The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Alexander, S. B.

  I checked Zach’s business card. I was looking for number twelve. The number fourteen was tacked on the brick townhome on my right. The street was quiet for a Wednesday morning, the scenery reminding me of a postcard picture, with fluffy snow blanketing the park that split the street in half and old-fashioned streetlamps poking out every few feet.

  As I approached my destination, I saw a girl sitting on the stairs bundled up in a parka and a light-blue, furry knitted hat. She was wiping tears away with her gloved hands when I stopped at the bottom of the stone steps.

  “Chloe?” I rarely forgot a face.

  Her eyes were red, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “Emma? Do you live around here?” She sniffled.

  Seriously? Me, live around here? In a month I would have debt collectors on my butt, or at least a large-bellied landlord hunting me down. I wouldn’t put it past the man to send out his search dogs. Dillon had said he didn’t want the mafia on his ass. Well, I didn’t want a raging Latino man on mine. His temper probably surpassed that of any mafia man.

  I pressed a booted foot onto the bottom step, quickly glancing at the number twelve above the green door. “Did Kelton hurt you? I can kick his ass for you.” I had once or twice when we were kids. I wouldn’t mind tussling with him again, if only to touch him, to feel what it would be like to roll around on the ground with his hard body tangled with mine.

  She smiled, but it never reached her brown eyes. “No.”

  Then it dawned on me: if Chloe was there, was Kelton? I had to think. I couldn’t walk into Zach’s house if Kelton was there. I wasn’t sure if he would recognize me with the red wig on or not. So what if he did? He already knows who you are. That might be, but he would have questions, and if Kelton made a scene and I had to expose myself, I couldn’t risk Zach seeing the real me. We’d met once years ago. I didn’t know if he knew his father’s friends. If he did, then he certainly would at least know the name Reardon. At the moment, he didn’t know my full name. The other problem I had was that Kelton didn’t know what I was up to. He definitely would try to stop me. Or if he and Zach were chummy, Kelton would more than likely protect his friend.

  “So are you waiting on Kelton?” Please say no.

  “Kelton and I aren’t together anymore.”

  She was a sweet and beautiful girl. “I thought you two were getting married? You seemed happy at the art gala.” Kelton hadn’t, but she had.

  She wiped her nose. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice rose. “There isn’t a girl on this planet that could snag Kelton. He’ll never settle down.” She flicked another worried glance at the townhome.

  My heart was doing a happy dance that they weren’t an item. But in an instant, I squashed it. Single or not, I couldn’t get involved with Kelton. “Does Kelton live here?”

  The door to the townhome opened with a click, causing Chloe to jump to attention, blocking my view. I was reluctant to move to see who was coming out of the house.

  “Chloe, why did you leave?” Zach asked in what sounded like a sleepy voice. “We need to talk more about—”

  A mousy sound escaped me. She didn’t waste any time finding another man. Then heat thawed my frozen cheeks. I liked Chloe and didn’t know the whole story. Shame on me for judging her. Zach could be painting a portrait of her. Or they could be friends. But the tension between them was telling me differently.

  “Zach, I have to go.” Chloe moved to her right, exposing me.

  Like an idiot, I waved as if I was the queen in a Fourth of July parade.

  Zach’s eyelids were droopy. He rubbed his hand over his bare chest then the curly hair matted to his head. He checked his watch.

  “On the phone, you did say Wednesday at ten a.m. But I can come back.”

  Chloe stood on the stairs as if the cold had turned her into a statue. “I have class.” She bolted like white lightning.

  “Chloe!” Zach called as he stomped out in his bare feet. “Shit.” Then he mumbled other words I couldn’t make out.

  Awkward was an understatement. I thought to say something snarky to him or even kick him in the balls for making her cry, but one, I had my own problems, and two, I couldn’t piss him off.

  “Seriously, I can come back.” I didn’t want to postpone my plan, but I needed his full attention. I had to befriend him before he would tell me the whereabouts of his father. Or maybe I had to revert to my other plan of kidnapping him. I wasn’t ready for the latter. I had to find a place to hide him first. I could tie him up in my room at the hostel. No one would be the wiser. I hardly ever saw a cleaning lady, and the place was pretty loud most of the time. People would just think he was grunting from great sex. I held in a laugh.

  “No, Brew wants me to help you.” He waved his hand toward the open door. “Come on.”

  I trudged up the steps and into the warm foyer. My eyes bugged out. I was like one of those bobbleheads as I took in the palatial home. A curved elegant staircase commanded the room, reminding me of a snippet out of Cinderella. Shiny wood floors ran throughout the first floor. A formal dining room sat to my right, a library to my left.

  I twitched when the door closed. “Wow. Nice place.” My voice was sweet as I envisioned beating his father until he gave me my money back. “Are your parents home?”

  Zach came up beside me. “My mom lives in Chicago, and I haven’t a clue where my father is, other than that he doesn’t live here. Let me put a shirt on.” He pointed to the library. “Have a seat in there. I’ll be right back.” He hesitated, apparently unsure of his next move. All of a sudden he took the stairs two at a time.

  Calm down. Just get to know him. He’ll cave. I wasn’t so sure about that, at least not today. Zach’s mind seemed preoccupied with Chloe.

  I made my way into the library. Bookcases covered two walls from floor to ceiling, and a leather sectional sofa sat in front of a marble fireplace. On the opposite side of the room, a massive wooden desk stood proud in front of curved windows overlooking the park across the street. I set my backpack down on the floor near the sofa then perused the bookcases, checking out the rich leather-bound works of Poe, Thoreau, Shakespeare, and other greats in literature.

  Zach’s voice broke my attention. “Do you like reading?”

  He’d donned a pair of jeans and a BU T-shirt and appeared to have splashed water on his head to tame the curls.

  “Only when I have to for school.” I’d rather use my free time to play paintball or work out at the gym. “Your parents sure have great taste in décor.”

  He strode over to the desk, his thick thighs eating up the space. “My parents don’t own this place. A friend of my old man’s is out of town for the winter. I’m just house-sitting it for him.”

  “Your father has some rich friends. Doesn’t one of the Kennedys own a home on this street?” I’d read that on the Internet.

  He snagged a sketchpad and a handful of colored pencils from the desk then plopped down on the sofa. “You’re here so I can show you some technique, not to discuss my old man.” The last three words were spoken with disgust. Maybe he would help me after all, since he didn’t appear to be enamored with his father. Then again, family usually stood above all else.

  “Sorry.” I joined him on the couch. “I know how parents can get under your skin,” I lied. Sure, my parents and I had argued, but I’d never spoken about them as though I hated them.

  He spread out the pencils and opened the sketchpad on the wooden coffee table. “You don’t know my father.” He picked up a blue pencil.

  Yes I do. Then a frightening thought occurred to me. If he didn’t get along with his father, would Terrance pay the ransom for his son’s safety? My plan was unraveling even before I had a chance to put the wheels in motion.

  “He can’t be that bad.”

  “Does your father gamble away your college fu
nd?” The pencil in his hand split in two.

  I choked. His father gambled. Which meant my money was gone. Alarms blared in my head. Don’t panic yet. You don’t know that for sure.

  He patted me on the back. “Would you like some water?”

  Tears stung my eyes as I swallowed and cleared my throat. “I need to go.” I stood. “I’ll tell Mr. Brewer it was my fault I had to reschedule.” I could give two cents about my art teacher.

  “Wait,” Zach said.

  I flew out of the library, into the foyer, and right into a hard chest. I craned my neck up and into my past. Someone please, please kill me now. I couldn’t get away from Kelton. He shouldn’t have been there. Sure, Zach and Kelton knew each other from art class, but I hadn’t gotten the feeling they were friends.

  His strong hands gripped my arms, but the heat of his palms did nothing to take away the cold inside me. “Whoa. Easy. Did Zach do something to hurt you, Emma?”

  I shook my head, my nose brushing his rain-scented dress shirt. My gaze traveled up at a slow place, landing on his strong jawline. It sported a menacing shadow.

  He dropped his hands, and I ran to the door.

  “Emma,” he called.

  I turned the knob.

  “Lizzie?”

  I closed my eyes and almost lost all of the air in my lungs. Why was I surprised? It had only been a matter of time before Kelton connected Emma and me. I glanced at Kelton. He cocked an eyebrow. Yeah, you figured me out. And as much as I longed to stay and catch up on old times, I wasn’t in any state of mind to answer questions. I flew out of the townhome as if I was the Flash. I kept running for four blocks before I stopped to catch my breath. Then tears poured out, turning into icicles along my cheeks. I wasn’t one to give up, but I wasn’t sure how many more hurdles I had to overcome to get back what was mine.

  “Nothing is ever easy in life,” my dad had once told me.

  “Strength comes from within. You’re strong,” my mom had said. “Always fight for what is right and what is yours.”

  It was time to seek help. I went to grab my phone, and horror careened through me. My phone was in my backpack on Zach’s floor.

  Chapter 11

  Kelton

  I knew the moment I grabbed onto her. I was holding Lizzie. Very few women I’ve met over the years smelled of jasmine. Plus her hesitation gave her away when I called her Lizzie. Her red wig and green contacts were a decent disguise. Yet before I gave myself a high five, I wanted to see Lizzie, not Emma. I wanted her to come clean. I would’ve chased after her, but first I had to find out what the fuck was going on between her and Zach. Friend or no friend, I’d beat his head into the wall if he’d so much as laid hands on her.

  I clenched my teeth as I walked into the library. Zach was just saying goodbye to someone on the phone. As soon as he hung up, I said, “What the hell, man? What did you do to the girl?” I stumbled over a backpack.

  Zach relaxed against the couch as though he’d had a rough night. He was about to have a fucking rough day if he said he and Lizzie had tumbled in the sack.

  “Hell if I know. We were talking about my loser of an old man and she lost it, choking like I said something that hit a nerve.”

  I snagged the backpack. “So you didn’t screw her?” I fisted my free hand.

  “Brew wanted me to help her since she started art class late. She’s smoking hot, but no. You know I’m not into redheads.”

  Since Zach and I had been roommates at the BU dorms and now at this place, we knew each other’s taste in women. Zach only dated blondes.

  “Is this hers?” I held up the backpack.

  “I think so.” He kicked up his feet onto the coffee table. “Where have you been for three days?”

  I set the pack at my feet then took off my suit jacket. I had an inkling Lizzie would return for it. “Family business, and I had that interview.” I wasn’t ready to tell him about Lizzie and her family and how we were connected. He had his own problems. His old man was a staunch gambler. The man frequented casinos and shady underground poker joints.

  “Shit. And?” he asked.

  “Won’t know for a couple of weeks.”

  His phone chirped. He jumped up as if he’d just been caught jerking off. “I got to take this.” He scurried out of the room.

  I eased down onto the couch, staring at the canvas bag, debating if I should sift through it. I didn’t have Lizzie’s number. So I couldn’t call her.

  A Kenney Chesney song started playing from the bag, sounding muffled. Slipping my hand inside, I pulled out… a Taser? What the hell was Lizzie doing with a Taser? I didn’t like what was unraveling. Lizzie running around Boston in a red wig carrying a Taser. The depressing song kept playing. I dipped my hand back in and found her phone. Dillon’s name lit up the screen.

  I probably shouldn’t have answered it, but I wanted to screw with him. “Hello.” With my free hand, I rummaged through the rest of the bag and found a wallet.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Dillon’s voice was full of grit. “Where’s Lizzie?”

  I didn’t need any more confirmation than that. “What’s your girl doing running around Boston in a red wig?” I opened the flap of the wallet. Staring back at me was a picture of Lizzie on her license.

  “Maxwell? Is that you? If you so much as touched her—”

  “What? Are you going to beat my head in?” I’d like to see the fucker try. I hadn’t been in a good brawl since Aaron Seever and I had gone a few rounds in high school.

  “Where is she? Is she okay?” He’d lost the attitude.

  “I don’t know. What’s she doing with a Taser? Did you give it to her?” Something smelled rotten. My gut was telling me Lizzie was in trouble, although somewhere in my subconscious I’d known that since she hadn’t wanted to show the real her, in an art class no less.

  “Are you on my phone?” Lizzie asked, annoyance dripping from her tone.

  I turned, not even having heard her walk in. “Trying to slink in unnoticed?”

  “Is that her?” Dillon’s irritated voice returned, blaring through the speaker. “Let me talk to her.”

  I hung up as he spewed swear words like a veteran sailor.

  Lizzie ran over and started gathering her things. “Stay out of my personal stuff.” She tried to get her voice deep and scary. All that came out was a high-pitched squeal. One that I used to pull out of her by taking Harry, my pet lizard, out of his aquarium whenever she was in my room.

  Her hand reached for the Taser. I got it before she did. “Not so fast, Lizzie.” I emphasized her name.

  Her perfectly smooth skin pinched around her fake green eyes. “You think you’re smart because you figured out who I am?”

  “Baby doll, I am smart. I have a high IQ.” I smirked.

  She hiked the backpack onto her shoulder. “You’re still a douche. Age hasn’t changed you one bit.”

  Fuck, I hope not. “Why would I change? What you see is what you get. Unlike you. Who are you hiding from?”

  She stuck out her hand, her hip, and her bottom lip. “Give me my Taser.”

  My gaze roamed over her slow and steady. High cheekbones, toned thighs that filled out her black jeans, ample breasts beneath a tight red sweater, and lips I salivated to bite, taste, and tease until she lost the attitude.

  I pushed to my feet, tucking the Taser into the waist of my pants at my back. “You have to come and get it.”

  She rolled her eyes as she lost her pouty look. “Still playing games like you were six years old.”

  “Still pouting like a little girl who lost her Barbie doll.” Please pout some more. I loved it when she stuck out her lips.

  She growled instead. The woman actually growled, low, deep, and ball-squeezing as all get out. My dick twitched. Do it again. O
r maybe not—I was a second away from being as hard as the marble fireplace.

  “Seriously, if you don’t give me back my property, I’ll have to kick your tight ass.”

  I gave a half smirk, inching toward her. “You think my ass is tight? Have you been checking me out?”

  “I don’t waste my time on obnoxious guys, and you have one too many flaws.” She held out her palm, shuffling backward. “Now hand me my Taser, and I’ll be out of your life.”

  I pressed forward. I couldn’t let her leave if she was in trouble. Yet the more she kept pushing me away, the more determined I was to understand why. I hadn’t seen her in seven years. So I couldn’t imagine what I’d ever done to make her hate me. I’d also promised my old man that I’d talk to Lizzie about Mom seeing Gracie.

  She gave a quick glance over her shoulder, moving slowly around the couch.

  “Flaws? There’s not a flaw on my body. You should know that since you saw me with only a cowboy hat on in Brew’s class.”

  She growled again.

  Fuck me. I had a ton of control over my dick, but if she continued to growl, I was about to jack off without my hand.

  “Conceited much?”

  “Just pointing out a fact,” I returned as we tangoed around the couch. “Let’s make a deal.” Let me kiss you. Nah, I couldn’t. Not until she took off that wig and her contacts. I had to see the real her, feel her soft, dark hair flow through my fingers, and look into her blue-gray eyes.

  She snarled. “I don’t deal with the devil.”

  “Baby, I do. Tell me who you’re hiding from, and I’ll give you back the Taser.”