Dirty Boy (33 page)

“I’m back.”

The sing-song voice broke into Story’s fogginess and she grunted as Max shook her awake. Opening her eyes, she blinked, sure she was dreaming. Or having a nightmare. Because, certainly, the man who had beaten her terribly wouldn’t be looming above her, a gun pressed to her temple.

As she came to more awareness, Story stared into Tico’s cold eyes. 

“We meet yet again.”

She didn’t move, too afraid he’d fire the gun. Or her movements would somehow prompt his reaction. Nothing separated her head from the barrel. If he fired, she’d be instantly dead.
Dead.
“Where’s Max?”

His smile wasn’t nice. “Not here and my patience has worn rather thin.”

The opening and closing of the front door captured their attention. The man turned his head and Story knew she had one shot to save herself and, perhaps, Max.

Using his distraction, Story shoved the man’s hand aside, the report of the gun as he fired chilling her, but not stopping her. Screaming, she vaulted up and rushed from the room. Another bullet whizzed past her head as she made her way to the stairs, interrupting Max’s ascent. “Run, Max!” she ordered, shoving Max backwards and watching as he tumbled down four stairs. “He’s going to kill us.”

Max grabbed her and pushed her under the staircase, managing to evade two additional bullets that flew in their direction. “Don’t move.”

The moment Tico appeared, Max grabbed the hand holding the gun.

The adrenaline rushing through Story stole her pain. Things were happening so fast as the two men grunted and fought, wrestling for control of the firearm. She had to stack the odds in Max’s favor. If he lost, she was dead anyway. At least if she found something to hit the guy with, Max might overpower him.

Spying a vase that she’d always admired, Story ran to it and snatched it up. The report of a gun made her jump. Max and Tico slid to the ground, their bodies so close together she had no idea who’d been hit.

“Max!” she cried, horrified.

He turned to her and stood, still in possession of the gun, as the other man sprawled back. Blood spatter stained Max’s clothes and face. Shoving the gun in the waistband of his pants, he walked to her and dislodged the vase from her trembling fingers.

“Get back in bed, Story. I advise you not to look, but I leave the decision up to you.”

After the excitement of the past half hour, her limbs chose this moment to freeze. She couldn’t talk or walk, so she stood there, blinking, her pain returning.

“He’s dead, sweetheart. Shot under his chin. Do you understand me?”

She nodded.

“I have to take care of this situation. Can you…” He cursed, then lifted her in his arms and carried her to her room. Hesitating a moment, he turned and brought her to the room at the end of the hallway and laid her on the bed. “Stay in here,” he ordered, and then left her alone.

Grimacing in distaste at the body under his staircase, Max went to his bar and poured himself a drink. After downing the scotch, he removed the gun from his waistband and discharged the clip before laying both next to the decanters.

The moment he’d gotten to his door and found it ajar, he’d known something was amiss.

“Fucking asshole,” he snarled, pinning the label to himself. “Stupid motherfucker.” Instead of searching for a weapon, he’d had every intention of checking on Story, without considering his own safety or the fact that an intruder lurked in his house.

No. He’d thought about
her
.

“Fucking ignorant, brainless motherfucking moron.” Not bothering with a glass, he lifted the decanter and drank, before turning his attention back to the dead motherfucker.

God, but she was a fighter. As he’d started up the stairs, a blur of motion hastened toward him. If she hadn’t pushed him down, he would’ve been dead.

He scowled at the body, wondering what the fuck should he do. It was self-defense, so if he called in the cops they’d have to release him in the end. But the motherfucker had invaded his home, further terrorized Story, and then had Max fight for his fucking life. Considering, his death had been too easy. However, even if he fucked him up a little more, riddled his body with bullets, the fucker was dead.

Max might’ve been all for abusing a live fuckhead. Corpses were not his thing, though.

The ringing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. Based on the sound, it fell out during the fight and was no longer in his pocket.

Kelan’s name flashed across his screen as he picked it up from where it lay, close to the dead fuck.

“Daily check of Ryker finished. He’s still in bed and resting,” Kelan greeted without preamble. “I’m pretty sure you broke his goddamn ribs and gave him a concussion.”

He didn’t want to hear about Ryker at the moment. “Get over here. I have a situation.”

“Of course you do,” Kelan grumbled and hung up.

A half hour later, Max prepared a sandwich for himself and Story, went to his room, waited until she finished a half, then returned downstairs to await his friend. Her yes and no answers to his questions didn’t tell Max much. He didn’t know if she was in shock, in pain, frightened, or angry. Maybe, all of the above, so he decided to let her be.

Now, as he opened the door so Kelan could enter, Max indicated the body with a point of the nearly empty decanter.

“Shit.”

“It was self-defense, asshole,” Max snapped, slamming the door shut. “The motherfucker broke into my goddamn house. He was here with Story when I got home.”

Kelan snatched the decanter from Max and downed the contents. “What are you going to do?”

Story would expect him to call in the authorities. He released an aggravated, disappointed sigh. “It isn’t as if he’s full of fucking bullets,” he reasoned.

“And you’re rather beat up yourself,” Kelan added.

“I could always say he’s an unknown assailant,” he said, processing the situation out loud. “If they were to look into shit and find his link to Ryker, this was fucking self-defense.”

“Right.”

“Fuck.” Before he changed his mind and found other ways to dispose of the body, Max dialed ‘911’.  “The cops are on the way. Get upstairs and see that Story is asleep by the time they arrive. We’ll tell them she witnessed nothing. You were in there with her and only the sound of the gunshot drew the two of you out. Upon seeing the dead body, she went into hysterics, so you sedated her.”

Heaving a resigned sigh, Kelan went up the stairs.

“By the way, she’s in my room,” he called.

Kelan didn’t respond as he reached the second floor and continued down the hall.

As Max suspected, he was brought in for questioning. With his busted door, Kelan backing up Max’s version of events, and Story once again sedated, he was released several hours later.

Pending an investigation, charges were not expected to be filed.

Very early in the morning Max got back home, called his father and explained everything to Winston. By then, he was exhausted. In his room he found that Story somehow managed to take up most of the space. Shaking his head, he undressed and then pushed her over, before crawling into bed with her.

Sighing, she curled into him and Max reluctantly pulled her into his arms. More than his fair share of women had slept next to him, but none of them, since Kayleigh, had felt as if they belonged there.

Until now.

It took nearly three weeks, but Story’s ribs finally felt well enough where she could return to the set. They were tender, but she’d request Max to go easy on her and hoped he complied since he insisted she go with him the next day.

Other than an odd blowjob here and there, she’d scarcely seen him. He left her alone most of the time. She worked hard to forget Tico’s death. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to stay there alone. Every sound she heard would spook her. Most of the time, she didn’t even know if Max was home or not.

Once, she came down to prepare herself an evening meal and found him on the phone, in deep discussions about a box cover shoot and the scenes he’d shoot the next day. As usual, if he wasn’t making the demand on her to suck him off, he steered clear of her. She refused to explore her feelings on any of it. Beyond realizing she’d attempted to change Max’s mind because she wanted a chance with him, she kept thoughts about the situation at bay.

Now, she sat in her dressing room, wrapped in a robe, wearing a wig, and heavily made up, awaiting the knock on the door that indicated she was needed on set. When it came, she drew in a deep breath and braced herself for onscreen sex with Max.

The moment Story appeared, Max went on high alert. She hadn’t spoken to him at all during the drive over. For the past three weeks, he’d closed himself off to her. He’d focused on the promo shoots with Addie and Stella, setting up their websites, and working out the details to take them to a trade show. To prepare for that, he sent Addie in for breast implants. Her real breasts were fine, but her niche in his company would be her tits, so he wanted them big. He gave her the stage name of Apple Yawning, set her up at a beauty salon, and had her naturally blonde hair dyed black. Stella, with her red cunt bush, would be the company’s pussy princess. Her cunt would be better known than her face, once Max and Eric were done. The third girl had quit before she’d even shot her portfolio. She was completely new to the industry. Like Story.

Story…No! He wouldn’t think about her. He’d thrown himself into work so he wouldn’t think about her. So far, it was paying off. The website was getting major hits to watch the scenes he’d shot with Stella and Addie that had nothing to do with the movie.

It was odd how he’d enjoyed fucking Addie so much at first, but almost hadn’t been able to get a cockstand this time around. She seemed as miserable, and Max wasn’t sure if it was because of Kelan or Story.

Fuck. Story.

Shutting people out usually worked for him. This time around, it didn’t. Instead of feeling better, he felt fucking worse, enjoying his shoots less and less, a problem he’d never had before.

He watched as Eric went down her list of positions. The fact that Max couldn’t wait to touch Story, that the thought of having her while the fucking crew watched annoyed him, told him more than he needed to know. If she wanted to be here, that would be bad enough. But she didn’t. She wanted to be a school teacher.

His head fucking hurt with the confusion he felt. Another side effect of allowing someone past defenses. Caring too much about the other person, to the point of losing yourself.

He didn’t feel as if he were cut out for a relationship or that he deserved one. He supposed he did hate himself a little. Without his son entering the equation, it was Kayleigh herself. He got to continue to live, when she’d ended up in an early grave.

She’d put him through hell when she’d finally had enough and vowed she’d have the last laugh. She’d been right. Her death ensconced him in a living hell. Unable to get over the past but not able to move forward, stuck, almost in the same place in his life he’d been in four years ago. With the exception that he no longer had a wife or a son.

“Ready, Max?” Eric said, walking over to him.

Story dropped her robe and scooted onto the bed.

Max sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Are you hungry?”

With filming finally over, Story appreciated the solitude of Max’s room. He’d once again started sleeping with her, although they didn’t have sex. They fucked like crazed monkeys on set.

“A little,” she admitted, laying on her stomach and staring straight ahead. As much as she tried to stay positive, she was feeling down. Last week, she’d been introduced to the makeup sponge to block the mess of her period from ruining the scene. “Ordered out again?”

Since they’d been filming, they ate out almost every day. Unlike the three weeks she’d been in the condo when he’d had groceries delivered once a week and his housekeeper in every other day to change their sheets and do whatever else needed to be done.

He’d allowed her to go into his personal gym, one of the rooms he’d kept locked until she started filming in earnest. Now, he awakened her at five every morning to work out with him. She should’ve known he worked to keep such a fabulous physique.

“I was thinking a pizza tonight and some wine.”

She nodded and listened while he placed the order adding all her favorite topping—pineapple, ham, shrimp, and black olives. “It’ll be how long?” He turned to her. “They’re pretty busy tonight. It’s going to be at least ninety minutes.”

“That’s fine.” She wasn’t too hungry anyway.

“That’ll be fine,” Max echoed, and hung up a moment later. “Let’s have a glass of wine while we wait.”

“I’m not in the mood for alcohol, Max.”

Without responding, Max left her alone. She thought she wouldn’t see him again until time to eat but he returned within minutes, opened bottle and filled glass in hand.

“What’s on your mind?” Clearly, something was.

“You,” he responded using the same quiet tone that she had.

She stilled. There were countless ways she could read what he said, so many ways she could interpret his behavior. “What about me?”

“You have six weeks left to our agreement. How do you feel about that?”

“Relieved,” she answered. “How do you think?”

She glanced at him, frowning at the hurt she glimpsed. He sipped from his glass and nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“Don’t tell me you won’t be relieved to see the back of me.”

Another sip, then he rocked back on his heels. He cleared his throat. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

She told herself not to fall for Max’s soft words. She knew better. Every time Max had shown her any kindness, he’d turned into a raging beast not long afterwards. But, as much as she tried, it was so hard to separate her feelings for him when she had sex with him every day. Eric had already warned her not to get clingy with Max, so the two times he’d filmed with other women she hadn’t been anywhere around. She’d gone for walks.

It hurt her, though, and she knew, once and for all she wasn’t cut out for the business.

“Won’t you miss me at all?”

“Max, stop! Please. Don’t pretend you care when—”

“Suppose I tore up the contract once filming wrapped up next week? Told you if you wanted to leave then, you’d be free to go? What then?”

Unable to hold her blasé position any longer, Story sat up and faced him. He wore the most open expression she’d ever seen. But she had to be smart. She had to protect her heart as much as she could. As much as she wanted to respond to Max’s vulnerability, she had one pressing question.

“Would you still work?”

His shoulders heaved, all the answer she needed.

Her mood was already low. Having Max in here as he was, only to dash her hopes, made tears rush to her eyes. She raised her hands. “I get it, Max. I do. You enjoy what you do and make no apologies for it. But I’d be so, so unhappy.”

“We’re doing a couple of films with a new actor, starting in ten days. Once we wrap up our show. I…Stay with me until the films are complete. It’ll be the rest of the six weeks, but you’ll be here on your own accord.”

“If I say no?”

Bleakness crossed over his face. “Then I’ll still release you from your contract. You’ll be free to go.”

“And what about the new star you needed? What would happen to the film if you’re not going to make me the female face of the studio?”

He grimaced. “I guess it would be a general release. I haven’t thought that far.”

“Why the change, Max? Oh.” It all came together in her head. “You found the star so you’re no longer in a bind.”

“We haven’t. I…this is the first night we’re home relatively early. We go straight from the studio to a restaurant to eat. I thought…” Shrugging, he emptied his glass and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t think I’d have to search you out to spend time with me.”

“I think it’s best this way. I won’t become overly attached to you.” She already was, but he wouldn’t care, so she wouldn’t share. “When you’re being nice and sweet. But I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Setting his glass aside, Max advanced toward her and pulled her to her feet, slanting his mouth over hers in one of his mind-bending kisses. This was the first time he’d kissed her off set, in weeks. Her defenses against Max’s onslaught was worth sand in a rainstorm.

He planted kisses along her jaw and down the column of her throat, soft pecks that heated her core. As he tugged her earlobe into his mouth, he brought his fingers to her shirt and began to unbutton it.

Before she knew it, she stood in nothing but her panties and Max’s shirt was off, his zipper open. Still kissing her, he guided her back onto the bed.

She
knew
she should stop him. If he made love to her that this would be one of the stupidest decisions of her life. Because that’s what he was doing—seducing her and making love to her.

But, once she left, she’d return to Dallas and get over Max. She’d put these last few weeks behind her and move forward with her life as best she could. Hopefully, the repercussions for her brief porn career wouldn’t be too great. If Max was going to pay her tuition, she’d focus on school. She didn’t intend to have a relationship until she finished school, so why not have this with Max?

Pushing all her doubts away, she lifted her hips, encouraging Max to remove her underwear. As he slid them down her legs, he caressed her, sending shivers along her spine and making it hard to remember that she needed to guard her heart. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall completely in love with him.

If that happened, she’d never get over him.