Max swallowed, considering her statement for a moment.
He prepared his next words carefully. As carefully as he could.
When she looked down, Max used one finger to tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Let’s set the record straight right now. I don’t trust you, Courtney. I’ve never trusted you.” He allowed his eyes to rake down her body. “You’re a good fuck, yes. But other than that, you have nothing to offer me.”
Courtney sucked in a breath and stumbled backward. Max fought the overwhelming urge to grab her, to pull her into his arms and tell her he had lied. But he couldn’t. He needed to push her away. She wasn’t going to love him back, she wasn’t going to be the woman he could spend the rest of his life with, and that meant she was in danger. She needed to get as far away from him as she possibly could. It was the only way he could keep her safe. And if keeping her alive meant breaking her heart, then so be it.
“I…” The tears that formed in her eyes nearly leveled him, but he didn’t budge, didn’t allow any emotion to reflect on his face.
“It’s time for you to go now, Courtney.” A knock sounded on the front door, and Max motioned for her to leave him. “Leyton will bring your friend and ensure you both get to the car.”
With that, he turned away from her, his chest burning as though acid filled the space where his heart had once been.
The sound of the door slamming had him closing his eyes. As much as he loved Courtney, as much as he trusted her—because despite knowing better, he did trust her—Max knew she would never survive in his world.
Where she thought a fucking parking space was a business arrangement, Max knew better.
In his world, business arrangements came in many forms. A handshake. A threat. Hell, a piece of paper meant nothing, but his word…
His word meant everything.
And it was high time he got back to doing what needed to be done.
Chapter Nineteen
Just when you think you know yourself … this happens.
Twenty months ago
“Where are we going?” Courtney demanded when Max led her through the narrow hallway of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.
“To have a chat with a friend of yours,” he told her brusquely.
Courtney’s throat tightened as she processed his words. His tone was lethal, and she’d never seen him quite as angry as he was right then. Considering they didn’t have any mutual friends, she knew this wouldn’t be good.
When he’d arrived at the Sniper 1 Security office half an hour ago, insisting that she come down to talk, only to instruct his driver to drive when she’d joined him inside the armored Escalade, she’d known something was up. He hadn’t said a single word during the entire drive, which had only put her on edge.
And now, as they stopped in front of a steel door manned by a big, beefy guard glaring at her, her heart was racing, and the first trickle of fear dripped into her bloodstream.
“Open the door,” Max instructed the guard, his firm grip on her upper arm beginning to hurt.
When the door flew open, Courtney’s breath lodged in her throat as Max ushered her inside the ten-by-ten room. It was completely empty except for…
There, strapped naked and bleeding to a metal chair was Weston, one of Max’s bodyguards.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, taking in all of his injuries.
Weston’s head lolled to the side, his eyes swollen shut, his face so battered it was hard to tell who he was. The way he held his arm against his chest, she could only assume it was broken. Even his feet were bloody.
There was no point asking why they’d done this to him.
She knew.
Trying to break free of Max’s death grip on her arm, Courtney fought the tears that threatened.
He didn’t let her go.
Another man joined them, and then the door closed, sealing them inside the musty room.
Footsteps sounded from behind her, and she saw a tall, bald man with beady eyes and a snarling lip. He looked like the devil himself.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Max asked her, releasing her arm.
She swallowed hard but steeled herself. She would not allow Max to see her fear. In her business, fear was a weakness. According to her father, it gave their enemies too much power, something to hold over them. From a young age, she’d been taught to mask that fear, tamp it down, lock it up. It had no place in her world.
“No,” she spat. “Why am I here?”
“Do you remember having a conversation with your friend Weston?”
Courtney narrowed her eyes at Max, doing her best not to look at Weston, not to see his battered and bleeding body. God, she didn’t even know how he was alive, but based on his appearance, if he even was, it likely wouldn’t be for long.
The clank of metal against metal sounded from behind her, and she turned to see the bald guy taking down a thick, heavy chain that had been mounted to the wall.
She turned her full attention to Max and schooled her expression, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“Did you get what you needed from Weston, Courtney?” Max asked, his voice deathly soft.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” she retorted.
Max grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, practically dragging her until she stood less than a foot away from Weston. The metallic scent of blood drifted toward her, the weak man’s shallow breaths all that she heard beyond the erratic beat of her own heart.
“Did you hear that, Weston?” Max asked. “She’s not even gonna own up to your death.”
Courtney tried to pull away from Max, her heart pounding inside her chest. Max was going to kill Weston. He was going to kill him, and it was all her fault.
She’d met Weston at Max’s house, spent a little more than an hour talking to him one morning when Max had disappeared into his office to take a phone call. Sure, she’d been prying, trying to get some information from the younger guy, playing him, flirting with him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
At that point, when she’d first started talking to Weston, she’d been with Max for several months, getting deeper and deeper into a relationship with him, but never had she actually gotten any information to take back to her father. Nothing that would take Max down, nothing concrete enough to do any damage to the Southern Boy Mafia, and she’d felt as though she were running out of time.
So, she’d befriended Weston, pretended to like him until she convinced him that she wanted him. And then, she’d gotten his phone number, called him, and invited him to meet with her.
He had.
But the young man hadn’t given up any information that would’ve hurt Max.
“What’d she offer you?” Max asked Weston.
Weston’s head shifted, his right eye opened ever so slightly, his tormented gaze meeting hers. She could hardly make out the color of his iris because the lid was so swollen, purple from the bruises that marred his once-handsome face, but she knew his eyes were blue.
“Did she offer her pussy?” Max asked, his tone lethal. “Is that what she offered to give you if you talked?”
“God, no!” Courtney screamed.
She hadn’t offered him anything. She’d merely tried to talk to him. Sure, the flirting might’ve alluded to more, but she’d never intended to do anything with him. She wasn’t a whore.
“Then what?” Max demanded, turning his hardened gaze on her. “What reason did you give him to betray me?”
“He didn’t…” she uttered, her throat closing around the words. “He didn’t betray you.”
“No? He met with you in the park, sat with you for two fucking hours, and talked. What’d you talk about? The goddamn weather? If he didn’t betray me, what did he do, Courtney? Confess his undying love? Ask you to run away with him? What?”
“I betrayed you,” Weston said through swollen lips. “I shouldn’t have talked to her.”
“He didn’t!” Courtney y
elled. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
“But you tried, didn’t you?” Max yelled at her directly. “You tried to get him to talk.”
Courtney’s gaze dropped to the floor as she nodded. She’d tried, but Weston had revealed very little. Not anything that she hadn’t already known.
“Anything you have to say to me, Weston?” Max asked.
Lifting her gaze to the broken and battered man in front of her, she wanted to plead for Max to let him go, but she knew better. He was going to die. This was what happened in Max’s world. This soulless man was the leader of a dirty underworld where laws didn’t apply, the ruler of the darkness that flowed like water through that dismal place she’d found herself living in.
He was the man she’d foolishly fallen for. And she hated that, hated that she’d betrayed herself. Even now, even knowing what was going to happen, she couldn’t deny her feelings for Max. He was doing what had to be done. He weeded out the weak links in his organization in order to move forward, just as Leyton had told her he did. It made sense, even if she hated it.
“I’m sorry for betraying you, sir,” Weston choked out, but Courtney could tell he wasn’t asking for forgiveness. The man had figured out that it wouldn’t be forthcoming, but his death certainly would.
Max grabbed Courtney’s arm and yanked her toward him, leading her back to the door. She was ready to go, didn’t want to see what would inevitably happen next.
“No, sweetheart,” Max whispered harshly against her ear. “You’re gonna see what happens when someone betrays me. And maybe you’ll learn not to dig any deeper.”
“Or what?” she snarled, glaring up at him. “Will you have me killed, too?”
Max’s eyes went soft, confusing her momentarily. “No. But anyone who dares to talk to you about me will find themselves in Weston’s place.”
She heard the chains rattle and then found herself pulled up against Max, her back to his front as his arms banded around her, his hand cupping her jaw roughly, forcing her to watch the gory scene.
The bald man worked diligently to attach the chain to a hook that dangled above Weston. Once in place, he held the loop in his thick hands as he stood behind Weston. The man’s empty eyes were trained over Courtney’s head, and she knew the moment Max gave the signal.
Refusing to look away because she wasn’t going to allow Max to win this one, she kept her eyes on Weston, praying for his soul, asking God to forgive him as the asshole took the chain and wrapped it around Weston’s neck, then released a lever that slowly hefted Weston into the air.
Weston struggled, cried out, the will to live forcing him to fight against the chains choking the life from him. A tear slid down Courtney’s cheek as Weston wailed, pleading for his life until he could no longer speak, his body hanging limp as the bald man kept him suspended by his neck.
She’d known from the beginning that Max was a killer, that he was ruthless and extremely powerful, yet she’d followed this path, and look what had happened.
She’d fallen in love with a killer.
And now, she wasn’t much better than him, because Max was right, Weston’s death was on her hands. She’d done this to him. It was all her fault.
Chapter Twenty
Respect turns to disgust …
surprising even him.
Present Day
Sunday morning, April 26th
“Where have you been?”
Max looked up from his desk to see Angelica marching toward him, the heels of her expensive shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. The sun shining in through the windows of his home office bounced off her blonde hair as she moved closer.
“I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop her,” Sal informed him as he ran into the room behind the hurricane that was Angelica.
“It’s all right,” he told Sal. “Where’s Leyton?”
“He had to take a phone call.”
Max nodded. “Leave us.”
When Sal closed the door, Max turned his attention to Angelica, leaning back in his seat as he studied her. Just looking at her made him want to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her. But he wouldn’t allow her to see that anger, that fury because that would give her power over him, and that was the last thing Max would relinquish to the bitch. “What can I help you with?”
“Where have you been?” she repeated, her voice shrill. “I know you weren’t home. And I know that you…”
The woman had the good sense to trail off when Max shot to his feet. “I’m not sure how things work in your world, Angelica, but in mine, it’s incredibly rude to barge in unannounced. This isn’t playtime. I have a job to do, and you’re hindering my ability to do it.”
“I…”
Max could see that she wanted to argue, but something stopped her. What, he didn’t know.
“Have a seat,” he instructed sternly, motioning her toward the sofa.
Angelica huffed but walked to the sofa, primly easing down as she kept her knees tightly together, her eyes locked on him.
“Now what can I help you with?” he asked again, taking a seat across from her. “Did you come to offer to pay Dane’s medical bills?”
Anger lanced his insides as he thought about what she’d done to one of his longtime friends, a man who’d stood by Max for nearly a decade. Although Dane would live, would eventually recover from the vicious attack, he would forever be scarred.
“What?” Angelica asked, her eyes widening.
“Cut the bullshit,” he snapped. Max leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Lowering his voice, he said, “I know what you did. I know you sliced his fucking face wide open. Did you know it took one hundred and seven fucking stitches to sew him back up?”
Angelica didn’t say anything, but he could see her seething. She was definitely more malicious than he’d given her credit for.
“Or did you just come to talk about the wedding?” he snarled, leaning back and regarding her with the hatred that filled his gut every time he looked at her.
“Why were you with her?” Angelica hissed.
“With who?”
“Don’t you dare play stupid with me, Max. I know you were with … her.”
Max lifted an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue her rant.
Shockingly, she was silent, but her eyes bored holes in him. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move as he waited for her to say what she needed to say.
“We’re moving the wedding date up,” she finally snapped.
Max sighed and got to his feet. “Angelica, I’ve got shit to do. See yourself out.”
“No!” she screamed.
He returned to his desk, ignoring her as she stomped toward him.
He pivoted to face her, took two steps closer, and fisted his hands at his sides. “How would you like to spend some time in prison?” he asked.
Her head snapped back as though he’d hit her. “What are you talking about?”
Max cocked his head to the side. “One hundred and seven fucking stitches, Angelica.”
“You wouldn’t turn me in,” she spat. “My grandfather—”
Max lunged toward her, grabbing both of her arms and jerking her forward. He lowered his face to hers, their noses touching. “Don’t ever tell me what I will or will not do. And don’t you ever fucking try to threaten me. Are we clear? You don’t have a motherfucking clue what you’ve gotten yourself into. You’re expecting sunshine and goddamn roses in exchange for protection, and that’s the last fucking thing you’re gonna get. Cross me one more time, cause any more fucking damage, so much as breathe the wrong way and your grandfather will be making funeral arrangements for his beloved granddaughter. Because I will call Marcus Alvarez myself. Feel me?”
Angelica’s eyes opened wider than before. Yeah, he was on to her game. It hadn’t taken long for him to find out who she was running from and why.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered, her voice hard, cold.
“Don’t test me.”
&nbs
p; Max let her go, taking a deep breath as he returned to his chair and lowered himself into it.
“You don’t have a say in this,” she ground out. “If you want that land, this will go my way. I’ve already changed the date. We’re getting married on the sixteenth.”
This time, Max chose to ignore her.
Before Angelica could get another word in, the door to Max’s office opened, causing him to look up. He slowly got to his feet as he watched his father move purposefully across the room.
“Everything okay?” Max asked Samuel.
“We need to talk,” his father said, glancing over at Angelica. “I need a minute alone with my son. That’ll be all for now.”
Max watched as Angelica’s big blue eyes grew in disbelief, her disdain evident. Nope, today certainly wasn’t her day. And wasn’t that interesting. And here he’d thought she actually understood the structure of his family. Apparently, being sheltered in the political world had left this woman without the accurate image of what true power really was.
“Now!” Samuel growled.
Angelica jumped, a slight squeak escaping her. With a huff, she turned and stormed out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind her. Thankfully, Sal did the honors, leaving Max alone in his office with his father.
“Sit,” Samuel advised, moving closer to Max’s desk.
Max adjusted his suit jacket but didn’t take a seat. “Something wrong?”
“I received a phone call yesterday.”
Max waited for his father to continue.
“From your good friend Artemis Winslow. He was … agitated.”
“Did he say why?” Max questioned, not actually giving two shits about Artemis Winslow and his frame of mind.
“Apparently, his granddaughter called him in the middle of the night on Friday, informing him of her future husband’s infidelity.”
“Before or after she sliced Dane open?” Max retorted, fury igniting in his veins.
“Whose fault was that? He let her get one up on him. He deserved what he got.”
Max kept his lips tightly closed, rage coursing through him. That was one of Samuel’s downfalls. He’d never truly understood loyalty. According to him, everyone was expendable.
Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1) Page 16