Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1) (15 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Letting go… Not easy, no matter how many times he did it.

Max paced the bedroom of his penthouse, trying to erase the image of the pain in Courtney’s eyes from his memory. He hated hurting her, but this arrangement—or whatever the hell she wanted to call it—was necessary. And ultimately, she’d pushed him into it. She’d pushed him away, which gave him the right to do whatever he needed to do.

Marrying Angelica wasn’t something he looked forward to, but business was business. He had an organization to run, lives that depended on him. And this was merely a means to an end. It wouldn’t be forever, or so he continued to remind himself.

Regardless, she had no right to be angry because she’d pushed him this far.

She wouldn’t have him.

No matter how much he wished it were possible, Courtney Kogan would never give herself to him completely. And if he couldn’t have
all
of her … well, then he couldn’t have
any
of her.

“I need to go home.”

Max stopped pacing, pausing to look at her as she stood in the doorway to the bedroom he’d had furnished for her. The king-sized bed, the antique dressers, the black silk comforter… It’d all been for her because he’d held out hope, something he’d never done before.

He wanted nothing more than for her to reach out to him, to let him take her in his arms and love her, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

He nodded, turning away from her again. “I’ll have my driver take you home.” Max retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Leyton, turning his back on Courtney as he moved to the window.

“I need a car for Courtney,” he informed the man, ignoring the pain in his chest at the thought of her walking out the door. Again.

“Yes, sir. Uh … we’ve got a small problem.”

“What is it?” Max questioned, recognizing the concern in Leyton’s tone.

“I just had a conversation with Angelica. It wasn’t pretty, sir.”

That wasn’t surprising. “What did she say?”

“She saw you with Courtney.”

“And?” Max didn’t give a shit who Angelica saw him with. It wasn’t her fucking business who he talked to.

“Well, when I escorted her out, sir, she made a threat. I didn’t think much of it until…”

“Until what?”

Max’s body went rigid as he listened to Leyton relay how he’d found Dane slashed from his forehead to his jaw, followed by exactly what Angelica had said to him. “Thank you. Let me know when the car arrives. Make sure there’s a detail on the car as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

The call disconnected, and Max tucked his phone into his pocket. He turned to face Courtney once again. Knowing this would likely be the last time he saw her, he wanted some answers first. And he’d start with the question that had haunted him for so long.

“Why…?” He swallowed hard. “Why couldn’t it work with us, Courtney?” Her eyebrows rose, as though he’d surprised her with his question. “Explain it to me. Why did you always run?”

“It never would’ve worked,” she said sadly, moving to the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress.

Max looked away, returning to the window. “Why? And don’t tell me it’s because we come from two different worlds. That never stopped you from hopping in my bed.”

“If I recall correctly, you coerced me there many times.”

Unable to help it, he smiled. She was right. He had. But she’d also come willingly.

“But it wasn’t enough, huh?” he inquired.

“It was more than enough,” she replied softly. “It just wasn’t right.”

He knew that arguing with her would get him nowhere. The answer would still be the same, regardless of how he phrased the question. So he went in a different direction. “Why did you come here tonight?” he asked, repeating his initial question that had gotten them to this point as he peered over at her.

“What?” She looked surprised, but he knew her better than that. She was a damn good actress, but he was better at seeing through bullshit than most people.

“Why? Why are you fucking here, Courtney?” he asked, his voice rising, the anger and hurt flooding him.

“Because…”

“Because your client wants information on my upcoming marriage to the senator’s granddaughter?” he asked, allowing his frustration to reflect in his tone.

“Yes,” she answered bitterly, getting to her feet. “Are you happy now? I came to get dirt on you. Did you actually expect anything else?”

No.
Yes.
Dammit. He hadn’t expected anything, but he’d hoped. Clearly he’d lost his fucking mind.

“Why did your father send
you
?” he asked. “You didn’t succeed last time. Why not send someone else?”

“Because I’m the only one you’ll…”

“The only one I’ll what?” he asked, moving closer to her until he was standing mere inches away.

Courtney looked up at him, her expression neutral. “Because I’m the only person you’ll trust.”

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 yelled. “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.