Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1) (4 page)

That was his cue.

“Well, he got one thing right,” Max disclosed gruffly. Without hesitation, Max lifted his trusty 9mm, aimed, and fired one bullet perfectly into Duchein’s skull, brain matter and blood spattering all over Trace, who was still holding the man up by the shirt.

Silence. That was all that could be heard after the muted gunshot.

Time to get back to the party. Turning his attention to RT, Max asked, “You get the reassurance you needed?”

The dead guy dropped like a stone when Trace released his shirt. Max didn’t look away from RT.

“What reassurance is that?” Trace questioned harshly.

“That I’m not after your girl,” Max replied casually.

“No? That’s not what Duchein said,” Trace said coldly. “According to your
business partner
, you set us up. Lured Marissa here to take her out.”

Business partner. Right.

“I heard what he said,” Max retorted. “I hear every fucking thing that goes on. Don’t forget that.”

RT stepped closer, coming to stand directly in front of Max. “We’re takin’ you at your word. This is over.”

“She’s never been an issue for me.” Max glanced over at Marissa. “I assure you, the threat to her is gone.”

“Why’d you kill him?” Barry asked.

Well, that was easy. “Because he touched what belongs to me.”

Max didn’t need to tell them that he’d intended to kill Duchein all along because he didn’t trust him, because the man had betrayed him. That wasn’t the only reason Max had put a bullet in his skull tonight. The main reason was that the stupid fucker had dared to touch what was his. Any man who thought he could lay his hand on Courtney and get away with it had better think again.

“Thank you for inviting us to your lovely party,” Courtney said sardonically, drawing Max’s attention to her. “But I think we’re gonna call it a night.”

“Courtney.”

In a move that Max actually found amusing, Courtney merely lifted her hand, waving it behind her head without turning back. “Good to see you, Max. Let’s not do this again sometime.”

Max fought a grin as he followed the others to the door.

“What about me?” Barry asked as they passed.

“Oh, we’re gonna have us a little chat,” Max told him. “Don’t you worry.”

“What about that one?” Dean, another of Max’s employees, asked, nodding toward the back of the room.

Max paused briefly, turning to glance at their mole. He pretended to consider that for a moment and smiled to himself when RT called out, “We’re done with him. If you don’t mind, we’ll let you take out the trash.”

“My pleasure,” Max said, turning back around and heading to the door. “But not tonight. I’ve got a party to get back to. Y’all find those two shitheads some accommodations for the night,” he instructed his employees, holstering his gun beneath his jacket, adjusting his tie, and returning to the party.

The night hadn’t been a complete loss.

At least not for him. He couldn’t say the same for Duchein.

Chapter Five

Sometimes it’s easier to give in to temptation.

Twenty-three months ago

I want to see you.

The text came through at four thirty-three in the afternoon, surprising Courtney. She stared at her phone, wondering who would be texting her considering her work left her with little time for a social life. She knew it wasn’t her best friend, Marissa, and Courtney didn’t have many other friends who sent her random texts, either. She hadn’t dated anyone in the last four months, so definitely not a man from her past.

Rather than answer it, she pushed her phone away and turned her attention back to the computer monitor. She was halfway through rereading the first paragraph for the third time when her phone buzzed again.

Tonight.

Without giving the phone anything more than a cursory glance, Courtney tried to focus on the article before her. She was reading up on Maximillian Adorite and the Southern Boy Mafia, attempting to get as much information as she could to provide to her father. The party she’d attended at Max’s home just three short weeks ago hadn’t been quite the haven for gathering details that she’d hoped it would be. The only thing she’d really learned was that the man could kiss like no other, his hands made her body burn, and he could set her on fire with merely a heated glance.

Not quite the information her father was probably seeking, nor was it anything she intended to share.

Though she’d gone to the party with good intentions, at every turn, Courtney had been met by one, if not more, of Max’s intimidating bodyguards. There was no doubt about it, the Southern Boy Mafia had their hands in some serious shit, but they protected their privacy with a hell of a lot of muscle. Never had she been allowed into any part of the house that could possibly have given her a chance to dig deeper. The plan, no doubt.

My place. Seven o’clock. I’ll make dinner.

Okay, so now her curiosity was piqued. She didn’t know many people who offered to cook her dinner.

Grabbing her phone, she replied with:

Who is this?

A good two minutes passed, and Courtney figured someone had gotten the wrong number, texting her in error, but then another message came through, and the instant she read the screen, her heart slammed against her ribs.

Max. I take that as a yes. You remember the address. See you at seven.

A smile tipped the corners of her lips, although she tried to disregard the anticipation that stirred in her belly.

How did you get my number?

Courtney waited patiently for his response, but it never came.

Glancing around the near-empty office, she hated that she was looking forward to seeing Max. Sure, jumping at the opportunity to possibly snoop into Max’s affairs was a no-brainer, but she knew her heated reaction was more than that. She didn’t get giddy over a job. A little excited, maybe. But definitely not the riot of butterflies that had erupted in her core at the thought of seeing Max again.

Telling herself that she was only going because he was a job, Courtney grabbed her purse from her desk drawer, tossed her cell phone inside, and then snatched her laptop before heading out.

Luckily, no one was there to ask where she was going. Nor was anyone there to question why she had a grin the size of Texas plastered on her face.

After going home to shower and change, Courtney arrived at Max’s at seven o’clock on the dot. For some reason, she got the impression that Max wasn’t the type who would appreciate her being late. Based on what she’d seen and the information she’d retrieved, he was in control of everything in his life, and the last thing she wanted to do was piss him off so early in the game. If she did that, she ran the risk of not being able to complete the job, and that wasn’t an option. She’d never failed on the job before, and she certainly had no intention of starting now.

After getting past security at the gated entrance, she pulled up to the front of Max’s beautiful house, parking her beloved Camaro close to the door. Before she was on the porch, the door opened and a white-haired older man stepped out, a smile on his aging face.

“Miss Kogan. Such a pleasure to see you again.”

Courtney tried to remember meeting him. He looked incredibly familiar to her. It would’ve had to have been at the party, but for the life of her, she couldn’t place him or his name.

“Mr. Adorite would like to know if you’re armed. So I’ll simply ask, because I’d lose my hands if I tried to frisk you,” he said kindly, a glimmer in his dark brown eyes.

And then his name came to her. Walter. Yes, that was it.

Walter Smythe, seventy years of age, five foot six inches (or he had been in his prime years), one hundred thirty pounds. Employed by the Adorites for the past thirty-eight years, Walter had initially been Samuel and Genevieve’s butler, but then when Max moved out of the Adorite family home at the age of twenty, Walter had gone with him. From what she had read, Genevieve—although married—had a penchant for younger men, and looking at the white-haired elderly man standing before her, Courtney knew he didn’t quite fit the bill.

Remembering his question, she responded with, “Yes, Walter, I’m armed. I’m always armed.”

Walter’s smile brightened his face, surprising her with its potency. She hadn’t expected quite that reaction considering the last—and only—time she’d been there a few weeks earlier, she’d had hell arguing with another man she’d encountered after informing that not-so-nice gentleman that she would not be handing over her weapon.

“Very well, Miss Kogan. Right this way.” Walter turned, and Courtney fell into step behind him, winding her way through the enormous mansion that belonged to Max.

She knew, based on her research, that he was the owner of the vast property that had been featured in several prominent Dallas magazines, although no one had ever been granted an in-depth tour, likely because Max had too much to hide. Other than quite a few ladies—most of them supermodel beautiful—that he’d been pictured with over the last few years, Courtney also knew that the twenty-seven-year-old multimillionaire was single and had never been married nor did he have any children. There were a number of security personnel who lived on the premises, but only two actually lived in the big house. The rest resided in another house on the property.

When Walter stopped inside the kitchen, after he shared a quick look with the formidable man alone in the oversized room, he motioned for her to precede him, and the instant she laid eyes on Max, standing at the wide island, opening a bottle of wine, her mouth went dry.

The last time she’d seen Max, he’d been the best-looking man at the party, dressed in a tailored tuxedo, with his silky brown hair and mesmerizing golden eyes. That man wasn’t there tonight. No, this Max was wearing a black button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, muscular forearms dusted with dark hair, the top button unhooked, making him appear far more casual, relaxed. Her eyes gravitated to his hands, and a shiver danced along her spine as she remembered the way they’d felt on her body.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Max said, the deep baritone of his voice breaking through her thoughts.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice,” she told him as she stepped farther into the kitchen, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the island from him. Even from there, she could feel the electricity spark between them.

For a moment, the two of them simply stood there, staring back at one another. His eyes never left hers, and for the first time in as long as she could remember, Courtney had the urge to look away. The man was intimidating, and that was saying something because she wasn’t intimidated easily. But the way he looked at her… There was something in his gaze, something that stole her breath and told her to run far and fast.

This man was dangerous; there was no doubt about that.

Max held out the bottle for her to see and she smiled. Nineteen ninety-two Screaming Eagle Cabernet.

Not surprising.

She smiled. “Difficult to get your hands on that one,” she said, grateful for the ability to look away from him.

“It helps to know people.” Max tilted the bottle and poured the rich red wine into two glasses. He nodded toward the doorway. “Food’s ready.”

Courtney retrieved the glass he handed her, taking a sip and doing her best to avoid his heated gaze.

Well, at this point, she knew she wouldn’t be disappointed with the evening, merely for the fact she was drinking one of the best wines she’d ever tasted.

Rather than leading her into the next room, Max walked around the island, his hand sliding to her lower back as he urged her forward. A warm, sexy musk permeated from him, sending a tingle of awareness deep into her core. Heat infused her entire body from the brush of his fingers, the warmth seeping through the thin, silk sheath dress she’d opted to wear tonight. Based on Max’s choice for evening wear, she’d made a wise choice to dress up. His expensive black slacks and Italian loafers reflected his wealth.

But the man himself exuded so much confidence and power he could’ve been naked and she’d still have been slightly intimidated by him.

They arrived in a dimly lit dining room outfitted with a table that seated at least twenty. A large crystal vase holding lilies, white roses, and an abundance of greenery that overflowed the sides was the centerpiece of the monstrous, dark wood table. Two places on the end closest to the kitchen had been set, the plates filled with food.

Max pulled her chair out and waited for her to take a seat before helping her closer to the table. He then lowered himself into the chair at the end, putting him dangerously close to her.

“Did you make this?” she asked, taking stock of the contents on her plate. Not only did the steak look and smell divine, the entire meal—aside from the steak, there was roasted asparagus and mashed potatoes—looked as though it should’ve been on the cover of a culinary magazine.

“I happen to enjoy cooking,” he informed her, sipping his wine as he watched her.

Not a quality she would’ve expected from a man like Max, but something that certainly intrigued her.

“I try to steer clear of the kitchen,” she told him truthfully. “Cooking is not my strong suit.”

Max set his glass on the table and picked up his fork and knife. “What
is
your strong suit?”

Courtney felt more heat infuse her face. The question hadn’t been at all sexual, but her thoughts instantly retreated to the last time she’d seen him, to the way she’d nearly come apart in his arms.

“I’m fairly good with a gun,” she finally told him, cutting her steak before taking a bite.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said gruffly.

After chewing, she peered up, realizing Max was still watching her.

“How is it?”

Courtney took a sip of wine.

“Likely the best I’ve ever had,” she found herself saying.

Max’s lips curved upward. This time there was definitely something inherently sexual in his wicked gaze.

And the sad part … something inherently sexual inside her responded in kind.

□»«□»«□»«□

Max hadn’t expected Courtney to come tonight. To his house, that was.

When he’d finally given in to the urge to contact her, he’d fully anticipated a rebuttal.

Then again, he knew what she was after, so offering the invitation had been a gamble of sorts. To see her or not to see her? It had been a question that had plagued him for three weeks, to the point he couldn’t take it any longer. His thoughts hadn’t veered far from her since the moment he’d met her, and now that she was there with him, he had to wonder why he’d taken so long.

The instant she’d stepped into his kitchen, wearing that sexy bronze dress and the fuck-me heels, her long, dark hair hanging over her shoulders and her bright gray eyes flashing with heat, he’d been flooded with memories of her kiss, her touch, and the sweet moans he’d wrought from her when they’d consumed one another in the hallway. He’d replayed that scene over and over again in his head for weeks, trying to determine whether or not it’d been real, wondering if her touch, her taste, could’ve really been as magnificent as he remembered.

He’d only been left wondering for a second once he laid eyes on her again. She was everything he remembered and then some.

There was certainly curiosity in her nearly colorless eyes, but there was more than that. There was heat and intrigue and … lust. The woman might’ve been there on a job, but she was just as interested in the chemical reaction between them as he was.

Somehow he managed to eat his meal, watching her while he did, anticipating the questions he sensed she wanted to ask.

“From what I’ve read about you,” Courtney prompted as she wiped her mouth with a linen napkin, “it sounds like you’re rather close to your family.”

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” he countered, smiling back at her.

“So that’s how you want to play?” she asked.

Max placed his silverware on his plate and retrieved his wineglass. “I prefer the direct approach.”

“I can see that,” she mumbled softly. “So are you? Close with your family?”

“What do you consider close?”

Courtney glared back at him, which only amused him.