Chapter 11

Eleven

LIVIA

The next morning, I sleep in as long as possible. Every time I roll over in the night, I know I’m going to be battling a hangover as soon as I become aware. My raging headache argues with me when I attempt to open my eyes. Okay, so I overdid it.

After my lonely dinner, considering knocking on Max’s door the entire time, I plunged into a hot bath and a full bottle of red. I may have dabbled with my vibrator a few times before falling asleep. All the while feeling terribly ashamed about replaying the day’s glory hole experience every time I orgasmed.

Had I wanted to go beg the lion to come keep me company? No. Absolutely not. Nope. Ugh… yes. It was only so long I could lie to myself about fantasizing about the enemy.

My mind wandered to the last time he made me feel safe and cared for, in that alleyway south of West Tech. Even at fourteen, I knew kissing him would only lead to heartbreak, despite my overwhelming desire for it. Every nerve ending had screamed at me to grab his jacket and kiss him; it would have been my first, but possibly my last, if Strauss and his men knew we were fraternizing. And even if I were killed for it by the consort, if Franklin found out, he would have murdered Max himself.

Still… part of me didn’t care.

I’m sure the concierge would send up some aspirin and water to help wipe away some of the throbbing and shame. Maybe Derichs would get me some from the hotel store if I asked politely. Max would probably just make the pain worse.

Sure enough, loud pounds vibrate the adjoining door before I can get vertical.

“Go away!” I yell, but the incessant knocking continues. He’s so annoying.

“Open up, little fox. Let me in.” Max’s muffled bass rolls through the thin wood divider like he’s the big bad wolf, and I know he’ll turn into a bear if I don’t answer him.

Sighing, I slip out of bed and stumble across the room, unlatching the bolt and opening the door widely. Max looks chipper and clean with a perfect style to his black waves, his stubble replaced by a smooth face. My body feels the urge to fold itself into his.

“You okay?” Max’s eyes scan my bare legs up to my breasts. I’m only wearing a thong and a tank top. My nipples harden under his gaze, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Yes, I’m fine now, thanks.”

With a tiny smile, he says, “I was worried you drowned in your tub.”

A little snort escapes my nose. “What have you guys been up to?” I peek around the corner of the door. Their room smells like boy, some mixture of dirty socks and cologne. Derichs has his back to me at the dresser, loading a handgun magazine.

“Heading to a shooting range. You up for it?” Derichs asks over his shoulder.

“Ugh, I’m sure that will do wonders for my headache, but okay. We should be prepared for tonight.” Max is still leering at me, his eyes roaming freely up and down my body. “I’ll just go change.”

“You don’t have to,” Max says, fluttering his long lashes.

“I’ll be ready in ten.” I say, rolling my eyes and slamming the door in his face, muffling his hearty chuckle that seeps underneath the gap in the threshold.

In a few minutes, I’m ready to check out of the hotel. Before we leave, I observe Derichs staring longingly at the restaurant, his tattooed fingers mindlessly fiddling with the strap of his backpack.

“I’m hungry,” I announce.

“Me too!” Derichs says, a big smile crossing his serious face.

Pointing with my head, I ask them, “Do you want to eat in there?”

Derichs darts his eyes to Max, who rolls his and sighs. “Fine.” Max throws my bag and his over his shoulders and shoves off the front desk to lumber over to the hostess stand. Like he’s an unruly teenager.

Once we get a table and place our orders, Max seems to have softened in his resolve to not allow me to pay as his hand grips his growling stomach. Making sure other patrons are out of ear’s reach, he goes over our game plan.

“Derichs will sit in the car, in case we need to get away.”

“Yes, but what do you think he’ll want?” It’s all I could think about last night in the tub before the wine took away negative thoughts. Now that we’re getting ready for the evening, my throat feels tighter again. I’m a fox. My type is used to planning things well in advance and The Ear will be a complete unknown to me. I hate surprises.

Could I have asked for my brother’s help? Yes. And he would know everything about the man in seconds. But… he wouldn’t help me, I know. I didn’t need another pacification lecture.

“Markus called this morning. No updates from our intelligence. We know everything you do, unless you’ve learned something—” Max tilts his head at me and pauses while the waiter sets our food down and asks if we have everything we need.

“How’s Hannah, Derichs?” I ask him, changing the subject while we get situated.

Derichs’s deep-set brown eyes become glassy, dreamy, a man in love. “She’s good. She was jealous of our picnic last night. I took pictures for her.”

That’s sweet. He’s a good man, I know. How do I know? Because all I’ve known is pieces of shit and Derichs is not one. “Is she in Gnarled Pine?”

“No. She teaches pre-school in Drussville.” That’s about an hour away from us.

“Oh, that must be hard. Is she planning to move closer?”

Chewing slowly, he swallows his club sandwich partially. With a bite still in his open mouth, he says, “I-I don’t want her in Gnarled Pine.” Wiping the corner of his mouth with a finger, he takes another bite, stifling his conversation.

Max and I lock eyes, understanding passing between us both. It’s smart. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want to live in our town or have any of my loved ones anywhere near it. Derichs is noble for staying and trying to help his clan. Maybe all of us are. Or maybe we’re just insane. The constant threat of death if we leave helps keep us in line, I suppose.

“Well, we should meet her sometime,” I say politely, breaking Max’s entrancing stare.

“Sure,” Derichs says just as graciously. He doesn’t mean it and neither do I. If he loves her, he’ll keep her far away from the Hollow and our kind. We don’t play well with others and their children may end up in one of Strauss’s trafficking rings, or worse.

“Maybe we could meet her there sometime,” Max says to him, giving me a glance. He means him and I. Like a double date. I sigh heavily, staring at the remnants of my thick burger.

“Hey, that would be fun. They have this bar arcade there that’s pretty cool. We like to go. Friendly competition with the Skee-Ball?”

Shifting my hips in my seat, I suddenly wish I’d never brought up the subject. Both seem to feel as though I’m part of their crew, a Freidenberg... a bear. Strangely, it makes me feel very isolated. Sure, I was used to being alone, even in my own household. What with Cal running everything as ruler of West Side while dipping his eyes into every camera around town. I was only expected to marry someone with a name and have babies, get cheated on with a governess or two, and perhaps get murdered. Rubbing my hands on my napkin, I look at my lap and swallow.

Max slides his eyes to me and notices my sulk. “I don’t think foxes are skilled like that,” he goads me, tapping an elbow into my ribs, but I flinch before he makes too much contact.

Snarling, I tell him, “Better than bears. You probably just jam the ball in the hole without any finesse.”

Max snorts. “Foxy, I’d jam your fine ass with my balls, and you’d still love it.”

“Aw, does the big bear have some blue balls? Not getting what you want, hungry lion?”

Derichs clears his throat and throws his napkin on the table. “Uh… Gun range?”

I nod, and Max laughs loudly but agrees it’s time to go.

Once we arrive, we pay our fees and gear up. Max asks for an AK, and one for me as well. I’ve never shot a rifle, but before I can protest, Max says, “I’ll teach you.” The rumbling in his voice makes me want him to teach me a lot of things as it vibrates all the way down my body and to my core.

“Try your best, fox!” Derichs smirks and heads to the outside range door. Max and I put on our earmuffs and eye protection, then head out behind him.

Placing his chest to my back, Max cozies up behind me in my booth to show me how to load the rifle and hold it properly. One thick muscular arm wraps around me, and a large hand grips my hip bone, which makes concentrating on my target much harder than it should be. I try to steady my breathing, but any time I inhale, my nose tangles with some of that steely scent from him, and I want to moan.

“Just like that, foxy,” he says next to my electronic earpiece. I take aim through the sights and fire with steady pressure. Recoil isn’t as bad as I thought, with him there holding me. The paper target has a hole through the center of the chest. “That’s it. Good girl.” My clit throbs. I lean into him more. Max’s chuckled breath hits my exposed neck, the cool breeze a needed retreat from how hot he makes me inside. “Be good. Focus.” He gently pats my ass a few times with an open palm. Then moves to his own booth. Immediately, my body misses where he isn’t.

Derichs pops away at his target, filling it with bullet after bullet straight through the head. Max aims and does the same. Sensing the need to show off some skills to the men, I set my sights and put a bullet through the neck, but was aiming for the head. A few more rounds, and I feel ready to flip to semi-auto. After firing, I realize I am not. Nope. Too much for me. I take some deep breaths and try again.

Derichs puts his rifle down and comes to my booth. “Want me to give you some tips?”

“Sure!” He seems to have a good grasp on how to do this properly, and Max showing me is too much of a distraction.

Derichs guides me on how to better grip and hold, folding into the gun. Using my breath, I take more precise aim. The next steady pull of the trigger lands a spray of bullets into the head, and I steal a glance at the bear, who nods at me with a smile.

Putting the rifle down, my tiny palm meets Derichs’s large one in a high five. “Thank you!”

“No problem. You just need a bear to show you how to fight. We don’t do that stealthy shit.” Pursing my lips, I give him a wry grin. He’s right, though. Von Dovishes are not known for using weapons of these kinds. Ours are much more sinister.

We check out of the range, but Max stops off at their locker rooms to change his outfit for the meeting. Derichs and I wait while leaning against the Barracuda’s trunk. The autumn wind billows in gusts, and the air smells like rain, but it’s not so cold we want to miss out on the golden sunset.

Kicking a small stone on the ground, Derichs crosses his arms over his chest. I’m about to ask him how his shoulder is feeling, when he interrupts me.

“Don’t hurt him, okay?” His serious eyes stare me down with such a flat look, my pulse thumps in my belly.

Swallowing a sudden dryness in my throat, I answer him, “I don’t know what you mean⁠—”

“Don’t hurt Max. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but stop. He’s a very good man. The absolute best one I know.”

Under his gaze, I feel like I’ve just been asked to make a public speech. “I’m not playing a game.” At least… I’m not trying to. When he’s given me advances, I try to shake them off, despite his ruggedly handsome looks and bravado attitude that makes me want to ride his face. I can’t and I won’t. Alone is the best way for me to go. Safety in solo, that’s my motto.

“Good.” His face lightens, and he ruffles the top of my mohawk. My shoulders relax with his sudden change in demeanor, and I pretend punch him in the gut as he mocks a loud groan. Before he can grip me into a full headlock, I twist his good arm behind him carefully. We’re laughing when Max approaches.

He’s changed into the suit he wore when I first saw him at the Crimson Angel. Derichs slides out of my arms and gets in the back of the car, and I sidestep so Max can throw his bag in the trunk. As nonchalantly as possible, I try to sniff his cologne, which makes the nerves already wrestling within my stomach escalate into a full battle.

“What?” Deep brown eyes scan my face suspiciously. I guess I wasn’t as casual as I thought.

Shrugging, I reply, “Nothing.”

He smirks with his pussy pulsating grin. “Get in, foxy.”

Driving down to the bay area, we locate the address of the meeting place Nick texted me. A narrow alley sits between two nondescript brick buildings. It’s night now and only darkness escapes from the hole, but the sidewalks are still filled with people bustling about. Despite the lateness of the hour, everyone seems to be dining in nearby restaurants and glass fronted cafés. Outside of the black hole, life exists with zest, but within… who knows what awaits us. My teeth clench to keep from chattering.

“Derichs, keep the car running,” Max eyes him like a father telling a naughty child to behave. “I’m assuming they’ll take our weapons, so⁠—”

“They won’t find mine.” Max’s head tilts to me with curiosity. I reach down into my boot for my hidden blade, showing him the spot. “I keep it here. Always.”

“I’m sure they’ll find mine, so I’m leaving it with you.” He hands his blade to Derichs, who tucks it in his waistband. We stow our guns in the console.

A blast of cold air makes me grip my leather jacket tighter around my middle when I get out of the car. Traffic is heavy, so we wait before crossing the road. Max slips my hand into his as if I need help, pulling me with him into the alley and never letting go. His palm is sweating as much as mine, but he doesn’t feel like he’s shaking like my muscles are, anticipating that danger could lurk around any corner. Like the bear he is, he charges full speed ahead into the ebony void.

Eventually, my eyes adjust until I can spot a large man with a rotund gut hanging over his dress pants standing halfway down the alley. He waves us forward as if we’re wasting his time. Once we reach him, he pats both of us down halfheartedly before opening the solid metal door. Maybe I could have sneaked in my gun. A narrow wooden staircase leads to a lower level and creaks with ominous tones with every step. Only one lone lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, swinging as the door closes behind us. It feels as if we’re being led into a trap.

At the bottom, Max guides us along a dark, narrow hallway until we reach another metal door with his big paw surrounding mine. He turns to me, asking what we should do, but I shrug. With his free fist, he knocks, the sounds resounding through a large room on the other side. The vibrations mimic the pounds of my heart wildly beating in my chest.

Another big guy, this one older, opens the door and turns to walk away without a word. We follow him into a small, dark alcove filled with curls of smoke. The area is set up as an office without windows, just dark masonry walls. White puffs from a cigar billow off fluorescent lights as they waft near them, bouncing around the low-beamed ceilings and back to us, the sweet smell reminding me briefly of Franklin, my father.

A portly man with a shiny bald head and thick gray mustache sits behind a large wooden desk, leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped together. Holding up his double chin with both index fingers, he gives us a small grin as we enter. A crystal ashtray with pointed ends sits near the edge of his desk. Maybe it could be a weapon if things get hairy; otherwise, I see no escape and no other choices. Max could definitely take the man behind us, and I can outrun this one.

“Come in, come in. Mr. Freidenberg, Miss Von Dovish. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He lowers his hands to wave them at the two wooden chairs across from the desk. The entire place looks like it was just set up for tonight’s encounter, temporary, not a usual meeting place for them. “Please. Have a seat.”

We sit, me on the edge, and Max casually all the way back with his legs spread wide as he asks, “How do you know a lot about me?”

With a look of surprise, as if Max should already know the answer, he responds, “Oh, from the fights and Tony Two Fingers.”

Max’s chest expands with a deep inhale. “Ah. Yeah…” He clears his throat. “Are you friends?”

“Nope.” He leans back in his chair, and it groans loudly under the weight of his body. “I’m glad to hear you’re not working for him anymore.”

My lion leans forward casually, relaxed now. “No, no. Gave that up to go back home. And you’re, um, The Ear?”

The man’s neck rolls bounce with a chuckle. “Call me Lavinio, please. But yes. That’s the nickname for me. I understand you’ve come to me to talk about some weapons.” Lavinio’s open nature seems to be putting my partner at ease, but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. My pulse is less hurried, but still steadily keeping me aware of any extra noises that may indicate he’s brought more backup.

“Yes, sir. I have. I understand you’ve got some stocks you want rid of. We can take those off your hands.” Max has probably done this before, during those years after his parents died. I know Cal has been keeping an eye on him, and sometimes I’d glean some intel from my twin, but not as often as I would’ve chosen, never wanting to seem too eager. A few times I had sneaked into his fights to watch him, just to see his body move, reminiscing about the time he fought off that man in the alleyway and saved my life. And I figured he was part of local mafias, but I didn’t allow him to ever get a glimpse of me to find out.

“Yep, that’s true; I’ve got a lot of stocks to unload.” Lavinio picks up the cigar and puffs on it a few times. “I have a proposition for you.”

Max’s throat bobs, and I try not to lean forward in my chair, showing how anxious I am about his request. Mindlessly, my fingernails scratch at the leather of my jacket as I cross my arms. The man could ask for anything and we’d probably agree. We need those guns, and my tongue is on the verge of just saying yes before he’s even asked what he wants from us.

“What’s that?” Max’s deep bass rings out in the dead air.

“Well, I know you’ve spent time before. You’re obviously a good fighter and probably did some other, ah, work for Tony. I think you’ll be up for my little task.” Does he want Max back in the ring? Eyeing Max, I wait for his reaction, but he’s as still as a statue, waiting for the next words out of our contact.

Lavinio stands and goes to the edge of his desk, leaning a hip against it while adjusting his brown leather belt, which holds no weapons. The desk almost shifts under his weight. “You need my supply and I have plenty for you. Glocks, Smith & Wesson, Rugers… Any handgun you want, I got it. I run this town’s supply, and I don’t want these fuckers anywhere near it when I die... And I’m dying.” Quickly pulling a fist up to his mouth, he coughs, then he hacks as if he can’t stop himself from the ruckus expelling from his chest. Through a strained voice, he says, “Lung cancer,” as his guard approaches with a glass of fresh water. He sits again and drinks, his voice wet as it comes out in a burst once he collects himself. “Ha! Who woulda thought Lavinio Merli would be taken out with cancer!”

“Um. Sorry to hear that.” Max eyes the guard briefly, sizing him up, but he walks back to his position near the doorway. “So, yeah, I would like to get back into my family’s business of trading. Things are being arranged, and I can move those guns quickly. What do you need from me?”

Lavinio’s gray eyes look back and forth between Max and me. “I figure this could be a win-win situation. You get my supplies of the handguns if you get me my ear.”

Max blinks heavily, and I hold my breath, my pounding heart clouding my hearing. “I’m sorry, your ear?”

“Yes. You see, there’s a cleaner, a fixer, if you will. I think you people in Gnarled Pine Hollow call them ‘necros.’ Anyway, this necro is from your parts. He stole my collection of trophies, and I’m not letting him get away with it. I want to see them one last time.”

Max’s brow furrows. “And you want the, um, ears back?”

“Yep. And his ear.” Max licks his bottom lip as Lavinio continues. “After you kill him, of course. But I want all my ears. The necro goes by the name Ken Doyle. That’s not his real name, of course. His real name is Anthony Renzo, and he’s Tony’s nephew. Did you ever meet him on your adventures?”

Max shakes his head. It could be trouble if we take out a mafia leader’s nephew… But Max seems to know Tony, so I’ll have to defer to his judgment on that.

“Oh, that’s good for you, then. He tried to get out of the business and hide underground. I want him gone for stealing from me. I want his ear and my collection back once you’ve completed that job.” He taps the desk with a thick index finger three times. “Then, you get your guns.”

Max quickly glances at me, and I nod. This sounds like a simple enough task for him, and I believe we can do it. But we’ll have to be stealthy to avoid rumors of who took care of this necro. My mind races with ways to sneak in and out on a kill mission.

“Yeah, okay. No problem. Where is he?” Max asks with more confidence.

“Ace Donovan’s casino. In the basement, probably.”

The blood stops moving in my body. This is not good.

I hear Max’s breath catch, and he sputters a cough. “Uh, why would he be there?”

“Oh, he’s Donovan’s necro, didn’t I say?” Lavinio’s eyes widen as he looks between us. “Is there a problem?”

Max’s shoulders tense, and he stops himself from glancing at me before he speaks. “Well… if I dispose of one of Donovan’s people… I mean, that’s-that’s declaring war against him.”

We shouldn’t get into war with Ace. That would cause a chain reaction of chaos I don’t want to see. His people, our people, east siders. All three in battles that would delight Strauss to no end. Max’s hesitation pours out of the sweat glistening on his forehead.

Lavinio chuckles. “Maybe you can ask your fox here for some tips on how to be sly, then. No ears, no guns.” Before I can ask how he knows my family’s crest, he responds, “I knew your father. He would’ve found a way to do this.” Yes, he would have. And not given a fuck who he hurt in the process. Was he loyal to the West and caring for the people? If it suited him.

I place my hand on Max’s thigh, but he must take it for reassurance instead of my reluctance. Before answering Lavinio, Max is already nodding. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll take care of him for you. And get the collection. Happen to know where he keeps it?”

The boss shrugs. “No idea.”

“Alright, I-I’ll figure it out.” When Max finally looks at me, I raise my eyebrows, not wanting to disagree with him in front of Lavinio. This all seems like a bad idea. If Ace ever finds out…

Lavinio offers us some drinks, but we decline. Sensing a need to discuss this in private, Max makes an excuse for us to leave quickly and snags my hand in his again. My mouth is ready to burst with concern over our agreement.

Once we get back to the car, Max’s large hand pushing into my lower back the entire way, I relax some. Rubbing my shoulder gently, he opens my door. Before I slide in, I turn to meet his darkened gaze, my lips pursed.

“We could be starting a war, Max.”

He looks up and down the street and lowers his voice. “I have to have those guns. It’s our only protection.”

Taking a deep breath, I tell him, “I know.” And I do understand the urgency. It’s only a matter of time before Strauss takes us all out.

Brushing a warm thumb over my cheek, the touch sending sparks through my face, Max pleads with a soft gaze, “You can help us do this sneaky like. Come up with a plan, okay? I’m relying on you, foxy.”

I nod.

His throat tightens on a swallow as fear radiates off his skin. Staring intensely into my eyes for a long moment, he presses his lips to my forehead lightly before I can pull back. “Looks like we’re heading into Ace’s territory.”