Page 22 of Expressionate
He’s focused forward and steps into the elevator when the doors open. "Not a good idea," he replies. I step in with himanyway.
"Probably not," Iagree.
Cross and Blake step in on either side ofTax.
Cross looks at me like I'm crazy. "We're not taking her," he says, talking toTax.
Tax shakes his head. "No, we'renot."
Blake remainsquiet.
"Are you doing something illegal?" Iask.
No one replies. I sigh. We ride in silence down to the lobby, and when we step out as a unit, Tax turns and presses a palm to the middle of my chest. His hand is warm against my sternum. It's neither forceful, nor hard, just steady – andthere.Once more, he surprises me because I don’t mind it in theleast.
"I'm not kidding. You're not coming," hesays.
I look up at him. The hardness in his features, the cuts under his jaw, the way his nose veers slightly to the side and the bump down the ridge of it. "Where are you going?" I askagain.
He's quiet, staring back at me, eyes strong and determined. Something deeper resides there. I've seen dead eyes. Eyes with hatred. Eyes without emotion. The thing about Tax's eyes is that they are an ocean of emotion. They are so filled with the stuff, I could drown in it. It almost makes me turn away. Emotions can be scary creatures. They swallow you whole and cloud your judgment. They make you feel guilty or ashamed of things you've had to do tosurvive.
"I'm going to a fight," hesays.
"That doesn't sound illegal," I say. "Boxing?" I guess. "MMA?"
"An underground fight," he replies. "No rules. No ties. Bets areplaced."
"In other words,” I say, “very illegal.” He examines my features as if trying to read me. I wish him luck, truly hoping he figures out what makes me tick. Maybe then, he could lend me the manual because even I don't knowmyself.
"Still want to go?" heasks.
"Yes." I don't hesitate and somehow that startles him because his eyebrows raise slightly before drawing down again, and his lipspinch.
"You're not actually considering...?" Cross asks from behindhim.
Tax shakes his head but continues looking at me. I know he's not saying no and I know that even if he does say no, I'll just get in my car and follow him. Why? Once again, I don't know. I don't know about anything when it concerns him. Curiosity, I suppose, is a good enough reason. Who cares if curiosity killed millions of cats? I'm more of a dogperson.
"Fine," he says. "She'scoming."
Cross makes a sound of disgruntled protest and, when I pass him on our way out the front doors of the apartment complex, narrows his gaze on me. Blake doesn't look at me and still doesn't say a word as we clamber into Tax's Jeep. Cross takes the front passenger seat and Blake and I sit in the back as Tax climbs into the driver's seat. He starts up the car. I don't know if the others notice the small tremble in his limbs. As if he's excited or fucking terrified. I don't comment. Instead, I file away the observation as we travel through the streets of Charlotte. We leave the university area with the residential neighborhoods and shopping strip malls. We pass into a decidedly seedier side of town, of which I'm not surprised. There wouldn't be an illegal fight ring held in the basement of Macy’s now, wouldthere?
Every so often, I catch Cross using the rear-view mirrors to watch me. Blake, too, keeps glancing at me out of the corners of his eyes. I wish I could tell them what's going on in my head, but even I'm at a loss. We pull up to a rundown building, an abandoned warehouse by the looks of it, and I know I shouldn't be here. Nonetheless, I step out of the car and wait for the rest ofthem.
In silence, we enter the building through a side entrance with a busted out light overhead. I have the distinct feeling that it's not because of lack of maintenance. Tax glances back at me as I follow behind him and the others. He leans to the side and says something quietly to Blake. Cross looks between them and glances back at me. That's not the only clue that they're talking about me because when Tax stands taller and strides down the hall, Blake falls back further until he's right behind me and Cross and Tax are directly in front of me, as if they're boxing me in between the three ofthem.
I can hear the roar before I can see the people. At the end of the long hallway, there are twin, red metal doors that lead into a stadium-like room. There are so many people packed inside that I can feel the heat like a wave of air from hell. My back starts to sweat, perspiration trickling between my shoulder blades. Eyes watch me – male, female, it doesn't matter. They take in the ink on my back, from my shoulder to the middle of my arm. They watch me curiously and filled with hunger. I decide that moving away from Tax and his friends would be a badidea.
"Just remember what you're here for," Cross says as we come to a stop in the middle of the crowd. With both of their backs to me, it just feels like we've come to a standstill in the middle of a sweaty moshpit.
"Whatarewe here for?" I ask. “Other than for you to fight, ofcourse.”
Tax looks back at me, his eyes bright – shockingly electric. I shiver under the weight of his stare. He turns fully, his eyes moving past me into the crowd. His frown deepens at whatever he finds behind me. I take the moment to watch him, especially when he reaches over his shoulder with one hand, grabbing a fist full of his shirt and drags it over his head, leaving his chest bare. My mouthdries.
I know, instinctively, women want to find the most powerful male to mate with. The female of the species is drawn to providers and often times, the providers are men who are well built. It's not that he's well-built that makes Tax so attractive. Objectively speaking, of course. The way his eyes don't meet mine right now – like he doesn't care what I think of this place even though this place obviously does something to him – makes me want to watch him all the more. The confidence with which he drops his shirt into my hands keeps my eyes glued to his chest. His defined ab muscles, the smooth, tanned skin stretched tight over his pecs and biceps. He’s got scars here and there, but I don’t get a chance to examine them more closely. I don't even realize his shirt is in my hands until he finally looks at me, capturing my gaze once more with those piercing, dangerous eyes ofhis.
He bends down and puts both of his hands on my shoulders. I never realized how tall he is until his chest is so close to my face. He puts his lips near my ear. It's so loud in the room, I couldn't have heard him otherwise. "Don't move away from Cross or Blake, do youunderstand?"
He pulls away once again to look into my eyes, and I nod, holding his shirt to my chest. His expression never changes as he takes my hand, his fingers warm against my cold ones. He pulls me toward Cross, who rolls his eyes. Blake steps up along my other side. Tax sticks my fingers into one of Blake's belt loops and gives me another meaningful look before turning and walkingaway.
