Maddox (The Italian Cartel Book 5)

by Shandi Boyes

  My uncle tugs me behind him when Maddox’s flaring nostrils announce he spotted the marks my face didn’t have this morning. He isn’t protecting me from Maddox’s wrath. He’s announcing to Maddox that he will have to cross more than a line to reach me.

  “Nine o’clock on the dot. Lucky you weren’t a second later. The men are so thirsty, they spent most of the fight watching her squirm instead of the bloodbath.” My uncle laughs. No one joins in. The derogative way he articulated ‘her’ would make the hardest criminal grimace.

  It takes Maddox working his jaw side to side three times before he can respond. “You said nine o’clock. I don’t show up early for anything or anyone.” His tone is way too calm for my liking. Not in a million years should he be here. Win or not, he won’t walk out of this warehouse the same man. “Except her. I would have been here hours ago if it were my choice.”

  Even though I have no issue reading Maddox’s underlying message—he’s disappointed I took the decision to fight out of his hands—it won’t stop me from trying to persuade him otherwise. “You need to leave.” Ignoring my uncle’s brutal clutch on my wrist, I step around him so Maddox can feel the urgency beaming out of me without interference. “Go now before it’s too late.”

  His family won’t survive my uncle’s fury, and neither will I. Maddox loves his family. He wouldn’t be the person he is if it weren’t for them. I don’t want them taken away from him because we create fireworks when we fuck.

  “It’s all right,” Maddox mouths to me like he does his brothers when he thinks no one is looking. “We will be out of here before you know it.”

  When he winks at me, forever cocky, I sigh. He’s walking into this blindly. He has no clue what he’s about to face since they removed the deceased man from the ring and mopped up the blood during his race across the dusty warehouse floor.

  “Maddox, please—”

  “Ten, twenty minutes tops, then you’ll never have to come back here.”

  “Spoken like a man with a bucket-load of confidence.” My uncle shrugs before he twists his torso to face the bookmaker. “But cockiness only goes so far in the ring. Put fifty thousand on Igor. I feel like playing the field tonight.”

  I feel the blood drain from my face. Igor is who the men were bragging about when I was held captive in my uncle’s office. He’s undefeated in this tournament and known for killing men just for fun.

  “Go, Maddox, please,” I beg, my voice a roar.

  He stumbles backward when I push him, but he doesn’t get anywhere near as close to the exit as I’m hoping.

  “It’s okay.” He promises when my wish to force him to leave sees a gun butted to my temple. “I swear to you, it’ll be okay.”

  Droplets of salty water stream down my face when I shake my head. I want to believe him. I want to grant him the trust he so blindly gave me last night, but I can’t. The world my uncle rules wasn’t made for men like him. It will destroy him long before his time and crush his spirit even quicker than that.

  With the crowd on their feet clapping and cheering about the commencement of the feature round, it takes Maddox climbing through the frayed ropes of the ring before our eyes lock and hold. He watches me when the roar of the crowd announces the entrance of his opponent, unfazed about Igor’s large frame and killer demeanor. He’s tattooed head-to-toe, even his scalp, and he’s wearing the white cloth sumo wrestlers regularly don. I heard that’s his trademark because he uses his size to crush his opponents to death.

  “Don’t let him get ahold of you!” I scream to project my voice over the uproarious crowd, adding to my warning by pretending to hug myself. “You need to move fast and time your hits.”

  I can’t believe I’m coaching Maddox like I’m his trainer. Will I be able to do the same when he’s killing a man with his bare hands? Or worst, summarizing ways to get him out of the danger zone? I honestly don’t know.

  After removing his shoes at the referee’s request, Maddox jerks up his chin, advising he heard me. It should weaken the knot in my stomach. It doesn’t. He isn’t warming up his muscles for the exhaustive activity they’re about to endure, nor is he prancing around the ring like Igor, feeding off the hype of the boisterous crowd. He’s staring at the door he walked through only moments ago like he’s hopeful the match will be called off before it begins.

  “Protect your face,” I scream at the top of my lungs when Igor creeps up on Maddox unaware.

  The referee didn’t announce the start of the fight.

  Igor is just super eager for the bloodbath to begin.

  “No!” I scream when Igor’s fist collides with the side of Maddox’s head so brutally, I’m shocked blood isn’t pouring out of Maddox’s ear. “Move off the ropes!”

  I race for Maddox just as the light inside his head seemingly clicks on. While I’m yanked onto my seat by Mario pulling me back, Maddox ducks, missing Igor’s second swing before he slams his fist into his ribs three times with the hope a fractured ribcage will slow him down.

  When Maddox’s plan comes up trumps, he moves to the other side of the mat. His hands are up, protecting his face, but his eyes continually stray to the door.

  Anyone would swear he was waiting for someone to show up.

  “I think we underestimated him,” my uncle says to the bookie in a low, shallow tone. “He should have gone down after that hit.”

  After watching the bookie hand over a chunk of money to my uncle he’s yet to earn, I shift my focus back to the ring. Igor is marching Maddox’s way. He’s pissed Maddox got his fists on him once, let alone injured him, and if the murderous gleam in his eyes is anything to go by, he’s about to take all his annoyance out on Maddox.

  “Aim for his legs!”

  Maddox strays his eyes from the door to me, then to Igor before he bobs down low to swipe Igor’s legs out from beneath him. Igor’s thunderous crack with the canvas sends a collective hiss racing across the room. The shouts grow more rampant when Maddox’s fist ramming into Igor’s nose is even more brutal than his collision with the springless mat.

  “Get up!” my uncle roars at Igor when Maddox’s punishment of his face makes him slow to his feet. Unlike the demands of the men seated around the ring cheering for bloodshed, Maddox climbed off Igor after only half a dozen hits. He didn’t pummel his face in until his mother wouldn’t recognize him.

  “Focus!” I demand when Maddox’s eyes once again drift to the entryway door.

  I don’t care if my coaching gets me shot, raped, or any of the other horrible things my uncle is planning for me. If it gets Maddox out of this alive, I’ll face the injustice because he won’t be anything if he doesn’t start paying attention to what he’s doing. He isn’t merely facing a killer in the ring. All the men surrounding him are also murderers.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” I scream on repeat when Igor wraps Maddox up in a bear hug.

  Igor is so tall, Maddox’s feet immediately lift from the canvas. His arms are disabled, so only his head and legs are at his disposal to maneuver out of his attacker’s hold.

  “Throw your head back. Headbutt him in the nose!” I do the same to Mario when the crowd’s shouts become too loud for Maddox to hear me.

  When Mario stumbles back with a groan, his hands shooting up to protect his gushing nose, I race for the ropes. “Scramble! Use his woozy head to your advantage,” I command when the vibrant shade of red on Maddox’s face weakens by a smidge. “You need to bring him down. Make him drop. He is slower when he’s closer to the canvas.” For professional fighters, the opposite is usually true, but Igor is so large, he can’t get any power behind his swings when he’s on the floor.

  I fight my uncle with as much gusto as Maddox does Igor when I’m pulled away from the ring by my hair. It’s wrenched from my scalp, but the pain is barely noticeable. My heart is in too much agony to give a little bit of discomfort any attention. I can’t see Maddox, but the horrendous crunches coming from the ring are enough for me to understand what’s happening. So
meone is being beaten to death, and it’s all my fault.

  “Let him tap out,” I beg my uncle when he throws me onto a chair at the back of the bleachers. “Please. I’ll do anything you want. A-a-anything at all.”

  His smirk would have you convinced I’m a comedian. “Even all these men?”

  I drag my eyes over the men surging toward the ringside seats they can’t afford. They’re enjoying the bloodbath so much they’re willing to risk being banned from next month’s match for a better view. The number of men who pay top dollar to watch a man be killed is sickening. As far as I’m concerned, that makes them as corrupt and immoral as my uncle, but the knowledge they’ll hurt me purely because I’m mafia royalty won’t stop me from nodding.

  The instant I slipped my uncle’s business card out of Maddox’s wallet, I signed my death certificate. Maddox’s unexpected arrival hasn’t changed that. I’m dead no matter what. My agreement to my uncle’s terms just means I have to take the long way to hell.

  “Please,” I try again when I appear to be getting through to him.

  My tears aren’t convincing him, and neither are the uncontrollable shakes hampering my body. It’s the mental calculation he did in his head when it dawned on him how many men were eyeballing me before Maddox arrived. They were hoping he’d be a no-show, so they could have their way with me, and my uncle is planning to cash in their wishes like he’s a genie with an unlimited number of wishes.

  When a gurgle I’ve never heard before rumbles in my uncle’s chest, I stray my eyes in the direction he’s peering. I prepare my stomach for the horrifying image of Maddox lying lifeless in the ring, so you can imagine my absolute shock when the only motionless thing hanging over the edge of the bloodstained canvas is Igor. His head is contorted at a weird angle, and although his eyes are open, they show no signs of life.

  I suck in a shaky breath when my eyes finally land on Maddox. He isn’t dead. He’s barging his way through the crowd flocking him to issue their congratulations. The disdain on his face hardens with every step he takes. He killed a man for me, and now he looks set to murder another.

  I should let him. I would if I weren’t aware of the repercussions he’d face. There are rules this industry not even I can break. If Maddox kills my uncle, he won’t make it out of this warehouse alive. Considering that’s been my only objective the past twenty-four hours, I have to step between him and my uncle like protecting my family is more important to me than breathing, even when it isn’t.

  “Well done,” my uncle gabbles out, humored by the rage in Maddox’s eyes when I stop his charge by splaying my hand across his sweaty, blood-dotted chest. “You beat the beast and made me a bucketload of money.”

  When he attempts to hand some of that so-called money to Maddox, Maddox shoves it back into his chest, seizes my wrist in a firm hold, then tugs me behind him like my uncle did when he arrived. It’s a clear sign to the men circling us that he only fought tonight for one reason. Me.

  For the next several long seconds, my uncle gauges the reaction of the men eyeballing his exchange with Maddox like this is the real reason they fork over thousands of dollars every month. Some are enemies, some are allies, but without a doubt, all of them are sick fucks he wants to impress so badly, he goes off-script.

  “Very well. You’ve earned it.”

  By it, he means me.

  After clicking his fingers two times, he digs a gold pen out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket. It’s the same pocket he put the boxcutter in that would have claimed his life if it weren’t blunt.

  “With the holiday season approaching, we have a delay between contests.” When the crowd boos, he waves his hand through the air like he’s a king. “I know, I know. Cry me a river.”

  While the crowd laughs as if he is hilarious, my uncle jots down the time and date for Maddox’s next deathmatch onto the business card Mario handed him. “You will be forwarded the location the day before the next fight.”

  This kills me to admit, but my uncle isn’t as stupid as he looks. There’s no way the death matches could take place in the same location more than once. It’s hard enough keeping the authorities away from his standard Friday night feature. I’m sure their interest in this type of circuit would be enough to have it immediately shut down.

  My relieved sigh hits Maddox’s sweat-drenched neck when he screws up the card within a nanosecond of my uncle handing it to him, tosses it to the ground, then spits on it.

  My uncle throws back his head and laughs. I have no clue what he thinks is funny. I’m far from amused, even more so when he swings his eyes to me. I assume he’s about to reference something along the lines of my mouth not tasting as sugary as my mother’s, but I forget we’re in public. He can’t share his incest inclinations here.

  “Do you truly think one fight gives you unlimited access to my niece? She’s mafia royalty. Her blood is worth something.” He stares me straight in the face while adding, “As is her cunt.” He smirks at the narrowing of my eyes before continuing, “This is a month-to-month agreement.” He tsks himself before stating again, “Or should I say match-to-match agreement. You have her until the next round. If you win that fight, she’s yours again until the next round. And so on, and so on, and so on, until you get so bored of her, you’ll beg me to slit her throat.”

  Maddox’s words sound like they’re delivered straight from hell when he spits out, “I’m not playing your games, Col.” It’s a throaty, heated reply that reveals his persona changed the instant he snapped Igor’s neck.

  “You’re not?” My uncle steps up to Maddox until the thrusts of their chests compete for space. “Because to me, it looks as if you walked straight into my trap.” His smug grin doubles when he drifts his eyes to the door Maddox was staring at most of his fight. He stares into the pitch-black night, laughing as if he has the world at his feet before he eventually returns his focus to Maddox. “You now know what I’m capable of. Don’t underestimate me again.”

  When he tilts in to whisper something into Maddox’s ear, I miss the majority of what he says, but I’m confident it’s something along the lines of Maddox being a snitch since ‘snitches’ was vocalized loud enough for everyone to hear.

  The tension in the room turns ghastly when Maddox and my uncle stand across from each other for several long seconds. I want to say something, but I can’t get the words out of my mouth. I’m not only shocked by the turn of events tonight, I’m stunned by Maddox bobbing down to collect my uncle’s business card from the floor. He doesn’t hand it back to him as I’m hoping, he slides it into the pocket of his gym shorts before he heads for the exit that was nearly responsible for his demise. Since he’s clasping my wrist, I fall into step behind him.

  “I guess we’re done?” my uncle says, his tone pompous. “Her cunt is yours until the next round. Who knows whose it will be after that?”

  After coming to a dead halt in the middle of the eyeballing crowd, Maddox drags his eyes over my face. His pupils are massively dilated, making his eyes appear as deadly as the South China Sea in the middle of a typhoon, but they darken even more when his baby blues drink in the fresh bruises on my face.

  “One last thing,” Maddox eventually replies, his voice unlike anything I’ve ever heard.

  Before anyone has time to respond, Maddox releases my wrist from his grip, takes one step back, then plants a perfectly structured right-swung hit to my uncle’s cheek. It jolts my uncle back so forcefully, even with Mario always at his six, his tumble to the floor is brutal. He hits the dirty concrete with a grunt so loud, it projects over the shocked hisses of men who have wished to do the same but will never have the courage.

  “Stay the fuck away from Demi,” Maddox snarls over my uncle lying flat on the floor, dazed and confused, and quite possibly knocked out. “I earned her, that makes her mine.”

  I’ve previously said I don’t want to be claimed, but I’m okay with it this time around. Maddox killed for me. He went against everything he’s ever belie
ved in and turned them on their heads for me.

  That makes me his.

  With my uncle too bewildered to order otherwise, Maddox regrips my hand, then recommences our exit. Shockingly, it’s done without any interference.

  I don’t see that being the case when my uncle comes to.

  18

  Maddox

  I killed a man.

  Me.

  I snapped his neck.

  Don’t let the simplicity of my statement fool you. His murder wasn’t easy by any feat. It isn’t like you see in the movies. To snap someone’s neck, you have to do more than contort their neck. The body usually follows any twisty movements you do, so you have to torque the neck away from the body before snapping it.

  When the body is as big as the brute I was fighting, it would have taken everything I had to do that, so I went for something simpler—an age-old trick. I used force instead. I won’t give you all the details. It isn’t something that will leave me anytime soon, so I have plenty of time to share, but it also isn’t something I want publicly acknowledged.

  I didn’t have a choice. Demi had a gun pointed at the back of her head. Her uncle looked seconds away from murdering her, and from what the brute was spurting while crushing me like I was a bug, murder would have been the only kind thing to happen to Demi tonight.

  Once he had me wrapped up in a bear hug, he told me how he dibbed Col’s seconds, that he was going to rape Demi after she was sodomized by her uncle in front of the men surging toward the ring, chanting for more blood.

  His confession caused something inside me to snap.

  I held off for as long as I could. I tried to be the bigger man, but as I’m learning faster than I care to admit, there are barely any decent men in the world anymore. I put my faith in one far too much tonight, and my hope he was a decent man swung back and hit me square in the face.

  I’m riding away from a crime scene with the girl I’ve had a crush on for over a decade on the back of my bike. Some would say that’s a victory. To me, it isn’t close to the truth. I should have never been in the predicament I was in. Demi should have never been in the predicament she was in. Yet, we were both there because of one man.