Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1)

by Nicole Edwards

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  No! This isn’t happening!

  Present day

  Saturday night, May 16th

  Leyton watched as Max crumpled to the ground, his own blood roaring in his ears. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

  Two rounds…

  Max’s body jerking backward…

  Falling…

  Falling…

  Fuck!

  Lifting his gun, Leyton aimed at the blonde woman standing in the shadows, the one he hadn’t even noticed when they’d pulled in, the one still pointing her gun at Max’s prone body. Without thinking, he fired one round, aiming for her leg, wanting to take her down but not kill her. At least not yet. She would have to pay for what she’d done, and he’d be the one to ensure that happened, but he didn’t have time to deal with her.

  Angelica screamed as the bullet pierced her thigh, hopefully shattering bone, and the world came back into focus. Leyton ran to Max, rolling him onto his back, checking for a pulse.

  There was blood.

  So. Much. Fucking. Blood.

  Everywhere.

  Sal and Dane came running out of the house, and when they saw Max lying on the ground, chaos ensued. Somehow, Leyton managed to keep himself under control as his best fucking friend bled out on the concrete before him. Relying on every ounce of his self-control, he went to work, needing to stop the blood, needing to make the decisions. The ones that would—God willing—save Max’s life.

  “Call nine-one-one!” Leyton ordered Dane, his voice stronger than he expected it to be. “And get her the fuck out of here. Call Doc, get him over here for her. Don’t tell a fucking soul she’s here. Got me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dane said, phone to his ear as Sal hefted the screaming bitch into his arms and marched her inside, slamming the door behind him.

  “You better hang on, boss,” Leyton ordered Max, leaning down and listening to the man’s labored breaths. One shot had pierced his chest, and the other… Fuck. The other had been a head shot.

  Max was bleeding profusely, and for the first time in his entire fucking life, Leyton was terrified of losing the only family he had. Ripping off his jacket, he wadded it in his hands and pressed it against the wound on Max’s chest. “You’re gonna be fine, boss. If you’re not, I hope you know I’m gonna fuck Ashlynn all over your goddamn house. Every room. In your bed. Your shower. Your favorite fucking chair. So you better fucking live through this so you can kill me for doin’ it.”

  Lights flooded his vision as the ambulance pulled into the circular drive. Leyton didn’t leave Max’s side as the paramedics took over, doing all the shit they did when someone was … dying.

  He managed to move out of the way, giving them plenty of room as he supervised the entire thing. He mentally ran down all the things he needed to do, all the people he needed to call while he watched them work on Max.

  He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in, unwilling to lose Max. Not like this. Fuck. Not like this.

  Several minutes later, they had Max loaded into the back of the ambulance. Leyton instructed Dane to follow them in the Escalade because he was going to go with Max. There was no way in hell he was leaving him. Not for a fucking second. But when he tried to climb in the ambulance, the paramedic informed him he couldn’t go.

  “Wanna bet?” Leyton growled, getting right up in the man’s face. “If you don’t let me in there with him, you’ll need another one to come get you when you’re bleedin’ all over the goddamn ground. Yeah?”

  The man’s eyes flared bright, and he took a step back, allowing Leyton inside. No one would keep him away, not a single fucking person.

  This was his job… It was his job to protect Max.

  And he’d failed.

  Goddammit, he’d failed!

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  When they say life comes to a grinding halt … believe them.

  By the time Courtney got home from the reception, she was tired and hungover. Apparently she’d had more alcohol than she’d thought earlier in the evening, and stopping abruptly after Max’s arrival had given her one hell of a headache.

  Somehow she’d made it through the freakishly long night, although, for the past four hours, she’d wished that Max hadn’t left her there alone. She’d been the one to tell him they couldn’t act as though they were in love, but she’d actually wanted that. Just for a little while.

  Just a little time to pretend her life wasn’t as fucked up as it was. To not have to pretend that she wasn’t in love with a gangster. She simply wanted to be normal. Although she didn’t really know what normal was.

  Kicking off her shoes, Courtney grabbed the remote and turned on the television. It was nearly two in the morning, and she doubted there was anything worthwhile on, but if she had to be awake, at least it would keep her mind occupied. After all, Max had informed her that if he didn’t hear from her tonight, he’d show up.

  As much as she wanted that to happen, she knew better. Smiling to herself as she remembered the things he’d said to her before they’d gone their separate ways, Courtney retrieved her cell phone from her clutch and was just about to dial Max’s number when she saw an image on the screen that halted the air in her lungs.

  It was a breaking news story, a headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen while a dark-haired anchorwoman stared directly into the camera.

  “Yes, it’s confirmed. We’ve just been told that Maximillian Adorite, leader of the infamous Southern Boy Mafia, has, in fact, been taken to the hospital. Apparently, Mr. Adorite was shot outside his home several hours ago. An ambulance was called to the scene, and he was transported to the hospital, but we don’t have much more information at this time. A suspect has not been named, nor do we have word on his condition, but our very own Tabitha Hornsby is on her way to Baylor Hospital, where she’ll give us an update as soon as she has more information.”

  Courtney’s heart was racing, her legs trembling as she stared at the television set, waiting to hear more. Waiting for someone to tell her what was going on. It took her a few seconds to realize the cell phone she was clutching in her hand was ringing.

  Glancing down at the screen, she saw it was Max’s number, and a broken sob escaped her as she punched the button on the phone.

  “Max?”

  “No. It’s Leyton.” The rough voice on the other end of the phone sounded as tortured as Courtney felt.

  “What’s goin’ on? How is he?”

  “He’s in surgery,” Leyton informed her. “I shouldn’t be callin’ you, but…”

  “But what?” Courtney asked, her tone slightly hysterical.

  “Samuel will probably kill me, but … Courtney, you need to get down here now. It… Fuck it all. It doesn’t look good.”

  “What happened?” she asked. “Who shot—?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that on the phone. Just get down here. Now.”

  The line disconnected, and Courtney stared at the blank screen, tears streaming down her face. Max had been shot.

  It doesn’t look good.

  Leyton’s words echoed in her head.

  Just get down here. Now.

  Oh, God. She needed to get to Max.

  Grabbing her keys and her clutch, she snatched her shoes from the floor but didn’t put them on as she ran for the door. She hopped in her car and headed for the hospital, all the while praying that Max wouldn’t die on her.

  Twenty minutes later, she was running down the hall toward the intensive care unit waiting area, where Leyton had instructed her to go via a text message, her shoes in one hand, phone in the other. She came to a jarring halt when she saw Samuel and Genevieve talking to a doctor, Max’s brothers and sisters standing beside them. They looked devastated. Her heart broke, pain streaking through her chest as she watched Max’s mother crumble, tears running down her face.

  “Courtney.”

  Leyton’s deep voice pulled her from her trance, and she turned to see him standing of
f to the side. He was disheveled, his face creased with what she could only assume was worry mingled with the emotionally crippling pain that people felt when someone close to them was hurt.

  “He’s…?” God, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to hear, but she had to ask.

  “He made it through surgery,” Leyton told her, pulling her against him. It was then that she realized her legs had weakened, her knees giving out completely.

  “It was touch and go, but he’s still alive.”

  “And…?” She knew there was more, more that he wasn’t telling her.

  “They don’t think he’s gonna make it through the night, Courtney,” Leyton told her straightforwardly, his mouth inches from her ear as she pressed her face against his shirt, clutching his jacket.

  She was suddenly cold. So cold.

  Tears poured down her face; sobs wracked her entire body as she tried to process what Leyton was telling her. She had no idea how long they stood there, but it wasn’t until Samuel came over that she managed to pull herself together.

  “Why is she here?” Samuel asked sternly.

  Courtney noticed Ashlynn standing just a few feet away, her face streaked from her tears.

  “I called her,” Leyton told the old man. “Max is gonna need her.”

  “No, he’s not,” Samuel hissed. “He only needs—”

  Courtney took a step back from Leyton, staring at Samuel in horror and disbelief. The move happened so fast she nearly got knocked to the ground when Leyton pulled Samuel by his shirt when the older man lunged for her.

  “With all due respect, sir,” Leyton ground out, “Max is gonna need her. Not you. Not me. Not his mother or his sisters or his brothers. Max is gonna need her. If you want him to pull through this, you need to accept that right now.”

  Courtney couldn’t believe what she was seeing, couldn’t grasp what she was hearing. Leyton was manhandling the leader of the Southern Boy Mafia. A man who could end Leyton’s life in a heartbeat, and surprisingly, Samuel wasn’t fighting him. That meant…

  Oh, God. That meant that it was true. They didn’t think Max was going to make it.

  “He’s right. He needs her,” Ashlynn said in a tortured whisper.

  “Where’s…?” Courtney couldn’t force the question past her dry lips, but she had to know. “Where’s Angelica?”

  Leyton released Samuel, and Max’s closest friend’s hardened gaze slammed into Courtney’s. She sucked in a breath. That look. She knew that look.

  The hatred that consumed Leyton’s usually handsome features told her more than words ever would. She glanced over at Samuel, then Ashlynn. The fury she saw in their eyes confirmed her suspicions. Angelica had shot Max. She had… She had tried to kill him.

  Courtney had to regain her composure. She had to get to Max. She needed to see him, to touch him, to tell him that he better not fucking die on her or she’d kill him herself.

  “When can I see him?” she asked, her voice stronger. She managed to slip on her shoes, wipe the tears from her face as she pulled herself together.

  “Only one visitor at a time,” Samuel said faintly, more human than Courtney had expected from him. “His mother—”

  “She goes in first,” Leyton stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

  Samuel nodded, shocking Courtney as she watched the older man stroll away, returning to his wife’s side.

  Courtney didn’t know what to say or do, so she allowed Leyton to lead her down the hall. When he stopped in front of a closed door, she looked up at him.

  “You need to listen to me clearly,” Leyton said softly. “He can’t die. Do you understand what I’m tellin’ you? He can’t fucking die. You go into that room and you make him want to live, Courtney. You’re the only one he’ll live for. So get your ass in there and tell him he can’t die.” The last words were said on a hoarse whisper, a rough sob erupting from Leyton’s chest, and she understood just how much Max meant to him.

  Nodding, she turned toward the door. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and stepped inside. Leyton closed it behind her, and then she was standing several feet away from Max. Her heart stopped beating; her lungs ceased to work as she stared at the man in the bed.

  There were cords and wires and machines everywhere. A nurse was checking the readout on something, standing beside Max’s bed. He looked… God, he didn’t look like the man she knew, the man she loved. His usually formidable presence was nowhere. In its place…

  “Come sit with him,” the older woman instructed kindly. “Talk to him, dear.”

  “Can he hear me?” Courtney whispered.

  “We’ll never know until you try.”

  Courtney slowly moved toward the bed, more tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at the man she’d fallen in love with, the man she resented for being who he was. The very man she would spend the rest of her life loving if he would just wake up.

  He had to wake up because she’d never bothered to tell him that she loved him. Not directly.

  And in addition to that, the alternative just wasn’t acceptable.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I love you, and now it hurts to breathe.

  “I’ll be right outside,” the older woman said, nodding toward a window, where Courtney noticed there was a desk situated so that the nurse could watch him directly.

  When she was alone with Max, Courtney moved to his side, hesitant to touch him as she watched his chest rise and fall evenly. His beautiful eyes were closed; his face reflected more peace than she’d ever seen on him.

  She instantly hated it. She wanted to feel his overwhelming presence, see the glimmer in his golden gaze, watch the way his lips quirked slightly when he was amused by her, by something she said, something she did.

  “Oh, God,” she breathed softly, collapsing into a chair positioned at his side. “Max.”

  Gently taking his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his, lowering her forehead to her arm. The tears returned, and she couldn’t stop them as she closed her eyes and prayed. She had no idea how much time passed, but the nurse had returned twice before Courtney managed to stop the waterworks.

  After grabbing a tissue and blotting her eyes, she once again took Max’s hand, her eyes raking over his face. The right side of his head was bandaged, as was his chest. His hand was limp but warm, reassuring her that he was still with her. For how long, she didn’t know.

  As she took in the sight of him, another sob tore from her chest, but the tears didn’t come. He was still so … beautiful.

  “I love you,” she told him, keeping her voice low. “You do know that I’m not lettin’ you leave me, Max. It’s not an option. You’re not the one who can leave. I can’t…” Courtney’s chest heaved with the emotion viciously ripping her apart from the inside out. “I can’t live without you, Max. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

  As she clutched his fingers, listening to the monitors beeping and the monotonous sound of the machines helping him to breathe, Courtney thought back to the first time she’d realized she was in love with him.

  Curled up in his arms, Courtney placed her hand on Max’s chest, sliding her fingers through the soft hair. She could feel his strong heartbeat beneath her palm. His hand came to rest over hers, lifting it as he placed a gentle kiss to the tips of her fingers.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he told her. “I’m glad you stayed.”

  She was, too, although she couldn’t tell him that. The past three weeks had been a whirlwind for her. She’d spent her time fighting a war inside herself, trying to figure out when things had gone so horribly wrong. Somewhere along the way, over the course of the last six months, she’d found herself falling for him, deeper and deeper every time she saw him. Until right here, right now, she didn’t understand the band that was tightening around her chest.

  It was a foreign feeling, this emotion erupting inside her.

  A few short hours ago, when Max had brought her back to his house, she’d bee
n ready to flee. Again. Determined to put an end to this because she couldn’t see any other way out. He was supposed to be a job. She was supposed to be the one who would take him down, make him pay for his long list of crimes, but instead, Courtney was allowing her heart to make her decisions, and she was powerless to stop the damn thing.

  “What’re you thinkin’ about?” Max asked, his lips brushing her forehead.

  Courtney didn’t answer him. She couldn’t.

  There was no way she was going to let him know that she was thinking about love, trying to imagine what a future with him looked like.

  “Talk to me, Court,” he encouraged her.

  Forcing a smile, she lifted her head and peered at him in the dimly lit bedroom. “I need to take a shower.”

  Without waiting for his response, she slipped out of his bed and padded to the bathroom. There was a wall that split the room in half, and she walked around it to the opposite side, where the showerhead was located. Turning the knob, she stepped out of the way, waiting for the water to warm as she fought the emotion still bubbling in her chest.

  She needed to go home. She needed to forget Max, to take what information she had, hand it over to Casper, and move on with her life. She wasn’t cut out for this. She wasn’t the super spy she’d hoped she was. Infiltrating Max’s world had been damn near impossible, and what little she’d learned, she couldn’t even bring herself to share with anyone else. It wasn’t enough to do any damage. At least not yet, but that didn’t seem to matter. The issue she had was that she didn’t want to turn it over, didn’t want to take him down.

  Hard hands slid over her shoulders, and Courtney’s breath lodged in her throat as Max moved closer. His body was warm as he pulled her beneath the spray, his arms wrapping around her, forcing her back against him.

  “Quit thinkin’,” he ordered gently.

  “It’s hard not to,” she told him. It was the truth. She couldn’t stop thinking, wondering, dreaming. Trying to figure out where this was headed while ignoring the fiery crash she suspected it would be in the end.

  “Not as difficult as you might think,” he responded, his lips meeting her neck.