The Hot Lawyer (A Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #4)

by Alexa Davis

  "What do you mean, injured?" I asked.

  "Come to Ursus, now," he said before disconnecting. It was just like my father to have one of his men call and drop a bomb without explaining, but after Kristov's murder this morning, I wasn't going to question it. I redirected my driver and stared out the window, silently watching the darkened city streets rush by. I'd talk with Lexi later. Right now, I had to find out what was going on.

  When I walked into the bar, I noticed that one of the mirrors behind the liquor display had been shattered and only jagged fragments remained. The bartender pointed in the direction of the back room as he continued sweeping up the mess, and I followed his directions.

  "Papa? Papa, what happened here?" I called as I walked through the door leading to the private meeting room my father had built for the bratán.

  "Zhopa!" he swore angrily. "That's what happened! Those zhopan come into my bar and start trouble, and I'm going to end it!"

  "Papa, what the hell happened?" I asked trying to hide the shock of what I was seeing. Papa was sitting on a chair off to the side of the huge round table where he and his bratán held meetings and often played dice or cards while they drank. He was holding a bag of ice over one eye, and when he pulled it away to show me, I could see that he'd been badly beaten. His eye was red and completely swollen shut and his lip was still trickling blood where it had been split. Sitting next to him was his personal physician and best friend, who was working with a set of well-worn tools as he set what appeared to be a broken wrist.

  "It's the young thugs, Maksimka," my father shook his head wearily and winced as the doctor realigned his wrist before wrapping it and starting to apply the cast material. Papa quietly said something to him in Russian before turning his attention back to me. "It's Dementyev's boys. I've seen them before. They're ruthless."

  "But what happened? How did they get you?" I asked, unable to believe that a group of young thugs could have gotten through my father's guards. I turned and looked at them.

  "Don't get upset with them, Maksimka," Papa gently scolded. "I tangled with the young ones. They were disturbing business, and I'd had enough of their drunken outbursts!"

  He described how the boys had come in, loud and rowdy, and begun picking fights with various patrons. Knowing what had happened with Kristov, no one wanted to engage with the thugs, but they persisted until my father had come out from the back room and demanded they leave. At that point, one of the thugs had challenged Papa to a fight and when he'd laughed and told him that he wasn't going to fight a baby kitten, they boy lunged at Papa and punched him. Papa had put up a good fight, Feliks assured me, but the other boys had held the rest of the crowd at gunpoint while Papa and the ringleader had duked it out.

  When the thug had decided he'd had enough, he whistled to the ones holding the guns and they'd all run out, but not before the leader stopped and spit on the bar and dropped his calling card. Papa handed it over to me to look at. It was a plain white business card with an intricate Celtic cross in the center and MIR, the Russian word for peace, inscribed underneath it.

  "I don't get it," I said as I looked down at the card and back at Papa. "What does this mean?"

  "In Moscow, the Celtic cross was a symbol of the white power movement," he explained as he knocked back the shot of vodka Feliks put in front of him. "They're racist bastards. And the word MIR is peace, but it also means that he'll only be reformed by a firing squad. It's a death wish, Maksim."

  "But why are they after you, Papa? What do they want?"

  "Maksim, this is why I needed you to come back and help your brother," he said quietly. "The wolves are circling. That sookin syn Dementyev is trying to take over all the business on the West Side and he's a snake. He has no respect for traditions. He has no honor."

  "Do you think those are the ones who killed Kristov?" I asked in a low voice. "Did they do it, Papa?"

  "No, Maksim, they're too young and foolish," he shook his head and looked down at the cast on his arm. "They have no self-control. The ones who killed Kristov are disciplined. They are soldiers."

  I nodded and stood silently, waiting for my father to tell me what it was he wanted me to do. Years of conditioning had made me wary of proposing any ideas or plans unless he'd deemed them worthy, but looking down at him, it dawned on me that he was an old man. He looked fragile and tired, and I worried that the reason everything was going to hell was because he wasn't strong enough to lead.

  Secretly, I also worried that Kristov had made enemies that my father knew nothing about and that this wave of attack had nothing to do with Papa and everything to do with my brother. I ran my hand through my hair and shook my head as I tried to sort it all out. I looked at Papa, then around the room at the bratán who stood faithfully guarding him. They would protect him while I figured out what to do next. I had to trust that they would, and when I scanned the room, each one nodded almost imperceptibly as if they knew what I was thinking and were agreeing to shoulder the burden.

  "Papa, I want you to go home and stay there," I said. I knew I was taking a risk in ordering him around in front of his men, but I also knew that someone had to step up and take charge right now. And the way I figured, it was better me than an outsider. "I need to figure some things out and I can't do that if I'm worried about you being killed here in the bar."

  "I can't take time off!" he bellowed as he slammed his newly casted hand down on the table. The roar of pain that followed caused us all to look away. Right now, Vladimir Malinchenko was a broken man, and I would have to step in and take his place.

  "Go home, Papa," I said as I looked at Feliks. "Go home and just rest for a few days until I get this straightened out. Just give me a few days, please?"

  "Fine," he grumbled as he peered at me with one eye. "Do what you need to do. I'll stay home for three days. But just three! Do you understand me, Maksim? Three days!"

  "Yes, Papa," I replied dutifully. I knew I would probably need a lot more time than that, but three days was a good start.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Lexi

  The next morning, I walked into the kitchen and found Max fixing coffee as usual. He seemed tired and withdrawn, and when I said good morning, he gave me a wan smile and handed me a cup of steaming hot coffee.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "Yeah, just a lot on my mind this morning," he said as he poured himself a cup and pulled out the business section of the paper. I took the front page and we sat reading in compatible silence until I ran across a local story that made me gasp.

  "Max, did you see this?" I asked as I held up the paper. "Local bar owner beaten by thugs. It says that they think these guys are part of the mafia and may be connected to a shooting that took place earlier in the week. What the heck is going on over in Wicker Park?"

  "It's a crazy city, Lexi," he said, never taking his eyes off of the paper in front of him. "I have no clue what's happening on the West Side, but it doesn't sound good, does it?"

  "I just thought maybe you'd know since you know some of the Russians who come and buy jewelry," I ventured. I wanted to ask more questions, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to answer them.

  "I really couldn't tell you," he said as he looked up and flashed me one of the most fake smiles I'd ever seen.

  "Don't pull the salesman smile on me, Mr. Malin," I scolded in a joking tone. "I'm not buying."

  "Then, what are you buying, Ms. Wallace?" he shot back in an irritated tone.

  "Sheesh, sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood," I muttered. I sipped my coffee and continued reading the paper. There was something going on, and I knew it, but I also knew that trying to drag it out of him wouldn't get me any good result and might actually backfire.

  "No, I'm sorry," he said after a few minutes of silence. "I'm tired and it was a rough night."

  "Yeah, I'm sure that your girlfriend doesn't make things easy on you," I blurted out.

  "Huh?" he said as a look of genuine confusion crossed his face. "My gir
lfriend?"

  "Yeah, Miss Socialite that you went to the theater with last night?" I said incredulously. "The one who was wearing my entire year's salary on one arm? Duh!"

  "Natalia?"

  "Who else did you think I was talking about?" I asked. My voice became higher and more irritated as I continued. "I mean, really, Max, why didn't you ask her to marry you? It seems like it would have been a whole lot easier to marry the girl that you're actually dating, rather than hire an actress to play a shopgirl and then be your fake bride!"

  "Lexi, what in God's name are you talking about?" he shouted.

  "I'm talking about how you had sex with me on the balcony even though you have a girlfriend!" I yelled back and then inhaled sharply as I realized what I'd just said.

  "Is that why you're mad at me?" he asked dropping his voice.

  "I'm not mad at all," I shrugged.

  "Nice, nice shrug," he said sarcastically.

  "What?"

  "Nothing says I don't give a shit like a good old shrug," he replied.

  "So, what? Maybe I don't," I shrugged again for good measure.

  "My mother always said that if you really didn't care, you wouldn't cry or feel defensive," he said. "And, it seems to me that you're pretty darn defensive."

  "Don't turn this on me, Malin," I warned. "I asked you a question and you're refusing to answer it."

  "What question?"

  "God, you are infuriating!" I yelled. "Why didn't you marry your girlfriend?"

  "Because I don't have a girlfriend," he said as he continued reading the paper. I knew he was pretending, but I let him have that one.

  "Then, who is Natalia?" I asked.

  "She's my friend from high school," he said. "Just like I told you last night."

  "But she treats you like you're her boyfriend," I accused.

  "She does sometimes, but mostly, she treats me like her best friend," he replied as he looked across the table and fixed his gaze on me. Those icy blue eyes were like lasers and I couldn't look away.

  "Do you have sex with her?" I asked, feeling emboldened by my self-righteous anger and wanting to know what was really going on.

  "Sometimes," he said. It was an honest admission that took me by surprise.

  "Did you have sex with her last night?" I probed.

  "No, I did not," he said as he held my gaze. I could feel the tension building between us as he held my gaze. The familiar flame of desire had been ignited and now, I felt the heat creeping up through my veins. I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair, but refused to look away.

  "Why not?" I asked quietly.

  "You want to know why I didn't have sex with Natalia last night?" he asked.

  "Uh huh," I nodded.

  Max set the paper down and pushed his chair back from the table. His eyes never left mine as he stood up and walked around to where I sat and tugged at the elastic band that held my hair in a ponytail, releasing it so that it cascaded down over my shoulders. He slid one hand behind my neck and gently pulled me to my feet.

  "I didn't have sex with Natalia last night…" he whispered as he wrapped his other arm around my waist and lowered his face so that he was within inches of mine. "Because all I could think about was how much I wanted you."

  My eyes widened as he bridged the gap and gently kissed my lips.

  "Lexi," he murmured as he softly kissed me again and again. "I don't know what happened the other night, but I can't stop thinking about you. About your body, about how much I want to touch you and feel you. It's terribly distracting, you know."

  "Oh, Max," I sighed as I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned his kisses.

  His hands slowly roamed my body and I felt a fierce need welling up inside me as he lifted my thin t-shirt up over my head to expose my naked torso. His fingers captured my already-hard nipples between his fingers and squeezed, drawing a long, low moan from my lips.

  "Ah yes," he whispered as he repeated the action and smiled when I moaned again. "I've been thinking about this for the past two days. How all I wanted was you naked again."

  He quickly yanked down my pajama bottoms and discarded them on the floor as he wrapped an arm around my lower back and lifted me up on to the edge of the counter, where he rested his hands on my knees for a moment before pushing them apart. He tipped me backwards onto the surface as he dipped his head and began slowly running his tongue across my lower abdomen as he worked his way lower and lower. I fought him for a moment, but he was stronger than I was and had the advantage of leverage.

  His tongue traced a light path down between my legs before he branched out and began licking and stroking my inner thighs. I moaned as he traced a line of fire from my knee to the upper edge of my groin, but didn't move inward. It was deliciously excruciating, and I was rendered helpless as he tongued and teased me into submission.

  Once he was certain I wouldn't fight, he moved his attention inward and began by lightly blowing on the curls between my thighs. I shifted and tried to close my legs, but he held them apart and began gently stroking my outer lips with his tongue. Light licks were followed by long strokes with his flattened tongue, causing me to writhe beneath his mouth.

  "Max-" I gasped as he dipped the tip of his tongue between my lips and slid it into the slippery wetness. I couldn't breathe and yet, I didn't want to. I lost myself in his ministrations and before long, he'd run his hands up my thighs and was parting me with his fingers as he began licking and sucking more intensely. I cried out, "Max! Max! Max!" but he didn't stop or even acknowledge that he'd heard me.

  His fingers played in my wetness, slipping and sliding up and down as his tongue circled my aroused and erect nub. I heard him softly groan as he closed his lips around it and gently tugged. I arched my back to grind myself into his lips. He spread me wider as he slipped two fingers into the outermost edge of my entrance and began to tease by pushing them in an inch or two and then slowly withdrawing. I moaned and arched my back as I tried to drive his fingers in deeper, but he maintained his position and teased until I was begging him to push them in.

  "Oh, Max, please! Please! I need it!" I cried as I thrust my hips up to meet his hand.

  "Oh no, no," he murmured as he drew another long lazy circle around my clitoris and pulled another moan from somewhere deep inside me. "I'm not even close to done with you."

  "Max, I'm going to lose my mind," I begged.

  "Good, I'd like to see that." He ran his tongue down between my lips until he could push it inside of me and tease a little more. I groaned and pounded my fists on the counter as he teased, and then in an instant, he was above me, pulling me up so that I was sitting and looking down at him as he knit three fingers together and slowly drove them deep inside of me. I gripped his shoulders and leaned heavily on him as he pushed his fingers deeper then stopped and waited. I could feel him buried deep inside me while I pulsed around his hand, and when he slowly began pulling out, I let loose a scream as he stroked the tender skin of my inner walls and brought me close to climax.

  "Oh no, you don't get it that easy," he said as he slipped his free hand into my hair and raised my head so that I was looking into his eyes while he slid his fingers in and out, slowly and deliberately. He brought me to the edge over and over. Each time, just as I thought I was about to fall, he would slow down and hold my gaze until I was back with him, and then he'd resume his maddeningly sensual stroking.

  I had no idea how long he'd been doing this when I let loose and began to cry. I begged him to set me free. He pulled back and then with a few strong thrusts of his hand, his fingers stroked my inner walls while his thumb pressed my clitoris and pushed me toward release. When I climaxed a few moments later, I felt Max's lips on mine as he pulled the orgasm from my body. I pulsed and throbbed around his hand while he gently maintained a rhythm that drew all the sensations out of me. He kissed me softly and held me against his chest as he slowly and gently withdrew his fingers.

  I moaned in disappointment as I felt the emptiness where his
fingers had been and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as our kiss deepened. I could smell my scent in his fingers when he ran them across my cheek and through my hair, and I knew I wanted more, so much more.

  "More, please?" I whispered into his lips as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against his chest.

  "Oh yes, there's so much more where that came from," he whispered back.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Max

  I was ready to pick Lexi up off of the counter, carry her back to my bedroom, and spend the day exploring every inch of her incredibly responsive body — when my phone rang. I tried to ignore it, but whoever was on the other end was persistent. When I finally answered it, it was Feliks telling me that Papa had grown angrier about the attack, had strapped on his pistol, and was threatening to go out and find the punks who'd attacked him. I told him I'd get dressed and be there within the hour, but that he was not to let Papa out of the house.

  "Who was that?" Lexi asked. She looked like a fantasy come to life as she leaned against the counter completely naked with a dreamy look on her face. I'd never been a man who spent a lot of time focused on giving a woman pleasure the way I'd just done with Lexi, but then, I'd also made a habit of picking extremely dominant women who liked it rough and hard and none of them had ever responded to what I'd just done.

  "My father's second-in-command," I said. "Papa is not doing so well today, so I need to go see him."

  "Is that because of your brother?" she asked innocently. I winced knowing that this was part of the reason Papa was enraged, but I couldn't tell her the whole story without risking everything. She'd never understand how someone like me could be involved in my family's business and all the violence it begat.

  "Something like that," I said. "Are you okay opening the store by yourself again?"

  "Oh God! The store!" she cried as she gathered up her clothing and made a dash for the bathroom to get ready. She yelled on her way down the hall, "You made me forget everything!"