The Maxwell Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Alexander, S. B.

  Terrance glowered at me. “So is this your way of getting to me? Threatening me by flouncing the name of Jeremy Pitt?”

  “Is it working?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He scrubbed a hand over his mouth.

  Milt broke out of his trance and said, “Either sit or all of you will be escorted out.” He eyed the door.

  “Me?” Terrance sneered at the dealer. “These kids don’t belong here.”

  “We need to go,” Kelton whispered in my ear. “That dude at the door went to get men and guns.”

  I should have been fazed, but I’d come there to find out why Terrance stole from my dad. More importantly, to get him to cooperate in handing over any documents he had on the accounting of my estate. I silently swore at the last thought. The man was a gambler and a thief. He wouldn’t be filling out tax returns or following the law. I should’ve thought about that before I borrowed thousands of dollars from a loan shark and put the guys into a dangerous situation.

  A wave of cigar smoke filtered up my nose. I coughed.

  “Come on.” Kelton cupped my elbow.

  I wasn’t leaving yet. Dillon placed a hand on my back.

  “Sir,” I said to Milt. “May I have a few words with Mr. Malden? Then we can resume the game.” My tone was firm but polite.

  “You have two minutes before the security team storms in,” he said.

  “Then hold them off,” Kelton barked. “Or take one of those scheduled breaks.”

  The short dealer at the other table spoke up. “We’ll take a five-minute break.” He started in the direction of the bar with his phone to his ear.

  With the exception of two players at the other table who went to the bar, no one moved.

  “Are you about to read me my rights?” Terrance asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone and sweat sliding down the sides of his face.

  “Why did you steal from a man who adored you?” Each word burned as though I’d downed a nasty glass of moonshine. But once the question was out there, a warm feeling danced down my chest. Hours upon hours of worry, frustration, anger, rage, and anxiety lifted off me.

  “He’s addicted.” Oscar’s gritty voice cut through the tension. “Like the rest of us with this habit.”

  Not all of us had a gambling problem, although I could see how one could become addicted to the high of betting, playing, and bluffing. Regardless, I wanted to hear Terrance own up to what he’d done. His confession wouldn’t change the past, but it would help me sleep better.

  “You need help,” I said, jutting out my chin, my hands fisted at my sides.

  Terrance let out a roar of laughter. “You think you can save me?”

  “I’m not here to save you,” I said. “I want to know how much of my money you threw away. And why.”

  Kelton’s hand touched my lower back before pressing into my spine. He tapped his fingers as though he was trying to send me a signal in Morse code. Dillon left to stand near Kross.

  Terrance darted his gaze to Milt then back. “Fine. If it gets us back in the game.” He ran fat fingers through his hair. “A man like me should never have been given access to large amounts of money.”

  The door flew open. Four men in black stormed in, pointing guns in every direction. Milt held up his right hand at the men.

  So much for no trouble.

  “Hurry the fuck up,” Kelton said. “Tell her now.”

  Dillon and Kross held fast as they both gave us a nod. No doubt telling us to hurry up.

  “I tried at first to do the right thing.” The guns didn’t seem to faze Terrance.

  On the other hand, Kross and Dillon shifted on their feet, as did Kelton. I crossed my arms over my chest, not nearly as antsy as they were. I’d been waiting for this opportunity for months.

  “I stayed away from gambling for years. But when I started to sift through your father’s bank accounts, I told myself I would only play one game.” Terrance wiped his forehead.

  “How much?” I asked, holding my breath.

  “All told, there’s only two hundred thousand left.” Terrance held his condescending tone until the last half of the sentence, when his voice cracked.

  I didn’t know whether to be happy there was money left or angry he’d gambled away most of the million dollars.

  One of the guards said, “Sir, cops are on their way.”

  At the mention of cops, chaos erupted. Poker players grabbed their chips and rushed for the door. The dealer and the guards made their way toward the exit as well. Kelton pushed me in that direction.

  “No,” I snapped as I tried to hold my ground. “I’m not done talking to him.”

  Kelton wrapped his arms around me from behind and lifted me off the ground. “We have to go.” He merged into the melee of the panic-stricken crowd.

  “Hurry!” someone shouted.

  “Get out of my way,” another snapped.

  Kelton stumbled forward. I went down, twisting my ankle before I was plastered to the floor. I tried to get up, but a stampede barreled over me. A high heel dug into my hand. I screamed.

  “Lizzie!” Kelton shouted. “Lizzie!”

  Someone tripped over me, landing in the group ahead.

  “Kross!” Kelton said from somewhere. “Where is she?”

  I tried to scramble upright, but someone else knocked me down. Then a hand gripped my arm, helping me to my feet. People were yelling at one another to move. The person behind me gently used his bulk to push me out the door. Before we reached the stairs, I quickly checked to see who my savior was.

  “Keep moving,” Oscar said.

  A gravelly voice ahead of me warned, “Cops are in the stairwell.”

  I had nowhere to go but up, since the hall was narrow and a quick scan around showed no exit signs.

  I couldn’t lose sight of Terrance. But I couldn’t breathe. I could barely walk in my damn heels. Blood pooled on the back of my hand, my body throbbed, my brain was frozen, and I didn’t know where Kelton, Dillon, or Kross were. My only option was to climb the stairs into the hands of the cops who were cuffing people as they reached the landing. Even if I’d wanted to run back down to the poker room, Oscar’s big stature wouldn’t have allowed me to. I could’ve pushed him out of the way, but then he would’ve become a human bowling ball, knocking down those behind him.

  I trudged upward into the hands of the police. The night hadn’t gone anywhere near how we’d planned it, and I was to blame.

  A beefy cop waited on the landing, handcuffs in hand. Cuss words shouted in my head, lots of them. All I could do at that point was accept my fate. After the cop cuffed me, he escorted me out of the building into the freezing cold night. I laughed, otherwise I’d start crying for fucking up the only plan I’d had to get Terrance’s attention.

  “Watch your step,” the beefy cop said. My ass was hanging out of the cocktail dress and my breasts were practically on display.

  I climbed into the police van and took a seat on a bench. Fortunately, my long hair had come undone, spilling over my breasts.

  Not far behind me was Oscar. He grunted as he tried to get his large body into the van, then he dropped beside me. I leaned my head back against the metal wall. Fuck. Kelton didn’t need to get arrested. Dillon was probably furious with me, and poor Kross. He’d only tagged along to keep Kelton in line when he should’ve tried to keep me on the straight and narrow.

  “How come we’re the only two in this van?” At least a handful of others had flown out before us.

  “There’s another vehicle in front of this one.” Oscar didn’t sound surprised by any of it.

  The van had no windows, so I couldn’t see anything outside except the two cops standing guard at the open back door. Beyond them, the street was empty of traffic. It was midnight or so. “Y
ou seem to know the ropes. Are cops always called at games like this?”

  “My guess is that someone in that room was an undercover cop trying to infiltrate the Italian mob. Maybe they saw it was about to get out of hand and called in support.”

  All because of me.

  “Put him in this one,” a male voice ordered.

  Terrance came around to the back side, arms cuffed behind him. His mop of curls was wild, reminding me of his son. He got in and sat on the bench opposite Oscar and me.

  We stared at each other for the longest time. All I could think about was my dad and what he’d seen in Terrance as a friend, why he’d trusted him.

  “What did you mean when you said my father was stupid like that, too?” I’d never known my father to gamble.

  “Why do you think your parents always took the boat to the Bahamas? Your father had the bug. He loved the casinos there.”

  “For the nightclubs and dancing.” My parents had loved to dance.

  “Maybe at first.” Terrance sighed as he lost his snarky attitude. “But after he won his first craps game, he was hooked. He was a good man.”

  I wanted to yell at him and hurt him for what he’d done. But the despondent look on his face when he talked about my father led me to believe he missed him, too. Whether he did or not, Terrance had to pay for what he’d done. No matter the consequences.

  “My dad trusted and respected you. He’d be disappointed and furious to know that you broke that trust.”

  He lowered his gaze to his shiny shoes.

  “Stop disappointing the people who love you. You’re going to be a grandfather, Terrance. Get help. Reconnect with Zach.” Family was so important. “You have a great son.” I hardly knew anything about Zach. On the surface he seemed mad at the world, but he gave me the impression he wanted his father’s attention. “And I envy him. He still has a father.” Tears pricked my eyes.

  Oscar placed his hand over mine. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  A lone tear fell, and I latched onto Oscar’s stubby fingers. I should’ve been demanding Terrance give me all my money back, not grieving and playing psychologist. But my dad would have done the same, trying to make Terrance see reason. Yet all the reasoning in the world wouldn’t return the lost money.

  Terrance stared out the door.

  “I can’t force you to do the right thing,” I said. “But the courts can. So it’s up to you. If you cooperate, I’ll consider not pressing charges.” Mr. Davenport had said I could bring a civil suit against Terrance.

  “Close this one up.” A cop came up to the open door.

  “Wait,” a female voice said. “Throw this one in.” The petite officer came into view with Kross at her side.

  His white shirt was bloody. His hair was disheveled, and anger was stamped in his blue eyes.

  I let go of Oscar’s hand and got up.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the female cop said. “Sit back down.”

  “Where are Kelton and Dillon?” I inched closer to the door.

  Kross shook his head. “Not sure.”

  “I said to sit your ass down,” the female cop ordered in a tone that made the hairs on my neck rise.

  Kross’s blue eyes prodded me as he climbed in, forcing me backward and into my seat.

  “Are you okay?” Kross dropped beside Terrance.

  I nodded and shivered at the same time. Maybe they’d escaped. That would be great. Kelton had that job on the line. And Dillon. Well, he was always trying to stay under the law’s radar. Thanks to me, not anymore.

  The two cops that had been standing watch outside hopped in. The female officer closed the doors, and the sound made me shiver again.

  Chapter 27

  Kelton

  The van bounced along the city streets, jarring my body. I didn’t know if Lizzie was in the other van or not. When someone had yelled “Cops!” I’d tried to get the fuck out of there. But people were frantic, rushing toward the exit. Someone had pushed me from behind. Lizzie had gone down. Then fucking Terrance had practically thrown me out of the way. I’d tackled him to the ground. I’d wanted to unleash all the frustrations I had for this man for not only stealing from Lizzie, but for how he’d treated Zach. Sure, Zach and I weren’t on speaking terms, but we were friends. Zach wanted his father in his life. He’d always told me how envious he was of my relationship with my old man. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten to wield my fists. Dillon had grabbed me, and we’d found an exit tucked away in the far corner of the poker room. It hadn’t helped though. The cops had been waiting in the alley. I wasn’t even sure where Kross was.

  The driver banked a hard right, and my shoulder knocked into Dillon. The van was packed with at least ten of us from the poker game.

  “She’s probably in the other van,” Dillon said.

  Motherfucker was clamoring in my head over and over again. My life was flashing before me. I was on my way to jail. My career as a lawyer could end before it had even begun. Davenport’s question played in my head in between the cuss words. “Have you ever been in trouble with the law?” Where was Jeremy Pitt when I needed him? Three years before, he’d been instrumental in keeping Kade, Hunt, and me out of jail for a brawl that had broken out among the three of us and two of our high school enemies. That night a gun had gone off and someone had almost died. Luck had been on our side, particularly since Jeremy Pitt was in bed with the Boston Police Department. No such luck tonight.

  “Man, I hope so,” I murmured. My heart beat like a stampede of cattle. It wouldn’t settle until Lizzie was in my arms. Fuck, if this was how my life would be, constantly worrying about her, then I definitely needed to hire a shrink. I was beginning to understand why Kade was always a mess whenever Lacey wasn’t with him. Whatever. I would take the erratic heartbeat, the pacing, the ripping out my hair, and every other thing if it meant that I had her forever.

  A burly cop sat on my left. “About eight people got away,” he said to his partner across from him.

  Dillon nudged me.

  Please, please, let Lizzie and Kross be two of those eight. Kross didn’t need to get in trouble either. Not with his boxing career in full force. He was trying to sign with a big boxing promoter.

  “Who called the cops?” I asked the officer next to me.

  “Anonymous tip,” he said.

  I couldn’t say for sure what the laws were specifically on illegal gambling. However, what I did know was that they hadn’t read us our rights, which meant they had nothing to book us on. Not yet, anyway. Although they could hold us for twenty-four hours, and that wouldn’t be good either. Jail was jail. If Davenport found out, I could probably kiss my internship good-bye.

  The van came to a stop in an underground garage. From there we were escorted up an elevator. When we got off, we were steered toward a set of interrogation rooms. The burly cop deposited Dillon and me inside a tiny, sterilized room with Terrance and the fat dude who’d sat next to Lizzie at the poker table. The room was devoid of any furniture but was filled with a strong scent of body odor coming from one—or both—of the two men.

  The cop unleashed me but not fast enough. I choked at the stench then covered my nose. Dillon did the same as we scrutinized Fat Dude and Terrance.

  I rubbed my wrists. “Where’s Lizzie? Have you seen her?” I narrowed my eyes at Fat Dude, then at Terrance.

  Both wore placid expressions as though they’d been through the police drill a hundred times before.

  “Your girl was with us in the van,” Fat Dude said. “Lovely lady. Sad that she got herself into this mess. But a Detective Rayburn took her and a guy who looks like you for questioning.”

  I leaned against the two-way mirror. I’d hoped that Lizzie and Kross had gotten away, but it was good to hear she wasn’t far.

  “They can’t p
rove anything,” Dillon said as he stood next to me.

  “Maybe not.” I closed my eyes. “But what about the money you put up for this game?”

  “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Elizabeth,” Terrance spat.

  My eyes flew open. “Are you for real?” I balked. “Maybe if you hadn’t stolen her money.” I pushed off the window, not caring that someone had to be watching us.

  Dillon held out his arm. “Easy. Karma will prevail.”

  Fuck karma. My fists were ready to show Terrance what karma was all about.

  “The cops will probably question us if you beat his ass.” Dillon pointed at Terrance. “Then they will have a reason to throw you in jail tonight.”

  I growled.

  Fat Dude piped up. “Don’t worry about the money. The rules of the house stipulate that when the game is stopped due to reasons beyond the house’s control, they keep twenty percent of each player’s entrance fee. So you’re only out two thousand.”

  Dillon slumped next to me. “My brother said something about that, but I wasn’t sure. At least now I don’t have to kiss his ass.” He laughed.

  The door opened, and in waltzed Lizzie, with her hair messy around her face and a smile that sent heat to grip my nuts. She was wearing a leather jacket that fell to her knees and carrying her heels. She smiled as she came barreling at me. When I locked my arms around her, I swore I heard violins play. My dad was right. I did see the world in a whole new light, and that light was Lizzie.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “This was my fault, the cops showing up. I shouldn’t have let my anger get to me.”

  I let go of her. “Where’s—”

  Kross swaggered in, laughing with a man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a shoulder holster housing a Glock twenty-two. I guessed that was Detective Rayburn.