ll head out.” In my bedroom I find Aylee on the bed just how I left her minutes ago. She looks at me expectantly, trustingly, with love so blindingly beautiful that all I want to do is dive into its brilliance and swim its purity. It quickly becomes clear to me that my priorities are shifting when my first thought is not Dro but her and her safety. I want to keep her here but it’s not safe. Instinct tells me it’s only a matter of time before the cops come, swarming this place. Only four people know that the garage is where Dro keeps most of his products and launders his drug money through the car shop front. If the cops know about the garage then that means we have a rat. Someone fucking snitched to the 5-0, and whatever deal the son of a bitch made he better make damn sure he’s going to get some deep witness protection because we’re going to drop his ass once we find him.

There’s no way I’m taking a fucking chance on the cops coming here and finding Aylee. It suddenly hits me that her old man is a cop and with my mind racing from one point to another, I’m thinking he had a hand in the raid.

Jesus, fuck.

“Everything all right?”

I nod. “My foster dad’s garage was raided. Cops took him in.” Funny how rather than lie or omitting details, I find myself telling her the truth.

A small frown of genuine concern brings her brows together. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you know what happened? How serious is it?”

Heading over to my dresser, I grab my phone that I muted earlier and look down at the screen to find twenty messages and ten missed calls. Fuck. Most of the texts are from Wynn. They’re all coded. To anyone else reading them they wouldn’t make much sense but she’s freaking out about the rest of the stash in the apartment. “I don’t have all the details. But I plan on finding out.”

Replying to her text in code, I let her know I’ll take care of the products and cash we have stashed in various places around the apartment before putting my phone in my back pocket.

“Aylee, I hate to do this…”

She holds up a hand and smiles. “You don’t need to explain, I totally get it.” She comes to her feet and searches around for her clothes. “I understand he needs you right now.”

I help her slip her shirt back on and can’t help dropping a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. “You don’t know how badly I want to keep you.”

Setting her hands on my shoulders, she rises to her toes. “I’m yours,” she whispers with a kiss. “Keep me, Max.”

Yeah, so damned fucked. And the most terrifying thing is I don’t mind it at all.

***

Aylee

It’s nearing eight pm when he drops me off about a block away from my house. From his idling truck he asks for my phone, and as soon as I’m done rummaging through my bag to find it I put it in his hand. Peering over, I see him pull up the keypad, he enters a number before inserting his contact simply under the letter M. Handing the phone back, he silently hops out of the truck, coming around to stand with me on the sidewalk. I don’t want him to leave but I remember that his foster father needs him, and I curb my selfishness. He closes the space between us in one long stride. Cupping my face between his hands, he leans in to kiss me ever so slowly. Then he pulls away but keeps his forehead against mine.

“Don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.”

I sigh, the action of walking away is brutally painful. “I won’t. I hope your foster father is okay.”

My only sliver of comfort is that he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave either. “I’ll text you, let you know what’s happening. Try to head to your room and lock the door. I’ll come back for you—”

There’s a long honk from the black Accord that pulls up behind where Maddox’s truck is parked followed by, “Yo, Maddox, let’s go!”

“Go, I’ll be okay.” I put a hand on his chest to push him away but he doesn’t budge. I glance up curiously. “Max?”

He lets me go only to unhook the sterling chain bracelet from his wrist. Taking my hand, he double wraps it around my left wrist before closing the clasp. “Stay safe for me, all right?” he asks softly after he kisses me.

“I will. I…” Love you gets stuck in my throat. “I will. Go, or your friend is going to have an aneurysm.”

He chuckles and presses one last kiss to my forehead before running to hop in the driver’s seat and takes off. I don’t start walking until I see the taillights of his truck disappear around the corner.

I hitch my backpack further up my shoulders as I steadily make my way to the house. I dread every single step. Even though I went through that earlier process of telling Rachel I’d spend the night at Mallory’s, I’m sure she won’t complain if I tell her I changed my mind and decided to come home instead. Roughly five minutes later, I’m walking up to the front door. I frown at the sight of the very familiar white Mercedes parked next to the Durango in the driveway, occupying the space where Rachel’s Acura is usually parked. I can only assume Rachel isn’t home. But what brings on the intense wave of panic is the thought that Mallory is at my house. Am I about to be busted for lying?