The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Alexander, S. B.

  Bumping into the table behind the couch, she stopped, seemingly thinking about my offer.

  I settled in front of her, and we stared at each other. I thought back to Dillon’s porch and how close I’d been to kissing her. I had a feeling if I even attempted to press my lips to hers, she’d haul off and punch me. She’d done that the first time I’d kissed her on the cheek in the seventh grade. That feistiness was one of the traits I loved about Lizzie. But we weren’t in grade school anymore. My body hummed with the need to kiss her. My mind, on the other hand, was telling me to back off. One kiss, and I wouldn’t stop. I’d be ruined. If she rejected me, I wouldn’t be the same. My brothers were right. I’d be fucked up again. Apart from that, I couldn’t kiss a woman who didn’t want me to, and not one who had a boyfriend.

  Her gaze roamed over my face, slow and sure.

  I reached out and gently touched her fake hair. “You’re prettier without this wig.” My voice was hoarse.

  The barrier between us dissolved as she exhaled. Then she lifted up on her toes, planted her hands on my chest, and brought her lips close to mine.

  I let go of her hair as my heart flipped like an out-of-control gymnast doing back handsprings. Then she snaked her hands underneath my shirt to my back. The lust coursing through me receded when her hands crept lower to the Taser.

  I sprang backward. “Nice move. I see you’re still as cunning as ever.”

  She pursed her lips. “And I see you’re not falling for my charm like you used to. Doesn’t matter. I’ll send Dillon over for his Taser. I’m out of here.” Disappointment colored her tone as she marched out with her head held high.

  I’d chased her like I had when we were kids, and she was mad at me. A warm feeling spread through my chest at the notion some things between us hadn’t changed. Only now she was even more beautiful when she didn’t get her way. “Lizzie?”

  She stopped feet from the front door, not bothering to turn around.

  “I really would like to help you. I know your boyfriend can, but I know important people in this city.” I could ask Chloe’s dad to help. He’d been instrumental in helping Lacey and her father when Lacey had been kidnapped, and he had connections within the BPD.

  “I’m good.” Her voice wavered.

  All of a sudden, I felt like a schmuck. Okay, I was. I wasn’t good at handling women who cried. I wasn’t like Kade. He always had the right words to say or knew the right thing to do when Lacey cried or she was having one of her PTSD blackouts. I’d experienced her having one of them in high school when her house had been broken into. It had gutted me.

  “You can have the Taser back.” I removed it from my pants.

  “I don’t need it now. But thank you,” she said sweetly, making her way to the door.

  “Lizzie.”

  She spun around, a tear cascading down her cheek.

  Daggers stabbed at my heart. When we were kids, I had beaten any boy who’d made her cry. “My mom would like to see Gracie.”

  Another tear trickled down. Then she ran out the door.

  A slow burn of anger and frustration steamrollered through me as I ran after her. I was fuming at myself for being a dickwad, but I was also irritated that she hadn’t answered me and angry she was always running away from me.

  “Lizzie,” I shouted as my feet hit the brick sidewalk. “I do want to help.”

  I stopped as she sprinted away. Well, if she didn’t want my help, then maybe Dillon could shed some light on what the fuck was going on in Lizzie’s life.

  Chapter 12

  Lizzie

  In the half-bath at Dillon’s, I shoved my wig and contacts into my backpack then glanced in the mirror. Either the room was too small or I was developing a nasty case of claustrophobia as I tried to catch my breath. Mascara smudged the underside of my eyes. My nose could pass for Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, and the whites around my blue-gray eyes were redder than a tomato. I was one hot mess. I’d been crying since Dillon had picked me up over an hour before. As soon as I’d gotten in the car he’d asked, “Did anyone physically hurt you?” When I’d said no he hadn’t pried any further.

  My mind skipped from one thing to the next and back, repeating like a broken record. My money was probably gone, Kelton’s mom wanted to see Gracie, and I wanted Kelton to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything would be okay like he did when we were kids.

  Anger, fear, sadness, despair, and pity all yanked at my heart, jabbed at my stomach, and caused my hands to tremble. “What are you afraid of?” I whispered into the mirror.

  Everything. Life. Being alone. Love. Kelton. His family. Before I’d arrived in Boston my only fear had been not getting my money back. Now the list was growing at a rapid rate.

  “Fear is good,” my dad had said. “It gets the blood pumping. Rising above your deepest fears makes you a better person.”

  I wasn’t so sure. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, clear the blinders, go out and fight for what’s yours.” I laughed at my own words as a tear trickled down my cheek.

  A knock sounded. “Lizzie, are you okay?” Dillon asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be right out.” I let the faucet run a second before I splashed cold water on my face. I ripped off two squares of toilet paper then cleared the black around my eyes. After I’d cleaned up, I fluffed my hair, pinched my cheeks for color, and met Dillon in the kitchen.

  “Cool?” He poured tea into a mug that had Best Friend inscribed on the side.

  I folded myself onto the bench with my back to the window. I didn’t care to look out into the dreary day. He set the mug down along with a sugar bowl, his brown eyes assessing me. Then he sat opposite me, a few strands of his hair toppling forward.

  “Thank you for picking me up.” I didn’t want to go back to the hostel. The place was depressing. I thought about calling Peyton, but I wasn’t ready to involve her, and she couldn’t help, not in the way I needed. The only thing she could do was console me. I didn’t need any more pity. I’d been giving myself a good dose of it since I ran from Kelton. What would get me out of my funk was tough love, strength, and someone who had enough connections and muscle to help me. Kelton had both, but I couldn’t bring myself to open up to him. I didn’t know for sure if he was living with Zach, although him at Zach’s place was a clear indication that they were at least friends.

  “Is anyone here with you?” I scooped two sugars into my tea. I suspected the house was empty since if Allie and Bee were there they would have been bopping around, using me as a guinea pig for hair, nails, and makeup, which I didn’t mind. I rather enjoyed all the attention. And Josh and Rafe, Dillon’s sidekicks, would be lurking in the shadows.

  “Just you and me. Everyone is working.” He cracked his knuckles.

  “And you don’t work?” Maybe he made all his money selling guns.

  He brought his fingers up to his lips. “Tell me what’s going on. Is it Maxwell?”

  “Not really.” In part Kelton had something to do with why I was a walking disaster. “Are you still open to helping me?”

  “I told you I would.” He propped his elbows on the table. When he did, part of his Chinese symbol tat peeked out of from under the sleeve of his black T-shirt.

  He followed my gaze to his arm then said, “It means hope.” He lifted his sleeve, exposing the tat and the name Grace.

  “Who’s Grace?” I asked.

  He closed his eyes briefly. “My sister.” He pulled his sleeve down. “She disappeared when she was sixteen. I’ve been searching for her for the past two years.”

  “Did she run away?” I blew on the tea, a little freaked out that we both had sisters named Grace. I’d assumed the name would be of a former love interest.

  “Supposedly. At least that’s what my old man said.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, his finge
rs dragging down the side of his neck. “I’d been working on a merchant ship and was gone months at a time. One day, when I got back, she was gone. She packed her things and took off. I imagine she was tired of his drinking.” His jaw tightened.

  I took a sip of tea. “And your mom?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Ran off with a loser when my sister was five. Cops have Grace’s picture, but they don’t exactly put all their efforts into searching for runaways.”

  “So you sweep the streets looking for her. Is that how you found Bee and Allie?”

  “Something like that. It makes my blood boil to see young girls homeless or prostituting themselves. If I could help all of them I would.”

  To lose someone to the streets knowing she could be alive but couldn’t be found had to be painful and frustrating. At least the chance existed that his sister was still out there. My heart hurt for him, and at the same time, I had a newfound respect for Dillon.

  I deposited my mug on the table. “My sister’s name was Grace too. Although we called her Gracie.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Hold that thought.” Dillon’s boots scuffed along the tiled floor then resonated in the hallway.

  Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound from the clock above the stove was soothing.

  Kelton’s voice drifted in, and my nerves sparked to life. I couldn’t get away from him. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Actually, I’d thought he would’ve chased me down the street when I ran from the townhome. I was relieved he hadn’t. I wanted to—no, needed to—get my thoughts together before I asked why his mom wanted to see Gracie. I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront the Maxwells. Part of me was still angry with Mr. Maxwell for not teaching Karen gun safety. Another part of me was afraid if I saw the family together I’d break down so hard I couldn’t crawl back to life. Too many memories. Ones I didn’t want to relive.

  “I don’t want any trouble. I’m here to talk to you,” Kelton said. “And to return this.”

  The door clicked shut.

  I threw my head back, holding in a frustrated groan.

  Heavy footsteps padded closer before Kelton paraded into the kitchen. Gone was the stuffy business suit. In its place was a sexier Kelton wearing a baseball hat turned backward, a BU sweatshirt that clung to his upper body, ripped jeans that hung low enough on his hips to expose yellow boxer briefs, and untied army boots. My body temperature shot up the charts.

  “You’re like a cockroach that can’t be killed,” I said.

  “A lovable cockroach. That bites.” He went over to the small butcher-block island and leaned against it, crossing his legs at the ankles.

  I snorted. A bite that would take me under his spell.

  Dillon stalked over and handed me the Taser. “Keep this.” Then he went to the refrigerator. “Drink?” he asked Kelton.

  “No thanks.” Kelton kept his gaze riveted on me. “Good to see you lost the wig.”

  Good to see he was still persistent as ever. I almost stuck out my tongue then thought better of it since my childish act would only fuel his fire. Which would spread, burning everyone in its wake. Dillon didn’t need that. Instead, I placed the Taser in my backpack.

  Dillon returned to his seat with a bottle of orange VitaminWater. “Are you okay with him here?” He stabbed his thumb at Kelton.

  I was beginning to really like Dillon. He respected me and my privacy.

  I shrugged. “That depends. He’s here to talk to you, not me.” I had a feeling Kelton was here to finish our conversation. “I can leave.”

  “I’m here to find out the truth, Lizzie.” Kelton’s voice hardened. “Whether you tell me or Dillon tells me. I’m not leaving until I get answers. Who are you running from?”

  “Have you stopped to think for one second that I might be running from you?” I snarled.

  Hurt washed over his face before he quickly banked it. “I get that part, but there’s something bigger going on. Let’s not forget, I haven’t done anything to you. I haven’t seen or heard from you in seven years.” He gripped the island.

  Yeah, you did. You loved me. My heart broke into a billion pieces when I moved and left you standing on the street, looking like your world had just crumbled. I’ve been carrying the burden of that image all these years.

  “You did say before he got here that you wanted my help,” Dillon said. “Unless he stole from you, which I don’t think he did, let us help.”

  Traitor.

  My gaze traveled from Kelton to Dillon then back to Kelton. I guessed it wouldn’t be so bad for both to help. I might find Terrance faster. After all, Kelton had an inside advantage since he and Zach were friends.

  “He isn’t going to leave until he gets his way,” I said in a snarky tone, glaring at the blue-eyed Adonis.

  “Tell your girlfriend to can the attitude.” One side of Kelton’s lips turned up.

  I chomped down on my tongue, when all I wanted to do was wipe the tantalizing smirk off his face. But if Kelton continued to think Dillon and I were a couple, then maybe he would leave me alone after this conversation.

  Dillon capped his VitaminWater. “First, Maxwell, drag the barstool over here and sit down.”

  Kelton scowled but obeyed the direct order. It was funny to watch him stomp around much like he had when he didn’t get his way with Mrs. Nappi in our sixth grade science class.

  “Thank you. Second, I’m not going to referee.” He turned his attention on me. “If you want him to stay, then no attitude, please. I get you two have history, but let’s cut to the chase. I need to pick up Allie and Bee in thirty minutes. And, so we’re clear, Maxwell”—his gaze lingered on me as though he was telling me he was sorry for what he was about to say—“Lizzie and I are not dating.”

  Well, darn. I didn’t have Dillon to hide behind anymore. Maybe he thought the same as I did. If we kept pretending, Kelton would keep bugging him, and while Dillon seemed to have patience, everyone had a breaking point.

  Some emotion washed over Kelton’s face that I couldn’t quite make out. Joy. Shock. Fear. Maybe all three.

  “Now, before we were interrupted,” Dillon said to me, “you were telling me about your sister, Gracie. Let’s start there.”

  Kelton straightened on the stool. It sat at least two inches higher than the bench seating at the table.

  Yeah, this was going to be harder than I’d expected. Explaining how my sister died to Dillon was one thing, easy maybe, but to Kelton? His presence alone caused a queasiness to grip my stomach. Kelton didn’t even know my parents were dead.

  I swallowed the frog in my throat. My current situation didn’t have anything to do with my sister. Keeping my eyes on Dillon, I began with, “In the event both my parents died, my dad had set up an estate for me, detailing how their 401Ks, life insurance, and other assets would be handled. He wanted—”

  “Wait. Are you saying your parents are dead?” Kelton asked in a staggered tone.

  Trying to keep my voice from wobbling, I sucked in a sharp breath. “Boating accident.”

  He reached out to grab my wrist. I put my hands in my lap. If I was going to tell the story without shedding a tear, I couldn’t have Kelton touching me. I’d start bawling then more than likely jump into his arms. Neither of those actions would help to get my money back.

  Kelton mumbled something before he asked, “Gracie, too?”

  Dillon’s face was void of any emotion. So I concentrated on him.

  “No. Gracie wasn’t with them. Anyway, my dad had outlined specific instructions for the trustee of their estate. Make sure I go to college, and make sure I get a monthly stipend for living expenses while in college. About a month ago, the university contacted me to let me know my tuition payment was overdue. I contacted the trustee, but he never returned my calls. So I went to his place o
f employment. Gone. I went to his house. Empty. When I checked my bank account, I also found my monthly allowance had stopped. I knew he had a son who was at BU. So I came to Boston in hopes I could find the man who ran off with my money.”

  Kelton made an odd noise in the back of his throat. “Let me guess. Zach is the son.”

  Dillon darted his gaze to Kelton, as did I. He shrugged with an I’m-not-an-idiot look.

  “Yeah. His father and mine were good friends.” I took a swig of tea.

  “How much are we talking about?” Kelton hunched forward, his elbows on his knees.

  “A million,” I said, low.

  Kelton and Dillon gasped.

  I continued. “Today, Zach informed me that his father is a gambler. He gambled away Zach’s college fund.” Fury burned within me, hot and bright, causing sweat to bead on my neck. “And now my entire inheritance is probably gone. I have to find him. I owe the university money and rent to a landlord.” I could’ve paid my rent, but the money I’d had left I’d had to use sparingly until I could get this issue resolved. “Or else an angry Latino man will be hunting me down. Anyway, I went to the cops and filed a statement, but there are more deadly crimes for them to investigate. Plus, I can’t prove it.”

  “So you know this dude?” Dillon asked Kelton.

  “Zach’s my roommate. His old man is a gambler. Mostly poker. High-stakes poker.” He lifted his ball cap, combed his fingers through his messy black hair, then placed the hat back on his head.

  “And you,” Dillon said to me. “That’s why you wanted a gun?”

  “I planned to hold Terrance Malden at gunpoint until he gave me my money back. Or hold his son hostage.” Saying all that out loud sounded more farfetched than it did in my head.

  Kelton chuckled. “Terrance doesn’t give a shit about Zach.”

  “Well, Sherlock, you got a plan? You said you had connections. You said you wanted to help.” My tone came out way more caustic than I’d intended.