In the last two weeks, out of the blue, his texts had started again, pleading to see me. Earlier tonight in the laundromat, he’d text-hounded me repeatedly. Damn him. I’d finally managed to find some peace after the devastation he caused. And now, he would do this?
Chapter Two
Max
It was her, the girl from the laundromat.
Ila Logan.
I still couldn’t connect Ray’s cool, prickly sister to my dancing girl. For a brief moment, she’d pulled me out of my dark hell. It made sense now why I’d been drawn to the photo on the fridge door earlier.
I stood there unable to believe the odds of this happening. Of course, the fates probably enjoyed screwing with me for their own perverse pleasure when I’d chosen to walk away from this one.
I turned to Ray. “I didn’t know you had a sister?”
“You never asked.” She swept her laptop off the counter and headed for the living room.
Right. I was too busy steeped in guilt and hating myself. I followed Ray, stopping at the living room window while she set her laptop on the dining table. My gaze drifted to the foyer and the door opposite that hadn’t shut properly. Laughter reached me, then low voices. The door closed.
Ray had said “client.” What exactly did Logan do that required a locked door? Usually, when I was enclosed behind one, it was to fuck.
At the thought, something fierce tore through my chest. I had no idea why it should piss me off, but it did. I walked outside, pulled out my smokes from my pocket, lit one, and deeply inhaled the shit I was trying to give up.
Ray appeared beside me. We stood protected by the porch and out of the drizzle. She leaned against the wall. “You’re gonna kill yourself early, the rate you inhale that crap.”
I barely heard her. As if compelled by some unknown force, I asked, “What does your sister do?”
Ray cut me a curious look. “Why are you interested?”
Good question. I shrugged, winging it. “I’d probably want to use her services. What’s her price?”
She frowned. “Ila’s really good at what she does, or so her clients say. But I hardly see you as the type who’d want more—”
“Her price, Ray,” I snapped.
“Lord, you’re grumpy.” She rolled her eyes at my curt tone, not in the least bit fazed. “It starts at around three grand, but it frequently depends on size.”
What the fuck?
“It usually takes about a month, sometimes a little longer. Mostly, it hinges on the client’s availability. Ila is thorough…” She glanced at the closed door. “So, you want your portrait painted?”
It took a moment to wade through the haze and pounding that had sprung up in my head again. “Portrait?” I repeated.
“Yes. Why else would you be interested in Ila’s prices for painting people?”
An artist? She was a damn artist? I had thought a masseuse or something as the reason for the closed door. But Ray’s size comment had nearly given me an aneurysm. I stood there for several long seconds, unable to understand the relief flowing through me. “So she’s showing him her work in there?”
“Yep. It’s her studio and off-limits when she’s working…” Slowly, Ray straightened from the wall. “Oh, no you don’t, Max.” Her eyes sparked dangerously. “I like you a lot, but I love my sister. So don’t make me choose sides. You do anything to her, I will hunt you and kick your ass all the way down Pine.”
“Noted.”
“That wasn’t my approval. Note that, too.”
“How would I hurt her? She’s barely given me the time of day.” And I wondered if Logan had a boyfriend—which I doubted, considering Ray’s words.
Hazel eyes narrowed to slits. “I may not be on your campus, but news travels, as do your hookups. Heck, when your brotherhood’s named The Players, there’s a reason for it, though Hookup Kings might be more apt. I’ll tell you up front, it won’t fly with my sister. So for both your sakes, stay clear of her. She doesn’t do players.”
Hookup Kings? Players? Several months ago, in another life, sure. I merely lifted an eyebrow at her analysis, but it also raised more questions about Logan.
“I’m not blind—” Ray sliced me a dark glower. “When I walked into the kitchen earlier, the tension between you two was so thick, it’s a miracle I could get to the sink unscathed.”
Biting off my smile, I inhaled another lungful of smoke. So I hadn’t imagined the sensual pull. I did get to Little Miss Prickly.
“As my friend, Max, I’m asking you to stay away from her.”
Shit. I didn’t want to ruin my relationship with Ray. So I said nothing. My gaze drifted down the wet street. I killed my smoke and dropped it into my pack. “You want to go get a drink?”
“God, yes! Been hitting the books the entire day—”
Voices sounded, I turned. Logan and the silver fox appeared.
“See you soon,” the guy said, nodding at Ray, but giving me a puzzled look before bounding down the steps. No doubt he’d make the connection soon enough.
Logan turned to leave. It struck me just how petite she was standing next to Ray and me. Probably around five-four or something. The top of her head barely reached my shoulder.
“Ila, wait.” Ray stopped her as she turned for the door. “Come with us, we’re going out for a drink.”
Logan’s gaze shifted to me, then back to her sister. She shook her head. “I have work—”
“Ugh, c’mon, sis. You work a day job and then this painting one. We all need to take a break sometimes,” Ray grumbled. “We haven’t done anything in ages. It’s just one drink. And it is Max’s birthday—he just got his official grown-up card.” She grinned.
I snorted. Great, point out my age.
Logan sighed. “Fine. One drink.”
“Awesome, give me a minute.” Ray dashed into the apartment.
Alone at last. Before I could speak, she said, “Happy birthday.”
I smiled. “Now it is. Thanks.”
Color tinged her cheeks at my deliberate provocation. Yeah, I was a bastard, but I enjoyed having her react to me.
She eyed me warily, then straightened her spine. Yup, here it came, the set down.
“Look. You’re Ray’s friend—”
“But not her boyfriend.”
“And you’re young.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
Her lush lips pressed together in an annoyed line. Nope, she had no comeback for that. Score for me.
She walked back into the foyer and changed her flip-flops for a pair of boots tucked near the coat stand there, then shrugged on a hip-length black jacket. She cut me another narrowed-eyed glare when she found me watching her. I smirked.
“Right, let’s roll.” Ray hurried out. Logan appeared relieved as she locked up. She’d soon learn I had the tenacity of a bulldog. I wanted to know this prickly girl with the striking amber eyes, and nothing would stop me.
But with her dismissive manner and the barriers she’d already erected between us, time was my only ally right now. And finding a way to stay here longer… yeah, Ray.
A short cab ride later, I was back in a noisy joint. The dimly lit interior of Kino’s Bar on Fillmore Street was heavy with the smells of beer, grilling food, and chatter. The TV blared a ballgame. Guffaws of laughter erupted. We headed for the counter.
“Ila?”
At her name being called, Logan turned as I did. An older woman with a cap of snow-white hair seated with another lady near the bar window waved. Logan smiled. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
And ten minutes passed. Ray had said the woman was a former client and Logan’s landlady. Now, I wondered…
I sipped my beer. Ray was occupied, toying with the bartender, who wanted her phone number. I nudged her arm. “Your sister doesn’t like me much, does she?” Stupid observation. She was avoiding me. Whatever I thought I’d seen in her eyes for those few seconds in the kitchen before she turned away was obviously a figme
nt of my imagination. Sleep deprivation and pain meds would do that to a guy. “I probably don’t meet her standards like the silver fox.”
Ray glanced at me, her brow furrowing. “Nah, Ila’s cool once she gets to know you.”
“Buy me a drink?” A brunette in a tight dress, with tits almost popping out of her low top squeezed between another customer and me. She looked me up and down in a way I knew far too well. Her voice lowered, “Or we could go to my place?”
She was exactly the type I went for at one point, out for a good time, nameless, and forgotten the moment I left. Now all I thought of was the fiery, amber-eyed woman who had ensnared me.
“Max?” Ray leaned in close, pulling my attention back. “Look, don’t worry about your accommodations. I explained to Ila and she said you could stay. So all’s good. She isn’t one to go back on her word. And it isn’t that she doesn’t like you, it’s just the way she is.”
“What do you mean?”
Her gaze skipped back to her sister, her hesitancy surprising me. Usually, I couldn’t get her to shut up. “What, Ray?”
“Her jackass ex is what.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “He hurt her badly.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. When it came to males, most were bastards. Me included. I fucked and left. But then I never made promises I knew I wouldn’t keep either. I recalled Logan’s expression in the laundromat at the text she’d gotten. Was it from the douche ex?
“You coming?” Someone touched my arm. I shot an irritated look to my right and found the brunette waiting. “No.”
I faced Ray again, who cocked an eyebrow. “You turned that down? Wow! Did you turn gay during your self-imposed sabbatical?”
Hardly. I had been buried in hard labor, working my fingers to the bone. No woman had held my interest until now. “You were telling me about Logan?”
Ray frowned. “Logan? Why do you call—” Her gaze narrowed and shifted behind my shoulder. “Ugh, look at what the cat dragged in. And I thought he was just being considerate when he texted me, asking if you were okay. Didn’t they have a party going on? Don’t tell me they’re out hunting for new tails.”
At her sarcastic tone, I hid my smile, mostly because she was right. I didn’t bother to turn because I’d already seen my friends roll into the place in the mirrored bar wall.
Jack appeared in front of me, blocking my view of Logan. “Hey, bud, you good?”
“Yeah. Where’s the cat?”
“What?”
I bit off a grin. Shook my head. “What are you doing here? Party not interesting enough?” I angled my head and looked around him to the entrance. And tipped my bottle at said cat, War, who was waylaid at the door by his hockey groupies.
Jack shrugged. “It was your party, not mine. After you left, Marie called, and that ruined my mood. So I texted Rayen, and she said you were here.”
“More like you barked at me,” Ray retorted.
“You can’t bark with text messages, Bug,” Jack said, taking the empty stool next to me. He was a year older, in his final year, and doing the same business degree I’d walked away from.
“Stop calling me that. And sure you can, Griffin. ‘WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU TWO?’ The proof is in the caps used.”
He laughed. She shot him a glower, then went back to toying with the bartender.
“What’s going on with Marie?” I asked him. His sister had walked out on her slime ball husband, who wasted his time playing golf, went through her trust fund like it was water, and couldn’t keep his dick chained. Jack was supposed to leave in the morning for Carmel, probably to go smash in his face.
A tick worked Jack’s jaw. “She told me not to come. She’s gonna try and work things out with that musclehead.”
“She should just give him the boot, I say,” War countered, joining us.
Eli Warrick, aka War—so nicknamed by his teammates because the guy was chaos on the ice when in the game, possessive as shit with his puck, and currently on a two-game probation for punching a teammate out cold—squeezed in beside Ray and stole her soda.
She punched his arm. He whimpered and then laughed. I ordered another round to settle their fight.
My attention shifted back to Logan and her landlady. As they rose, a tall, dusky-skinned woman with shaggy, dark hair stepped in front of Logan.
She froze, looking like someone had punched her in the stomach.
“Shit!” Ray cursed from my side.
“Who is she?”
“No one.”
“Yeah, and I’m Playgirl’s centerfold.”
When Ray didn’t respond with her usual snarky remarks, I knew the tall girl was bad news. The next minute, Ray jumped off her stool and headed for her sister.
The landlady touched Logan’s arm and said something. Logan blinked, then shook her head and sidestepped the tall woman who wore a small, triumphant smirk. Logan’s expression was smooth and calm once more. But her smile appeared forced when she saw Ray. Words were exchanged, then she shook her head and followed her landlady out.
What the hell was that all about? Usually, I’m a ‘mind my own biz’ kinda guy. But Logan’s expression tugged at some chivalrous part of me I didn’t know I possessed.
Ray appeared at my side, anger in her gaze. “Max, I’m gonna go. Ila has a headache. Mrs. Renner’s giving her a lift home.”
Headache? Yeah, one caused by the shaggy-haired woman no doubt.
“I still gotta go get more milk and Oreos, or Ila will disown me since I finished hers. Then she’d send me back to my folks, who are trying desperately to get me involved with the opposite sex—God, who wants that? Well, except, of course, if it’s Nicholas Hoult, but that’s neither here nor there. Do you want my key to get in?”
“No, I’m coming.”
“Whoa, Max, you’re going with her?” War’s mouth slacked open, appearing shocked out of his drunken mind. “You need earplugs?”
Both Jack and War had been keen on Ray when they’d first met her, but with her runaway mouth and often-sharp tongue, the fascination had died fast. So now they tortured her any way they could.
I thumped his shoulder and rose. “Be nice.”
“Wait—” Jack called out, his gaze flickering to Ray and back to me. “You coming back to the house?”
He was a good bud, always looking out for me. Rocking on my heels, I slipped my hands into my jeans pockets. “No, I’m covered. Call me if you want to ride the waves.”
“Lucky dog,” War muttered. “After a vacay of hot, wet, pus—er, bodies, it’s like a damn desert here.”
“You are all dogs,” Ray said in disgust. “You idiots seem to think everything revolves around your dicks. Hopefully, you both caught gonorrhea over spring break. On that satisfying thought, let’s go, Maximus.”
“Witch,” Jack teased.
“If I were, I’d make sure the gonorrhea happens,” Ray shot back, making them cringe. “Hey, my great-gran on my dad’s side was a Wiccan, and she’s Irish. Maybe I’ve inherited some of her capabilities. I’m gonna check it out. If anything happens down south, know it was me.” With an evil grin, she stalked off.
“God, she’s terrifying.” Jack glared at her as she wove her way through the crowd. “Put a leash on her, Sinclair. I happen to be quite fond of my dick.”
“So you and Ray, huh?” War asked me.
“No, he’s not.” Jack gave me the eyebrow lift I detested. “Bro code, bud.”
He was fucking with me. They were as protective as me with Ray.
Snorting, I followed Ray, my thoughts on Logan. If they knew the truth, they’d pity me. I didn’t care. Though I doubted my amber-eyed hedgehog even remembered my name.
Ila
A dull thud echoed in the silent house as I entered, followed by a pained groan.
Oh, no! With the spate of break-ins recently, terror flattened my lungs as I sprinted toward the sounds. And came to a grinding halt at the open study door, feeling as if I’d been struck in the s
tomach with a crowbar.
No—no! I shook my head in denial, unable to breathe, pain ripping my insides apart.
Simi lay naked on the desk—a desk I’d chosen for him—her thighs spread. Devyn, his pants around his ankles, stood between her legs, hips pumping. He groaned out loud.
A choked cry escaped me. Simi looked my way, her expression engulfed in lust. And smirked.
I jackknifed awake, her taunting grin filling my head. Unable to bear the agony, I curled into a ball, pressing my wet face into my pillow, trying to shut off the horrible images burned into my mind.
Bumping into Simi last night at the bar and having to witness her triumphant smile again had dropped me straight back into the pits I’d lived in for two years…
Devyn glanced back, shock flooding his bronze features. He yanked up his pants. “Ila? What the hell are you doing here?”
Unable to speak, agony squeezing my chest, my engagement ring digging into my palm at my fisted fingers, I spun away. He grabbed my arm. “Ila, wait. This didn’t mean anything—”
Something inside me snapped. I shoved him hard, stunning him into silence.
“You want her, you can have her.” I pulled off my engagement ring and flung it at her. It hit Simi on the chest and fell to the floor.
He picked up the ring and came after me. “Ila put the damn ring back on!”
“Go to hell, Dev!” I walked out. Tears fell. But nothing could stop the gut-wrenching pain…
When the thudding of my heart slowed down, and the hollowness inside me eased a little, I searched in the bedside drawer for Advil. Nothing. With sleep a distant memory and no other way of easing my throbbing head, I shoved the bed covers aside and padded downstairs.
I entered the living room and stumbled at the sight of Max lying on the couch, wearing nothing but black sweats. He had an arm thrown over his brow. The dim light from the foyer cast a soft glow over him. He appeared like some fallen deity, all golden skin, pale hair, and sleek muscles. Heck, he was a far better sight than images from my nightmares that took delight in mocking me.
Dragging my gaze away from him, I crossed to the kitchen and switched on the light. I got the pain pills from the cupboard, took two, and swallowed them with some water. One hand braced on the sink, I rubbed my temple with the other, trying to rid myself of the memory of the awful night that had torn my life apart.
Breathless (Players to Men) Page 3
