Maksim was still laying on top of the blankets, but during the night, Val had wrapped one beefy arm around him. The body heat warmed him to his core. The masculine scent of sweat and mint shampoo wasn’t bad either.
He felt a stirring in his groin and bolted out of bed before he sprang an erection in front of a teenage girl. “I’ll make the coffee.”
“Make some for me too, will you?” Val’s morning voice was like sandpaper. He grimaced and added, “You got a toothbrush?”
Maksim handed him a plastic bag filled with various toiletries, including a pack of disposable razors and shaving cream. He liked being prepared. There was no reason for them to be uncomfortable while running for their lives.
“You’ll be wanting these, too,” he said, holding up a pair of sweatpants.
Val’s lack of pants had been the true reason Maksim hadn’t joined him beneath the sheets. He wasn’t about to make a fool of himself in front of a damaged young man who was doing his best just to keep them all alive. No matter how tempting that man’s naked body might be.
He dumped a package of complimentary coffee grounds into a paper filter, all the while keeping a side eye on Val, who asked Emma to turn around before climbing out of bed.
Watching him had nothing to do with the acres of tan skin over taut muscle, he told himself. It was merely a precaution in case he collapsed.
He considered himself a gentleman in most circumstances, so he kept his gaze resolutely above the brief flash of a thick, dark cock nestled against Val’s thigh.
He couldn’t stop himself from eyeballing the way Val’s external obliques tapered into an indented V above his pelvis, however. To his bewilderment, that particular muscle group had his mouth watering. He imagined putting his mouth right there. He could almost taste and smell the warm skin.
Val didn’t collapse, and Maksim viciously punched the brew option on the machine.
“He’s really hot,” Emma announced once Val was in the bathroom.
Maksim scowled at her. “Were you peeking?”
“No!” Her face flamed. “Ew, no! I meant for you.”
He made a face. “We’ve been over this. My dating life is not open for discussion.”
“Then why is mine?” she squealed.
“Because you’re a child.” He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have a dating life.”
“I could,” she said, crossing her arms petulantly. “Oliver Hussey asked me out.”
Coffee sloshed over the lip of his mug as he poured. He jerked his hand back with a curse. “When was this?”
“Yesterday. In gym class.”
Maksim blinked. Ever since Emma had begun skipping school to hide in his apartment, he’d familiarized himself with her class schedule. “But you were at my place before noon. Did you leave during gym?”
She dropped onto Val’s unmade bed and began fiddling with a strand of hair, twisting it round and round the tip of her finger. “I told the teacher I had my period and needed to see the nurse.”
There were many reasons Maksim had never had children, and this was one of them. Dear Lord, how had it come to this? “So the boy of your dreams — your nauseating description, I’ll remind you — asked you out… and you left to cry on my sofa?”
“He said his parents needed to meet my parents first!” She covered her face in horror. “That can never happen. I mean, my God! What would they say? Not to get the little bitch knocked up?”
It took a moment for him to realize she was genuinely crying. She didn’t do much of that, which he suspected was unusual, based on all the secondhand information he’d ever learned about teenage girls.
He set his coffee down and joined her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her quaking shoulders. She immediately turned her face into his neck, and the dampness of her cheek and the heat of her breath made him itch. It was nothing like Val’s warm breath at the back of his neck as he woke.
He smoothed a palm over her shining hair and resisted the impulse to scratch.
“I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. I don’t know how those substandard human beings raised such an incredible daughter. But I’m glad they did. You could always introduce the Husseys to me, you know. Tell them I’m your uncle.”
“Uncle Maks,” she sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Uncles are supposed to spoil their nieces rotten.”
“I do.”
“I know.”
He kissed the top of her head and tried to stand, but her thin arms tightened around his neck. Her voice was small when she asked, “We’re going to be okay, right? This whole thing… I mean, this isn’t a big deal?”
He wrapped her in his arms and squeezed. “You’ll be fine, I promise. It would probably be safe for you to return home now. The chance that anyone looking for us would recognize you, or have the patience to search security feeds to discover where you live, is slim to none. I’d prefer you stay with me out of an abundance of caution, nothing more.”
“If they do figure out where I live… are mom and dad in trouble?”
“No. I have no connection to your parents except you, and even idiots would know a child like you was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Your father is a golf pro and your mother breeds poodles. There aren’t two people on this planet of less interest to the mafia.”
“I can guarantee that,” Val confirmed as he exited the bathroom.
He’d shaved, and his hair was wet, but he must have washed it in the sink because his bandage was dry. Maksim couldn’t imagine how bending at the waist like that must have hurt.
“Dominic Russo has his fingers in a lot of pies, but poodle breeding is not one of them,” Val said with a grin.
Emma had stopped clinging to him, so Maksim retrieved their coffee and handed a cup to Val. He focused on the gratitude in his expression rather than the brush of their fingers.
“What are Russo’s interests? If we’re assuming your father learned something he shouldn’t, we need to start with what there was to learn in the first place.”
“Tough to say.” Val took his coffee to the table and painfully lowered himself into a chair.
He was moving like a stiff geriatric but obviously had no intention of getting back in bed. “I’m just muscle. He doesn’t talk business with me. But that’s not the right tree to go barking up, anyway. It all started at that damn club. Everyone and their mother came in and out of there: Russo, his business manager, his bodyguard… hell, his fucking wife.” He glanced at Emma, and his Italian complexion darkened. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“So you want to check out the club?”
“What club?” Emma asked. “Can I come?”
“You’ll stay with Miguel until we get this cleared up,” Maksim announced, pointing at her without taking his attention from Val.
“The gorgeous one?” Val asked dryly.
Maksim cast Emma a look full of censure, but she just stuck out her tongue. “If you like the dark, muscled type,” he said.
“Which you do!” Emma crowed.
That peculiar red flush of shame crept up the neck of their own dark, muscled male. Maksim wanted to put his tongue against it to feel the heat.
“Who is this guy, anyway?” Val asked. “I know he patched me up, but are you sure you can trust him?”
Maksim blinked and struggled to divert his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Not with my messages or the copy machine,” he answered. “With my life? Absolutely.”
Val stared hard at him. His face was haggard, his cheekbones more pronounced than they had been the day before. Between his expression and his old man movements, his outward appearance had drastically caught up with his ancient eyes.
Val frowned, but all he said was, “I hope you’re right.”
12
Val
Miguel Acosta was one of those mythical unicorns who actually lived within walking distance of the MAX. They took an Uber to the nearest train platform and rode the MAX downtown, all on Maksim’s dime, of course.
Val had a few grand hidden in his apartment, but they’d agreed the risk of retrieving it was too great, especially when Maksim had money to burn.
It chafed to let the man pay for everything, but Val kept a mental tally of all he owed. Financially, at least. There was no repaying what he owed the man in other areas.
Acosta had agreed to work from home for the rest of the week to keep an eye on Emma. It seemed suspiciously altruistic to Val at first, until he remembered the way Reese had flown out the very day after his court martial, just to stand with Val when he put his father in the ground.
Acosta was Maksim’s Reese, that was all.
Emma would be kept out of harm's way for the rest of the week. If they hadn’t neutralized the threat by then, they were in for a world of hurt. Federal WitSec level hurt. Maksim’s career would be destroyed.
Val didn’t want to be responsible for ruining their lives.
Emma was doing remarkably well considering the shock she’d been through. As they left the station, she stopped at a kiosk to buy herself a mocha, and Maksim explained that it wasn’t uncommon for children and teenagers to handle crises better than adults.
“I’ve seen it often in my practice,” he said. “Kids live in the moment. They might know and even accurately understand the danger, but it doesn’t seem real to them until it’s happening. They don’t ruminate on it like we do.”
“Lucky her.” Val couldn’t help but smile when Emma trotted back to them with whipped cream on her chin.
It was a remarkably beautiful day for early January. A warm front had blown in off the Pacific and pushed the storm clouds eastward, and the walk was pleasant.
Acosta’s neighborhood was old, lined with twisted oaks and Queen Anne style buildings, many of which had been remodeled into townhouses and apartments. They’d probably been beautiful once, but had fallen into disrepair decades ago, with peeling shingles and barred windows. It was the kind of place most people didn’t walk after dark.
“Miguel insists it’s experiencing gentrification,” Maksim mused, with one eye on a vagrant going through a pile of garbage cans.
“Yeah, like the realtor said my studio has curb appeal,” Val laughed. “She’d probably say this place is full of quaint Victorians.”
“It was once.”
“Ew, is that a used condom?” Emma wrinkled her nose and pointed to the sidewalk.
“It’s a water balloon,” Maksim said with a straight face.
Val snickered. He couldn’t help it.
Emma glared at him and theatrically stepped around the lump of wrinkled latex.
Acosta’s building was small and square, with crumbling stucco that someone had cared enough to slap a fresh coat of paint over. Val punched the buzzer, attention caught by the top of the line lock on the door. Someone in the building took security seriously.
“You’re sure he doesn’t mind me staying here?” Emma nervously smoothed down her hair. She’d turned up her nose at the leggings and sweatshirt Maksim had purchased for her and had worn her rumpled — but apparently more fashionable — outfit from the day before.
“He’s happy to do it,” Maksim assured her. “He said something about needing an Apex partner.”
“Do you even know what that is?” Emma asked, as heavy steps sounded from inside the building.
“Not a clue.” When Val chuckled, Maksim asked him, “Do you?”
Val held up his hands defensively just as a buff Latino man opened the door. “Games were never my thing. A couple guys in my unit played, though.”
“You’re missing out.” The man, who Val assumed was Miguel Acosta, leaned against the door, arms crossed over his barrel chest. He pointed a finger at Maksim. “But you are just old as fuck.”
“I’m four years older than you.” Maksim sounded disgusted.
“It’s a mental thing, homie.” Miguel tapped his temple. He turned his attention to Val, black eyes scanning his body critically. “My stitches must have held.”
“You do good work.” Val thrust out a hand. “Thank you.”
“No problem, man.” Miguel shook his hand. “Anything to get this guy owing me favors. Come on in, get off the street.”
“When the hell are you going to move, Acosta?” Maksim grumped as they climbed a flight of old wooden stairs. The building was an old Victorian that had been remodeled into four units on opposite sides of a narrow staircase.
“Never,” Miguel declared. “Unlike you, I care about my city.”
The apartment itself wasn’t too shabby, and Val was relieved. He’d felt a niggling concern about leaving Emma there alone. Not that she wouldn’t be safe. Even if Acosta weren’t a former cop, she would still probably be safer with Maksim’s friend than she would with them.
But she was clearly a young girl with expensive tastes. She lived in Maksim’s building, for God’s sake, and the thought of getting her shot at, kidnapping her, and then dumping her in a ghetto made him feel like a worm.
But Acosta’s place was leagues nicer than his own. It had a simple modern kitchen and a floor plan that opened up onto a bright living room with hardwood floors. A bed was already made up on a plush couch, and Emma immediately plopped herself down to finish her beverage in peace.
“That will be mine,” Acosta nodded at the couch. “She can take my room where there’s a lock on the door.”
“Based on what I’ve been hearing, it’s you who might need the lock,” Val said.
Maksim scowled.
“Hey, don’t worry about it, man.” Acosta clapped Maksim on the back. “I’ve got four sisters. Their friends were all up in my business when we were kids. I can friend zone like a pro.”
“She’s fourteen. She’s too young for any kind of zone,” Maksim snarled.
“Besides the Chuck E. Cheese zone?” Acosta cracked himself up.
“I’m going to talk to her. I need to be sure she’s comfortable here before we abandon her.” Maksim went to Emma, who had already discovered the T.V. remote, and crouched in front of her. His voice was too low for them to hear from the kitchen, but whatever he said made the girl smile.
Val had thought he looked amazing in his pricey business clothes, but he was something else today, in a pair of crisp blue jeans and a sweater that looked ridiculously soft. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, and Val hungrily cataloged the strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair.
“Huh,” Acosta grunted. “Never seen him like this.”
“Yeah, the jeans are something else,” Val murmured.
“I meant the way he cares about that little girl.”
“Oh.”
Acosta looked amused. “The jeans are good too, I guess. If you like the type.” He chuckled and pulled a chair away from the kitchen table. “Take a load off. I want to check your damage.”
Val sat and carefully stripped off his sweatshirt so that Acosta could peel back his bandage and poke around.
“Not too bad.” He yanked out an enormous first aid kit and opened up a fresh bandage. “You would’ve been fine if you hadn’t fucked it up running all over the city.”
“More likely it was the kidney punch.”
“That would do it,” Acosta said without glancing away from the wound. His face was intent as he swabbed the stitches. “Maks says you’ve got some training.”
“Yeah.”
“He also says you’re not one of the bad guys.”
“I can’t figure out why he thinks that,” Val grumbled. “He’s known me for twenty-four hours, and he met me in a police station.”
“Eh.” Acosta taped down the sides of the bandage. His hands were warm and firm, but they didn’t feel nearly as good as when Maksim had done the same thing the night before. “Maks has this thing he does. I mean, I was a cop, so I know how to read people. But him? It’s like he looks at you and just knows shit. I haven’t seen him be wrong yet.”
“What are you talking about?” Maksim entered the kitchen. His frosty blue eyes flicked up a
nd down Val’s bare chest before turning to his friend.
“How you’re a freaky cyborg.” Acosta grinned.
“Does that mean you’re finished telling everyone I’m the undead?”
“I never saw you eat! A whole year and not one thing passed those lips except smartass comments. And probably a lot of dick.”
Val coughed, and pain tore up his side, which only made him do it again. He devolved into a coughing fit.
“See what you did?” Maksim’s voice was snowy.
“Nah, homie’s cool. The mafia is homoerotic as fuck. It’s all that Italian machismo. You know he’s seen some shit.”
Val was laughing then, holding his side and wheezing at the same time.
Even Maksim smiled, and it was a damn killer, crooked and boyishly sweet, revealing an orthodontist’s dream of perfect white teeth.
“Hold up, let me check out that wheeze before you go.” Acosta yanked a stethoscope from his kit. When they were fitted snugly in his ears, he asked, “Is the girl listening?”
Val craned around Maksim to check. “She’s watching some pretty boys on T.V.”
Acosta moved the stethoscope over Val’s ribs for a while and then said softly, “I talked with my boys back at Central. Your instinct was dead on. Internal Affairs is crawling all over the Homicide division right now, but my buddy’s putting his money on one guy in particular. Even if he’s not crooked, most everyone wants him gone just because he does shit work. He worked a few sex trafficking busts at a mob club called Bare Essentials back when he was with Vice, so I.A. is looking at him hard.”
“What’s his name?” Maksim asked suspiciously.
“Brent Miller.” Acosta must have noticed the flicker of recognition on his face. “You know him?”
“He was one of the detectives interrogating Val yesterday,” Maksim drawled. “Andrea Nilsson’s new partner.”
“Shit.” Acosta whistled. “You think she’s in on it?”
Maksim shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“I know someone who might,” Val said, tugging his sweatshirt back on with a wince. “I’m on decent terms with the bartender at Esposito’s club. If Miller’s been in there, he’ll know.”
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