I waited to call Tai until the very last. As expected, he did not take the news well. So much so that I didn’t even tell him all of it, because had I told him about Blaine, his threats, and the kidnapping, he would have been on the next plane with a half dozen giant Samoan men out for blood. Blaine’s blood. Sure, it would make everything easier for me, but those men would get hurt. Men like Blaine were too pompous to fight with their hands as proven by the experience Max had in the hallway. Blaine didn’t even attempt to hit Max. No, Blaine would use goons, knives, and most certainly, guns. Blaine wouldn’t stop until the entire Niko clan was dead and buried six feet under in a long lost section of the Nevada desert never to be heard from again. That was not going to happen to my sexy Samoan. No way, no how.
What I told Tai was about Pops and Max. That was enough to set his worry meter to a ten out of ten. We talked long into the night. I briefly wondered what Amy thought about our long chat, but in the middle of it, she kissed him goodnight and told him she’d see him back in bed. There was no concern, malice, or anxiety in her tone whatsoever. When I asked Tai about it, he said simply, “Amy’s cool. She understands that you’re family.”
And there it was again. That word. Family. When I started this journey nine months ago, that word consisted of four people total. Maddy, Ginelle, Pops, and my Aunt Millie. Now I couldn’t count on two hands how many people I now considered part of my extended family, not to mention the new real living blood relation in Max, Cyndi, and Isabel as well as baby Jack on the way. Those were four new instant extended relatives. It was hard to comprehend how much life had changed over the past nine months. More so than I would have ever imagined possible in my twenty-five-years.
And then there was Wes. I looked down at my phone one more time. Nothing. Scowling, I got dressed, actually making an effort. If I was going to beg, borrow, and plead with Blaine to give me more time, I wanted to at least look the part.
My phone pinged, and I hurried to check the display, praying it was Weston. What I saw forced an enormous scowl that I felt down to my toes. The life force of my being was being drained, and it pooled around my feet.
To: Mia Saunders
From: Blaine Douchebag Pintero
I expect you’re doing well and either have my money or are prepared to agree to the terms. Meet at our place in an hour. I’ll be waiting.
Of course he would, the twisted fucker. As I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder, Max grabbed a set of keys and looked at me.
“What?” I asked.
Max’s lips were held in a thin line. Their normal puffy pink was devoid of color. His body language was rigid and confusing. “I’m driving you.”
I cringed. “Um, no. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to hurt me, Max. He wants to fuck me, not kill me.”
Max’s jaw locked down and a muscle there flickered. “He kidnapped your best friend, Mia. This is not a situation to take lightly.”
Sighing, I put a hand to his bicep. It hardened reflexively. “Max, he won’t like your presence there. I know what, more specifically who, I’m dealing with. I’m worth too much to him monetarily and physically to do something rash. I’ll be fine.” I looked straight into his eyes and lied my ass off. Blaine was a wild card. I never knew what would tip him off, make him laugh, or when he’d turn downright evil incarnate. I’d hope for the humorous side and planned to work that angle along with his desire to bed me for more time. Maybe use his love of money and promise him more. A lot more. I could easily keep working for Millie, making the money I needed to as well as whatever I’d get from Cunningham Oil & Gas. I know Max didn’t want that money bankrolling a criminal, but I had no choice if I wanted to live any semblance of a normal life.
“Trust me. I’ve got this,” I said, shifting my shoulders back and straightening my spine.
Max shook his head and opened the door. “Trust me.” He pointed to his chest. “I’ve got this. I told you before and I’ll tell you again, darlin’. I take care of my family. End of discussion.”
My shoulders sagged as I followed him to the elevator and into his rental car. Nothing was said on the drive to Luna Rosa. I had no idea what to tell him, and I think he had choice words that I’d rather not hear.
We entered the restaurant, and as usual, Blaine sat out on the patio at our table. Umbrellas had been put up to provide shade. The water from the lake kept the temperature on the patio feeling a solid ten degrees cooler than the normal Vegas heat. As we walked up, Blaine stood. He wore a crisp beige suit that fit him to perfection. A coral dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck highlighted his coloring and made his eyes glow. They reminded me of a cat’s eyes in the dark, how they seemed to glimmer with a yellow-green radiance.
Blaine held out a hand to Max and nodded to the table next to us. “I see you’ve brought your own muscle, as have I.” He grinned.
His goons pushed back their blazer jackets. The barrels of black .45s could be easily seen.
Max pulled out my chair and I sat, and then he proceeded to shift his chair back, making sure he was able to see Blaine and his two guards with ease. Smart move. I wished I’d thought of it. For a minute, I was actually thankful that Max had pushed his way into coming, even though I really wanted him out of this mess.
“Would you like a drink?” Blaine held up a frosty-looking pinot grigio. My mouth went dry, and I nodded. He poured me a glass and kept it aloft until Max glanced at it and shook his head. He was far too busy being an imposing character to be bothered with wine.
I took a sip of the wine and hummed. Blaine always had exceptional taste in wine. It was something he spent a lot of time doing—tastings, traveling to wineries to check on the newest selections and reserves just being released. Back in the day, I used to envy his dignified palate.
“Let’s get right to business shall we?” Blaine said, and I practically choked on the sip of wine. I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to get myself out of this predicament, but I’d die trying. Seriously, I’d die because Blaine would probably shoot me on the spot, but there was no other choice. I had to trudge on.
“Look, Blaine, I know you said I couldn’t have more time, but there’s so many things you don’t know about what’s happening, and well, I—”
Blaine’s eyes darkened and he cut me off. “You better be telling me that you are accepting door number two, which leads to my bedroom, because excuses are like assholes, my pretty. Everyone has one, but not many want to get near one.”
I sucked in a deep breath, tears pricking at the back of my eyelids. “Then you’re just going to have to kill me.”
Blaine gasped at the same time that Max’s fist came down like a hammer on the table, rattling the glasses and knocking over my wine. I grappled with the glass in an attempt to catch what I could before it spilled over onto the floor.
“This is horseshit,” Max growled and stood up. My brother was a giant normally, but when you were sitting, he was a mountain of a man. He reached into his back pocket and the intensity in the room went from a hundred to a thousand. Blaine ducked and his goons moved like ninjas. In a second, there was a gun barrel at the side of Max’s temple and one at the back of his head. He stiffened.
“You better have a very good reason for reaching into the back of your pants, cowboy, or my men are going to escort you out of here and take care of you the same way they did in the old west. I own this fucking town,” he growled between clenched teeth. “And the cops around here are on my payroll. You think real hard about that before you make your move.”
Max blinked and kept his gaze laser focused on Blaine’s. “I was pulling out an envelope. The fella behind me can see I’m not packing.”
“He’s telling the truth, boss,” the pudgy one that looked like a B movie mafia impersonator said over Max’s shoulder.
Blaine tipped his chin, and Max pulled out the envelope. He leaned forward, set it on the table, and tapped it with his index finger. “There’s your money. All four hundred thousand.”
> I’m pretty sure at that point surprise wasn’t the word I’d used to explain how I felt. So many emotions warred with one another. Relief. Fear. Pride. Love. The last, though, threw me for a loop.
Disgust.
Right then, I was disgusted with myself that my brother, quite possibly one of the sweetest men alive, who didn’t deserve any of this, was paying off my debt. My father’s debt. A rather large debt. It wasn’t like I’d said, “Hey, bro, can I borrow fifty bucks?” No, this was four hundred thousand dollars. Almost half a million.
“You can’t,” I whispered. My voice came out garbled, like I was talking through a ball of cotton.
Max’s eyes cut to mine. “I have. No one threatens my sister or hurts my family when I can take care of it.”
“Can this money be traced?” Blaine asked looking into the envelope at what must be a check since it was very thin in size. Four hundred thousand, even in hundreds, had to be quite a stack.
Max nodded. “Back to me, yes. It’s from my personal account. If you want it in cash, I’ll have it by the end of the day waiting for you at the front desk of your casino. I wanted to bring that check to show good faith.”
Blaine’s eyebrow rose. “You don’t mind if I make a call, verify you’re good for it?”
Max huffed. “Not at all.”
With a tilt of his head, one of Blaine’s goons took the check and stepped over to the backside of the patio. For the first time, I looked around and realized there weren’t any other patrons and it was lunchtime on a Friday in the shopping district. Guess Blaine was making sure our situation was kept private. Chugging the new glass of wine Blaine poured me, I waited impatiently. I didn’t know what to do or say to Max. What could I say to make something like this better?
With jerky movements, I placed my hands over Max’s. He held one and topped the other with his big palm. I looked into his eyes, green to green, and tried desperately to convey all the feelings and emotions I had for him, for what he sacrificed to save my life, Maddy’s, Ginelle’s, and Pops’s. “Thank you.” I choked on the words. He brought his forehead to mine. The instant his touched mine I felt that sizzle of familiarity. That feeling a person gets when she’s with family. It had happened the very first day I met him at the airport and shook his hand.
“I’d do it again. A hundred times over to keep you safe and in my life. I love you, Sis.” Max’s voice was low, filled with affection. Those words wormed their way right through my chest and into my heart where they took up shop.
“I love you, too, Maximus.” I pulled him close and hugged him hard. “And I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
He chuckled. “Honey, you’re going to be a rich woman very soon. You’ll find a way.” He leaned back, cupped my cheeks, and wiped my tears with his thumbs.
“We’re good, boss,” said mafia boy.
Blaine put his hands together, fingers in a steeple. “Pity, pretty Mia. I was so looking forward to having you under me again.”
Just his words sent a chill through me, and I shivered.
That’s when Max had enough. “Time to go, darlin’.” He tugged on my bicep, all but lifting me right out of my chair. “I’ll have your cash to you this evening by seven. The bank has been notified I might need it on short notice and is putting it together now.”
“Splendid.” Blaine stood up, buttoned a single button on his jacket, and put his hand out.
Max stared at the hand but eventually shook it. God, the guy was too good. There needed to be a million more men like him running the world. It would be a far happier, more peaceful place.
Max put his hand to my lower back and pressed me forward.
“Wait!” Blaine said, and I turned around. He walked slowly to me, like a lion slinks forward readying to pounce. I inhaled and waited for him to place his cool hands on my biceps. “I believe this is the end, is it not?”
“My debt is clear,” I answered.
He stroked my arms up and down. “You are free, pretty, pretty Mia.” Blaine leaned forward, and I could practically feel the tension rippling off Max as Blaine kissed one cheek and then the other. Lastly, he lifted a hand, cupped my cheek, and rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb. “I always wanted the best for you. In my own way. Be well.”
On that parting phrase, he turned around and strode purposely out of the restaurant. Max ushered me out to his car, but before he could open the door, I gripped his hand, tugged hard, and smashed my face into his chest. I looped my hands around his waist and hugged him hard. I put everything I had into that single hug.
Fear.
Grief.
Relief.
And ended it with heaping dose of gratitude.
I’d never be able to pay him back and I wasn’t referring to the money. That I’d pay back no problem between the job and the money I was going to get from the company. I just wouldn’t to be able to pay back the gift of him. His presence when I needed him. Taking care of me the way he did. All I knew was that I’d spend the rest of my days being grateful and appreciative of everything that was Maxwell Cunningham until the day I died. He’d lifted his position in my life right up there alongside my baby sister, and that was a position I never thought another soul besides Wes could occupy.
Chapter Ten
They say freedom is a privilege, not a right. I don’t feel very privileged or truly free. The debt to Blaine was paid, but my heart was still locked away in a dungeon, begging to be liberated. My father was doing well, his prognosis good. Though his own mind was still locked away.
My savior, my brother Max, has flown back home to be with his wife, Cyndi, in the hope that baby Jackson will soon make his appearance. Maddy and Matt have started school and gone back to the comfort of their apartment near the university. Ginelle chose to go back to work, armed with some heavy-duty makeup to cover her still healing bruises. Her own plans have changed since the attack. We got her set up with a counselor to work through what happened, but she told me that, when I got back home and settled with Wes, she too would like to head out. Get a change of scenery, a new job. Basically, she wanted to get the hell out of Las Vegas, and I didn’t blame her. There were too many memories of harsh times to live through. I’d do whatever it took to help her heal, and if that included shacking her up in Wes’s guest house, that’s what we’d do.
I’d thought about the word home for some time now. Though Sin City had been home to me for most of my life, I didn’t feel like the real me here. Malibu was calling, but who would greet me when I landed? It seemed like everyone’s life had continued to move forward. Everyone’s but mine. In a week, I was supposed to be starting on the TV show with celebrity doctor to the stars, Dr. Hoffman, but I didn’t feel ready for that leap. I couldn’t pay him the hundred thousand for flaking though so, no matter what was going on, I had to go. He hired me to do a new segment spun off from my own slice of fame. The segment was aptly labeled Living Beautiful.
Only problem, life for me no longer had color. All I saw were shades of gray, black, and white. The beauty surrounding me had disappeared, seeped out until all colors bled away into nothing. I felt like nothing.
Lying on the hotel room bed, I stared out at the sky—dark, covered in clouds, the desert preparing for a summer storm. It fit my mood perfectly. Storms were unusual at that time of year but not all together unheard of. I sat up Indian style, my phone clutched in my hand. Thunder rumbled in the distance and I started to count.
One Mississippi…
Two Mississippi…
Three Mississippi…
Four Mississippi….
Boom! Thunder roared and lightning hit. Somewhere I heard that every five seconds between the flash and thunder meant the storm was one mile away. A blinding white slash raced across the slate sky like a too-bright camera flash, momentarily taking away my vision. As quick as it came, it was gone. Just like Wes.
Weston Channing, III entered my life on a wave. Literally. From the moment he stepped from surf to sand, I watched him walk towar
d me. A sun god. Tanned skin, spiky wet hair, the ocean’s tears falling down a chest that could have been chiseled in stone it was so hard. His eyes, the color of fresh cut grass in the middle of a Californian spring day, met mine, but that wasn’t what drew me in. It was his confidence, the quirky smile, the effortless way he walked, spoke, and made love. As if his body were meant to be near mine. Touched by me. Held within the safety of my arms.
Or maybe it was the reverse of that. My need to be near him. Touched by his hand, his heart, his soul.
“Please come back to me,” I prayed aloud.
My phone rang. It jerked me out of my melancholy mood, and I looked down.
Unknown caller.
Heat hit the core of my being, burning me from the inside out as an instant prickling sensation made the hairs on my arms stand at attention. The phone rang again and I picked it up, pressed the answer button, and took a breath. “Hello?” I croaked into the phone, too scared to say anything more.
“Mia,” came the breathless reply, almost as if it took him extreme effort to say the three-letter word.
Tears rippled down my face. “Wes,” I said, not knowing what else to say but needing to say everything in a single breath. My heart was in my throat, my body convulsing with tension. I gripped the phone in my hand so hard and so close to my ear, pain shot through my hand, but I didn’t care.
“Sweetheart, your voice. Jesus, baby so good to hear…” He cleared his throat and sighed deep. So deep I could feel the pressure all around me.
“Wes, tell me you’re okay.” I finally managed to string more than one word together.
He coughed roughly. “I’m okay. Just a little worse for the wear.”
Leave it to my guy to be flippant at a time like this. “I need to see you, touch you, to believe you’re real.”
His breathing became labored as he replied, “I know. I want to see you so bad it hurts. But I can’t. I have to uh, stay here a little while, arrrrggghh.”
September: Calendar Girl Book 9 Page 10