Page 29 of Desire Him

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jesse snorts. “Why would I lead you to a trap if I want this city cleaned up? This is the only place my friend could afford. Have some respect.”

“I have little respect for someone who stoops so low as selling wolfcalm,” Becca says as she peers at the building with disdain.

Jesse turns his hands into fists and crosses his arms with rage taking over his expression. “You have no idea what that girl has been through. Don’t judge her for how she makes money to feed herself.”

“Calm down,” Wayne interjects. He can’t have them fighting, especially out here in the open. People and rogues will notice. “Are you going to show us in? Or do we need to knock?”

Jesse glares at the back of Becca’s head for a moment then motions for everyone to follow him. “Come on.”

He takes them to a door, and its hinges creak when he opens it. “What’s her name?” Draven asks. He’s following behind Wayne, sandwiched between him and Becca, who takes up the rear.

“Samantha Maxwell,” Jesse says, leading them through dark hallways.

“How old is she?” he continues to ask.

“About your age.”

Jesus, Wayne thinks. He didn’t know what he expected, but he thought this person might be older, closer to Jesse’s age. He didn’t think he’d have a friend who was so young.

“Sammi?” Jesse calls.

There’s no answer, but they continue to walk the halls. Paper is strewed about as though whoever was here before the building closed down had left in a hurry. Whoever Sammi is, she didn’t bother to clean it up.

They enter a massive lit room. From the looks of it, it used to be a cafeteria of some sort. Puke-green, tiled flooring sprawls across the floor. A speckled false ceiling hangs above their heads. Instead of tables and chairs, it holds a bed, a TV, a couch, a pool table, and a computer off to the side. It’s clean and organized, and definitely not what Wayne expected.

A woman is sitting on the couch with headphones on while she plays a video game. Every few seconds, she dips her hand into a bag of potato chips and stuffs them into her mouth before she goes back to playing. Her hair is to her shoulders, and it’s dyed a deep shade of purple. She has an average heart-shaped face with petite features. She can’t be more than five-foot-four and one-hundred and thirty pounds. Definitely not someone he’d expect to sell drugs. Here, in her element, she looks so innocent.

“Sammi?” Jesse calls again.

“I don’t think she can hear you,” Wayne says. He glances back at Draven. He’s standing in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at Sammi. Wayne takes notice of it for a moment, frowning, but turns his attention back to Jesse, who is approaching the girl.

Jesse touches Sammi’s shoulder. Sammi startles and whips around to look over her shoulder. She relaxes as Jesse smiles at her. She wipes her chip hand off on her jeans and takes off her headphones, beaming up at Jesse. “You scared the shit out of me, Jesse. What are –” Jesse’s look toward Wayne causes her to pause. She follows his gaze and blanches. “Who are they?” She looks back to Jesse, her face turning a shade of red. “Did you bring people to my home?”

“They’re from the Brook Mountain Pack. They’re here-” Jesse gets cut off.

Her headphones fling from her lap, and she throws her remote control at Wayne. Wayne ducks before it can hit him square in the head and watches as she takes off from the couch and bolts deeper into the dark building.

Wayne sighs and scrubs at his jaw. This is more like he thought it would go. He looks at Draven. “Are you going to go after her?” But Draven doesn’t answer. He’s still wide-eyed and staring at the spot Sammi just occupied.

Growling under his breath, Wayne dashes after Sammi. He follows her scent into the dark hallways, taking each step with care because there’s more debris here than at the front of the building.

He curses under his breath. He shouldn’t be surprised that he has to chase her down. She doesn’t trust them. She was probably taught and is too experienced not to.

The scent trail leads to a huge office area with standard cubicles. He rubs at the back of his neck. There are so many places she can hide in here.

“Sammi, we aren’t here to hurt you.” He looks around a desk, finds no one, and then moves on to the next. “I promise. We just need some information. That’s all.” It’s only a half-truth, but he has to get her to trust him somehow.

At a cubical behind him, he sees Sammi bolt from behind the desk, trying to get past him. But he’s too fast for her. His arm flies her around the waist, and he starts carrying her back the way they came. She bites at his arm, kicking his shins the whole way. She’s a tiny thing but a fighter.

“Will you stop biting me?” he demands. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

It fucking hurts too. Wayne winces and knows that blood is dripping down his arm. He takes note of her scent though. She doesn’t smell like a typical rogue. Well, she does, but it’s not a stench. It’s a lifetime of living on the streets. She smells like factory smoke and chips and a hint of peaches, but that’s it. Even though she’s a rogue, she evidently takes care of herself.

She stops biting him long enough to yell, “Get off me, asshole,” as they step back into the cafeteria.

“I’ll let you go if you don’t run,” Wayne growls in her ear. “And if you run, it’ll be worse for you. I’ll take back my word about not hurting you.”