Maddox (The Italian Cartel Book 5)

by Shandi Boyes

  Shut up, Demi. You’re a sinking ship. Drown in peace.

  “We’ll see,” Maddox mutters while jerking his chin to the left. “I’ve heard good things about this place, shall we test it out?”

  “I’m good.”

  I’ve craved a normal existence for over a decade. Dining in my hometown with any man won’t bring me close to the simplistic lifestyle I’m still hoping to achieve one day, but dining with Maddox would upend my plans entirely.

  I make it two steps away from the Latin restaurant Maddox nudged his head at before an arm bands around my waist, and I’m yanked back. I don’t put up a fight. What sane girl would? One of the most eligible bachelors this side of the country has his extremely fit body plastered against mine. Not only does it feel as wondrous as it looks, I’ve been dreaming about it being pressed against me since before I got my period.

  “Let me try that again. I’ve heard good things about this place. Let’s test it out.” Maddox walks us into the restaurant like it’s perfectly normal to carry a grown woman around as if she’s a child. “A table for two, please. Far in the back. My girl gets randy when her tastebuds are on fire.” Imagine a pro-wrestler being announced on fight night, then you’ll have an indication of how dramatic Maddox’s voice is during the last half of his statement.

  Ignoring the plea on my face that she declare the restaurant is fully booked, the maître d peers at me as if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet before she plucks two menus from her podium, then gestures for Maddox to follow her.

  “I can walk,” I stammer out, not only embarrassed several eyes in the capacity-filled restaurant sling my way but still foraging a way to hatch an escape. “You just witnessed that for five blocks.”

  “Eh,” Maddox immediately fires back, his grunt rumbling through both our chests. “I either walk you through then apologize profusely for your embarrassment during lunch, or fight off a pack of hungry middle-aged women without a taser.” He peers down at me and grins. It sets my heart racing. “I left it in my bag at the gym.”

  When confusion pops a crinkle between my brows, Maddox rocks his hips forward. I stiffen like a board when I discover the reason he’s using my body for coverage. He’s hard. I’m not talking Robert Flint’s reaction to our first kiss without his braces in the eleventh grade hard. I’m talking the type of stiffness a movie star would leak his dick pic on purpose hard.

  The fact my closeness instigates such a fierce response out of Maddox should turn my brain to mush. Alas, you can’t give up the opportunity of getting one up on your crush because of a little stiffness.

  I really shouldn’t say little, but you get what I mean.

  “Was it calling me a man’s name that got you turned on? Or the idea of dressing up like a woman?”

  The longer silence stretches between us, the bigger my grin becomes. I, along with every other girl in the grades each side of mine, had massive crushes on the Walsh brothers throughout high school. They look similar, but they all have unique traits. Maddox’s hair is more a reddish-blond than straight-up blond like Saint’s. Landon’s is burnt orange like their little sister, Justine, and Caidyn’s is brown. Maddox’s blue eyes have a tinge of green to them when he’s moody, and unlike two out of three of his brothers, he doesn’t hate the freckles dotted across his pasty white skin.

  Despite having the fairest skin of them all, Caidyn skipped the freckle gene. I’m kind of disappointed for him. There’s something insanely sexy about a freckle treasure hunt. Who knows where the search will take you?

  “There’s that sweet scent again that’s got me in all types of trouble,” Maddox murmurs under his breath when a shiver of excitement dashes down my spine. “At this rate, you’ll have to sit on my lap while we eat.”

  I snatch up a used napkin from one of the tables we’re veering past before tossing it into Maddox’s face. “How about you mop up the mess in your pants, then we can sit down and enjoy our meal?”

  He throws his head back and laughs. I really wish he wouldn’t. The vibration alone has me on the verge of climax. “If you think I’m already done, I clearly have my work cut out for me this weekend.”

  Weekend?

  I’m saved from requesting a towelette for my suddenly drenched face when we arrive at the table the maître d has assigned to us. Unlike the many dining options surrounding us, our table isn’t a booth, meaning Maddox has no choice but to set me onto my feet. It presents the perfect opportunity for me to flee, but since we’re at the very back of the restaurant, far from prying eyes, my feet refuse to answer the prompts of my brain—and perhaps my heart. It seems to rule the roost when it comes to anyone in the Walsh clan.

  “Killjoy,” Maddox whispers to the maître d, winking when she grins ear-to-ear about the mirth in his tone.

  I plop into my seat before covering my flaming-with-anger face with the menu. “Is she a friend of yours?”

  It’s Mood Swing City here today. One minute I’m telling him to back off, and the next minute I’m wondering how true claims are that you can kill someone with a fork.

  “Depends,” Maddox replies, taking my anger in stride like it’s no big deal.

  He probably handles neurotic, jealous women every day. They throw themselves at him all the time. The fact I expected to be treated differently shows how stupid I am, and I’m not solely referencing accepting his invitation for lunch, either.

  “Do you class Dimitri as your friend? Or do cousins not get the friend title?”

  Shit.

  “The maître d is your cousin?” The chirpy, she-needs-to-be-admitted-stalker, Demi is back. “That’s nice.”

  When I sink low in my chair so the menu can cover my face, Maddox’s laugh rumbles through the gilded cardboard a mere second before he plucks it out of my hand. “No hiding on me, Demi. I’ve been waiting for this day for years.”

  Years?

  I begin to wonder if I said my query out loud when Maddox mumbles, “This whole time I thought you were looking at Saint. It was only when your eyes remained glued to my half of the gym during his prowl did I realize I was wrong.”

  The pride in his eyes almost knocks me on my ass, but it won’t stop me from saying, “I wasn’t looking at you.”

  I’m a woeful liar, and Maddox is more than happy to call me out on it. “Stalking. Eyeballing. Fucking me with your eyes. Whatever you want to call it. You were totally doing it.”

  “I wasn’t fucking you with my eyes.” I totally was. “I was admiring your technique.” With our conversation heading in a direction I never anticipated, my next set of words come out with an edge of caution. “My uncle boards a local fighting chapter.” That made it sound like a legitimate organization. Don’t let me pull the wool over your eyes. “Sometimes he asks me to keep an eye on the competition for him.”

  “Oh.” Maddox’s facial expression is more reserved than I’ve ever seen it, and believe me, I have perused it multiple times the past thirteen plus years. “I thought maybe you were a regular at the gym because you were seeking new recruits?”

  “No,” I stammer out far too quickly for anyone to believe I’m being honest. “My uncle doesn’t value my opinion that much.” Since that’s straight-up honest, it sounds that way.

  I stop twisting my napkin around my fingers when Maddox says, “Perhaps he should. From what I’ve heard, you brought Petretti’s Restaurant back to life the past three years.”

  My smile is genuine. I never wanted to be a cook, but Petretti’s was close to my dad’s heart, so I couldn’t help but breathe life back into its lungs when it started to choke.

  “Do you eat at Petretti’s often?”

  Maddox waits for the server to fill our glasses with water before responding, “Depends. Do you class every second day as regular?”

  I nod like he asked if I think he’s sexy. “Pretty much so.”

  I won’t lie. I’m as smitten as a romance junkie eating breakfast at Tiffany’s that he dines at Petretti’s. His loyalty won’t line my pockets
with money, but it feels good knowing the dishes I handcrafted are being enjoyed by people not in my uncle’s industry.

  With my mood not as hostile as it was, we banter through three scrumptious courses, one bottle of wine, and many many hours of conversation. We talk about pretty much everything—school, family, and how Maddox stumbled onto the underground fight scene while endeavoring to impress a girl.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him not all college-aged women want to be wooed with violence.

  Some want to be saved from it.

  “And that pretty much sums up the past three years,” Maddox finalizes while dabbing at a chunk of guacamole stuck in the corner of his plump lips with a napkin.

  I noticed it a couple of minutes ago, but since the only way my lust-filled head could conjure up a way to remove it was with my tongue, I kept my knowledge of its existence on the down-low.

  I like Maddox, I have for years, but I must remain cautious. When I drag people into my life, it doesn’t matter how strong they are, they get hurt. My daddy was the strongest man I knew, but not even he could survive this world, so I’m not willing to place anyone else into the fire to see if they make it out alive.

  Maddox dumps his napkin onto his sauce-stained plate. “It’s been a good couple of years.”

  “Booze, brawling, and girls. Sounds like every guy’s fantasy.” This isn’t the first time jealousy has highlighted my tone today. It most likely won’t be the last.

  Ignoring Maddox’s dusting of my nose like he’s removing the dirt my comment sprinkled it with, I stand to my feet. “I really should head off. Sloane is probably panicked out of her mind.” When Maddox screws up his face, I splay my hands across my hips. “You can’t honestly believe you know my best friend better than I do. I ditched her at the gym hours ago. That kind of dumping requires more than a tub of ice cream. I’m about to go broke in the candy aisle.”

  He snatches up the bill wallet before my hand can get close to it, shoves it under his arm, then locks his eyes with mine. “Is Sloane spontaneous, strong-willed, and carefree?”

  Confident he hit the nail on the head, I bob my chin.

  “Then I have no hesitation in saying she’s praying for you not to rock up to your apartment any time soon.” Maddox pushes out with a chuckle while helming our walk to the counter to pay our bill.

  I follow him like a lost puppy. Mercifully, I look like I’m begging, but my tone is far fiercer. “Once again, how would you know that? Sloane is my best friend. I know her better than anyone.”

  He pulls a wad of bills I don’t want to know how he got them out of his wallet, hands them to his cousin, then shifts on his feet to face me. “Saint is my brother, so I not only know him, I know how he operates.”

  When I gesture for him to continue, a little confused as to what he means, he places his hand on the small of my back before guiding me outside.

  “Should you really do that?” I whisper, grinning. “I may not know how your brother operates, but if it’s anything like the thread in the crotch of your gym shorts, you probably shouldn’t place either of them under a magnifying glass for the second time today.”

  Maddox stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. While acting oblivious to the people mingling around us, he says, “Are you saying what I think you are, Ms. Don’t-Call-Me-Andi? Are you implying you’ll need a magnifying glass to inspect my package?”

  I wasn’t, but I am now. “Uh-huh.”

  Maddox’s mouth falls open. “Oh, that’s it. This shit is about to get messy.”

  I scream loud enough for two blocks over to hear when he bobs down, wraps an arm around my thighs, then tosses me over his shoulder. Like all women who read far too many erotic novels, I assume he is going to race us down the alley to prove the chunk of meat that dug into my backside hours ago wasn’t a footlong sub, but I’m not disappointed when he stops by an ice cream parlor a couple of minutes later.

  “If leaving your best friend at the mercy of the guy she’s been crushing on for years deserves a tub of ice cream, you owe me an entire fucking store. You never, I repeat, never, diss a guy’s package on the first date. Common courtesies demand a no-package comparison clause until at least the third date. That way, you can kiss his boo-boo better when he proves you otherwise.” The way he murmurs ‘boo-boo’ leaves no doubt as to what he’s referring. “It may be the only way you can pump his ego back up.”

  His reply makes me laugh, but it won’t stop me from pointing out the glitch in his grand scheme, “Date?”

  Maddox places an order for two vanilla cones before replying, “Yeah, D.A.T.E. Did you not know this was a date?” When I shake my head, he mocks. “I wined you, dined you, and poked you in the ass with my dick. How could you not know this was a date?”

  I accept my ice cream from the vendor before slowly pacing down the street. “I figured you’d have to ask a girl out before you could consider her your date.”

  “Maybe in whatever part of the world you’re from, but that doesn’t work around here.”

  His reply slackens the friction bristling between us. We’re not in Ravenshoe. We are in Hopeton, the very town my uncle makes it clear women aren’t just inferior, we’re easily replaceable. Here, we don’t get to say no. We do as we’re told or die. There are no in-betweens.

  After snatching his ice cream out of the store assistant’s hand, Maddox jogs to catch up with me. “What did I say wrong?”

  I shoo away his worry as if my stomach isn’t a twisted mess of confusion. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  “Dem—”

  “I’m fine, truly.” I spin to face him, almost sighing when my eyes drift over his deliriously handsome face. A green tinge has returned to his eyes, making me wonder if there’s more to their change than just a shift in moods. “But I really should go.”

  He almost argues, but the dumping of my barely touched ice cream into the waste bin at my side stops him. Even someone as cocky as Maddox Walsh knows turning down dessert after a date is the equivalent of snapping shut a ring box with the engagement ring still inside.

  “Thank you for a fun afternoon.” I can tell by the twitching of his lips when I lean in to place a kiss on his cheek that he wants to say something, but he just can’t force the words out of his mouth. “I’ll see you soon.” In my dreams, where you must stay.

  3

  Maddox

  With my feet planted at the width of my shoulders, and my head confident I fucked up, I watch Demi’s brisk retreat. I had wondered if I was coming on too strong. Can you blame me for being a little eager? For years, I’ve perused her big blue eyes, pouty lips, sinfully sexy face, and deadly black hair from afar because I was confident she’d forever be untouchable.

  I don’t give a fuck if it makes me look like a wimp, I have no shame admitting I love my family. They’ve had my back for years and ensured I didn’t have the fucked-up childhood not many kids these days can say they went without. I’d do anything for them, anything at all. I even stood back from the girl I had a crush on for years because I’d rather endure the heartache than thrust it onto one of my siblings.

  That’s all done and dusted with now, though.

  Saint forever peered Demi’s way.

  He watched her as I do when no one is paying any attention.

  Well, so I thought.

  After her father died, it was rare to see Demi anywhere, and anytime I was lucky enough to spot her, she wasn’t without a sidekick. Even now, years after she almost became a ward of the state, if Sloane isn’t at Demi’s side, her uncle is.

  Most people would think that’s a good thing. I’ve not once reached the same conclusion. Col Petretti isn’t a nice man. He treats his children like vermin, so I’d hate to consider what Demi has faced under his guardianship since she shares only a portion of his blood.

  In public, Col portrays the role of a loving uncle well. He brings out the charm, and for the most part, his act is gobbled up by the fools hoping to live in his realm. He has everyone con
vinced he’s a gentleman—everyone but me, and I plan to expose him for who he really is. It’s taking longer than hoped, but you can only stack fraudulent chips for so long before they eventually spill. Col’s day is coming, I just need to yield patience.

  It isn’t a known Walsh trait.

  I watch Demi take a left on 22nd Street before pivoting on my heels and heading in the opposite direction. My motorbike is parked at the gym. I only walked because Demi was walking. Caidyn will chew me up and spit me out when he discovers I went on a date after a two-hour workout, but what can I say? When an opportunity presents itself, you must take it. Nothing is more expensive than a missed opportunity.

  I make it to the ice cream parlor I stupidly thought I could woo Demi at with the knowledge I know her favorite flavor when a girlie tone slackens my stride. “Are you really going to end a date on a sour note? Especially with the girl you’ve been crushing on since primary school!”

  My drooped lips morph into a grin when it dawns on me why the girlie voice is so familiar. My baby sister is in town, and although she’s standing next to a man I’d rather pummel with my fists than greet with a dip of my chin, nothing can slacken my smile, especially when she says, “Even if I were still at school, I would have felt the chemistry crackling between you two. That’s how intense it was.”

  Justine attends college a hundred miles from home. Her excuse was that there were no good architectural courses at STEM Academy. I’m calling her bluff. She doesn’t want to design buildings for a living, but since she doesn’t have the guts to tell our parents that, she pushed them to the brink by declaring she wanted to attend school a hundred miles from home at the tender age of eighteen. She’s the youngest of our family but the first to officially move out.

  “Stop it,” Justine mouths when my glare focuses on her date a little longer than what can be classed as acceptable.

  I don’t have anything against Brax Anderson. Unlike most of the residents on his side of the tracks, he has stable employment, a roof over his head, and he’s been nothing but respectful to Justine since they got freaky in our family hot tub two years back, but the fact he takes his dates to Hopeton for a night out reveals he isn’t the right man for my baby sister. She needs someone with class. Someone who’ll fight for her no matter how bad the odds. Someone who won’t let her walk away when he puts his foot in his mouth.