Dirty Boy (31 page)

Max didn’t halt until he’d reached the room he’d assigned to Story, where he laid her on the bed. To prop her up, he got the pillow from the other side and pulled her in a sitting position, frowning at the sheer pain on her face. Once he had both pillows situated, he guided her back. Noticing her hand pressed against her belly, he sat down, pushed her arms aside and lifted her shirt.

A huge purple and black bruise greeted him, spreading across her stomach. He skimmed his fingertips across the area, withdrawing when she groaned at a tender spot.

“How many times did he hit you?” he asked as calmly as possible.

“Punched you mean?” she corrected. “Twice. Once in the stomach and then later on the side of my face.”

“A doctor friend of mine will stop in. Prescribe some pain meds for you.”

Closing her eyes, she turned her head away. “I’m tired, Max. Can you go away for now? Let me sleep and heal for a couple of days. I’ll be fine and I can return to our agreement. I don’t need anything else from you.”

“Your ribs may be broken.”

“Not much can be done for that except rest.”

“Story—”

She finally faced him again. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I just need a respite from our constant arguing.”

“Is that why you left?”

“Partly,” she admitted in that unerringly honest way she had. “My feelings were hurt and I didn’t think my actions through. I couldn’t imagine having sex with you after all you’d said. So I left. It wasn’t until later that I…” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. That was then and this is now and I’m back.”

Max rarely stop to consider how his actions affected anyone. But listening to Story, hearing her lingering hurt and stoic acceptance, sent waves of shame through him. So what she hadn’t said
did
matter to him. He wanted to find a way to make it all up to her.

“It wasn’t until later that you what?”

“That I realized I’d slept with you so you’d forget about any charges and to have my tuition paid. I certainly could’ve abided by your decree that unless I was on my knees or spreading my legs you had no use for me.” The eye not bruised and swollen blinked rapidly. “When all’s said and done that summed up our agreement.”

Max winced as she reminded him of his words. Although he hadn’t expected her to leave, he respected her decision. He owed her an apology. He knew that. Swallowing, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked for forgiveness from anyone. The last few years had been about staying in control of any situation he found himself in. Hell, even before then he’d run roughshod over anyone unfortunate enough to go against his wishes. His brothers. His father.

Kayleigh
.

A little snore greeted him, ruining his chance to say sorry. His mixture of relief and regret elicited a sigh from him.

Standing, he studied her. A spinner, those girls defined by their small stature who could be spun and flipped with ease during fuck scenes. But Story superseded that. Went beyond the title of stepsister and friend.

If only he knew exactly what she was to him. An image of her pregnant for him flitted through his mind and he frowned. Vague memories of his mother assailed him. He’d been six when Ryker was born and their mother died from complications of childbirth. His father had remarried not long afterwards, so they’d had little chance to grieve for their mom before a new woman had come in and taken her place. Max, Eric, and Ryker had adapted easier than Win and Alan had. Win had been twelve and Alan ten, so they’d been more than cognizant, contributing to the failure of their father’s second marriage. Wife three had been booted when their father met wife four. By the time Max was eighteen, Winston had taken wife number five.

He glanced at Story again. Her mother was wife number six and the woman Winston had seemed most enamored of. Before her, his father treated women with a cavalier regard. When one left, another was in line to replace her. But Barbra had been gone for months and he hadn’t found a “filler”, as Winston referred to the women he slept with as he searched for another woman to marry. Sometimes, he amused himself with several fillers.

This time, they hadn’t been able to drag him from the bottle long enough for him to follow his usual path.

What did that mean? Could it be true that Winston Sherwood had fallen in love after so many years of discarding women without batting an eye?

Story moaned and shifted, moving restlessly. Fuck, this never should’ve happened to her. If he hadn’t been such an ass, she never would’ve left, which meant he held some responsibility for her assault. He checked the bruise on her stomach again, barely keeping his rage at bay. He needed to get Story seen to before he avenged her, starting with Ryker, the stupid motherfucker.

Not wanting to disturb her to move the top sheet and comforter aside, he stood and flipped the comforter over her, then headed to the kitchen. She’d need to eat. She also needed medical attention.

He could always order out for her or he could call Natalia and ask for her recipe for taco soup. Maybe, humiliating himself in the kitchen when he couldn’t cook worth a shit might ease her anger toward him.

As for the medical attention, he didn’t want to bring her to a hospital. Her injuries would be reported, complicating matters if Story described her assailant and someone matching the description ended up dead.

He’d need someone here with Story while he fucked a couple of people up. One person came to mind—her mother.

“Without an x-ray I can’t be certain that your ribs are broken, but based on the symptoms you’re presenting, I believe they are,” Kelan told Story.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep before Max had brought the man in and awakened her. No one had told her Max’s best friend was actually Dr. Kelan Philips.

“Story!” Max snapped and she jumped. “Kelan asked you are you allergic to anything?”

“Oh, um, no, not that I know of,” she muttered, heat rising in her cheeks, made worse by Kelan’s wicked smirk.

He grinned at her. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?”

“When I remain still, it’s about a six. If I move, it shoots way up.”

“I’m going to prescribe something for pain, but before I leave I’ll give you a dose of morphine.”

“Who else do you have on your payroll, Max? A judge and executioner besides a cop and a doctor?”

“Neither Dillon or Kelan are on my payroll, Story,” he answered in a calm voice. “They’re friends of mine, whom I pay to do favors when the need arises.”

“I make house calls,” Kelan told her. “Although as Max’s friend, this visit won’t be reported to the authorities.”

“But that guy needs arresting. He wants to hurt you, Max. Are you insane?”

“He most definitely is,” Kelan piped in, winking at her.

“Fuck off,” Max grumbled, then looked at her. “A bullet to my brain would be what I deserve. Wouldn’t you agree, Story?”

“No, I don’t. If you don’t call the authorities, I will.”

“That’s not necessary,” Max said in that same calm voice, as if he were holding on to his patience by a very thin thread.

“Yes—”

“No,” he bit out. “I don’t want police involvement because I don’t want them interfering with my plans to kill this motherfucker after I’ve dealt with Ryker.”

“Fuck, Max, I didn’t hear that,” Kelan said sharply, glaring at him.

Groaning at the pain, Story sat up and swung her legs over the side. “There’s no way you’re killing anybody.”

Max blocked her escape. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“To call the cops.”

“With what? You have no minutes on your phone.”

She attempted to go around him but he stopped her. “Move!”

“You’re making it difficult for me to behave,” Max gritted, wrapping his arm around her waist and holding her firmly to his side. “She’s in a lot of pain, Kelan. Give her the goddamn shot.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare!” Story snarled, wiggling in his arms much like she’d done with the drug guy, still to no avail. She added to her pain, while Max didn’t budge.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Kelan soothed, using his teeth to uncover the needle.

A moment later, she felt a jab in her arm. A burning heat travelled through her system and she grew lightheaded. As much as she fought against the fog overcoming her, the drug was too powerful to resist.

As Story went limp in his arms, Max lifted her and returned her to bed, this time properly tucking her in. It had taken Kelan two hours to arrive. In that time, he’d found a recipe for taco soup on the internet, spoken to Barbra and arranged for her flight late tonight.

“Do you plan on keeping her drugged?” Kelan asked recapping the needle and shoving the empty syringe back into his pocket. “If not, she’s going to talk.”

His jaw clenched. “I’ll impress upon her that that would be against her best interests.”

Kelan grinned as Max motioned him out of the room. “She doesn’t seem too inclined to fall into line.”

He closed the door behind him. “You’re goddamn lucky you and I have been friends for so long.” Since their high school days.

Downstairs, Kelan halted in the living room and faced him, questions lurking in his eyes. Max dug in his pocket and handed Kelan the roll of hundreds he’d taken from his bedroom safe.

“Always a pleasure,” Kelan said, stuffing the money into his pocket without bothering to count.

“Any specific instructions?”

“Make sure she stays as quiet as possible. Orgies are off-limits for her.”

“Asshole,” he gritted. “She doesn’t attend orgies, so don’t think you’ll run across her at any you attend.”

He grinned. “You won’t see me at any of your sex parties any time soon. I like Addie a lot. I might turn over a new leaf.”

“I figured you would,” Max gloated.

Kelan flipped Max off.

“What? You doubted me? She’s a nice girl.”

“If we end up together, you’ll become even more egotistical, asshole.” Kelan headed for the door, where he turned. “I left Story’s prescription on the nightstand.”

“Morphine?”

“No. If she needs that give me a call and I’ll administer it myself.”

“Leave me a couple of vials,” Max ordered.

Kelan heaved in a breath. “Max,” he said softly.

“
Kelan
,” Max returned coolly.

“Under any other circumstances, I’d do it without a lecture. You pay well, but I don’t want to do it this time. I haven’t heard such concern in your voice for someone who wasn’t related to you in years. Not since Kayleigh. As it is, I have a feeling Story won’t be happy when she awakens. If you want to fuck over her to the point of no return, I’ll get the goddamn drug from my car.”

Max considered Kelan’s words and reminded himself Story had more than enough reasons not to forgive him without him giving her another one. He turned away. “Get the fuck out of my house, fucker.”

Amused laughter floated back to Max. “That’s what I thought, dickhead.”

Alone again, Max considered his options, and decided to fuck up Ryker then go on the hunt for Tico.

If all went his way, by the time Story awakened, he would’ve removed from the equation the need to involve the cops.

Max placed a phone call to his little brother, requesting they meet up at Ryker’s apartment. Based on his nonchalance, the fuckhead had no clue Max intended to beat him to death.

An hour later, Ryker opened his door and greeted Max with a huge smile. He wore only a pair of gym shorts. In the background Eiffel 65’s,
I’m Blue
, filtered through the speakers at a reasonable volume, and blended with the hum of female chatter.

Ryker stepped aside. “Hey, big bro.”

Walking in, Max allowed Ryker to close the door.

“We were about to—”

The fist to his mouth stopped his words. Before Ryker recovered, Max delivered a one-two punch to Ryker’s mid-section, doubling his brother over. Using Ryker’s bent position to his advantage, Max grabbed Ryker’s hair, balled his fist and slammed it against his little brother’s jaw. The motion propelled Ryker backwards. He landed on his ass.

Max barreled toward him. Grunting, Ryker scooted back, turning as fast as he could and crawling away in an attempt to escape. To no avail. Max gave him a respite, wanting him to believe he was done kicking his ass.

As Ryker reached his living room, where four naked girls sat giggling and talking, Max caught up to his brother and kicked him in the side, wishing he’d worn his fucking boots, instead of his expensive loafers.

The girls all screamed and jumped to their feet, their tits jiggling. One hopped onto the sofa.

It annoyed Max that he had to stop kicking Ryker’s ass to deal with the women. “Get dressed and get the fuck out.”

“No, don’t leave!” Ryker called, dodging behind the sofa. “He’ll kill me. He’s gone crazy. Attacking me for no reason.”

“Bullshit!” Max snarled, heading for Ryker again, wrapping his arm around one of the girl’s waists when she attempted to intercept him. He dropped her onto the sofa. “I said get the fuck out,” he screamed.

“No!” Ryker yelled. “Just go wait in my bedroom, ladies.”

“I said—”

Their frightened screeches as they ran toward Ryker’s bedroom pissed him off, but he let it go and continued toward his brother, unconcerned that Ryker was attempting to limp away. Reaching him, he shoved him into a wall as the bedroom door slammed, then grabbed his arms and pinned him against it.  “Should I break your fucking arms?”

“Max, what the—”

He tightened his hold on Ryker, further pinioning his brother’s arms. “Tell me about the stolen fucking drugs and I
might
go easier on you.”

“Fuck, you know about that?” Ryker attempted to jerk Max off. “I can explain!”

“Can you?” Max asked, kneeing Ryker’s back. “Let me
explain
to you. The motherfucker was still tailing me. Maybe, to use me as an example.” He shook Ryker and wrapped an arms around his neck. “He got to Story for a second time, motherfucker,” he said softly, his teeth clenched. “Worked her over pretty bad because she didn’t know your fucking address. He left her with a little message.”

Ryker gulped, but remained silent.

Max tightened his arm around his brother’s neck before forcing his arms back a little more. Any more and he’d pop them out of the sockets. “Ask me what the fuck the message was, asshole.”

“What was—”

At the sound of Ryker’s voice, Max yanked him from the wall and sent him flying across the room. “That he’d put a bullet in
my
brain because you tried to pass off phony drugs to replace what you stole.”

Ryker attempted to evade Max but his injuries slowed him down. Max punched the side of his face before dragging him to his feet and abusing his stomach until Ryker dropped to his knees and vomited.

“Which part of you should I break first?” he asked once Ryker finished puking blood, spit, alcohol, and food.

Ryker coughed before collapsing onto his side, breathing heavily. Unfazed, Max waited for his brother’s answer.

“I-I can explain.”

“Not interested in your excuses. Tell me what the fuck you did, then I’ll call Kelan to come and take care of your injuries.” After all, he
was his
brother.

“I asked for some merchandise to sell. Bring in extra income for myself. I sold a few kilos.” He gasped in pain. “But partied the rest away. I was trying to buy some time by sending him what I phony drugs,” he cried. “I thought he’d get the report that I’d paid him and by the time he was back in town, I could’ve replaced it with the real stuff.”

Disgusted, Max tore Ryker’s lip ring away, not bothered by the blood or his brother’s screams. Then, he beat Ryker into unconsciousness, stepped over his prone body, and headed for his car.