Chapter 10

Ten

LIVIA

Thursday arrives. Each day that led up to it, I awoke with panic, but today, I didn’t think my heart could race any faster. Despite a shower, my skin feels sticky with sweat again. As sneakily as my fingers could type an encoded message, I told Echoes about our meeting so she could help me out with the logistics. No one from my team would be coming with me, and it made me leery to know I’d be alone with a bear. But I refrained from letting Alpha know.

My fingers brush over the rough carbon fiber of the Glock in my waistband holster. Touching it lightly for the hundredth time since I got dressed quiets some of the panic building in my throat. Out of habit, I reach in my front pocket and stroke my lucky charm three times and breathe a count in a worshipful whisper.

Setting my overnight bag on the checkered marble floor in the grand foyer, I make my way to the kitchen for lunch. Our chef has prepared vegan egg salad sandwiches and placed them on a tray in the refrigerator. Grabbing one, I take a big bite, but before I can even taste it, there’s a commotion clamoring from the front of the house. And, once again, there goes my pulse rising as high as a skyscraper.

Giles dashes from the servant’s hall into the kitchen, then from the dining room through the foyer, and out the front door with me following like a Chihuahua at his heels. A black Plymouth Barracuda sits at the bottom of the steps, exhaust smoking out of the back pipes. Max is laying on the horn, peeping his smiling face beneath the frame of the passenger window. My jaw falls open in outrage. I slam the door closed, almost losing a piece of lettuce. Fucker.

Back inside, I snatch my overnight bag and scurry out to the car. Giles is politely tapping on the driver’s window and requesting “Mr. Freidenberg” to “refrain” from honking, but Max’s mouth is open in a wild guffaw as he ignores the old man. Near the trunk, I use a fist to bang on the metal. It unlatches for me, and I toss my bag in the wide space along with two other black bags. Who knew Max would pack so much?

Walking around to the front of the car, I notice the back seat stuffed with pillows and a blanket covering a puffy figure. When I open the door, Derichs is lying in the back bench seat, looking cozy but squished.

“Hey, foxy!” Max grins, letting off the horn. Derichs nods at me with a big smile. Despite there being a second bear inside, my nerves seem to squelch with the tank’s easy nature. Also, having a buffer between me and Max is probably a great idea for reasons I don’t even want to think about. But, if I had known he was coming, I would have brought someone from my side to keep things even.

Before I get in, I lean with my arm hanging on the open door. “Hey. I thought we said no one was coming with us.”

“Derichs is our backup. He won’t attend the meeting. Jump in.”

Sliding into the comfortable passenger seat, I slip on the seatbelt. As I turn to ask Derichs a question, his face pops between the seats, still holding that excited grin. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit up here? It looks cramped back there.”

“No, I’m good. Max insists on treating me like an invalid, so I’m lounging back here.”

“Road trip!” Max’s eyebrows wave up and down at me before he guns off down the cobbled lane. The thrust of the engine throws me back into the seat, and I grip the door handle and hang on. Spotting my reaction, Max’s smirk transforms into a wide smile.

Once on the road, I take another bite of my sandwich. Derichs leans forward between the seats and snakes his head around to stare at it with envy. “Did you bring us one?”

Not even bothering to chew, I answer, “No.”

“Oh.” He punches Max in the arm. “Told you we should have brought food.”

“We’ll stop halfway. Six hours total, right?” Max asks me.

“Yeah, about six hours,” I say after swallowing the last of my unfulfilling lunch.

Derichs settles back underneath his puffy blanket as Max’s large hands grip the steering wheel, staring out onto the interstate.

“My spies tell me this guy has a grudge with every family in Appleton City. Says he has the goods, but no heir to give it to. Doesn’t want his enemies to end up with any of it,” he says, gliding his chocolate brown eyes across the cabin to crawl up my body to my face. Even the hint of his gaze heats my insides. I hate it.

“Hmm, that would definitely work in our favor… I doubt a man with the title The Ear would just give us something for free, though. Even if he wants rid of it.” The fact we don’t know what he wants is eroding the lining of my stomach, along with the fake eggs in that sandwich. Money would be easy. But these men usually have enough of that.

“Yeah. I don’t have much to offer him, other than taking the guns off his hands.” Max passes a few cars by pushing the gas to the floor. The rumble of the engine makes my thighs tingle, causing me to shift in my seat. Max’s eyes dart to my lap for a moment. “Aren’t you glad I drove?”

A corner of my lips jumps into a smirk. “Well, I do have an SUV. Your tank would have been more comfortable. We could have made him a large bed in the back.”

Muffled, Derichs’s voice rings through the interior of the car. “Hey! Max, you didn’t tell me that! It’s overcrowded back here.”

Max narrows his eyes at him in the rearview. “Go back to sleep.”

Derichs shrugs and turns on his side to get back into his napping position.

A large palm slides onto my thigh as Max grips my two folded hands in his large one. We ride in silence for a few moments, and I think he’s going to turn the radio back on, but he says in a low voice, “If shit goes down, you get out.”

My mouth opens, scrambling to find an argument against him. I can take care of myself. I know these men better than him, since he’s been out of the game. Before I can use my voice, he asks, “Do you hear me, Livia?” He squeezes my hands, the ridges of his dry palms scratching my skin. My heart flutters.

Bobbing my head in a small nod, I respond, “Yeah, I hear you.” My tongue finds its way to my cheek as I refrain from snipping.

“I want you out of there if anything goes wrong. I mean it.” The commanding nature of his voice makes my skin tingle all over. He’s protective. Always has been. And I’ll let him protect me.

For now.

Turning my face to look out the side window, we continue a quiet ride for quite some time until Max turns on the radio again, then slips his hand back under mine. It’s warm and cozy. His palms are rough from years of fighting, and I try to focus on that sensation. If I let myself think about surviving without Max… I wouldn’t like it. Now that he’s back in Gnarled Pine Hollow, things are complicated. If he left, if he were killed, I’m not sure I could live with the guilt. That’s what it is—guilt. I’d have to look at poor Arianna and tell her that her brother died. That would be horrible.

It’s nothing more. Nothing I want to entertain anyway.

Breaking my hands free of his hold, I slide one into my jeans pocket to rub a finger over the little metal object quickly three times and murmur, “One, two, three.”

“What’s that?” Max lowers the volume of the radio with an accusatory look at his empty palm.

“Oh, nothing.”

Derichs’s cute face pops in between the seats again, and he yawns before stretching as much as his large body will allow in such a tiny space. “Is it time to stop for food yet?”

As if it weighs a hundred pounds, Max pulls his arm back from my lap and places it on the steering wheel. “Yeah, man, we’ll pull over up here. I gotta fill up, too.”

In a few miles, he takes the exit, but only tall grass fields greet us on either side of the ramp. Traveling a few miles off the highway, he finds an unnamed gas station with a gray cedar general store next door.

“Ugh, do they even have anything edible in there?” Derichs watches as we pull up to one of only two rusted gas pumps.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. We’re running on empty.”

Clamoring out of the car, my legs ache, needing to be stretched as Derichs stumbles out and gains his balance before jogging lightly toward the store. I follow to look for a restroom. There’re two on the outside of the building. When I go to the women’s room, it’s locked with a sign that says to ask for the key from the cashier. Once the old man behind the counter hands me the oversized plastic keychain, I eye it suspiciously. It’s grimy, the yellow covered in dark brown stains. I’ll wash my hands twice.

Before heading back out, my eye catches Derichs struggling with a shopping basket, attempting to hold it with one arm awkwardly. With a little sigh, I sidle up to him and grab the basket out of his arm. He lets me, with a small smile of appreciation. Helping him out, we venture down each aisle, and I load it up with things he points out.

“And Twinkies.”

Tossing the package in, I ask, “Do you have a girlfriend, Derichs?”

“Yeah, why?” Bending toward the Oreos, he picks up a bag and throws it in. When he stands, some of his brown curls have fallen back across his forehead, which he pushes back with his good arm.

“Does she know you eat shit like this?” I ask, waving a palm at the junk in my arms.

With a devilish smirk, he raises his dark brown eyebrows. “Only when she’s not around.”

I shrug and place his basket on the checkout counter, then head to the restrooms. Once in the bathroom stall, a quick movement catches in my periphery before I squat on the toilet. There’s a hole in the wall opening to the men’s room on the other side. The light coming through is blocked, as if someone just covered it. I hear a zipper being lowered and some shuffling before a girthy, long, and perfect cock comes through the hole.

Max. I spent enough time getting to know his dick during Strauss’s meeting that I’d know it anywhere. He must wiggle his hips because it jumps up and down a little, as if enticing me to touch it. The smirk on my face drops when I bite my lip, my pulse pounding heavy in my chest, then down lower. He must think I won’t take him up on the offer, but staring at it makes me hungry and definitely wet between my thighs. Maybe Vlad’s conditioning worked on me.

With the anonymity of the wall between us, I could get off on it and never have to mention it again. It would be like it wasn’t even Max. My clit pulses, thinking about him offering his cock to me as a personal dildo. At least it’s probably warm and flush with life instead of the cold, hard plastic thing sitting in my bag.

I don’t know what Max has stuck it into, but I’d imagine his cock has been on several world tours. He’s not wearing a condom. It jerks at me again, like the anticipation and my hesitation is only making it more aroused, a tiny dribble of liquid escaping the tip. My chest rises rapidly as my breathing escalates.

Smooth, straight, rounded tip… Thick.

It’s just a dick. A toy…

I walk over to the wall and bend my head over to gather the oozing tip with a curl of my tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” A muffled yell rings through the tiles on the wall.

When I stand back up, a string of moisture leaves my mouth and snaps off when I roll my lips together. Undoing my jeans, I lower them to my mid thighs, along with my black thong. Backing up, I rub my hole just on the tip of his dick to dampen it. Max exhales a deep groan of satisfaction, the sound causing my inner muscles to flutter with anticipation. Instead of putting it inside me, I straddle him, letting his hot skin nestle between my pussy lips. I’m so very wet and he feels amazing between my legs.

Crossing one leg over the other, I make a tight seal around his dick. Undulating my hips, the tip of his long cock claps the diamond of my clit ring when I push my ass back. The sensation makes my entire core tingle, but I force down my own moans of approval. Like he’s my personal dildo pole, I work him back and forth.

“Fuck! Goddamn!” Max tries to help by pushing himself through the hole more whenever I bring my ass back. Tensing my thighs, though, I halt his movements and control my own pleasure. “That’s it, baby. Use it. Use me.” The deepness of his voice makes me feel a bit hollow. Like I want those vibrations close to my ear, his hands on my body like they were at the Crimson Angel.

But I use him. Riding it like a horse, I hump his thickness, dousing the length with my arousal. I’m panting like a dog, and his equally rapid breaths echo off the mint green tiles between us. Reaching across the stall, I lean forward and press my hands against the opposite side so I can writhe harder.

Just as I get my rhythm down, Max pulls back from the hole while I’m on a backstroke. He then tries to jam inside me, but I jolt forward before he can. His low, mischievous chuckle filters through the tiny gap, and I narrow my eyes at his play, despite him not being able to see me.

Resuming my position, I strangle his cock with my legs even tighter. But now, he tries to dip his tip in my opening every time I push back. The fear that he may enter me at any moment adds a new level of excitement. Part of me wants him to succeed, but the other knows it would only lead to trouble. A war of frenzied passion and fury erupts in my mind as much as the one firing off between my folds.

On one backstroke, I slow the pace down to allow the head of his dick to almost push inside me, toying with the possibility of connecting with him fully. His breath catches. I wiggle my hips with it just resting at the entrance… Right there. He doesn’t force himself inside, only holds himself steady before I move forward and resume writhing on his muscle.

As if he can’t hold his breath any longer, he forces out a loud, “Fuck! Foxy! You’re gonna make me come.” His hips thrust faster between my thighs, and my stomach swoops. He must have watched me come into the bathroom to know it was me. Hopefully, he won’t bring this up later and embarrass me. I was enjoying the anonymity, but some part deep within me is enjoying this moment knowing it’s him, too. “Let me come inside you, please. Please, foxy. Let me come inside you.” The desperation of his pleas and rapid grunts makes me crazy, my orgasm rising just as fast as his. Max, my lion, wants to come inside me… Just the possibility that he would has me losing it.

One flick of the tip of his head against my ring and I let my reservations go, coming all over his cock. Unable to refrain myself any longer, I arch my back against the wall between us and scream, the muscles of my throat clenching as much as my inner muscles. As the pulses within me dissipate, my legs go numb. I feel like collapsing, but his cock works itself rapidly in the cradle of my pussy lips until he lets out a loud grunt of release. He throbs between my folds, spurts of white cum leaping in ropes out of the tip of his cock and spewing down my thighs.

Neither of us moves. We catch our breaths in silence, minus the heaving air moving through our lungs separated by that tiled wall. I dismount and clean myself up with bath tissue, then use the toilet once I see the light shine through the hole again. Taking my time, I wash up (twice) before returning the key and grabbing some food and water. Anxiety surges through my chest, fearing Max may make a crude joke about what just happened in front of his tank. Ready to snap with embarrassment, I saunter back to the loaded car, wiping the rest of my damp palms on my black jeans.

When I get inside, Derichs is happily munching away on a bag of Cheetos Puffs in the back seat, an open bag of Oreos on his lap. He nods at me in acknowledgement, orange dust coating his lips. Max stares straight out the front windshield, his face as solid as stone. “You ready to go?”

“Yes.” It seems like he isn’t going to say anything, and I find some comfort in ignoring it myself. Relief floods my frazzled nerves, glad Derichs came to play an unknowing chaperone. Otherwise, I may make some stupid decisions. Like continuing what we started in the gas station bathroom tonight at the hotel. That can’t happen.

Eventually, I fall asleep to the radio. When I feel the car slowing to a stop, I open my eyes to the busy lights of Appleton City. It’s a shitty town, but a hell of a lot bigger than Gnarled Pine Hollow. The mafia here runs as deep as the Apple River through it, so it’s no surprise Nick’s contact is here.

Max drives us straight downtown and pulls into a shitty motel that makes the Bates’s place look like a five-star resort. Glancing up into the smoky black sky, I think part of the roof has caved in, but it’s hard to tell in the dark. The neon sign flashes randomly, a few of the letters not bothering to light up. People puff on cigarettes in groups outside along the outer corridors. Oh. One man just fell over from intoxication.

“I think there’s a Waldorf downtown, Max,” I say.

He shrugs a strapping shoulder under his tight black T-shirt. “Figured we should stay where no one can find us.”

Pursing my lips with disgust, I scan the building again, nausea rolling in my stomach at what may lie in one of the bedrooms. Derichs leans forward. “Nicest place I’ve stayed in a while, if you don’t count the manor.”

It dawns on me… Max isn’t doing this to be sneaky. He doesn’t have money; his legacy is focused on reconstruction. The Freidenberg income has been dried up for years since they’ve been gone.

I’ve never once had to think about money. My brow furrows as I consider if he feels too ashamed to tell me he can’t afford a decent place. How am I supposed to pay for us if he’s too proud to take it from me?

“Well, I do happen to know a manager at that location on Main Street, if you want me to use my contact to get us a couple of rooms.” My eyes scan the side of Max’s face as he pulls up to the front office. He still won’t look at me as his jaw muscles tense. My contact? That’s my credit card, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Do they have room service?” Derichs asks like a kid expecting to go to Disney World.

“Yep! And a bar and restaurant, too.” Scrambling for more ways to upsell my idea, I add, “And no bedbugs.”

Max holds his bottom lip under his front teeth and looks at his lap. Collapsing through his frame, he relents. “Okay, foxy. Let’s try your contact.”

The tension in my tight neck muscles eases as I smile broadly. “Okay.”

“Yes!” Derichs sits back in his seat as we head toward the city’s skyline.

When my lips relax, I realize my face was in a smile. Like a genuine one. Who knew the relief of not having to stay with roaches would make me grin so much? A creeping thought in the back of my mind tells me it’s more than that, but I shove that down.

Once we approach the front of the hotel, a valet steps out from behind the glass doors to help. Max hesitates before getting out, and I place a hand on his tattooed arm. “Let them. I got us; it’s fine.” Pushing his chin forward, he nods, then hurries out of the car. Maybe he’s embarrassed. Or maybe he doesn’t want anyone to touch his car. Perhaps he doesn’t trust anyone to help. I can understand that.

Folding my seat forward, I stand aside so Derichs can squeeze his tall body out of the back. Max snatches all our bags, ignoring the bellhop with a brusque shift of his shoulders, his eyes reaching over the kid’s head. At least he allowed us to stay here.

At the front desk, I get two junior suites while Max paces with the bags hanging from his shoulders behind me, his black boots scuffing the shiny tiles. Derichs looks around like his head is a Ferris wheel. Once we’re checked in, we enter the gleaming elevator.

“I’m gonna order room service.” Derichs buzzes with excitement. “Do you think they deliver alcohol?”

A small chuckle escapes my mouth as I hit the button for our floor. “I’m sure they do. Get what you want. My contact is covering it all.” Shit. I could buy the hotel with cash tonight just to see his satisfied grin as he leans against the back wall of the metal cage and crosses his arms and legs. Next to a very grumpy looking Max.

I like Derichs. If he wants a buffet of overpriced food brought to his hotel room, I am happy to pay for it. Being from East Side, or, hell, Gnarled Pine Hollow in general, he’s probably never been in a place like this, and I want to treat him. It’s not often our citizens get to make it out of the hellhole.

Max stoically stands with the bags over his shoulders, watching the numbers on the lighted panel escalate. Once we reach our floor, we find our adjoined suites. Max unlocks and enters his door without a glance at me. Derichs meets my eyes with his serious rich brown ones, then shrugs and walks in behind him. Part of me had been worried Max would try to put up a fight about staying in my room, so I let my shoulders hang before going into the room next door to the boys. It’s not disappointment I’m feeling.

It’s not.

Opening my door, I take two grands jetés and flop onto the king bed, then sit up to take off my sweaty boots and socks. Stretching out over the cozy comforter, my body relaxes. Maybe I’ll also order room service and get some wine.

A tapping sound through the connector door interrupts my peace. Easing off the bed, I glide over to it and slide open the lock. Max’s beefy shoulder leans against the door frame as his fingers dangle my bag in front of him, swinging enticingly. “Mind if I come in?” With his other hand, he jiggles a little bottle of whiskey at me, as if that’s enough to seduce me.

Grabbing my bag, I throw it onto the bed. “You stay over there, mister. I’m not catching cubs from you tonight.”

Max huffs a laugh and unscrews the bottle, then downs it in one pull. He tosses it into the small trash can near the dresser, then curls a hand above the door frame as if he can’t go past the line to my room. His lips glisten from his drink. While scouring me with his espresso eyes, his tongue escapes his mouth to slowly lick them clean. “What do you mean, foxy?”

“You know what I mean.”

His face falls, his brow scrunching with sudden seriousness. Derichs is loudly ordering room service in the other room. Max peeks at him for a moment, then turns back to me and lowers his voice. “You mean… you’re not on birth control?” Instead of horror or fear there, he seems like he’s found a thrilling challenge, like my womb is the location of his next cage match. A sparkle hits the whites of his eyes while the corners of his lips dance upward.

“What? That’s—that’s none of your business!” I snap my fingers at him as he crosses the threshold. “Get back to your corner, lion.”

He ignores me. Three long strides and he’s on me, snatching me around the waist with a taut arm and holding me firm against him with a flex of his generous bicep. My clit pulses as he squeezes the air from my lungs with his tight embrace. His breath reeks of weak malt rye, but his body smells of sweat and fortitude. “Is that why you wouldn’t let me put it in you today?”

Looking into his eyes, I melt like butter. Any thoughts I had flatline. My lips tingle as he exhales so close to my skin, I have to suppress a shiver. Trying to muster some sort of coherence, I ring out, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Like the dark villain of a horror movie, a smirk rides up his face, the thick black stubble gleaming in the lamplight of the room. His bottom lip is bigger than his top, which has a firm Cupid’s bow. A wild mess of hair tops his head from today’s long journey. Once he’s ten years older, there’ll probably be a permanent crease between his eyebrows from the amount of furrowing.

“Oh? You didn’t just hump my cock like a rabid coyote in the women’s bathroom?”

I shake my head slightly, the only thing I can control of my body at this moment. Involuntarily, I’m sweating, and my pussy is dying to do more than just hump it. His deep voice makes my belly vibrate with each word. My gaze catches on the slow bob of his Adam’s apple.

“It’s cool if you’re not on birth control. This lion needs a cub before I die.” Lowering his face beside my ear, his voice drops another octave. “If you’re up for being my lioness.” Max’s waist thrusts into my belly, and his hardness rubs through his jeans. Placing his lips at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, I feel the muscles pull into a wide grin as he toys with me. I shove hard against his chest and slide from his hold.

“What do you want, Von Dovish?” Derichs calls from the other room, shaking my daze of arousal.

“Uh… rare steak and potato. With a bottle of red. Cabernet. Best one they got.” Dropping to a murmur across the rooms, Derichs continues his order.

“You should have told me. I got a rare steak right here, extra juicy.” Max grabs his crotch, jerking twice, and I roll my eyes, though the vision of him playing with himself entices me more than it should.

Placing my hands on my hips, I tilt my head up. “I’m eating my dinner. Drinking my wine. Enjoying a bath—” His eyebrows raise. “Alone. And then going to bed early. Also, alone.”

“It’s on its way, Miss Von Dovish!” Derichs yells.

I squeeze past Max, who has his mouth open, obviously still trying to come up with some witty reason to stay in my room. “Thanks, Derichs. Call me Livia, please.”

Derichs already has some mini-fridge items spread across his double bed. “Okay! Thanks, Livia. I’m gonna call my girl and tell her about this place.”

My heart aches, saddened that he and others like him haven’t experienced something as mundane as room service. Now that I think about it, it’s not just West Side that’s been affected by everything. It never occurred to me, but East Side, Freidenberg territory, is the most derelict from years of neglect.

The people who either survived the Day of the Raging Bull or ones who moved into the territory have been destitute ever since. And not poor like Jim in front of the computer store. Jim has his own place. He begs because he receives a lot from panhandling all day. More money than a job would pay. He has food and friends. The people on the east side, people like Adal Derichs, they have nothing. Their homes are made from the remains of fallen structures and technology is primitive. People grow their own food on small plots of grass that have sprouted between the cement, and I’ve seen the little makeshift stores people throw up to sell their homemade wares to each other. It’s like a different world in that part of town.

Before he can call his “girl,” I stop him. “Derichs. Did you also order dessert?”

His jaw drops, but then he grins widely. “No, but I can. What do you want?”

“Tell them to send one of everything.”

“Really? Sure! Fuck, wait till Hannah hears about this.” Snatching the phone, he calls room service again, punching the buttons with zest.

Max’s hard body presses into my back. Leaning over, his stubble caresses the skin exposed by the neck of my top above my collarbone, rippling fire through my veins with each tiny scratch. In a murmur, he says, “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to do any of this. ’Cause I know you did. Not some contact.”

Shoving a shoulder into his chest, I turn to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My friend⁠—”

Raising a long finger, he strokes the end of my nose. “Please, little fox. Quit being clever.” I press my lips together. He found me out. “Thank you, but why?”

Shirking a brow at him, I ask, “Huh?”

“Why are you doing this?” His lids narrow at me suspiciously.

Confidently, I tell him, “For the guns.”

“And that’s it?” he asks, as if expecting more from me.

“Yep. I wanna help my clan. Same as you.” The people of West Side need the weapons just like those in the East. My ears drift to hear Derichs excitedly talking with his girlfriend about all the things he’s witnessed today, and there’s some small desire that plants its seed deep within me to help those in Freidenberg territory, too. I mean, they have nothing, so it wouldn’t be terrible for them to eat. But Max waits, as if he expects me to bow to him as King Consort of the East Side and agree to sacrifice my blood kin for his people. Unlikely.

Thrusting his wide jaw forward, he nods at me once, the line between his brows deeply embedded into his skin. Brushing past me with a shove, his voice is firm when he says, “Go on. Go back to your room. I’ll tell them to drop off your food over there. Goodnight.”

Practically forcing me into my side, he closes the adjoining door. Then, throws the lock, the metal screeching into the silent room. I scoff with irritation and do the same.