by Apryl Baker
“For those of you who don’t know, this is Max Fear,” Foster announced, clapping Max on the back. “My best bud and personal ‘Savior of my ass’ on more than one occasion.”
Max took a seat, with Foster on one side and Tank on the other. Ordering a beer from the waitress before she could scurry off again was harder than he thought it would be. The atmosphere sucked, but the company was what really mattered.
Tank turned toward him and grinned, his massive arms straining the thin cotton of his green t-shirt. With his buzz cut and olive skin, he looked like he’d just finished a tour overseas. “Max! Good to see you, man.”
“It’s been too long, Tank. How’s that baby sister of yours?” Max teased, knowing damn well how protective Tank was over his little sister.
“A pain in the ass as always,” Tank grumbled, shaking his head. “She pops in whenever she feels like it. Messes up my kitchen and leaves again.”
Max raised his eyebrows. “She in town now?”
“Stay the fuck away from her.” Tank bared his teeth, and Max burst out laughing.
The Boys in Blue back together again…Well, not all of them fell under that title anymore. Max had left the police force over a year ago. He hoped to open his own security firm, Fear Incorporated, in the near future. Gutter Mouth and Tank had retired two years before Max did. They were both doing private securities as well, only with different firms. Max hoped to poach them both once his business opened. He was close, but not quite there yet.
With a cold MGD in hand, he leaned back in the chair and listened to the guys tease and laugh around the tables. Taking a long pull off the bottle, one conversation caught his attention.
Across the table, a man with short blond hair shook his head. “She’s great, but she’s so, I don’t know…vanilla.”
Foster stared unbelievingly at him. “Brody, I’ve heard stories of her and Mirabella. Are we talking about the same girl?”
Brody shrugged. “Whatever you’ve heard, I’m sure it was a lie. I don’t even think she likes sex.”
The waitress came back to refresh drinks. She was tall in her heels, with a strategically placed, tiny bikini covering her important bits. The fabric looked like foil, if foil were bright pink. She had great legs, probably from wearing ridiculous heels like that every night. Breasts like hers screamed silicone from across the room, and her hair was dyed to a bright candy apple red. Both her look and demeanor screamed cheap and easy. She stopped behind Brody, brushing her tits against the back of his shoulders.
“Comin’ over tonight?” she purred.
Brody raised his eyebrows and grinned. “What time you off?”
“One.”
“The boys and I should be done about that time.”
“Great.” She smiled before spinning around and running back to the bar with her empty tray.
Foster frowned. Max was sure he’d missed something being exchanged between the two of them. Whatever it was, his best friend looked disappointed and Brody looked indifferent. The guy was clearly a douchebag.
Foster narrowed his eyes. “Thought you stopped seeing Carmela?”
Brody winced. “I did…mostly.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Aww hell, man. Don’t look at me like that. A man has needs.” Finally he had the good sense to look ashamed.
Max craned his neck to watch Carmela sashay over to another table. “Red over there isn’t Ms. Vanilla, I take it?”
“Oh hell no,” Brody blurted. “Ain’t nothin’ vanilla about Carm.”
“So why are you with one girl when you want to be with another?” Benji questioned from the seat next to Brody.
“It’s not right,” Foster piped up.
“I gotta agree.” Tank crossed his arms over his barrel chest, leaning back in his chair. He was clearly thinking of his own relationship, which had crashed and burned recently. She’d left him after admitting to a six-month affair just a few weeks ago. Around the table, most of the guys had stopped their conversations. Now they turned their attention to Brody.
“Sloane is gorgeous,” Brody said. “Seriously hot. She’s got her head on straight and she’s the most responsible woman I know. I’m almost thirty-six; I need someone stable. Everything about her is amazing.”
“I hear a ‘but,’” Max said.
“But…She’s cold. I have to initiate everything. Sex is mechanical. No matter how much I beg, I still can’t get her to go down on me!”
All the guys started whooping and laughing then. Brody glared at all of them, but after a few minutes he just shook his head in defeat. Max never understood men like Brody. No relationship was perfect—that’s why Max avoided them—but if you weren’t getting what you needed, what was the point? Move on.
Foster frowned and folded his arms. “I can’t lie to her again, Brody. I told you last time.”
“Look, Foster, I know I’ve put you in a bad place with you marrying her cousin. Just tell her you didn’t actually see me with anyone. Unless you’re peepin’ through windows, that’s the truth anyway.”
The cocky grin on Brody’s face turned Max’s stomach. Judging by Foster’s expression, he felt the same disgust.
The crowd continued to cheer for the current topless dancer on stage, her slim body hanging upside down from one of the poles. Brody threw back another shot of amber liquid, never taking his eyes off the stage. He added his own catcalls to the mix. As much as Max loved his guys that were here, he couldn’t stand looking at Brody for another minute. It was guys like him that made the rest of them look bad.
“I’m gonna bail, guys.”
Foster threw his hands up. “Aww, Max, don’t go yet.”
“I gotta get some rest. I have a job in the morning.”
“How about dinner? Mirabella’s been asking when you’re gonna come by again.”
“Is she gonna make her famous beef stew?” Max raised an eyebrow in question, a big smile on his face.
Foster laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“Count me in. Call me tomorrow with a time and I’ll be there.”
Max said his goodbyes and then made his way to the door. The fresh air slapped him in the face once he was out of the building, but it was refreshing after being inside. He headed for his truck on the other side of the parking lot, and once inside, clicked on the radio, turned on the headlights, and steered his truck toward his home on the outskirts of town. His nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away and he liked it like that.
Max pulled into the long driveway, coming to a stop behind the large farm-style house where the gravel path ended. The house had once belonged to his grandparents; when they’d gotten too old to care for it—and themselves—any longer, they’d sold it to Max for the bargain basement price of one dollar. He’d tried to pay them what it was worth, but his Granny smacked him good right in the back of the head and told him one day it would’ve gone to him anyway.
He was grateful for it every day. It gave him the means to quit the force when it no longer fit his ideals. For now, he worked for Winston Peters doing security and protection details. Funnily enough, his new job paid almost double, and without a house payment, Max was able to put a lot into his savings for the startup costs of his own business. His spare time, what little he had, was spent fixing up the old house. The front porch was beginning to show signs of rot, the kitchen needed an update, and the hardwood floors needed to be stripped and refurbished. Max walked in through the back door as always, toeing off his steel-toe boots in the laundry room before continuing into the kitchen for another beer.
He swallowed a third of the ice-cold brew in one sip while he moved through the house. By the time Max found himself in his bedroom, his beer was gone. Tossing the bottle in the trash can, he quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face. After stripping himself naked, Max crawled under the covers and stretched his arms up and behind his head. He needed to get some rest. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
Chapter Two
Sloane
Sloane walked up the steps to her cousin Mirabella’s house. Once again, she was attending their monthly Saturday night dinner alone. She understood Brody’s job was important, but she had a hard time understanding how he could never get away when Foster, Mirabella’s fiancé, almost always made it on time. Sadly, she was beginning to get used to being the third wheel.
She should’ve just cancelled, but the idea of sitting home alone—again—was more depressing than attending dinner by herself. She knocked loudly, and without waiting for a reply, she walked inside.
“Bella?”
“Kitchen,” Mirabella called out.
Sloane practically floated into the kitchen, following the savory smell. Mirabella was bent over checking the food in the oven. She looked like she’d been pulled from the page of a 1950’s magazine. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a stylish twist, and an A-line dress in black and white that had a red sash cinched around her slender waist ended just above her knees. Red pumps that seemed silly to Sloane—who wore heels in her own house?—completed her look.
“Oh my…Is that your famous stew?” Sloane practically had to wipe the drool off her bottom lip. Her stomach growled as she breathed in the savory smell.
After closing the oven door, Mirabella turned to her, smiling. “Yes, it is.” Her smile faded a little. “Where’s Brody?”
“Work…You know…”
Bella shook her head. “Yeah, I know. Grab that bottle of wine over there and pour us a glass, Chickie.”
“Where’s Foster? I can’t believe he isn’t in here trying to sneak food when your back is turned.” She chuckled.
“I heard that.” Foster entered the kitchen looking relaxed in a pair of black jeans and a red button-down shirt. He crossed the room and kissed Sloane on the cheek. “How ya doin’, Hon?”
“Not too bad. My boss has been forgetting things again, so my job has been that much harder trying to make up for it. I’ve had to make excuses for so many missed meetings, but I’m not sure what else I can do.”
Being the personal assistant to Detlef Marek, CEO of Marek Enterprises, was definitely a challenge some days. Lately it was downright exhausting. His company had its fingers in multiple pies. From real estate to insurance to construction—you name it, Mr. Marek had an interest in it. He was a decent enough guy, and even in his mid-fifties, he was still a captivating man. Thankfully he wasn’t a pervert like her last boss had been, and unlike his son, Sydney. Sydney Marek was every bit as charming as his father when he wanted to be. Unfortunately, he didn’t want to very often.
After gathering the side dishes, Sloane carried them to the dining room table, where she saw the fourth setting that would be a symbol of Brody’s absence the entire night. Maybe she should clear the setting before they sat down. Sighing, she headed back to the kitchen, only to change courses to answer the extremely loud doorbell.
“Got it,” she called over her shoulder.
Maybe Brody had gotten away from work after all. Quickening her stride, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of Brody surprising her. Her disappointment was short lived, however. She pulled the door open, and standing on the front porch was a man that she’d never seen before.
He was tall with shaggy brown hair that fell over his forehead and the tops of his ears. Eyes the color of strong whiskey—whiskey she’d gladly get drunk on—were framed by the darkest eyelashes she had ever seen without help from mascara. The three-day-old stubble on his face only added to the allure, and she could see the hint of a tattoo peeking out below his shirtsleeve.
“Hello,” she croaked. “Can I help you?”
His gaze skimmed down her body quickly before flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Hi, I’m looking for Foster or Mirabella.”
“Great. You’re just in time,” Foster called as he closed the distance between them. “Come on in, man.”
“It smells like Heaven in here.” The stranger brushed past Sloane and shook Foster’s hand.
Foster gestured toward her. “Max, this is Sloane, Bella’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you,” Max said courteously, offering his hand. A small grin tugged at his full, kissable lips.
Sloane shook his hand, nodding politely before following the men back to the dining room, sneaking glances at Max the whole time. The man had the finest ass to ever be encased in a pair of denim. Mmmm. Good grief, what was wrong with her? A long dry spell was what was wrong. Brody hadn’t so much as touched her in the last few months. Sadly, it didn’t bother her as much as it should; he had gotten increasingly more aggressive during sex, causing more pain than pleasure. She hadn’t had an orgasm the last dozen or so times they were together. She’d rather go without at this point. How depressing was that? Sloane poured another glass of wine for herself, downing half before taking a seat. Max took the seat across from her, leaving the other two seats for Bella and Foster.
“Bella, I’ve been dreaming of this all week.” Max winked at her.
Bella laughed. “Glad you could finally drag your ass over here. It’s been too long,” she scolded playfully.
“Yes, it has.”
“How’s the job?”
“Eh, I’ve been running backgrounds mostly this week.”
Bella smiled. “Didn’t I see you in the paper last week? The society page to boot.”
“Yeah, I was keeping a watch on Yancy Bloodworth’s daughter, Zoë. It was her twenty-third birthday. Daddy didn’t want anyone getting too ‘handsy’ with his little princess.” He rolled his eyes.
“As in Yancy Bloodworth, real estate mogul?” Sloane asked, filling her glass again. Mirabella gave her a sideways glance, making a point to look at her very full glass. Sloane just shrugged a shoulder at her.
Max nodded. “I do security, among other things. He hired me to keep her safe.”
“Mr. Bloodworth is an intimidating guy. He’s not very big physically, but there’s something about him that sets my teeth on edge.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. “You know him?” He seemed surprised. Sloane wasn’t sure why that bothered her.
“I’m Detlef Marek’s personal assistant; they have dealings together and he often comes by the office.”
The four of them made small talk until they finished dinner. Sloane helped Mirabella clear the table and get dessert. She took all the plates in first, returning to collect the wine glasses. Max handed over his, their fingertips touching briefly. His eyes locked with hers. She could feel the heat that colored her cheeks as she spun around, quickly retreating to the kitchen.
“I’ll pour the coffee,” she muttered.
“You all right, Sloane? You look flushed.” Bella smirked.
“I’m fine. Must be the wine. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It could be the wine, or…It could be that fine example of a man out there.”
“Max? I don’t even know him.”
“But you want to.”
“Shut up, Bella. Even if I did want to, I’m already seeing someone.”
“Look, I mean this in the most loving way: You are a moron.”
Sloane narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Brody is a piece of shit if I ever met one, and you deserve a whole hell of a lot better.”
Mirabella stood on the other side of the kitchen island with her hands on her hips, her expression daring Sloane to disagree. Mirabella was more than her cousin—she was her best friend. Denying Brody’s affairs would be pointless since Sloane had cried on Bella’s couch just last month and it hadn’t been the first time. She had a feeling he was up to his old tricks again, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Bella.
“We’ve had our roadblocks, yeah.”
“Roadblocks? That’s what you call finding him in bed with a stripper? A stripper, Sloane.”
Sloane’s eyes burned; she couldn’t go down that road right now. It was too much. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight, Bella,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Oh
, honey, I’m sorry.” She walked around the island and took Sloane in her arms. “It just pisses me off that he thinks he can do that to you.”
“I know.” Her whispered words hung between them for a moment. Sloane knew that he thought he could do those things because she always forgave him. She also knew she should leave him, only she wasn’t strong enough to actually do it. She kept hoping he would change.
“All right,” Bella said. “Grab some plates. I’ve got the pie.”
***
Max
Max looked up as the women came out of the kitchen. The smell of warm cherry pie filled the room. Biting into his slice, Max tried to keep his gaze from traveling over to Sloane. She was breathtaking. When she’d opened the front door, he’d thought he might have to pick up his lower jaw before he walked into the house. Her skin was ivory and looked softer than satin. He loved that she wasn’t artificially tanned like a lot of women he encountered in his line of work. Her honey-colored hair was loose, hanging halfway down her back. Max longed to fist his hands in it. The thought tightened his pants. Shit. He had to calm down. No way she wouldn’t notice if he had to stand anytime soon.
Sloane’s phone rang. Smiling at the screen, she quickly excused herself and hurried into the kitchen. Foster shook his head, and Mirabella gave him a small, sad half smile. Sloane’s raised voice floated in from the kitchen. They all sat quietly, trying not to be obvious about the fact they were all trying to eavesdrop. Bella worried her bottom lip, stealing glances at Foster. Foster alternated his gaze between Bella and the kitchen door. They were failing miserably at it. Max watched them quietly, wondering what could be going on to cause the concerned expression on Bella’s face. Suddenly it all became clear.
“Why not? You promised you wouldn’t miss tonight, Brody…Selfish? Me?…who is she this time? I know you’re fucking someone! I’m not stupid!…Whatever. Do what you want. You always do.”
Sloane came out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of red wine in one hand and a glass in the other. “Sorry about that, what did I miss?”
