Rough & Ruthless (Notorious Devils Book 4)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Oh—oh, no. I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry,” I say trying to take a step back. Max’s grip tightens and he keeps me still in my spot.

  “You were scared, Mary-Anne; and in all honesty, I didn’t come with a way to bring any of your shit along. We’ll get you all sorted. It’s all good, sweetness,” he says, his voice tender yet rough.

  “Okay,” I nod.

  “Also, need to ask you about birth control,” he says, his voice still soft yet husky.

  “Wh-what about it?” I breathe.

  “Took you twice with no protection,” he announces.

  My face pales at his words. I didn’t even think about that. How stupid am I? I’ve never had sex without a condom, not once, and he was inside of me twice, two times, with nothing.

  My chest starts rising and falling with my short, panicked breaths. I try to avoid thinking about all the women Max has been with in his life, all the women he’s screwed—all the whores.

  “I—I’m on the pill,” I whisper.

  “Haven’t been with a woman bare since my wife,” he says.

  All of my breath escapes my body. Completely and totally escapes me.

  Max’s wife died when Fury was a teenager—Kentlee told me once when we lived together—which means that for over thirty years, he’s never been with a woman without protection? I want to believe that, but I’m not sure I can.

  “Max,” I whisper.

  “Not fuckin’ with you, sweetness.”

  “Why didn’t you use any last night or this morning?” I ask, curious to hear his answer, still unbelieving of his words.

  “Don’t know. Honest to fuck, Mary, I don’t know.” Max grins up at me and then stands, his chest rubbing against mine on his way up. Then, his lips brush my own and he releases me. “Go shower, get some rest, then we’ll go.”

  Without another word, he’s out of the room, and I’m left alone in his office, completely and totally confused.

  This man. I’m not so sure about him, but there’s something there. I want to know more; and I think that when I do, he’s going to be hard to let go. I will let him go, though, because there’s no way we can be anything but together in a sexual way. I think he knows that, too.

  We’ll have some fun and then we’ll go our separate ways. I only hope that my heart will understand in the end.

  I leave Mary-Anne in my office and make my way toward the room where it’s time for church, something that I set up before I even left to go get her down south. I’m still thinking about the fact that I took her bare, twice.

  I don’t want to think about the look of panic that crossed her face when she realized that fact. I feel like a total shit for it. I should have protected her; I should have taken care of her. I’m better than that—at least, for her I should be.

  Walking into the room, I see that all of my brothers are there. Grease is sitting at the front, next to my chair, his eyes narrowed on me. I make my way over to my seat and sit down before I slam my gavel and call the meeting to order.

  “We got a problem with your girl?” Grease asks before I can even speak.

  “Not why I called church,” I respond, ignoring his question. “First off, got a call from my Russian contact, Kirill. There’s an opportunity to make some serious cash with them, but it’s not going to be easy cash, and it could be dangerous, to a degree,” I begin to explain.

  “No serious cash is easy cash,” Roach, the club’s sergeant-at-arms, announces. He’s right—one hundred percent correct. If a job is too easy, it typically spells trouble for everybody involved.

  “What’s the job?” another one of my brothers asks.

  “They have a boom in their gun trade. They need quick, inconspicuous transfer from the Frisco Bay to Denver,” I say.

  “That’s a twenty-hour drive each way, at least,” Grease grunts.

  “Logistics I haven’t quite figured out. I assume we can do what we’ve done in the past and put everyone on a rotation. Make a prospect go with each group and run the guns on a skeleton crew so attention isn’t drawn.”

  “We gotta take a truck for that kinda shit,” Roach says.

  “Prospect driving truck, two men on bikes—one several miles up ahead, one several miles behind,” I mutter, thinking aloud.

  “That could work. But how much cash are we talking about?” Grease asks.

  “We’d be bringing in half a mill for every transport.”

  “How often are we doin’ this?” Roach asks as his brows shoot up in surprise.

  “Every other month. Guns are comin’ from Austria,” I explain.

  “Plus the dope we’re already transferrin’?” one of the guys calls out.

  “Yeah,” I say, nodding my head.

  “Fuck, that’s gonna be some serious cake,” Roach murmurs.

  “I say let’s do it,” Grease announces. Murmurings of the men’s voices fill the room.

  “Ready to vote?” I ask.

  The men vote one hundred percent in favor. I should feel apprehensive about the big undertaking of this new project, but I don’t. It’s going to take time and it’s going to take men, but the payout is going to be well worth all of the work and the risks involved.

  “Okay, that’s handled.” I say before I continue. “If you haven’t noticed, Sniper’s sister, Mary-Anne Lukin, is here. She’s hiding out from some douchebag. Sniper doesn’t know, and he shouldn’t know. We’re offering our protection as a favor to him, but we’re also not telling him. He’ll lose his shit and probably end up in prison. I’ll be handling how to proceed with her.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Grease chimes in.

  “That being said, jackass, she’s off fuckin’ limits,” I practically growl.

  My eyes skirt over my men and a few of them dip their heads, obviously hiding their smiles while the others look a little surprised.

  Most of the men in this room weren’t around while I was married to Eleanora. They’ve known me not to give much of a shit about the pussy I mess with. But Mary-Anne isn’t any clubwhore. She’s something—different. What she is, I’m not sure, but I aim to find out.

  “Anything else?” I ask, looking around.

  I’m anxious to get this meeting over with. I have to figure out what made Mary-Anne’s mood change earlier. It changed in a fuckin’ instant, and I’m about to find out why. Nobody says anything, so I raise my hand with my gavel.

  “I’ll have a schedule ready by end of week, after I’ve talked to Kirill,” I announce before I slamming the gavel and calling the meeting adjourned.

  I walk out into the bar area, on the way to my room to see Mary-Anne, when I stop in my tracks. She’s bellied up to the bar with one of the prospects. He’s a new guy named Mike. He’s young, a punk-assed kid of around nineteen, and he’s looking at Mary like he wants to fuck her until she begs for mercy.

  I don’t say a word as I quietly walk up behind her. I’m curious to know what has her so enthralled that she’s leaning over the counter, no doubt showing off her perky tits to this kid.

  “You didn’t,” she gasps.

  Mike smiles, his eyes not looking at her face but those tits she’s showing off. My blood boils, and I see red when her hand reaches out and grips his forearm across the bar as she giggles. I don’t hear Mike’s response. I don’t even know what the fuck they’re talking about, and I don’t give a single shit.

  I wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, careful not to squeeze her slim, fragile frame too hard in the process. My knee-jerk reaction is to yank her off of the stool by her fuckin’ hair.

  “Go up to my room,” I grunt close to her ear. Her back stiffens and she turns around to face me.

  Looking into her eyes, I want to go soft on her, fuck her, and be gentler with her. But this shit—I can’t have this, and she’s about to learn her fuckin’ place here.

  “Max,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling.

  My eyes drop to look at her, and I see that she’s wearing one of my undershi
rt tanks. It covers fuckin’ nothing, especially since it’s at least three sizes too big on her small body. Her bra is completely visible from the top and sides of the shirt, causing my anger to rise even higher. I lean into her a little more, my eyes zeroed in on hers to show her just how serious I am.

  “Get. The. Fuck. To. My. Room.”

  Her head jerks in a nod and I release her. I don’t watch as she scurries away from me. Instead, I turn to Mike, who looks like he’s about two seconds from shitting his pants. I would be too if I were him, but I’m going to try to be fair. He wasn’t in church when I announced that Mary-Anne was off limits.

  “You talk to her again, other than to take her order from behind this bar, or your eyes drift anywhere other than her face, and I’ll shoot you,” I grind out.

  His head bobs up and down in a nod, and my eyes flick down to his hand, shaking against the countertop. I’ve effectively done my job here. Now, it’s time to tell her the way shit is happening from today on.

  I turn around and leave him there, probably standing in a puddle of his own piss, and I make my way to my room. I slam and lock the door behind me once I’m inside. Mary-Anne doesn’t flinch. She’s got her back to me, and she’s looking out the window.

  I try not to stomp like a sodden child up to Max’s room, and it takes everything inside of me not to slam his door like a pubescent teenager. I succeed, but just barely. I can feel my temper flaring, and I know that I’m on the verge of mouthing off, so I bite the inside of my cheek, finding the scar that’s been there since I was a kid, when I learned the repercussions of actually mouthing off to my father.

  I walk over to the window and I stare out at the little patch of grass that holds some tables, an arbor with benches beneath it, and a play yard.

  My whole body tightens and I try to hold myself completely still when the door slams behind me. I can feel Max’s presence enter the room, his anger filling it to a point where it’s stifling and hard for me to even breathe.

  I don’t know why he’s so angry, but I can tell that he’s not a man to mess around with. What have I done by coming to him? I should have just run away completely, gone to the east coast and gotten as far away from Kyle as possible.

  “Turn around,” he grinds out behind me.

  His order is something I cannot deny. My body quakes in fear of what would happen if I don’t.

  My eyes meet his pissed off blue ones, and I try as hard as I can not to shrink back in fear. Max starts toward me, and I take a step back, until I’m against the window and his face is inches from mine—his hard body pressed against me.

  “Max,” I breathe shakily, unable to take my eyes off of his.

  “You fuck anyone else, and I’ll kill them,” he rumbles, lifting his hand. My eye twitches in a slight flinch, and his nostrils flare as his hand gently cups my cheek. “No matter how pissed I am, Mary, I’d never fuckin’ hurt you.”

  I exhale, afraid to speak, and I nod slightly, showing him that I’ve heard him. His head moves and his forehead rests against mine as he closes his pretty blue eyes, his other hand wrapping around my waist, holding me still.

  “I would never hurt you, sweetness. You’re safe with me, I swear it.”

  “I don’t want anybody else,” I whisper, sure that it’s the truth.

  There is something about Max that draws me to him. There’s something in the way that he makes me feel when I’m in his presence. It’s more than just my hormones, but I’m afraid to dig too deep, knowing that what we’re doing here is fleeting. I know that what we are will never be more than sexual.

  “Yeah?” he asks on an exhale.

  I nod, my forehead rubbing against his, and then without warning, he lifts his head slightly and his lips crash against mine. His tongue invades my mouth and my belly quivers as he kisses me. Lifting my arms, I wrap them around his back and hold onto the leather of his cut. I press my breasts against his chest, needing some friction to relieve the aching that’s suddenly built up in a matter of seconds.

  “I’ve never tasted anything as sweet as you, Mary,” he rasps, his lips placing kisses down my neck. “You look fuckin’ good in my tank; but sweetness, I don’t want anybody else seeing you this exposed,” he murmurs as his finger traces the swell of my breast.

  “I’m not exposed,” I say softly.

  “You’re not naked, but this doesn’t really cover your bra, at all,” he states.

  “Max, you have no reason to be jealous,” I say smiling at him.

  “Yeah?” he asks, arching his brow. “Saw Mike’s eyes focusing pretty fuckin’ hard on your tits, and you were leanin’ over giving him the perfect view.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he shakes his head once.

  “Too old for this shit, Mary-Anne. Too old to give a fuck about a girl, who ain’t even my Old Lady, and who she’s messin’ with. But I’m telling you, I don’t give a damn that I’m too old, because I do give a fuck. Any man comes anywhere near you, I’ll gut him, and I won’t think twice, nor will I hesitate.”

  “You should scare the hell out of me,” I say before I press closer to him, my lips just brushing his. “You don’t; but you piss me off.” I sigh as my lips touch his, and my tongue invades his mouth. I think I could be pissed, scared, happy, or sad and still be attracted—still want this man.

  I give myself to him, tasting him and lifting one leg around his thigh in an effort to get even closer to his long, hard body. I feel crazed, like I need his touch, or I’m going to lose my ability to breathe. Then I moan when his hands release their hold on my waist and neck to dive into my hair, tugging on the strands as he takes control and deepens our kiss even more.

  Max takes a step back, breaking our kiss as his chest moves up and down with his heavy breathing, his eyes looking down at me with confusion. The moment only lasts a second before he grins. He looks so much like Fury, or really, Fury looks so much like him in this moment. I’m still in awe of how much they look like they could be brothers, definitely not as though they’re father and son.

  “Let’s get you some clothes and shit,” he murmurs as he goes over to his closet and throws a plain black t-shirt at me.

  I change out of his exposing tank and slip the shirt on, tying a knot at my hips to make it look less like a dress.

  I watch as he turns and starts to walk away from me. I grab my purse off of the bed and hurry after him, trying to shake my daze from his delicious kiss. Once we’re out of his bedroom, I stand to the side and watch him lock his door, including the deadbolt.

  “Why’d you lock it?” I ask in confusion.

  “There’s too many people in and out of here,” he says as his answer, simple and not open for discussion.

  Then he shocks the hell out of me as he wraps his hand around mine and tugs me after him. We walk through the clubhouse, his clubhouse, holding hands.

  I try to fight the smile that’s growing on my lips just thinking about the fact that I’m holding hands with a man, something I haven’t done since I was in high school.

  The clubhouse is pretty quiet, only a few men loitering around, and none are interested in us as we make our way toward the front door. Then my eye catches the woman from last night—the blonde bitch that was talking shit to Max about being too old to get it up.

  I wish, I wish I could tell her just how he got it up and got me off, but then she’d probably try and ride him herself, and I’d have to act as crazy jealous as he just did a few minutes ago. When her eyes connect with mine, I watch as they narrow and a sneer appears on her red painted lips. I choose to ignore her and follow Max outside.

  “We’ll go in my truck so we have room for whatever shit you want,” he murmurs.

  I do a mental calculation of my bills in my head—what I have in my bank account and what I need to pay. Then I realize that I need a computer so I can work. I can maybe pay two month’s rent, as long as I pay minimum payments on my credit cards, and I know that my power will be shut off before I make it back home.
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br />   That’s just something I’m going to have to worry about later—along with the food that is surely going to rot in my fridge and the trash I didn’t take out before I left.

  “What’s this?” I ask as we stop in front a lifted, big ass, black truck.

  “My truck,” Max chuckles.

  It’s a new, four-door pickup, lifted off of the ground with at least a six-inch lift if not more. The windows are blacked out and it’s probably the sexiest truck I have ever seen, if a truck could be sexy. I decide that it can, because this one is.

  “How do I get inside?” I ask.

  Max grins, opening the door, and then steps automatically unfold from underneath it. I gasp and turn to him in surprise.

  “That is the coolest thing I have ever seen,” I practically squeal.

  “Hop on up, sweetness,” Max smiles.

  I do. I climb up inside of his sexy truck, and I practically purr when my ass hits his leather seat. I strap on my seatbelt and pet the leather a few times, feeling the softness beneath my fingertips.

  “Why didn’t you pick me up in this?” I ask accusatorily as he sits down and starts his engine.

  “Kinda hard to be inconspicuous in this thing,” he shrugs as he starts to drive.

  “Yeah, but the drive would have been so much better,” I mumble.

  “What? Don’t like bein’ on the back of my bike?” he asks with a laugh.

  “I like it just fine, but I think my limit is an hour, maybe two.”

  “Noted, sweetness,” he chuckles as he fiddles with the radio buttons.

  We don’t say much as we drive down the winding country roads. I really take in the scenery. It’s absolutely gorgeous here, and Mt. Shasta is probably the prettiest thing I have ever seen in my life. The white snow looks like a painting on the mountain. I can see why someone would want to live here in this unpopulated, tiny town. The view makes it all worth it.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Mt. Shasta mall,” he grunts as he drives, Zeppelin playing in the background.

  “A mall?” I ask, raising my brows.