“Max, please. It’s fine.” Fury burns through him from Blade’s hand on her lower back, asserting control over her.
She doesn't resist. Only presses her trembling hands to her cheeks. “I’m really tired. Why don’t you go home, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow? I just...I just want to go to bed.”
Fucking motherfucker. She’s dismissing him. “What the fuck's going on?"
"Nothing."
The first time she's ever lied to him. "Bullshit. What is he—"
This time she really does wince from Blade's huge hand digging into her tiny waist. So deep the outline of her ribs pokes through the white fabric. God damn son of a bitch.
"Nothing. I don't..." Fear flashes in her eyes, contrasting with her adamant tone. "I mean you need to get some rest too. And, Gina...Gina's waiting for you. I'm sure she's worried about you."
"Yeah, go home to your girlfriend. No one wants you here."
Viciousness flames in Blade's gaze, egging him to fight. Every vein in his body responds. Pulsing to destroy his arrogant ass and end whatever the fuck this is. But not here. Not now. Because Shae's seen enough dead bodies and doesn't need another one a few feet from her daughter. “It’s over, motherfucker. Get the fuck out. You're fired.”
Another shit-eating smirk curls Blade's lips. “Is that true, Miss Armstrong?”
“Yeah, Mrs. DeMarco wants you gone.”
Max reaches for her hand but she yanks her fingers out of his grasp. Raising her chin, she squares her shoulders. Morphs into her professional persona as if she accepts some fucked up role she’s playing.
Her hollow expression meets his. "You're the one who needs to leave. You don't work here anymore, remember?"
Fucking god damn. Heat races through his face like she smacked him. Unable to utter a single word from the absolute harshness in hers. Never expecting her of all people to turn on him. To punish him for choosing his happiness when she already found hers. Not the person who always forgives them no matter what. Until now.
"Shae?"
A furious shake of her head before Blade pivots her toward the stairs, hustling them past the three men bounding upwards. To kick his ass out. Banished from the house as well as her heart.
He jerks away from the bastard grasping his arm and jogs down the steps of his own accord. He'll go quietly for Evie's sake. But this is far from fucking over. He'll never break his promise to Nick to protect them. No matter how much she despises him for it.
Gina’s delicate fingers entwine tighter with his, and he brings their coupled hands to his mouth. Kissing her satin skin. Finding a bit of respite in her soft touch and lavender scent. Despite the rage burning through him. Fury he’s trying so desperately to hide from her.
“She’s exhausted. I’m sure she just feels overwhelmed. Let’s go over there. We can talk to her. Maybe get her an appointment with her psychiatrist, Dr…” She frowns, trying to remember with worried exhaustion already darkening her beautiful face. Her eyes widen and she nods. “...Dr. Meyer?”
He fucking hates upsetting Gina. And lying to her is even worse. But he must shield her from the real story, or she’ll blame herself. After checking on Shae three times this week that she didn’t see it coming either. But it’s not like she’s completely herself. Still struggling everyday over the loss of her family and Holly as well as Nick.
So he skirts the truth. Only telling her that Shae’s had some kind of breakdown. Pushing him away when she needs him more than ever. Instead of admitting that while Andy’s been out of town for him this week, Blade made his move. Fucking taken over the house, controlling Shae and everything else.
He should have understood Marta’s warning better. No, what he really should have fucking done is stayed on fucking top of things. How the fuck did he miss that Shae blocked his number? That her and Evie’s trackers were gone? That he had no fucking idea the mercenary had plans all along to go rogue.
God fucking damn. He’s got to figure this out. Up all night, he’s been rifling through the information the team has gathered. That the bastard’s brought in his own men. Drained Shae’s bank accounts. Preparing to launch a takeover of Nick’s – his – territory. Every single piece of the data confirming that he’s a stupid motherfucking dumb ass who fucking missed every single sign of Blade’s deception.
His phone pings again. This time from Robert, Carrie’s primary bodyguard. Carrie just left the mansion, and she’s on her way to the townhouse.
Good. Andy will be home in a few hours, and they can plan their attack. Maybe he can come up with a way for Gina and Carrie to get Shae separated from Blade. Then he can kill that fucking bastard and end this. And not scare Gina anymore after all she’s been through herself.
He tosses the cell on the table, barely missing his coffee mug. Gone cold from his distraction. Doesn’t matter. He’s more wired from anger than caffeine could ever make him. “Carrie’s coming over.”
“This is so fucked up. I just don’t understand why she’s mad at you. I mean I know I went off the deep end a few times too, but I always wanted you.”
Same here. He pulls her onto his lap. Nuzzling her neck and welcoming her essence washing over him. A feeling of calm for both of them, even in their turmoil. Funny how massive the comfort she offers is, despite her small size.
The buzzer interrupts their brief moment of peace. Kissing her forehead before letting her stand up, he blows out a deep breath. Game time to figure out how to get Carrie to help them without revealing how fucked up the situation really is. Neither she nor Nathan need any more reason to freak out.
He strides to the foyer and yanks open the door. Ready to put his plan in motion. “Hey.”
Carrie's blotchy face fills his vision before her fists pound on his chest. Her cries shrieking in his ears. He stumbles backward, trying to get a handle on the absolute fury pummeling him.
"Do you know how much I fucking hate you for what you guys have done to her? She was fine before she met him. And now she's...she’s…" Sobs steal her voice, and she falls to her knees. Tiny balled hands sliding down his legs before she curls into herself.
Gina drops next to her before he can. "What the hell happened?"
"Sh-she told me. That I..." Her strangled cries tangle with the words. Nothing comprehensible. Except her pain. Gina rocks her like a baby, the two women huddled together on the cream tile. Tears streak Carrie’s flushed face as she clings to his fiance.
Almost crazed, he somehow reins in his outrage and squats down to them. Scanning Carrie for any bruises or scratches. Though at this moment he doesn’t know if physical injuries would be worse than the mental devastation laying her out on Gina’s floor. With shaking hands, he grasps Carrie’s shoulders and turns her toward him. “You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it until I know what happened.”
She nods, sucking in a deep breath. A shudder rolling through her body. Still leaning into Gina’s strokes down her back. "She has a charity promo she's recording with Marcus this morning. When I tried to call her to ask what time I should come over...she wouldn't answer." Carrie swipes at fresh tears dripping off her chin, swallowing from her breaking voice. "So I went over there to see what was going on. Blade wouldn’t let me in. He said she didn't want to see me anymore. That she knew I was only using her. That we were never really friends, and I…"
Fresh sobs overtake her while her words fade away. Motherfucker. Gina’s shiny gaze meets his, realizing his deception. Now understanding as much as he does how much danger Shae is in from Blade cutting off her connection with them.
“I’m sorry. I’ll fix this.” He shakes his head, pounding from the adrenaline pumping through his body. “I swear to God I’ll fucking fix this.”
He jumps up and yanks his phone out of his pocket, slamming the screen for RJ’s button. The tech nerd better fucking pick up.
“Hello?”
“Get me Marcus Brown’s cell phone number. Now.”
Fucking hating that he sounds like a dick
but he has no choice.
“Yeah, su-sure. Hold on.”
After about thirty seconds, the cell pings with a text containing the digits. He pounds the tiny keyboard. Marcus this is Max Masterson, Shae’s bodyguard from the VMA photo shoot. Is Shae with you?
Come on. Come on. His hand flexes against the case. Willing the screen to flash with the response. Instead it vibrates in his hand, a generic ring tone playing.
“Marcus?”
"Yo, Max. Why aren't you here?"
Yeah, why the fuck isn't he there? Where he should be. "It's a long story. Are you with Shae?"
"Yeah man, and our girl looks bad. All pale and shaky. I mean I know she's jacked up over her husband and shit, but damn. And she...fuck...I mean..."
Wrath burns in his chest from worry coiling through Marcus's uncertain tone. "What?"
"I don't know. When I hugged her, she acted like I was fucking hurting her. And her face." A long breath rustles through the speaker. "She's got a fucking bruise on her cheek. She tried to cover it up with a bunch of makeup but you can still see it."
Done. He is fucking done. This shit is fucking over. "Where are you guys?"
"Her studio on Los Enanitos."
"I'm on my way. Don't let her leave. No matter what her bodyguard says, keep her there and make sure I get buzzed in."
"You got it. I mean I just met this Blade dude but there's something off about him. She seems scared of him. Like this stupid motherfucker's fucked her up."
More than you’ll ever know. “I’ll be there in ten.”
He turns to the girls sitting on the sofa. Carrie’s hand shaking as she lifts the shot glass Gina’s given her to her mouth and swallows down the whiskey. Her eyes clamp shut before she shudders against the burn.
“I’m going to get her. Andy will be here in a few. Don’t leave.”
No smirk or smart aleck response this time. Carrie too terrified for humor when it's Shae who's in jeopardy. Gina rises up to meet him, her arms wrapping tight around his neck. “Please be careful. I love Shae but I can’t lose you too.”
He nods at her terrified plea. No way in hell he’s going to disappoint either of them. “We’re all going to be okay. I promise.”
17
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Max glides through the side door Marcus holds open for him. Both of them scanning inside and out for Blade’s men. “Thanks. I owe you, man.”
“No problem. I hate seeing Shortie like this. I’ll do whatever it takes to help her.”
Max nods. So will he. “We’ve got to separate her and Blade. Are they together?”
Marcus points to a door at the end of the hallway. “Un uh. Shae’s in the recording studio by herself. He’s in the waiting room on the other side.”
Fuck. Closer than Max would like, but nothing he can do about it. “Can he see her?”
"Not if she goes into the kitchenette in the back."
"Take her in there to get a water or something. I'll meet you in there."
Marcus jogs down the corridor, glancing back one more time before he turns the knob. Max fucking hates getting her friend involved in this, but the only man still living that he trusts isn't here. So he has to enlist help where he can.
Once the football player is inside, Max taps his phone, reminding Andy to head straight to the townhouse once he lands. He's got to keep Gina and Carrie safe, especially if this goes bad. He follows Marcus's path, silently opening the door and stepping inside. Marcus talks to Blade, the bodyguard's back to Max only a few inches from the window separating the rooms. He jets past the glass to where Shae sits, staring blankly at the bottle rolling through her fingers. Dark circles rim her eyes, even more pronounced against her ashen face. Her head flies up when the lock clicks shut behind him.
"You need to leave." Tiny hands shove against his chest. Her huge rock almost iridescent in the dim room. Proof the connection between her and Nick still exists. That he has to take every advantage of.
She glances toward the door, and steps back. Hugging herself as she shivers. Fucking afraid of that motherfucker. “You have to get out of here.”
“Not without you. I know what’s going on. What he’s doing to you. Your phone. Carrie. The money. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“I’m not. He’s not doing anything to me. I-I-I gave him the money. I w-want him to have it.” Her voice trembles as much as her fingers grasping the sides of her head. Her panicked gaze flicking behind him again. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
"The fuck you are." He yanks the weird scarf wrapped around her neck. Way too hot for it in this weather. Not fooling anyone that she's hiding something. "Are those his fingerprints on your throat?”
She tries to jerk away, but he grasps her arms, trying to force her to answer him. To admit what the hell is going on. She tips her head down, unwilling to meet his eyes.
“What the fuck does he have over you? Why are you letting him do this to you?”
Her shoulders slump under his hands, and she shakes her head, biting her lip.
“What if he hurts Evie?”
A steely gaze meets his. All of her fiery determination he thought was gone returns at the mention of her daughter. “I won’t let that happen.”
“What if you can’t stop him?”
“Please go. I'm begging you. He’s going to be so furious.”
Bile burns his throat from the terror seeping through her tone. That all she worries about is not angering that motherfucker.
“I know you hate me, but what about Carrie? Why did you push her away?”
“I don’t. I could never...” A breathless sob heaves in her chest, and her grip on his forearms tightens. Her fear squeezing both of them. “Please, Max. Please protect her. Don’t let him hurt her – don’t let anything happen to her.”
“What about you? I can’t let anything happen to you. Nick would never want this.”
He’s hurting her and fucking hates it. But there’s no other way to reach her. To get through this fucked up control Blade has over her. “Are you fucking him?”
Nothing but a sharp gasp. Both of them shocked he would berate her like this. Which he has to keep doing. “Nick’s been dead less than two weeks. Was it really that easy to move on to someone else? Did you even take a minute to miss him before you opened your legs for Blade?”
She’s full on crying now, breaking his heart from torturing her. "I l-love Nick."
“If you really loved Nick, you wouldn’t be with Blade.”
“It’s not what you think. It’s...”
He gives her a hard shake. Nick would totally kick his ass for manhandling her like this. Which he would totally welcome to have his best friend back. “God damn it Shae. Let me help you.”
“I’m scared.”
That’s all he needs to hear. He knew this guy was blackmailing her or some other fucked up shit. He jerks around as the door rips off the hinges. A snarl curls Blade’s lips and his gaze zeros in on Shae. “Get the fuck over here.”
She launches out from behind him and scurries toward the son of a bitch. "I'm so sorry. I just—"
The rear door flies open, and Max twists trying to dodge the men reaching for him. He stretches to catch her wrist, but can't move fast enough before the bastards grab his arms, holding him in place. God damn fucking shit. Nothing he can fucking do but watch Blade's fist connect with her eye. She flies across the room, her frail body slamming into the drywall before sliding to the thick carpet.
"Motherfucker!"
Max strains against the assholes holding him. In return one takes the opportunity to give him a deep punch to the gut. Fuck. Breaking his fucking ribs. His body so taut the pain doesn't even register. Can only fucking focus on Blade, sliding off his belt and striding toward Shae, who cowers by the sofa. Trying to pull herself up. A sharp yelp barks in her throat from him yanking her off the floor by her hair.
"How many times have I fucking told you not to talk to him? Did you think I was fucking kidding?" B
lade’s huge fingers grip the leather tighter, and he lifts his arm, ready to strike her as she dangles from his other hand. "So what's it going to be this time? What do you think your friend would enjoy watching more? My cock or the belt?"
A surprising defiance fills her expression even as she flinches in pain. "Belt."
He's got to fucking stop this. "What do you want Blade? I've got more money than God and just as much power. Let her go, and it's all yours."
A cocky laugh rumbles in the bastard's chest, and he tosses Shae against the small table before he strides over. His hot breath blowing on Max's face. "You don't have to give me jack shit. I've already taken it."
Blade rears back and smashes into his nose, the sickening snap of bone vibrating down his spine before wetness gushes over his mouth and down his chin. Son of fucking bitch that hurts. Dark spots float in front of his eyes and he blinks hard, trying not to black out.
Blade chuckles again. Smug and cocky. Just like the day they met in Nick's office. The interview he knew should have ended in Blade's death.
The mercenary turns back to Shae, bending her over and smashing the side of her face against the Formica with the palm of his hand. "Still not ready for my dick, huh? Don't worry. I'll wait for you to heal from the baby. Then I'm going to fucking love ruining you all over again." Blade leans down, his mouth on her ear but his gaze meets Max's. Enjoying taunting him just as much. "Your mouth. Your pussy. Your ass. All of them will be mine."
Tremors wrack her body as Blade shoves her dress up. Bile burns Max’s throat from the bruises covering her back, thighs, and ass cheeks peeking below her panties. Fuck this. She won't be beat again.
He feigns unconsciousness, falling limp. Forcing the men holding him to stumble from the sudden heaviness. He springs back from a crouch and slams the guy on his right into the other asshole, just as Marcus comes running in, his own nose trailing blood. The linebacker tackles Blade, both men flipping over Shae, the wood splintering from their weight as they dive across the surface.
Truth About Tequila: Believe in Me (Surviving Absolution #4) Page 14