Dirty Boy (30 page)

She sat up, psyching herself up to leave the safety of a home. If she left, Tico might very well find her again. The memories she had of living on the streets as a toddler had long ago faded into vagueness. She didn’t know if what she’d experienced was real or not. As usual, Babs had embargoed discussions on that time.

Her decision made, Story changed out of the pajamas Max had purchased for her yesterday and found her shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers. Once she dressed, she stuffed her ID in her backpack, grabbed her useless phone and headed for the door.

The house was quiet, so she supposed Max had left to do whatever porn stars did on their days off. Rehearsing, maybe? What besides sex consisted of rehearsals for adult films? Maybe, she was being unfair and judgmental since she’d agreed to make movies too, but at least she was single.

What kind of an idiot was Max to believe any woman, but most especially his
wife
, would be okay with her man, uh, performing on a daily basis? He didn’t know the meaning of the word compromise. Kayleigh shouldn’t have gone into their marriage thinking to change Max’s mind about what he wanted to do. On the other hand, he could’ve given her a timeframe, set a goal to ease away from the industry or take a behind the scenes position like his brothers had.

But, no, Max was a sex fiend, a womanizer, and an exhibitionist. So what did that make her for caring about such a jerk?

What did it make her that she empathized with Kayleigh? Her actions had been drastic and wrong. After listening to Winston and Max, though, Story believed Max’s actions had crushed Kayleigh and she’d acted out of hurt and despondency. Had Max ever considered that? She was pretty sure Winston had, but would never add to his son’s trauma by pointing out his own responsibility that led to Kayleigh’s tragic actions.

Sighing, Story walked outside, making sure to lock the knob. Mid-morning was cool and breezy and if she listened closely she heard the gentle lapping of the waves. She was in an upscale neighborhood and doubted any homeless shelter would be close by.

Looking up and down the street, Story directed her steps to the café. Maybe, someone could give her directions to where she needed to go.

Inside the place, the laid back atmosphere surprised her. Walking up to the counter, she smiled at the girl and made a snap decision. “Do you have any positions available?”

“Sorry, no. We’re not hiring at the moment.”

Right. Of course not. “Do you know of any homeless shelters close by?”

She shrugged. “About fifteen or twenty miles from here.”

Good to know her bad luck marched on. She refused to be defeated. “Women’s shelter?”

“Are you running from a deranged ex?”

“No. I don’t have a place to stay.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Story waited a beat, but the girl offered nothing more. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Good luck.”

Leaving the café, Story cursed herself for her rash decision. Max hadn’t asked her to leave.
She’d
chosen to leave because she didn’t want to face the moment he came to her for sex, expecting her to allow him to touch her. Especially if the jackass didn’t do a little serious groveling. And Max wasn’t a groveler.

But what was so different about agreeing to do the pornos? She could’ve had sex with Max to keep a roof over her head. Couldn’t she? Trading sex for one thing wasn’t any worse than trading sex for another thing.

She could tell herself that Max had been particularly cruel this last time and that made all the difference in the world. It still amounted to the inevitable conclusion that she was now homeless and she had no one to blame but herself.

“Are you ready to go to my place?” Natalia asked Max as they lounged around the pool of Eric’s house.

She’d spent the entire day teasing and tempting him as they all had fun in the sun without any clothes on. She bent her knees on the chaise lounge and allowed her thighs to fall open, then glided her fingers over her pussy.

Max followed her movement, his cock stirring.

“He might not make it to your house, Nat,” Eric observed, sitting between Stella and another girl whose name Max couldn’t remember. He’d done an anal scene with her a few weeks ago, though. She’d had a good, tight ass.

“Once I get him in my bed, I’m not letting him out until your little hiatus is over,” Natalia said, still massaging her pussy.

“Where’s Story again?” Ryker called out, the first time anyone had brought her name up since Max and Natalia had arrived a few hours ago.

“You want pussy from her?” Eric asked. “Because you sure the fuck stay concerned about her.”

Max sat up. “Yes, do you want to fuck her?”

“I want her about as much as I want
her
,” he said, nodding to another girl whom Max didn’t know.

But at least he hadn’t fucked her, unlike the other three women present.

“Nothing wrong with spreading a little love,” Ryker added, pulling the girl on top of him and giving her a sloppy kiss.

Natalia reached over and grabbed Max’s dick. “I see an orgy in the making. Why don’t we hurry things along?”

He removed her hand and got to his feet. “Because I’m not in the goddamn mood,” he grumbled, heading to the pool and diving in to cool down his hard-on. After completing a lap from one end to the next, Max got out of the pool and went to the cabana in search of a towel and his clothes.

His temper had calmed down, so he could approach Story again and set her straight without chewing her head off and spitting out something unnecessary and fucked-up. They could reach a meeting of the minds without him giving up the control he needed to stay sane. Maybe, he could find a way to make it up to her without saying sorry.

Enough time should’ve passed where she’d overcome her anger as well. If things went south between them, he wasn’t sure how the chips would fall. Would she end up hating him as Greta now did? Or would she find a way to destroy him, as Kayleigh had?

He hadn’t wanted a future with Greta, or anyone, so he hadn’t given a shit how she felt about him. Although he tried to convince himself he wanted nothing with Story either, he didn’t want her hatred. And he definitely didn’t want her to ignore him.

Once he redressed, he returned to the patio. Eric, Ryker, Natalia, and the other women were lounging against the pool, talking amongst themselves and laughing. The enjoyment he’d found over the years had been superficial, lasting as long as the moment and then fading away like dust in the wind.

It had been years since he’d felt any true joy. Since he’d felt alive. That he was worth being alive.

“I’m ready to leave, Natalia.”

She tipped her head back. “Call me later, Max.”

Not responding, he headed to his car, arriving at his condo a little while later. He frowned at his opened security lock, but found the door knob unmovable. He never locked the knob, only the top lock.

Uneasy, he found the knob key. After unlocking it, he stepped inside his condo and found it overwhelmingly quiet. It was the type of silence that came with loss. The kind weighted with the expectation of seeing someone, only to be met with absence. Before he made his way to Story’s room, he already knew what he’d find.

Inside her room, the clothes he’d purchased for her yesterday lay neatly on the sofa, but her backpack was gone. She’d left him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if he should let her go. If he went after her, what did that mean? That he was giving in and playing it her way? At the least it would give away the fact that he wanted her there with him for the time being.

He knew how to handle temper tantrums and demands and tears. He simply ignored them. But Story wasn’t playing by the rules. The one request she’d ever made of him was to have him be the only one she fucked onscreen. If she hadn’t asked him for that favor, he would’ve made the rule himself. He couldn’t have taken Story fucking anyone else right now.

Whatever that meant. He scratched his jaw. Fuck, what did that mean?

At the moment, what it meant didn’t matter. Story’s actions did. What the hell was wrong with her? She was supposed to be here to sulk and pout and curse him. She was supposed to let him see her tears.

But she’d left. Walked away. She hadn’t even tried to guilt him into changing his behavior.

Fuck, but she was playing so fucking dirty. If dirty was the way she wanted to go, then dirty was what she’d get.

Note to self: Get directions before attempting to walk to an unknown location.

Story wasn’t sure how far she’d walked, but by the time the sun began to set, she was tired, hungry, and lost. Every now and then, she stopped to ask for directions, but she grew more frustrated, so she stopped bothering anyone and kept moving.

As she rested on a bench along a quiet pier, she once again got the sensation of being watched. The last time when she’d taken a walk to get out of Max’s house, she’d had his house to return to. Now, alone and exposed, she had nowhere to go.

Craning her neck in both directions, she squinted, searching for a sign of someone. But she saw only the glimmer of dying rays of light and the foamy water crashing against the sand.

She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but wonder at Max’s reaction when he’d found her gone. Had he regretted his behavior at all?

Max needed someone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t strong enough to withstand all the bitterness and meanness he had to expel to get to the good in him.

A hand touched her back and she jumped, hopping to her feet. A tall man with a scarred face and full sleeves of ink stared at her.
Tico.

“I was just leaving,” she said, snatching her backpack from the bench and turning on her heel.

In a heartbeat, he caught up to her and grabbed her, wrenching her around.

“
Fire!”
Story screamed, kicking blindly as he lifted her off her feet. “
Help! Somebody!”

Releasing her for the briefest second, he grabbed her by her throat and squeezed. “Where’s Ryker?”

If he pressed his fingers around her throat any tighter, he’d strangle her.

“Where?” he asked, shaking her. “What’s his address?”

“I-I don’t know,” she croaked out.

“You’re lying. You’re living with his brother.”

“Not anymore. I was only there for several days. I’m not close to any of them.”

Without warning, he punched her in the stomach and she dropped to the ground, coughing and groaning.

“Does that jar your memory any?”

Story couldn’t speak as pain radiated through her body and sent tears to her eyes.

“No?” he snarled, grabbing her throat again and dragging her to her feet. “He fucking owes me the money or the drugs. Now, tell me, where is he?”

“I don’t know!” Story cried around sniffles. “Ask Max.”

“Max?” he sneered. “Intended to cap him for retribution. Only thing I could do with that mean motherfucker. Max don’t take threats well. I saw you instead. I’m glad you got away the other night. I would’ve killed you, but I need you alive for a few more days. You’re perfect to send a message to Ryker that he needs to pay up and to Max to back off.”

“I’m not! I swear I’m not. They don’t like me and I left. I don’t know where any of them live except Max.”

Eyes narrowed, he considered her. “Then a bullet in Max’s head it is. Ryker stole my drugs, then pretended to repay me with bogus merchandise. Both crimes punishable by death,” he spat, balled his fist up and slammed it against her face.

Max didn’t sleep at all that night, as he awaited the call to tell him that Story had been found and brought into “custody”. Enlisting the aid of Dillon again, he intended to make it so Story never put him through such hell again.

He hadn’t thought she would’ve gotten far, although he didn’t know how long she’d been gone by the time he’d arrived home. He’d waited and waited and waited. Periodic check-ins had produced the same results: she wasn’t anywhere in the neighborhood.

The later it got, the more worried Max had become, until he’d given up sleeping and headed to his balcony, a bottle of scotch in hand. Now, as the sun rose and dawn turned into early morning, Max had just decided to search for her himself when his cell phone rang again.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I found her,” Dillon greeted, and Max sagged in relief. “Told her she faced either jail or returning to you.”

“What did she choose?” The million-dollar question because Story continued to surprise him.

“The greater of two evils. She chose you.”

That was all that mattered. “Did you cuff her as I requested?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if he withheld important information.

“What is it?”

“She’s cuffed but she’s pretty shook up, Max.”

Well, that was the entire fucking point. “Then you’ve done good.”

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t scare her like you asked me. She’s been beaten pretty fucking bad.”

“What?”

“You heard me. It took me hours to find her and I came upon her by accident. She was walking along in a daze, her nose bleeding, her eye black, and one side of her face swollen.”

“Fuck!” he roared. “Where is she?”

“In my fucking car, asleep on the back seat, in handcuffs as you asked.”

“Where are you?”

“About twenty minutes from your condo.”

“Come straight here.”

“I intend to,” he said and hung up.

Whoever had hurt Story would suffer untold pain. Max would see to that. As promised, Dillon arrived with her within twenty minutes. Too restless with the need to hurt someone, Max was already downstairs.

Before Dillon had a chance to open the rear passenger door, Max yanked it open himself just as Story struggled to a sitting position.

The sight of her face marred with the violence she’d suffered affected him more than he thought possible. Yes, he’d been angry upon hearing Story was hurt, but seeing the evidence sent him into a rage.

It surprised him but she didn’t resist when he assisted her out of the vehicle. When he released her, she swayed a little. Before he could steady her, she leaned against Dillon’s car.

“We’re going to find who did this to you,” he said, uncertain of where to start a conversation with her, when he only wanted to kill.

“I know who did this to me.” Her voice was hoarse and Max figured the bruising around her throat contributed. She frowned. “He knows you. More, specifically, he knows Ryker.”

“Ryker?”
Ryker
. Only one reason someone would so viciously attack Story because of his brother. Drugs. “Tell me what happened?”

“He knocked me out right after he said it would be a bullet in your brain,” she finished.

Dillon looked at Max before focusing on Story. “Tico again?”

“Yes,” Story whispered.

“Max, listen to me. I’m going to call this in. Okay?”

“Did you hear a word from me, Dillon?” he asked mildly.

“You look ready to murder a few people.”

“Not at all. A few people didn’t hurt Story. The motherfucker on the hunt for my brother and, by extension, Ryker himself. So you see I don’t intend to murder a
few.
Just two sorry motherfuckers who crossed a goddamn line.”

“I’m tired and in pain, Max,” Story interrupted. “If you’re sending me to jail, just let me go. I don’t have it in me to fight right now. I need whatever you’re going to do to me to happen.”

“I’d like you to stay here with me as we agreed upon. Forget the argument.”

“You hurt me,” she said.

“I know.” His tone mimicked hers. He wanted to take her into his arms and protect her from the world. If he hadn’t been such an ass, she wouldn’t have left and gotten injured. “I’m sorry.”

“What happens if I’m done with the agreement?”

This was his chance to redeem himself and every crime he’d committed against Story in the past few days. He could make it all better and let her go. But he didn’t want her to go and he suspected even if he admitted that to her she’d still want to leave. He’d pushed her too far, so he did the only thing he could do.

“I forgot you were prepared for the hardship of jail rather than the comfort of my bed.”

Her lower lip trembled and, for the first time, she looked truly
broken
.

Not considering his actions, he brought his hand to her swollen eye and touched it, hating how she flinched. He pressed a soft kiss on her temple, and the bruising along her face.

“This never should’ve happened to you. Let me…” Nostrils flaring, he closed his eyes, admitting to the one emotion he always recoiled from—fear. So instead of saying
let me make it up to you
, he amended it to, “let me nurse you back to health.”

“Fine, Max,” Story said tiredly. “Can you ask your friend to remove my handcuffs?”

Max nodded to Dillon, a silent witness to his moment with her. With her hands free, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest and placing a kiss on the top of her head before he thought better of it.

“I’ll be in touch, Max,” Dillon promised, heading to his car. “Lay low for a couple of days, will you?”

“What else would I do?” Max said. “I thought you knew me.”

“I do. That’s the problem,” he muttered.

Without responding, Max offered Dillon a humorless smile, before carrying Story into the safety of his condo, already plotting his retaliation for her attack.