Black (11 page)

I purchased the ticket and stuffed it in my bag, smiling at the ticket agent and telling her I would be back shortly to wait for the five o’clock train. And from there, who knows where.

I opened the door into the warm afternoon light and ran smack into a wall of a body, blocking my exit.

Damn.
My time had run out already.

“Going somewhere, Sweetie?” His shiny eyes licked up and down my neck before landing on the vee at my cleavage.

“No.” I bumped into his shoulder as I made my exit, my heart thudding uncontrollably in my chest.

“Not so fast.” His uncomfortably tight grip dug into my elbow and caused a small squeak to release from my throat. “Let’s take a walk.”

“I don’t have it. I don’t have any money,” I insisted, Tony Scardelli’s leering gaze eating up the air between us.

“Oh, don’t I know that,” he grit as he hauled me around the corner of the building and to what I knew to be his car.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I shrugged out of his grip, my thoughts immediately wishing for a rewind. I should have avoided the train station, never left the library without Maxwell, just like he’d asked.
Damn.

“I want to talk to your boyfriend.” He removed one hand from his pocket and flashed the edge of a small knife.

“Boyfriend?” I shook my head, my eyes only seeing the knife. The silvery glint. The promise of pain and mutilation. Would Tony go that far? Anything for my dad, he’d proven that time and time again. He only had loyalty to my father, and right now, my father wanted something I didn’t have.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Elle. He already paid the debt, but dear old Dad sent me back for more.” His hand snaked around my neck and gripped at the base of my hair while he leaned in, vile breath washing across my skin.

“He wants another one fifty,” he seethed. “And you and I are going to discuss how to go about getting that. Isn’t that why you went after the filthy rich librarian? Thought his bank account could help you out of a jam? Little gold-digger.” His mouth turned up and my stomach twisted. Wait a minute. What was he talking about? And how did he know so much about Maxwell? “Get in the car and don’t make a scene.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, thinking I could talk my way out of this just like I’d done every other time with Tony and my father. He knew me; I’d practically grown up with him. But a sickening feeling down deep in my gut told me I wouldn’t be talking my way out of this one.

Twenty-Four

Maxwell

My heart thundered an unnerving rhythm in my chest as my fists clenched at my sides.

Her with him.

What the fuck? I turned, thinking better of it—of her. Thinking they’d used me, con artists, the both of them, and I’d fallen into their perfectly set net. Maxwell Black, manipulated by love and left the victim again.

I took two steps around the corner of the train station before my conscience stopped me cold.

Not her. Not Elle.

She gave me all of her. I don’t know why she trusted me. I hadn’t earned it, but I was devoted. She was the sweet oxygen that filled my chest and got me up in the morning.

I had to see her.

I turned, backtracking around the corner, thinking at the very least I could toss that train ticket she’d probably just bought from her hands, when I spied Tony pushing her into the car, his heavy palm on her shoulder as he handled her too forcefully for my liking.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” I roared as I took the remaining long strides to them, yanking his elbow behind his back in an awkward three-quarter twist. My other forearm encircled the bobble head that sat on top of his thick neck, and with my thumb pressed into the soft tube of his jugular, I threatened his air supply and pulled him away from the car.

“Get out, Elle.” I shot her a look that said
now.

Luckily, she complied, and with her purse tucked meekly under her arm, she backed a few steps away until her back was flush against the rust red of the building, her body all but collapsing as she slid down the wall in fevered tremors.

Jesus, he’d hurt her.

“I’ll yank your fucking balls off and force-feed you them with a spoon if you hurt her.” I twisted my grip at his elbow, placing pressure on another tender point. The wince and grit of his jaw told me he felt it. “Don’t fuck with me, old man. You know I can do much worse.” I wrapped a palm around the base of his neck and slammed his forehead into the doorframe of his shitty old Lincoln.

“If I see you in my town again, you’ll be sinking to the bottom of that lake behind us,” I spit before shoving him into his car and slamming the door. His plump form started the engine with trembling hands and he was peeling out of the gravel before I could even turn to help Elle.

When I did, our eyes locked, and fat teardrops fell down her face. I rushed to her, gravel biting into my kneecaps as I landed on my knees in the dirt at her feet.

“My beautiful girl, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” My hands roamed her arms, her shoulders, checking for bruises or scrapes that would send me on the rampage to feed him his balls for breakfast.

Her head shook, tears running down her cheeks as she sat shaking.

“Let’s get back to the library.”

Elle’s head shook in reply, her hand reaching into her purse. “Syracuse,” she stammered, and I realized that was where she’d been headed. Running from me.

Dammit. I thrust a hand through my dark hair and realized I’d have to fess up, telling her everything if I were going to convince her to stay with me. This was all on me now. She deserved that.

Twenty-Five

Elle

My heart rattled to a halt in my chest when he’d ripped my train ticket and tossed it in the garbage can. He stalked back to me, eyes burning before he’d swooped me into his arms and carried me back to his library. Seeing Maxwell show up at just the right time, I’d wanted to break down in tears right then and thank him. Tell him I was sorry I ran out on him, tell him why I had a history of running when things got tough.

Maxwell rummaged in a drawer before he returned to me. “Drink this.” He shoved a double shot of tequila my way before taking a long slug from the bottle. He clamped his jaw tight, eyes glazing as they averted to the ceiling before he took another chug.

“I’m okay.” I swallowed, feeling the pain that’d caused my throat to ache with tears.

“Take it,” he insisted. “It’ll calm your nerves.” But apparently, it was his nerves that needed calming. His hands were nearly trembling.

“If you’re worried about Tony, he won’t be around again,” I offered.

“Not worried about that half-assed, wanna-be thug,” he grit, then took another swallow of his drink before slamming the bottle down on the counter and stepping away.

“First,” he turned, “you’ve got to tell me why you were leaving.”

I turned, my heart sinking, thinking I wasn’t going to get off the hook so quickly with that. “I’m used to running,” I offered lamely. “Bad people have haunted the shadows my entire life. We always had to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. But the way you’ve treated me ever since…” I trailed off, remembering the feel of his sweet lips tracing my skin, my hipbones, the dip at my navel before he crawled up the bed and sucked long strokes at my neck. I nearly sighed, my thighs twisting with pleasure. “After that, you treated me terribly,” I ended softly, lacking the courage to go on. It hurt. He’d hurt me; that was all he needed to know.

Maxwell’s dark eyes turned on me then, softening before he stepped across the kitchen and dropped to his knees on the polished wood floor. Nearly face to face with me, he was so tall, his hands clasped in mine, his thumbs grazing my wrists with gentle sweetness. “No, I’m so sorry. Christ, I didn’t even think about that side of it.” He glanced up and then away again. “It all just happened so fast with Tony and the money. I’m not used to having a woman in my life.”

“Wait. The money?” My brain was triggered by the memory of Tony mentioning my boyfriend paying up, but Maxwell hadn’t, had he? “Maxwell, you didn’t pay him, did you?” My hands went to his strong jawline. I cupped it, begging him to tell me he hadn’t wasted that money on my father, on me.

“I did,” he said evenly before his eyes darted away, his lips turning down in a frown.

“What did you do?” I shook my head, shocked he’d hand over that kind of cash to a stranger. Shocked that he had that kind of cash at all.

“Nothing I wouldn’t do again.” He stood and I trailed after him, unwilling to let him get away just yet. He rested his backside against the counter and crossed his arms. I placed both my palms on the counter on either side of his hips, caging him in as best as my small frame could.

His eyebrows shot up and his grin twisted up for a second, sending butterflies flitting throughout my stomach.

“Tell me.” I twisted my fingers in his own and squeezed.

“I paid him the two hundred thousand to leave. I’d do it again. He threatened you.”

“No, he wouldn’t have harmed me—”

“He ransacked your place! Stole your shit!”

“We don’t know that was him—”

“He was stuffing you in the backseat of his car when I found you an hour ago,” Maxwell bellowed, all but silencing me. I didn’t know what Tony was going to do, but it wasn’t good, I knew that. “I paid him the money, but then I wondered if maybe you sought me out. Knew of me.” His eyes pulled down to mine again. “Read the headlines.”

My gaze held his steadily, stupefied and wondering what on earth he was talking about. “I didn’t read anything. I just picked the train that left first. What headlines? What are you talking about?” He tried to pull his hands away, but I held them firmly in my own, showing him he couldn’t escape me.

“I don’t…” His eyes averted to the ceiling again. “I don’t leave the house because of what happened a few years ago…” His eyes caught mine and he paused.

“Well, that’s silly. You’ve left the house with me.”

He shook his head in slow, torturous swings. “First time in four years.” His eyes shuddered closed and I felt the pain pulling at his corded muscles.

“Well, what could possibly have happened four years ago?” I asked, shocked down to my bones about anything that could have stopped this bigger than life force of a man from stepping outside his cherished library.

“I sent my father to prison,” he said flatly, as if he was preparing to watch me run.

I scrunched my eyes, assessing the hard angle of his jaw and that violent slash of scar tissue that decorated his cheek.

“Did he do this to you?” I traced my fingertips across the pink scar. Maxwell’s eyes shuddered closed as he nodded once. I sucked in a sharp breath as I felt waves of pain radiating from his large form.

This man was broken, terrorized in a way I couldn’t fathom, and had lived to tell the tale. He was so proud, so strong, smart, and sweet. And then suddenly it hit me, it all clicked into place. “That’s why you think you’ll hurt me, isn’t it?” I asked before my hands circled his neck and I stretched on my tiptoes to place a soft trail of reverent kisses across his skin.

“He was a brutal child abuser; he beat me and whipped me my entire childhood, until I was old enough to fight back.” He caught one of my palms and placed a soft kiss at my knuckles before leading me to the couch and curling me into his side.

“I started fighting back when I was sixteen. I was lifting weights. Working out became the only outlet I had and I did it constantly. After about six months, Dad tried to lay into me and I snapped,” he finished softly, his eyes heated with emotion. It hurt him to even share this story. He still carried shame. “I knocked him out, then left the house, never came back, that is, until four years ago. My mom passed from cancer, so I had to come back. That old bastard wouldn’t lift a finger to help her.” I could feel the hate coming off him in waves. “The last three months of her life I was with her every day. She helped me stock the library from her bed. It was like our last project together. But then she died, and just when I thought I was going to pack up and leave, he came back.” Maxwell seethed at the memory. “He was fighting me for everything she had.” His muscles twitched. “My mother left me an inheritance, all of it to me, expressly written in the will that he was to get none of it,” Maxwell uttered, lost in the memory. “The night they read the final judgment, that the will was incontestable and that he wouldn’t get a red cent,” he pushed one hand through his hair, “he caught me leaving the bar. I was drunk. The lawyers, her death,
him
; it’d all caught up with me. He tried to catch me off guard, make it look random. He was in a hood and gloves, tossed the knife as he ran, but I saw him. I’ll never forget that gleam in his eye.” The rough pad of his thumb treaded the jagged mark as if he’d done it a hundred times. A thousand.

“He did this to you over money?” I squeaked.

He nodded slowly before his grin turned up wryly at one corner in such a sexy way I felt arousal beat to life between my legs. “Pretty terrible, huh?”

“I can’t imagine anything worse…” I uttered, my eyes locked with his, feeling like I finally understood the pain he carried so close to his big heart. “I’m so sorry that happened, but Maxwell…” I trailed off. “Four years? What made you go outside after four years of staying up in here?”

“You,” he answered simply. “You did, sweetheart.” He pushed a hand through my hair and the pad of his thumb traced my lips before he placed a soft kiss across them. “You went running head first into trouble and I had to save you.” His smile lifted. “I’d do it again, but don’t make me.” He pecked me again.

“But you didn’t even know me. I was nobody to you!”

“Not true.” He laughed. “Not true at all, Elle. From the moment I saw you on my library steps, I felt something down deep in my stomach. Something pounding through my blood that told me I needed you. I want to die the day before you do, because I don’t want to live a single day on this earth without you on it.” His lips found mine and he kissed me in slow, languid kisses. His hands trailed up my torso, wrapping in the waves of my hair as my own palms traveled the hard angles of his hard body.