Max (Ryan family Book 2)

by Ana Balen

  I spoke slowly, scared I would flip some kind of switch. No one was that beautiful without some sort of flaw. He stopped at the red light, turned my way, and I lost my breath.

  He was…

  He was…

  Sweet Mary, there were no words at how gorgeous he was full frontal. I knew his eyes were brown. What I didn’t remember was that they were framed by the thickest black eyelashes there ever were. Above those eyes were his eyebrows the same color of his eyes. Nose flat. A squared jaw that ran soothingly to his corded neck. But the crown glory went to his lips. Full, framed by his beard, I had to squash the urge to pull his face to me so that I could kiss him.

  “Uh…” faced with the perfection that was him, I couldn’t remember what I wanted to say.

  Not that it mattered. Max glanced forward at the light, checking to see if it was still red, then looked back at me.

  “We’ll talk when we get to my place, Bean.”

  When we get to his place? Bean? I didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant by all of that because he turned back and started driving. He didn’t look at me once all the way to his house. I was gasping for breath by the time he turned into a drive and stopped the car. The silence was stifling and suffocating.

  “Come,” was all he grunted my way before he opened the door and got out without a backward glance.

  I did as he said and got out. Following him, I glance at his house. It was a nice, single story house that was almost a home. You could see that he was trying to improve it and make it what was destined to be, but either he just started, or he didn’t have much time to finish the job, and now the house stood on the line being neither just a house nor a home. As I walked up the three steps to his door, I kept thinking of how he needs a porch. Maybe even a wraparound that would hold a big, plush patio furniture, and his woman could have pots on the railing. If it had that one detail, the house would surely become a home from the fairytales. I almost snorted at the thought.

  I couldn't help myself, the designer in me screamed at the things that would improve the house, but I couldn’t imagine a man like Max coming home to a white picket fence and a house filled with flowers. The man in question glanced back when he heard me make a sound, raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He turned the key and let us in. The moment I stepped in, I lost not only my breath, but I was awestruck. Inside was an open floor plan. On the left, there was a huge kitchen that could comfortably house a 6-foot island with a breakfast bar, on the right, a living room that was divine and made for two plush three-seater couches, two chairs, a coffee table in front of the fireplace. Right in front of me was an opening that was perfect for the double French doors that would lead to the deck. And slightly on the right side, right next to them were stairs that were in dying need of a paint job.

  “You all right?” the slightly strangled voice jolted me out of my daze, and I realized that I was mentally designing Max’s home.

  “Yes,” I nodded and took another look.

  Unfortunately, what came at me were the dark walls, a dark kitchen that in the place of my imaginary island had a rough, round wood table and four chairs around it. The living room housed a big leather sofa. And in the place of the French doors was a glass slider that led nowhere as far as I could see.

  “I know it’s not much, but I'm working on it,” I looked up at Max’s face to see it guarded.

  “No, it’s lovely,” I took another look and realized it really was.

  Simply put, it was Max. I just couldn’t help myself and tried to redesign the place the best I could for him. Which was beyond strange since I knew him all of five hours during which we exchanged maybe five words. The sound that came from Max was something I would never, ever forget, until my dying breath. I turned woodenly to him to confirm that he was indeed laughing. If I thought he was beautiful before, I was dead wrong. No, watching him full on belly laughing was the definition of beauty.

  “It’s a shithole, Bean. I know it, you know it, so you can lose this mortified look on your face,” he strolled in the direction of his kitchen, going right at the refrigerator and opening it. “I got the house a few months ago, just started working on it. It’s going to take time to get it done.”

  He came out of the fridge, holding a bottle of water, and slightly lifted it my way.

  “No, thank you,” I declined the offer and took another look. “You know, if you need any help in designing this place, let me know. I could help you with that.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows once again hitting his hairline.

  “I own Home Sweet Home Designs. Meaning, I design people’s homes. Or what it could look like. I mean, I listen to what they want and need, and I draw it out for them, something like a visual aid. Sometimes I even help with the construction. I have a warehouse filled with warriors' stuff that people can get from me. Not that it’s obligatory. We can even go shopping in other places until we find something you would like” I was rambling trying to explain what it is precisely what I do for a living, but with each word, Max’s face was becoming more and more troubling right until it became scary.

  “You own Home Sweet Home Designs?” the way he asked the question made me brace.

  “Yes.”

  Max took a step toward me, which made me take a step back, something he didn’t miss.

  “You own Home Sweet Home Designs?” he asked the same question again.

  “I do,” I muttered, now fully prepared to turn around and start running.

  He didn’t say a word at my confirmation, just kept running his eyes up and down my body.

  “Fucking Hell,” he whispered almost to himself.

  “What?”

  “Fucking, fucking Hell,” he went on chanting as if I said nothing.

  “Max, what?”

  Why was it so unbelievable that I owned a business? I was about to ask for the third time the same question when Max growled his own.

  “How deep are you?”

  “Deep in what?”

  He was making no sense.

  “How fucking deep, Bean?”

  “Deep in what, Max?”

  “Deep in shit, woman!”

  “I’m not in any kind of shit, except the relationship you got me out of this morning.”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me. I know what goes out of that warehouse.”

  “You mean my warehouse?”

  I didn’t get what he went on about. He needed to start making some sense.

  “Yes! Your warehouse. I know the merch that’s stored there. Every slime in Denver knows about merch that’s stored there.”

  “About my couches and tiles? Why would people know about that?”

  He was standing right in front of me in what seemed like a nanosecond, towering over me, his broad chest expanding with every harsh breath, his eyes turned to slits, and his beautiful mouth curved into a sneer.

  “Stop lying to me and tell me how fucking deep you are in?” he demanded.

  I was shaking, shaking from fear of the beast that he became in a blink of an eye, fear from what he would do to me. And the fear of something that was obviously going on in my warehouse that I had no idea about. But, if what Max said was right, every bad person in Denver knew about.

  “I have no idea what you want me to tell you, Max. I store things I find on flea markets or tiles that are going out of production or couches I find on sale but are interesting. Sure, I have some pots and frames that are made exclusively for my company, something like my signature thing, but that’s it.” I told him softly. I was afraid that high volume might spur him into action, and I would bear the brunt of it. “Oh, and sometimes, I buy the construction material that’s leftover so I can resell it for a lower price to my next clients. You know so that they could save some money.”

  “So, you’re telling me you have no idea about the shady stuff? Or the high-priced merchandise that’s coming out of that warehouse?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I stresse
d that fact.

  “I’m talking about drugs, Bean. Drugs and weapons,” he tilted his head and a cold smile spread across his face. “And if the night’s good, there’s the occasion that flesh will walk out of that door.”

  “Flesh?”

  “Yeah, mainly female flesh.”

  When the information swirled in my brain and the fact that someone was dealing drugs, guns and on occasion humans out of my storage, I gasped for breath but it was too late.

  All the lights went out and everything was black.

  Chapter Four

  Skylar

  I woke up not knowing where I was.

  It was a blissful second where everything in my world was right. Well, not everything, but the right that I knew. And then I blinked and all the day’s going on’s rushed my brain. Jacob’s texts. Me running from the church. Nico finding me. The awful things I learned that are going on in my storage.

  Max.

  Max.

  Sweet Mary, Max!

  I indulged for a moment in reliving the sweet memory of Max. How he came to my rescue.

  How his voice was soothing something in me. Something that was raw. Something that hurt. Something I didn’t even know existed. Then, as that nice, calm feeling spread through my system, the fact that someone was dealing stuff, and doing nasty things out of my place of business, pinged in my brain. I sat up, ready to throw the covers off me and run. I decided then and there I was going to thank Max for helping me, more than once, and find a way to repay him for his kindness before getting the hell out of there.

  I was also going to my office to retrieve all of the important paperwork, then call all my clients to express my apologies for not being able to finish my job. Next on my list would be to call the police to inform them of anything illegal I would find. I don’t recall ever seeing anything out of place, but somehow, I don’t doubt what Max told me.

  I was leaving Denver and never coming back. I didn’t think that it would take much to convince Melanie to go along with my plan. Kiki, however, was another story. But I would tackle all that after I got rid of the filth that infested my life without me even knowing or allowing it. Then, after doing all that, I would just… I would do what I always did.

  I would keep going.

  With my head held high; I would never let anything bring me down again. I survived losing my parents at the age of five and later losing the most important person in my teenage life, Jacob. It may sound ridiculous that I considered Jacob the most important person after losing my parents, but it is exactly what he was. My first love, and anyone knows that a young girl’s first love is one she will never forget.

  Nobody could harm me anymore. I just had to keep going and hope one day it would all be worth it, and I would get what my heart desired most… someone to call my own.

  I didn’t do any of that. After I sat up, I couldn’t help but stare. I was in a bedroom, one that was not in sync with the rest of Max's house. The room was flooded with light. On each side of the bed were tall windows. The bed itself was king sized and faced the door. In the right corner, right next to the window, was a hammock that someone hung in a way so that it resembled a chair, and on the wall next to it, a white bookshelf. Two doors decorated the wall to the left of the bed. I figured one led to the bathroom, and one to the closet. I was too stunned to go and see if I was right.

  I looked a little closer and saw that the bookshelf not only held books but pictures as well. Pictures of a woman and a man. A few of them. The bedcovers were stark white, with a turquoise knitted throw over it, the same color as the rug just beyond the bed.

  “She fainted when I confronted her,” I could hear the timber of Max’s voice just beyond the doors.

  I couldn’t help it. I slowly got out of bed and tiptoed my way to the door to listen. It was obvious he was talking about me. That is, unless he had some other woman who fainted in his living room that day.

  “I don’t think she knows anything, but I will be on the lookout.”

  I took a chance and peeked through the crack. Max was standing just in front of the room, his back to the door. One of his hands on his waist, the other holding his phone to his ear. Whatever the person said on the other line, it made Max heave a deep sigh.

  “Don’t,” he growled. “Don’t talk about that.”

  Talk about what?

  “We’re not going there, man.”

  Whoever was pushing the point, should listen to Max’s warnings. It was fascinating how, with every second he was listening, his muscles constricted one by one down his neck.

  “Stop!” he barked. “Not another word. This is nothing like that; I’ve got your back. All I’m saying is, a heads up would have been nice.”

  I waited to hear if he would say anything else, but he didn’t. His whole body sagged, and his free hand went from his waist to glide over his short hair.

  “I hear that.”

  Another sigh from Max.

  “I’ll share any information I find. I expect the same from you.”

  He started turning to the door, so I jumped away from them and dove under the covers. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he said, Call Mom and Rory, they’re busting my ass since they can’t get hold of you. I had so many questions, mainly who was Rory? Also, the woman in the pictures, I didn’t understand the squeeze my heart gave when I saw that in one of them, Max had her in his arms. I didn’t get the chance to find out, because right then, Max peeked through the door.

  “You’re up, good. We need to talk, Bean.”

  It must be said that when Max said talk, he actually meant, interrogate me. I groggily came down the stairs trailing Max, trying not to look too closely at his back since the mere sight made me drool when he spun around and fired at me.

  "I'll ask again, how deep are you?"

  This time I didn't need any explanation. I was also disappointed that we were back at this again. I looked into his stunning eyes as I came down the last three steps and stood in front of him. Close. So close, that his scent was all I could smell. Oil and wood.

  Nice.

  "As my reaction from a couple of hours ago may have suggested, I had no idea what you're talking about," I took a minuscule step closer and noticed he froze at my movement. "But I'll say it, so it will be crystal clear, until you told me what is going on in my warehouse, I had no knowledge of it. In fact, if I had even the slightest idea of it, I would call the cops, hell, even the army, to take care of it."

  I was proud of myself for how I delivered that little speech. I couldn't let him know just how much he affected me. That was until his face froze over. His voice cold as ice.

  "Are you seriously standing here, in my home, after I got you out of a situation, twice, and lying to my face trying to feed me bullshit how you didn't know that Nico Barone, is one of the top heads of the Denver underbelly? The man you were supposed to marry today?"

  This time it was Max that took another step closer to me. A step that brought him so close that with every harsh breath I took, my chest touched his midsection.

  “Are you really that blind? Or is it all just an act, Bean? You thought you could live a high life just as long as you turned a blind eye and played good little wife, hm?"

  I wished he slapped me. I could take that hit and walk away unaffected. It would just be something that happened, and it wouldn't have any effect on me. I could live with physical pain; I learned how. But this? The words he just hurdled my way? I wouldn't be able to forget them. Is that how people saw me? Is that what they thought of me? That I was nothing more than a gold digger and was willing to do anything to have everything? I took a step back, my shoulders sagging.

  "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything about me." I couldn't even look at him anymore, instead, I aimed my eyes over his left shoulder and whispered. "I would never do this. I would never intentionally turn a blind eye. All I ever wanted was to belong. Belong to someone and to call someone my own."

  I said that la
st part on a defeated whisper. After I finished with my unplanned confession, I went to the kitchen in search of a phone. I needed to call Melanie to come and get me. I had to tell her about my plan and then I had to do everything I had to do and then be gone. It was unfortunate I did. If I stayed or looked back, I would see the change in Max's eyes. I would know that he believed every word I said. I would also see that the few words I whispered hit the core of him.

  And his whole world turned upside down.

  I found the phone, and called Melanie, asked her to bring some clothes for me and gave her the address. Then I sat at the kitchen table and ignored Max, no matter how persistent he was at hovering over me and asking murmured questions. The hardest thing I had to do in all of my life, up to that point, was to ignore his quiet, Bean, please, look at me.