Mad Max (Chicago Crew)

by Sapphire Knight

  “Call me if you need me.”

  “I will,” I promise, but inside I know I won’t. I have to do this on my own, for myself. It’s time to start remembering the strong person I was before I met Max, before my famiglia was murdered. Stubborn me will get me through the complications with him, and help me process my grief without completely falling apart. This is another test, one I’m not willing to fail.

  The same pattern repeats throughout the next week. I wake up each night with Max there, crawling into my bed. Every night, he consistently brings me pleasure and comfort without seeking anything in return. We don’t talk much; it’s all based on touch. I’m so confused with us, then toss in everything else that’s happened, and I don’t know what to think. I’m supposed to hate him, and a piece of me does. Yet, I don’t completely, and that knowledge leaves a thick taste of betrayal on my tongue towards my famiglia. If only I had them here to offer me the guidance I seek, but that’s the real kicker—they’re gone forever.

  I can’t take this to my priest or the head of the famiglia, and in my world it’s what you’re supposed to do with problems you can’t cope with on your own. I already know what they’d say before asking. Father Roberts would tell me to covet my marriage, the eyes of the church doesn’t support divorce, especially since we’ve consummated our union. Joker would order me to bow to his henchman’s will and let any trepidations go, as a good mob wife would typically do. I’m not the norm though. I toe the line on so many things. I’m independent, my will is my own and no other’s, so why do I feel guilty when I allow myself to escape with my husband in the middle of the night?

  I close the thoughts off as he climbs between the valley of my thighs. He’s gloriously naked. I have just enough light to take in his impressive form and serious expression. He’s tired again, and rightfully so since it’s the middle of the night. I want to ask him why he’s here, why he keeps returning, but that’s not what we do. We barely speak to each other in these late-night rendezvous, and as selfish as it sounds, I don’t want to taint these visits by bringing reality into them.

  He settles between my legs, his weight parting me further as he works his length into me slowly. I’m used to him possessing an edge when we’re together, but tonight, he’s a bit tender. I draw in a quick breath as I feel him slide all the way down. Even like this he stretches me to the point it’s a shock. The sensation never waivers, no matter how many times we have sex. It’s part of the allure drawing me back for a repeat performance. “Max,” I softly breathe into the room, the comfort his presence brings not lost on me.

  “I’ve got you, darling,” he murmurs, kissing along my shoulder. Who knew that spot could be so erotic, yet he manages to ignite a fire in my blood each time his mouth meets the flesh in that area. His words are a double-edged sword. I’ll get hurt either way, whether I believe him or turn him away.

  His body’s warm and heavy against mine, encompassing me like a weighted blanket sent to bring me a sense of solace. He shifts his hips, administering soft thrusts in and out of my core, my wetness coating us, as well as running down my butt. Since the first time we met, he’s had my pussy turned into a faucet, eager for his attention. My fingers rake along his arms and then his back. I can’t seem to touch him everywhere sufficiently enough to be sated. He draws back enough to tilt his head down and take in the shadow of his cock leaving and reentering me. My skin flushes, heat peppering my body as I watch him watching us.

  His hair dips down, falling across his forehead, and I reach forward, pushing it back. He’s too perfect on the outside to appear mussed. He’s only broken and ugly inside, I’ve come to learn. His eyes flick up, meeting my irises, and the stare’s so deep, I can feel it all the way to my soul.

  “Max,” I hiss on a breath, unsure of what else to murmur. His head drops, his mouth landing on mine, lips full and soft as they show me another way to feel him. Our tongues caress, slow and sensual, his hips shifting to grind his pelvis into mine. “Dio Santo,” I cry into our kiss as bliss descends, shooting through my limbs. I ride it out, him stealing every noise I make with his kiss.

  “Brilliant,” he admits, staring at me as if it’s the first time he’s actually seeing me. His arms slide under my back, his large hands cupping each of my shoulders as he drives deep, staying pressed up against me as much as he can without hurting me. We’re dangerously close, to the point our vulnerabilities are showing, and I’ve never felt rawer.

  My palms find his cheeks, holding them as I take in every moment of his openness towards me. I watch him in return, taking in every whisper and grit of his teeth until he comes. He’s glorious in his pleasure, the strain of his jaw, the tautness of his neck muscles as he clenches. I draw it all in, implanting it to memory. I know now, I’ll never have enough of him. I’m obsessed, sickly so.

  I wake to my alarm, anticipating the cold bed at his absence, not wanting to face the reality of it. Only it’s warm, and Max’s still here. I stir, pressing my phone alarm off and turn to take him in for as long as I’m able to while he remains asleep. He’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Not counting magazine covers and what not, but in person, his beauties intimidating. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but since last night, something’s shifted inside me and between us.

  I’d previously referred to him as pale, but he’s got a soft tan, even with it always feeling so cold here he’s somehow managed to get a bit of color. Light freckles pepper his skin in random places, beckoning me to lick the beauty marks in every single spot. A freckle shouldn’t look so sexy and enticing. His golden hair has fallen over his forehead once more, and again I find myself wanting to push it back where it belongs. He’s everything a true predator emits. He invites you in, unknowingly forcing you to lower your guard, when in fact he’s a shark waiting to take a bite.

  His eyes part, giving me a secret glimpse at the man without the arrogant mask. “I dreamed of you.” he admits, his voice rough with sleep.

  “I dream of you every night. At least, that’s what Giovanna tells me.”

  He nods, reaching out to run his fingertip along my arm. “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “She informed me of them the first night she rang my mobile.”

  I move on, asking, “You keep coming back?” I haven’t told him to stop.

  His phone vibrates and it distracts him. He reads the text and jumps out of bed with a quiet curse. “I have to go,” he states and dresses in record speed, about to leave.

  “Maximillian,” I interrupt, still shaken up from last night.

  He moves to me, his hand shifting to caress my face. He tenderly runs his knuckles along my jawline. “We have a lot to chat over.”

  I swallow and ask, “You don’t hate me for shooting you? Want me dead?” My gaze flashes to the area I’ve seen full of stitches. It’s covered now with his clothes.

  “You didn’t kill me, nor did you come back to finish the job. We’re not done yet,” he states confidently without room for argument, and then he’s gone.

  I don’t hear from him for a while, so I move on with what needs to be done. I work on getting my parents’ home situated and getting myself back into work regularly. None of it will be easy, but I must begin to move forward and learn to heal my heart. I can’t go through life filled with regret and anger. Sadness is plenty, no need to throw in any more emotions while I’m at it.

  Bring me your suffering.

  The rattle roar of broken bones.

  Bring me the riot in your heart.

  Angry, wild and raw.

  Bring it all.

  I am not afraid of the dark.

  – Mia Hollow

  “What happened to you?” I question instantly, taking in Max’s dark eye and scraped-up cheek the moment he enters my office at work. Did he get into a fight? I’ve grown accustomed to him being the most unhinged man in the room, but I’m still at a loss seeing him injured as he appears to be. I may’ve shot him, but I took off immediately. I was
n’t left staring at his injuries like I am now. “I haven’t seen you or heard from you since you left Giovanna’s. What happened and are you okay? You look like hell.”

  “I’m still breathing. Not an easy tosser to knock off, I assure you. I’d received a message that there was a bit of trouble at work. I showed up and swiftly discovered we’d been hit. Trouble was an understatement.” He sits in the chair across from me, openly checking out everything on my desk.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “One of our warehouses have been shot up, mine specifically. A few fellas were robbed. It’s a mess really.”

  “No,” I gasp. This is the Mafia. The streets will be painted in blood merely to prove a point. I have no doubt in my mind that Maximillian will be at the very front of that retribution and this will only end up escalating in the end. He could end up hurt, or worse, dead. I don’t want to go to any more funerals, not for the rest of my life. I’m sick of them, and of weeping for the people I knew.

  “A couple runners were killed. Their product has vanished, as well as the cash in their pockets, of course. I had to clean up and wait around for orders. It wasn’t a pretty sight, to say the least, but we’ll get to the bottom of the issue, I’m certain.” I am scared of what all of it means for him, the city, and anyone in his path.

  “That’s horrible. I feel so bad for their famiglias. Did you find out who did this? Will they return?”

  “I have an idea who it is, and there’s always a chance, I suppose.”

  I swallow, not liking the contemplative look overtaking his features. “Max? What will you do?” I ask as a blast shakes the building. I scream, sheer panic consuming my thoughts. Everyone in the offices spread down the hallway shouting in fear. We’re instantly thrown into chaos, unsure of what’s happening nor what to do.

  “MAX!” I screech, freaking out more so from what we just discussed, and then add this into the mix. I don’t know what to think right now, only that I don’t want us to die today…not like this. We have so much left unsaid, and after losing my famiglia, that’s the last thing I desire.

  He’s up and reaching for me in an instant. One of his hands covers my mouth as he leans in, noses nearly brushing. His finger rests over his lips, and he orders, “Shh. Get down behind your desk and don’t move again until I direct you to.”

  “W-what was that?” I manage to get around his hand.

  “Someone took out the lift. They’ll be coming up the stairwell, I suspect.”

  “But why? What the hell is happening?”

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and removes his hand. He whispers, “Shh! They’re coming after you. They plan to take you. Same as they’ve attempted with me. Only, I killed them before they had the chance. I’m here. I won’t allow them to harm you. The bloody tossers will have to destroy me first.”

  “Who is it? Why me?”

  “The Irish, darling. They’ve been hitting New York, but the Vendetti Empire has struck back. They’ve been toying with taking out the viable Mafia organizations in the States. I suppose the Chicago Syndicate is next on their list, and everyone knows you’re my wife. The announcement was painted across the papers and websites.”

  I saw them as well, but it’s still a surprise that anyone would pay that much attention. I’m no threat to anyone, and you’d think with Max they’d want to keep away from me. “Fuck! Max, w-we can’t stay here. I don’t want to die. Not like this. No more death.”

  “Don’t you dare move that pretty round arse anywhere, love. Trust me.” As much as it goes against everything in me to place my faith in him, there’s no other option to take. I have to. He knows this life and how to stay alive, apparently. I’ve been kept out of majority of it, at least this side, so I take his word on it.

  There’s an abundance of rapid gunfire, the noise growing closer, so I curl into a ball behind my desk, clutching my hands over my ears. My eyes clench closed as I hear shots pop off nearby. The air stirs in front of me, my eyes shooting open. I stare forward taking in the dead man’s unblinking irises across from me on the floor of the opposite side of my desk. He has dark hair, green eyes, and tattoos covering his neck. The only thing I can contemplate as I stare my fill is that thug was going to murder me.

  Max killed him to keep me safe. He did exactly as he promised.

  More of the hoodlums run inside and, one by one, they die by Max’s hand. He’s an executioner, the Joker’s henchman. Time passes, everything feels like it takes forever, but it could only be minutes, as time is lost on me. I’m frightened, excited, and exhausted all rolled up into one. Mix that with so many words left unsaid, I can only recite prayer after prayer.

  Eventually, Giovanna is shoved behind the desk with me. I move to her and we wrap our arms around each other, not letting go. She cries hysterically in my hold, while I can’t stop trembling as I stare at the floor where the dead man remains. Gunfire rains in the air, the blasts deafening, but not nearly as much as the cries of pain. Those are the noises that resonate within me, creating an unforgettable impact. There’s so much going on, I can’t help but worry it’s too much for Max to take on alone. Formidable force or not, there’s only so much one man can handle himself, especially when he’s already been shot…by me.

  Giovanna’s dragged away from me, and I scramble to clutch her tighter. Losing her has my fight-or-flight response igniting, and I reach for my envelope opener in a panic. It’s the only possible weapon I possess within my grasp. A strong hand grabs me, yanking me, and I spin with the metal raised, ready to stab and maim to survive this attack. I won’t go without a fight. I’m strong.

  “Ismerlda!” is, barked and thankfully, he’s on his game when I thrust the knife at him, and he catches my wrist before I do any damage. “Darling,” he coos soothingly, yanking me to his chest. He holds me so tightly it physically hurts, but it’s exactly what I need to shake me out of survival mode. My body trembles and being in his embrace has the tears falling. “I have you. You’re safe.”

  “I was so scared. I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t endure the thought.” I weep against his solid frame and he continues to hold me. He lets me cry and clutch him until I can pull myself together enough to face the carnage again. I don’t want to. I’d rather let him deal with it while I pretend it never happened. If he hadn’t been here, I’d be dead right now. It would be me on the floor bleeding out and not the men sent to get me.

  I eventually admit, “I couldn’t bear the thought of them killing you. I was going to stab them to death.”

  Back in the car with Tyson was different. It was only him and me, and I had a weapon against one, maybe two people. The things I heard today weren’t the screech of a car hitting another, or a pop from a few gunshots. Those thugs came here heavily armed. I never would’ve stood a chance by the sounds of what I heard. I need to start carrying the small gun in my purse again, I thought I was over that, but apparently not. At least I’d have had another layer of protection today if it were the case. Rather, I was left nearly defenseless.

  “How many were there?” I ask.

  “At least six,” he rumbles, and my breath hitches. “Maybe eight.”

  “Six of them…big goons, all for me?”

  “They knew I’d have some blokes on you for your safety. They came prepared. However, they didn’t anticipate me breaking free, slaughtering the fucks, and calling in our crew. I had a dozen syndicate on the way here to protect you before I’d tossed the dead bodies from the vehicle I was taken in. They never stood a chance. I vowed to protect you. I’ll have you know I don’t take the responsibility lightly.”

  I release a pent-up breath. The severity of this situation front and center is enough to make anyone wary. If Maximillian wasn’t so close to Joker, nor in the sort of position he is, today would’ve ended much differently for me. For the first time, I personally understand why my father was so adamant that if I ever married mob, they be powerful. Perhaps he wasn’t only proposing this match for my famiglia’s safety, but fo
r my own? He’d lived the life, neck deep, he’d know what enemies the syndicate would be facing, and apparently they weren’t only the Vendettis.

  “I need to pack my things,” I reason, casting my gaze around my office over the desk and shelves. So much of it is ruined, littered with bullet holes and drywall dust. They’ll have to gut my office to repair it and offer the position. If anyone will even take it after this.

  “Excuse me, darling? You’re speaking rubbish.”

  My heart feels a sense of emptiness as I explain, “I won’t have a job here after this. I’ll probably end up in jail, let alone quietly shoved out the back door from the company. I’m a liability, and those don’t make decent partners to have in business.” It’s fine. I could be dead right now.

  He grunts. “You want your job? I’ll take care of it. As for the cops? I’ll handle that too,” he assures me with a careless wave of his hand. He’s always so confident and sure in what he says, not contemplating the consequences. Those powerful suits he wears all the time certainly fit his personality, I’ve come to discover.

  “How?”

  He shrugs. “It’s what I do. This is mob business, any reach I don’t possess, Joker does. You have nothing to worry about.”

  I tear up, so lost in life at the moment. I don’t know which way is up, only down. “And us?” I wait for the next blow to come. Will he send me to my parents’ home with men to watch me? Or another apartment? Will this be my life I have to look forward to, living apart, fucking when he’s up for it? What did I expect though?

  He’s broken my trust before, and in return, I shot him and told him I hated him. I don’t though—hate him. Far from it, actually. The truth in that scares the fuck out of me.

  “Us?” His brow scrunches. “You’re my wife. I know this life is hard, but I made sure to get here in time.”