by Apryl Baker
“I’m gonna grab a shower. Then we can head over to Foster’s to fill them in.” He looked like the same Max, but his voice was different—distant, professional. His body was stiff and his eyes lacked anything more than cool detachment. “After that, we’ll pick up some of your things. How are you holding up?”
Her tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of her mouth as she pictured water running over intimate parts of his body. Blinking a few times, she focused on the step below her.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. No need to worry.”
“I won’t be long. Give me ten minutes.”
Max left her standing there, taking two steps at a time up the stairs. Maybe she had misread the signals he’d been sending earlier? No, no way. They were clear as day. Plus, that kiss was proof positive of something happening between them. Maybe he’d heard Brody earlier and changed his mind. A man like him, or any man for that matter, wouldn’t want to get involved with a woman described as cold or dead inside.
She didn’t feel like that at all with Max. She felt the electricity all around her when he was near. Her blood boiled. Butterflies took up residence in her stomach when he looked at her…at least they had until this last time. This time she was filled with dread and longing.
“I was hoping you’d come over to play. Get your handcuffs ready and call me back.”
The words haunted Sloane. The sweet silkiness of the woman’s voice made it all too easy to picture the type of woman who got to experience the irresistibleness that was Max. Sloane bet she was tall with legs that never ended. She sounded like the type to have a piercing in her taut belly—not to mention other places. Without an inch of fat, she probably oozed sex with every move she made. Sloane instantly hated her.
She ran back upstairs and retrieved her cell phone from her purse. It showed fifteen missed calls. Two from her parents’ house. One from Mirabella. The remaining twelve from Brody. All time stamped after their talk earlier. Yup, not going there. She shot Bella a text letting her know that they would be there shortly, then put her phone away. She’d call her parents later.
Max stepped out of the bathroom with a towel secured around his waist. The vision of him was breathtaking. She wanted to pull the offending cotton off and beg him to bend her over the rail—Whoa. She was really starting to lose it. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but never said anything as he continued down the small hallway, shutting the door behind him once he was inside his bedroom. She hurried down the steps. She didn’t stop until she was on the back porch trying to catch her breath. She was in trouble. Given half a chance, that man could break her heart.
Chapter Eight
Sloane
They drove in silence to Bella’s house. Only the road noise and the sound of his keypad typing multiple text messages filled the cabin of the truck. Who kept the sound of their keyboard on, anyway? Sloane watched the fields go by out of the passenger window. After observing him grin at his phone a few minutes ago, she couldn’t bear to look at him anymore. The betrayal she felt didn’t make any damn sense. Until just a few short hours ago she’d had a boyfriend. A shitty, lying, cheating boyfriend, but a boyfriend just the same.
She and Max had never been an item. Sure, he’d kissed her once. Now she could almost admit to herself how much she’d liked it. She shouldn’t feel anything for this man, though. She knew he wasn’t the type to stick around. That didn’t stop her from wanting him anyway.
She needed a night out. A reason to get dressed up and dance away whatever was making her pine for the man sitting next to her.
Once they were parked—in what she was starting to think of as Max’s spot—she practically jumped from the truck. She briskly marched up the steps and let herself inside without waiting for Max to catch up. He knew where the door was. The less time she spent with him, the better.
“Bella,” Sloane yelled once she was inside.
“Hey. I’m upstairs.”
Taking the steps two at a time, she found Bella putting away a basket of laundry. Once again she was in a dress, baby blue with little white flowers and her hair pulled back. Only this time her outfit was paired with a simple pair of flats. They resembled the old ballet slippers Sloane had when she was a kid.
Sloane was a jeans and t-shirt kind of a girl most days. She enjoyed dressing up, but only when there was an occasion to do so.
“Hey, honey.”
Bella embraced her, hugging her harder than she expected. Given everything she had experienced in the last twenty-four hours, she admitted she needed it more than she would have thought.
Sloane sobbed into her cousin’s neck. “I did it.”
“Did what? Oh my…did you sleep with Max?” She said the last part in a shriek as she pulled back, her impish smile willing Sloane to give her a clue. Any clue as to whether or not she had a salacious sexual encounter with one Max Fear.
“Why does everyone think I’m doing Max?”
“Because he’s seriously hot and I see the way he looks at you. Wait, what…everyone? Who else thinks you’re banging Max?” She frowned, her eyebrows pinching together.
“Brody accused me of it just before I ended things with him.”
“Thank you sweet baby Jesus!” Bella pumped her fist in the air before twirling around in circles doing her happy dance.
The scene brought on a burst of laughter from Sloane. The last time she had seen Bella this happy was when Foster proposed. Her laughter was contagious. Sloane couldn’t not join in when it was this sincere. But like a switch that had been flipped, Bella’s face took on a solemn expression and she fixed her gaze on Sloane.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask how you’re taking this.”
“I need to go out. Like, tonight. I wanna get dressed up and paint the town. I need to forget all about him. Even if it’s only for a few hours with a good lookin’ stranger.”
“Now you’re talkin’, sister.” She craned her neck and raised her voice. “Hey, Foster!”
Mirabella yelled loud enough to make Sloane wince and wonder if she’d ever regain all her hearing in her right ear. She was rubbing her sore ear when Foster, followed by Max, came strolling in the bedroom. At least Max wasn’t wearing that sexy smile while gazing at his phone anymore.
“You called, my dear?” Foster kissed Bella’s cheek and slipped his arm around her.
“Yes. Sloane and I are going out tonight. I just wanted you to know.” She moved out from under Foster’s embrace. She stood next to Sloane, looping her arm over Sloane’s shoulder in a show of sisterly solidarity. Her smile bright as could be.
“Tonight?”
“Yup, she got rid of Mr. Wrong and tonight she’s gonna find Mr. Right Now.”
“Not a good idea,” Max piped in immediately. Sloane wanted to punch him in the mouth.
“And why not?” She put her fists on her hips. Who did he think he was? Her father?
“Because it might not be safe,” he answered smugly. Well the hell with that.
“Hey, Foster, why don’t you call some of your friends and we can go as a group. I’ll be safe as can be among all of you lawmen.” Sloane winked at him and gave him what she hoped was her best smile.
“Actually, that sounds pretty cool. I’ll send a mass text message. What time?”
“The Void at eight sharp.”
Bella grabbed both of Sloane’s hands, once again twirling in her happy dance after Foster confirmed his message was sent. Max looked like he’d just finished sucking on a lemon. Where was that seductive little smile now? Ha! The men went back to whatever it was they’d been doing downstairs as the girls discussed important things like hair and makeup.
***
Max
Well shit, Max thought, trailing Foster back downstairs. He had already made plans to see Charlie tonight to relieve a little stress. Maybe Foster wouldn’t mind dropping Sloane off at his place afterward for him. Even after thinking it, it sounded like a shitty thing to ask. Since he wasn’t s
ure what time he would be back there.
“Nice, Mother and Tank are in,” Foster called behind him.
“Cool. So, dude, I kinda had a date tonight.” Max squirmed, waiting for a reaction.
“Really? I’d assumed—I thought—you had a thing for Sloane? She’s single now. Did you miss that part?”
“She’s great, but we both know I’m not one to settle down yet.” Although the more Max said it, the less he believed it.
Foster shrugged. “It’s your life. Since you appointed yourself as her unofficial bodyguard, I’d thought that you would be with her at all times.” Foster took a seat on the couch. “Oh, well…that’s all right. She wouldn’t want to be a burden to you. Anyway, between me, Mother, and Tank, she’ll be fine. Sloane can stay here tonight. You know…if she needs a place.”
Foster checked his phone again while Max thought of what “if she needs a place” could mean. Max ignored the blatant accusation of him leaving Sloane alone since Foster had been the one adamantly against it in the first place…Wait, Foster didn’t think she’d let a strange man take her home tonight, did he? That’s sure as hell what it’d sounded like. The thought left a bad taste in Max’s mouth.
“Now it’s a party. Gutter Mouth is a go. I repeat, Gutter Mouth is a go.” Foster laughed.
Oh hell no. He couldn’t leave Sloane alone with Gutter Mouth. The man was a stand-up guy, but a hound when it came to women. Sloane was just his type: soft, sweet, and curves in all the right places. Maybe he could bring Charlie to the club? Kill two birds with one stone. Yeah, that could work. Watch Sloane at the club and have Charlie afterward. Perfect.
When Sloane was ready to go, they got in his truck. The next stop was to her place for clothes and whatever else women needed to get through each day. There was a heaviness in the air Max was afraid to disturb. He parked out front of the building, and they walked in together. It was a very different journey from the last time he walked her to her door. He certainly wouldn’t be tasting her sweet lips again.
The elevator ride was made in silence. Max noticed for the first time that she hadn’t actually looked him in the eye since he walked passed her to take a shower that morning. It bothered him. Things were better off this way, he reasoned with himself.
Everything else seemed normal—that is, until they got to her apartment. Someone had certainly been there. Furniture had been overturned, glass littered the floor, and picture frames had been shattered.
Max held his hand up, stopping her from passing the threshold. “Let me go first. Wait out here until I call you.”
“But—”
“Just do it, damn it,” Max barked. “This is my job.” He was harsher than he’d meant to be, but her safety was what mattered most at this moment, not her feelings.
Max entered the apartment without waiting for another protest. He pulled a small Kahr PM9 from his waistband at the small of his back. There was no way to tell if the house was clear. Other than surface damage, there wasn’t a whole lot to clean up. Jewelry was still inside the velvet box on her dresser and all the electronics were still in place, so robbery was most likely not a motivator. It was a message. They knew where she lived. Making his way from room to room, Max checked every nook of her apartment before he let her inside.
“Clear, you can come in now.” He tucked his weapon back in his waistband.
She murmured so softly Max barely heard her, “Shit.”
“Get what you need for a few days. You can’t come back here until we find these guys. We need to call the police too.”
“Okay.”
Max studied Sloane as she pulled out her cell phone. She explained the situation quickly before hanging up. Tears welled up in her eyes. After a brief moment, she looked at him. Really looked at him. Startled, she sniffed the tears back, straightening her shoulders. That haunted expression had him wanting to drop to his knees in front of her. Promise her the world just to see her smile again.
It took over three hours to finish up with the police. In all that time, she barely glanced his way. Max passed some of the time talking to Detective Owen Chance. They went to the academy together a lifetime ago. Max didn’t miss being on the force, but he did miss a few of the guys he’d once worked with. Once everyone was gone, Sloane was free to retrieve her things. She came out twenty minutes later with a small suitcase, a garment bag, and overnight bag for toiletries.
“Sorry it took so long.”
“No problem. We better get going though, if you still wanna go out tonight.” Please say no, please say no. “I highly recommend changing your mind.”
“No way. I need to go out now, more than ever.”
She walked out, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Chapter Nine
Sloane
Sloane hung her garment bag on the back of the closet door in Max’s spare room. Unzipping it, she pulled the fabric free of the plastic casing. She didn’t want her clothes to have a plastic smell. She recovered her robe from the suitcase, then checked the hall before exiting the room. No Max. She hustled over to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. After stripping quickly, she stepped under the hot spray coming from the showerhead. She took her time washing her hair and her body.
When she was sufficiently clean, she toweled off, wrapped her robe around herself like a suit of armor, and exited the bathroom prepared to sprint to her room. No luck, however. When she opened the door, Max was leaning up against the wall adjacent to the bathroom with his arms crossed over his muscular chest, waiting for his turn. Yummy. Damn, she was such a loser. Ugh.
“It’s all yours,” she called on her way down the hall. No way was she going to turn around to face him.
With the dresser now covered in cosmetics and hair products, she set about the task of transforming herself. She was a single gal now, after all. She could do whatever, or whomever, she wanted to. It was a liberating feeling. She wondered what it would be like to do Max Fear. Sloane quickly pushed that idea aside, giggling to herself. She was halfway through applying her makeup when Max called to her from the other side of the door.
“Um…hey, I’ve got something to do, so Foster and Bella will be here to get you in less than a half hour.”
“Oh…okay.” She tried not to sound disappointed. Why the hell should she care? She shouldn’t. She did.
“I won’t be long. I gotta pick up a friend and I’ll be there right after you guys.”
He had to pick up a date. Wonder if he remembered his handcuffs. What would it be like to be handcuffed and left to his mercy? Not that she cared. Stupid man. With renewed resolve, she finished applying her eye shadow. The dark smoky eyes looked hot even to her.
After her makeup was done, she slipped on her black tube dress. She’d purchased it a few months ago. Sadly, she hadn’t yet had a chance to wear it. Her breasts were a little too large to go completely braless, but a strapless did the trick without ruining the look. The red three-inch heels helped along her five-foot, five-inch frame. It didn’t hurt that they made her legs look fantastic. Which was a definite plus considering how much of them were exposed.
Stepping onto the back porch, she did a slow turn for Mirabella and Foster as they waited in his Tahoe. It was a lot tighter and shorter than anything that she had ever worn before. She was actually nervous about wearing it. Bella squealed in delight while Foster gave appreciative catcalls. She was smiling in a way she hadn’t in days—hell, in months. She needed this more than she’d realized. Carefully, she made her way down the steps and folded herself inside Foster’s SUV and off they went.
The club wasn’t packed yet, but there was a decent enough crowd. Sloane glanced around, taking everything in. The bar itself took up a large portion of the room. Placed in the middle of the large space, it was definitely the focal point of the room. Tables spread out all around the room with multiple booths hugging the dark walls. A loud whistle caught her attention. She didn’t recognize the trio of men there, but apparently Foster did. He waved to
them as he headed in their direction. Bella and Sloane let him lead the way.
“Guys, this is my fiancée, Mirabella, and this is her cousin, Sloane.”
The girls shook hands with the guys as Foster finished introducing them, giving their real names before informing they preferred nicknames. Paxton, or “Tank,” was just that—a huge man whose hand swallowed Sloane’s with room to spare. The shaved head only added to the magnitude of him. He wore a loud orange button-down shirt that couldn’t hide all of his tattoos, with black jeans and motorcycle boots. His large brown eyes swept the room, constantly alert. As if constantly looking for some presumed threat. She knew she wouldn’t want to be on the other end of that stare.
Morty “Mother” must have been half of Tank’s size, with what she could only describe as hipster black-framed glasses covering his gray eyes. His t-shirt matched his eyes almost perfectly. She almost laughed out loud after spying his white sneakers poking out beneath his blue jeans. He looked like the kind of guy who was more comfortable hanging out in local coffee houses for hours on end in front of a laptop or with a book in his hand.
When Sloane got to Kasper, more affectionately known as “Gutter Mouth,” the name alone made her laugh. Blue eyes sparkled right back at her, and a cocky smirk crossed his face. His blond hair ended just above his chin; it looked so soft she almost asked to touch it. A crimson shirt pulled taut across his shoulders showcased a lean, muscled body underneath. Unlike Mother, his wasn’t tucked into his dark-wash jeans. He was hot, to say the least.
“Sloane, I’ve gotta say it. You look fuckin’ hot in that dress. Dayum.”
He took her hand and kissed the top of it. With that simple move, he had the capacity to both put her on edge and at ease, all at the same time. She felt heat blossom in her cheeks. Foster and Bella laughed at something Tank said as they pulled up chairs next to where she stood.
