Objective (Bloodlines #2)(53)

“Need a refill, sugar, or are you ready to get outta here?” she says pointedly while moving closer. I feel like a deer in headlights. I want to move, but I can’t seem to. “Let’s go home.” She pulls the near empty bottle from my hand while moving in front of me and wrapping her arms around my neck. She’s molded herself firmly against my front pressing her pelvis to my crotch. My hands are hanging limply at my sides while she hangs off me. This isn’t good.

Her head tips backward sharply and she lets out a howl before disengaging from me. Stunned I snap my gaze up to find Mags dragging her away by her hair. I advance on Mags as quickly as I can when I catch on to the situation. I’ve never seen her violent. I’ve never really seen her aggressive at all.

“What the FUCK!” the blonde screams.

“Keep your dirty paws off him!” Mags yells, throwing her by a clump of hair to the floor of the bar. Her muscles are taut and her eyes look wild. She’s hot as shit. The blonde looks up to her and glares before adjusting her too-short skirt and standing up to face Mags.

“Maybe he likes what he sees!” she screeches. Magnolia’s shoulder slump a little and she shakes her head.

“He sees an easy whore. Of course men see you, you’ve made yourself hard to ignore for all the wrong reasons. Get lost,” she clips, irritated but seemingly calmer. There is a strange moment of silence that blankets the bar. The band has stopped playing and there is a crowd circled around us.

The blonde swallows hard and her body stiffens. Mags clearly hit a sore spot in her ego. Her hands clench into fists and I know what's going to happen next. I cringe and close my eyes momentarily just before the blonde launches herself at Magnolia. I’m about to step in to block the blonde from getting to her but Magnolia changes her stance. She almost looks peaceful, calm. She watches the blonde carefully and just when she is within arm’s length, Mags throws out the heel of one hand, keeping her elbow slightly bent to counter the force of the impact. The hit lands directly between the blonde's eyes, stopping her momentum entirely.

The multiple gasps that ring out around us pretty much confirm my feelings. What the hell?

The blonde drops to the floor like dead weight and Magnolia hasn't even moved. When the girl doesn't get up, Mags lets her arm drop back down to her side and looks over to me. Her features show calm but there is rage burning in her eyes. She smirks at me slightly and I feel...scared.

“It’d be useful if you could at least try to keep your dick in your pants, *.” She turns towards the exit, the crowd opening up a path for her, and stalks outside. Fuck. What the hell was that?! Magnolia doesn’t cuss! She doesn’t hit and she definitely doesn't cause a scene in public. Women are clapping as they watch her exit. I shrug my shoulders at a couple of guys staring at me before taking off after her.



She’s not on the sidewalk when I get outside the bar. I scan the street to the left and right looking for her black locks piled high on her head. Was this a ploy? Is she gone? A loud whistle rings out across the street that draws my attention. I look over and heave a sigh of relief as I watch Magnolia turn around and confront the man who whistled. He puts his arms up in retreat and stumbles back a step.

“Mags!” I bellow while trying to get across the four lane drag. Her gaze snaps to mine and back to the guy in front of her. She pulls back and lays the guy out with a single hit to the crotch. I swear my eyes are about to explode from my head. Who is she? I chase her back to the hotel. She doesn’t stop and wait, and she doesn't hold the elevator door for me either. I catch up to her just as the hotel door is swinging shut. How’d she get in?

“Dammit! STOP!” I scream. She stops mid-step and turns to me, seething.

“Why?” she barks.

“Mags, what the f*ck was that?” I ask, feeling out of place. She was my voice of reason, always; this role reversal has me confused.

“It was me,” she snips. Something deep inside me hardens at her statement.

“That’s not you. You don’t swear, and you don’t hit,” I remind her. I feel like a nagging mother.

“No, Cane. That’s who I was. Who I am now is an ugly, well trained ball of anger. If you want to... you know...go check on the girl, please, go right ahead,” she spits before collapsing onto the plush leather couch looking utterly lost and defeated. I stalk over to her, charged. I don’t understand this new Magnolia and I’m not sure I want to. I yank one hand off her thigh and tug hard, forcing her to stand. She might be able to hold her own with a chick but she’s got nothing on me. She squeaks in surprise and scowls at me. Rather harshly I drag her to the massive bathroom in front of the mirror.

"What do you see?" I grind out, holding both her palms flat on the counter so she can't move.

"A mess," she whispers.

"I see beauty. Try again. What do you see?" Using both hands I hold her head towards the mirror, forcing her to take a look at herself.

"A hurricane..." she whimpers after a few beats of silence.

"I see the clear blue sky in the eye of it." Her eyes dart to mine in the mirror.

“Again," I demand.

"I...I see...what’s left." She cries. Tears start to stream down her face. "I see the broken remains of what's left of me. There isn't a whole. Just pieces. I'm not who I was, Cane, can't you see that? It was all stolen from me." Her chest shudders and jerks with fast, uneven breaths. I want to hate her. I want to be objective and harsh to finish this. I do, but my heart is so twisted up seeing her tears that I'm spending every moment trying to figure out what she's thinking and why. And right then it hits me. The past doesn't matter. It never will. I. Want. Magnolia. There is no loyalty that runs deeper to anyone; not my uncle, not the crew, no one owns me like she does. There is no way I will be able to complete my task. There is no way I will be able to hand her over. Fuck.