Chapter 14

Fourteen

LIVIA

Cliff Harbor is a beautiful town. Clean. Its streets are well kept, and people are out late at night when we arrive, mulling about with their families. Passing the docks, I spot kids with cake cones filled with swirly white ice cream and couples holding hands. The toxin that is Gnarled Pine hasn’t infected the air here, which is thick with salt and sugar.

“Should we stop and grab a drink before? We have time.” Max points to a bar that looks like an old, boarded wharf with gray cedar shingles and a lit-up red crab for a sign. It’s been remodeled to attract tourists like us and the large parking lot off the main street is almost full, so their marketing must be working. Turning the wheel of the Victor, I pull into the last spot.

When we get out, both of us take a moment to stretch. I didn’t stop as much as I wanted on our trip because every time I dared to pull over at a gas station, Max would exclaim, “You have to pee again?” If I never hear those words coming out of his mouth, it would be too soon. Now, I was bursting at the seams. Holding it would prevent his annoying expressions of consternation, though.

Taking a few steps toward the boardwalk, Max strides next to me and grabs my hand. When we reach the pier, I notice other twosomes leaning against the rails, taking selfies, and talking or laughing. Max tucks me into his side and puts his cut arm around my shoulders. Like I’m his.

We must look like one of those couples. One of the ones where things appear normal just before they aren’t. Happy. Until we’re eating dinner at a restaurant, not talking to each other and wishing we could look at our phones instead. Before Max gets more interested in younger pussy and decides to off me.

Nothing lasts. Certainly not healthy marriages in Gnarled Pine.

My parents’ marriage was a testament to the state of matrimony in the Hollow. I loved my mother dearly, but she made poor decisions. The worst of which was letting her guard down around my father. It’s hard enough for me to trust anyone, but especially men, seeing that it’s the ones closest to you who can do the greatest harm.

Despite my overwhelming nihilism, my fingers feel for the little metallic object in my pocket. As if wishing will make reality any different. As if I don’t want to accept the truth that I should. As if true love exists. The tiny hope that things could be different for me… That glimmer of my dream needs to die. Because if it doesn’t, I’ll get deeply hurt. Possibly killed. Just like Franklin did to my mother.

Divorce was not an option for clan leaders. In the history of Gnarled Pine Hollow, no senator had left his wife, except through death. So, whenever the men were done with them, had their heirs and simple affairs with the mistresses weren’t enough anymore, a sneaky sudden death would occur. I guess it was always a threat to the womenfolk on how to act right. A woman of stature in Gnarled Pine Hollow should learn to be obedient, bear heirs, and be a good helpmeet… or else.

All I learned was that it’s safer to be solo.

Twisting out from under Max’s embrace, I turn to the restaurant.

“Uh, okay. Apparently, you don’t like to be touched.” Max huffs.

“No, it’s fine. It’s just a little, um, couple-y for me. Let’s go.” Using my head, I point to the boarded door of the place, hoping he’ll just drop it and not get offended.

Max stops and glares at me with his hands on his hips, his wide chest puffing up. He shakes his head, then moves toward the entrance. “I don’t get you.” His body brushes past me to open the door, and with a quick flick of his hand, he motions for me to enter, holding it open like I’m wasting his time. Clicking his jaw, he says with annoyance, “Go pee. I’m sure you have to. I’ll grab us some beer and food.”

After using, then cleaning up in the restroom, I rub a hand along the sides of my head where the hairs tickle my palms. I need a fresh shave. Dreading returning to the dining area, I stall and primp my mohawk, apply some lip balm, wash my hands for a second time... Max is going to treat this like a date. And I don’t want that. Not if I want to live.

When I do go back, his broad body fills out a small wooden chair near the front window that leads onto a covered patio. There are a few locals around, but mainly the place is filled with out-of-towners wearing novelty T-shirts or pastel-colored hats purchased from the gift shops along the pier. The chair creaks as I drag it along the stone floor to take a seat, the intoxicating aroma of the large, juicy hamburger in front of me causing my belly to squeeze with hunger. Max is chomping down on his burger with gusto. Two large pints of a blonde ale sweat on the table.

“Figured you like meat,” Max says with his mouth full. He smirks and winks at me.

“I do. Thanks.” After a healthy bite, my taste buds feel impressed with the quality of the local dive before washing it down with the hoppy beer.

“Kind of a strange place for a mob boss, right?” Max wipes his face with a napkin and narrows his eyes out the window, staring off into the water where colorful boats bob with every wave of the wind. This city is like a farce of perfection, and I realize some of the hunger pangs in my stomach must also be from nerves. I’m not used to such a sparkling city.

“Yeah. Makes me more worried about what he wants. And what we’ll be able to offer.”

Turning to me, his piercing gaze always makes me feel like I’m under a heat lamp. “Your people have no idea?”

Chewing slowly, savoring my tasty food, I shake my head. Swallowing, I say, “No. Only that he’s known as the ‘Nickle Eye.’ I don’t know what that means.”

Max takes a big swig of his pint, a little of the foam settling in the corners of his generous lips, which his tongue gathers as his eyes grow wide. “Fuck. What if we have to collect eyes next?”

I almost choke on a bite. “I really hope not.” Ears were gross, but eyes… That would be too much for me. Shoving the pictures in my mind out of my head, I focus on consuming a French fry.

“I can do it,” Max says. My eyebrows raise in surprise. Lifting a hand from the table, he gives a shrug of nonchalance. “I mean, if we have to. Not that I want to.”

Max sits back in his chair, done with his food. He pushes his plate away and rubs his stomach. Finishing his beer, he blinks his long lashes into the setting sun. “This is a really nice place. Not like home.”

Monitoring where he’s looking, I watch some of the children laughing and running along the pier, parents yelling behind them with smiling faces. Kids in Gnarled Pine grow up fast in the skin trade or by numbing their minds with drugs. Many have to go to work for their families at young ages and schools are barren because of it. “No, not like home.”

His espresso eyes dart to mine. “What’s the deal, little fox? Why are you so slippery, huh?”

I take my last bite and look at my near empty plate as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Max nods and scans the bar, leaving me to relax out from under his interrogation. “Sure, you don’t. Livia, I don’t get you. We should be together. You’re not a lesbian, right?”

Ugh, he’s so disgusting. “Because I don’t want you that way, you think I’m a lesbian?” I roll my eyes. “Sorry, lion, but I’m just not into you like that.”

The tightness of his black T-shirt stretches as he lets out a soundless snicker. “Riiiight. I don’t fucking buy that for a second.”

“We’re working together, Max. Let’s just keep it that way. You’re a Freidenberg. I’m a Von Dovish.” Plain and simple. Enemies who need each other for the time being. That’s it.

Brushing a hand through his dark waves, his mouth develops a wan grin. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe Nikolai has a daughter.”

My lips involuntarily purse as my belly fills with lead along with the big meal. Picturing Max with someone else makes me rage inside. To hide my face, I wipe it with my napkin and pretend to be distracted by tourists outside the window. Max sits back in his chair and folds his arms behind his head with a sly smirk flickering over his face. He knows he got me with that comment.

Throwing my napkin on the table with aggravation, I ask, “Are you ready to go?”.

“Sure, foxy. But I need to change. Car first, then gas station?” Nodding, I agree with his plan.

When we reach the car, Max gets his suit out of the back. I really need to buy him another. He’s got money now, I know. Maybe he’s just too cheap to buy a new one. After dropping him off at a gas station restroom, he reemerges, looking even more appetizing than my burger.

“Why do you keep wearing that same suit?”

“You don’t like it?” He looks down at his clothes as if they’re new, fluffing the sleeves with a dusting of his large hand.

Flipping my hair behind my shoulder, I try not to stare at his gloriousness. “It’s just the same thing you always wear. I need to take you shopping.”

“It brought me luck whenever I’d fight. Wore it to the press conferences. Never lost.” Showcasing the jacket with jazzy fingers, he says, “It’s my lucky suit.”

I sigh and roll my eyes.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t believe in luck.” Max reaches over and touches my pocket charm, but before he can get to it, I slap his hand with a loud smack.

“Don’t,” I warn him.

“What is that thing?”

With my upper lip curled in a snarl, I tell him, “None of your business. Keep your hands to yourself, lion.”

“How about you keep my hands for me?” Narrowing my eyes at him, his face brightens until he releases a hearty chuckle. “Okay, foxy. Let’s go.” His cologne, his minty breath, his amazingly sculpted muscles filling out his stretched suit… it’s all annoying the shit out of me.

Throughout the silent car ride, Max fiddles with his suit buttons, his hands, looking at the view, checks his hair out in the mirror, constantly moving. That irritates me, too. Around some beautiful winding roads that lead us along the water’s edge, we almost drive into a mountain tunnel, but just before the entrance is a cobblestone gated drive. Lanterned house numbers dangle from the glass gates, glowing with the address Nick gave me.

“This the place?” Max asks as I drive up to a black metal box on the side, and I press a large silver button, announcing our arrival. The walls slide open for us, and I pull in around an ornate triple tiered fountain.

The house is something out of a seaside magazine. It’s as large as the Von Dovish estate, and bright white, even in the evening’s dying sun. Each window glows with a landscape spotlight and seems outfitted with its own porch. Gables and shingles spawn from every eave of the roof. Guest houses surround an Olympic-size pool behind a hedge wall on our right and the house opens to an L-shape on our left. Despite its vast size, the estate is beautiful and homey.

Four men in cream linen suits exit the front and approach the Victor, opening the car doors for us and immediately pat us down as we alight. My guard takes his time around my ass after removing my Glock and sliding the full magazine out before he slips it into his pocket. He checks the empty chamber, then hands the gun back to me. Fortunately, he didn’t spot my knife as I notice Max’s deep eyes drift to my boot, making sure it’s still there. Slyly, I nod to him once.

A squirrely looking man with a bowtie and round wire-rimmed glasses approaches from behind the wall of suited guards. “Mr. Freidenberg. Miss Von Dovish. I’m Ovid, Mr. Nikolai’s secretary. Please, come with me. This way.” On a heel of his Italian loafer, he spins quickly toward the house while we follow.

Ovid leads us through the massive white halls to an office located in one of the rounded corners of the house. A lit fire keeps out the draft of the cool autumn air, creating a cozy room along with several overstuffed wing-backed chairs. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases cover the walls, filled with thick leather tomes of varying heights.

Behind a massive, whitewashed desk sits a muscular guy, probably in his late 40s, with a sprinkling of gray at the temples of his onyx hair and mustache. The broad smile betrays where his black eyes stare at my tits, and I feel the need to cross my arms over my chest. Max’s shoulders drop as he scans the room with his mouth slightly opened.

“Please, please. Have a seat. I am Tony Nikolai. It’s wonderful to meet you.” As he indicates the two chairs in front of him, his gaze focuses like lasers on my face. Max lounges in his seat, kicking one ankle over his opposite knee, while I teeter on the edge. Something about Tony’s stare is unnerving, along with his sharply handsome appearance.

“Can I offer either of you a drink?”

“No, thank you,” I say.

At the same time, Max says, “Do you have bourbon?”

Mr. Nikolai smiles and rises from his chair, then pours a double for the two of them before handing Max a glass without ever really seeing him. A waft from expensive oak greets my nose as my partner swirls his before taking a sip and my dry mouth regrets declining.

With a creak, Mr. Nikolai sits back in his maroon leather seat and addresses me. “Miss Von Dovish, I don’t know if you know me, but I knew your mother. I knew her family well. Very well, actually. Did she ever mention me?”

Wracking my mind, I try to recall anything about my mother’s childhood. His confession shocks me because, as a young girl from France, my mother never mentioned knowing a Russian family member. “Um…no. I’m sorry.”

“We were engaged to be married.”

My breath catches, and if I thought I couldn’t get more surprised by his previous words, now I’m stunned. Falling open, my mouth makes some type of noise like, “Oh?” He knew her that well? Did she love him? Could he have saved her?

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Max watching our conversation like a tennis match. Tony folds his hands in front of him as if he’d prepared very well for our meeting.

“Yes. I was quite smitten with her.” His smile falters. “Unfortunately, she ran away with that piece of shit. Excuse me, your father.”

Taking a deep breath in, my throat relaxes. “No, no. You had it right the first time.”

Mr. Nikolai chuckles. “It’s a good thing he disappeared. It’s not only Strauss looking for him.” His eyebrows come closer together, casting a shadow over his pitch-colored eyes, giving him the look of someone possessed.

“Uh, Nikolai?”

“Please, call me Tony. Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like your mother?” Barely noticeable, the tip of his tongue juts out to snag a drop of bourbon from his bottom lip.

I find that my head is slowly nodding as I answer him. “Yes. We were very close.” But not close enough that I knew about Tony. Why wouldn’t she mention him? Would my father have beaten her for talking about it?

Tony’s not wearing a wedding band. What if he wants a night with me? What if he wants to marry me? Suddenly, Max seems to sense my tension and leans forward in his chair, his smile vanishing as Tony’s stare heats up my body.

“I want something from you, Miss Von Dovish.”

“Livia,” I correct him with some fluttering of my eyelashes. Maybe it’s the fact that I can sense Max’s jealousy from one foot away, but I decide to use my feminine whiles to their fullest. If Tony wants me and we want his guns, may as well. The only kink in the chain would be if the bear loses his temper.

“Livia.” With a flick of his tongue against his teeth, he sounds out my name like it’s a love song. Max opens his mouth but shuts it again as I tilt my head to catch his awareness. “I want something from you, Livia. I understand you”—he looks at Max for the first time—“and Mr. Freidenberg need rifles. I have plenty for your arsenal, as many as you desire. I’ve always felt an urge to spoil Yvette’s daughter.”

Sitting back, I casually cross my legs and lay my arms on the sides of the chair, placing my chest on full display. Tony’s eyelids lower, as if he likes what he’s looking at.

“And what would you desire from me?”

The man grins like the Cheshire Cat, and I know without a doubt that Max is ready to jump across the desk at him. Please hold it together, lion.

“My father was a jewel man. It’s how we made our money. We were in possession of two exceedingly rare gems. They were perfect in quality, cut from the same stone. Legend has it that each half was made for two lovers, each taking a piece with the other. I always had a penchant for them; must run in my blood. Your mother liked them, too. I gave her one of those rings when I proposed, while I kept the other. They are the only two in the world. I want it back. It was⁠—”

Closing my eyes tightly, I try to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, not wanting to hear any more. “I know which ring it was. The purple sapphire?”

“Yes. Did she mention it?”

As if I died and am just returning to life, my pulse thuds back after a pause with a strong, forceful pace. “She willed it to me.” There’s no way. She willed that ring to me. It was the only thing she loved, and now I understand why. She was pining for Tony. That ring was her mental escape from my father, dreams she must have lost. Sometimes I would catch her staring at it in her room with tears in her eyes, seemingly in a faraway trance. She once told me it was a family heirloom, and I hadn’t pressed her more about it, figuring she missed her childhood in the countryside. Tony gave the ring to her with love. It was hers, the only thing that wasn’t tainted with Von Dovish blood.

“Wait, all you want is a ring?” Max relaxes fully, as if he’s found an easy solution to a problem. My ire raises at his callousness, not even bothering to discuss things with me before speaking.

Tony peers at him. “Yes. I mean, I wouldn’t say no to an evening with Yvette’s daughter…” Tony gives me a wink, and I cross my arms. Darting his eyes back to Max, Tony smiles at him smugly. “But I have a feeling you would have something to say about that.” He chuckles. “Besides, Yvette wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Do you know where it is?” Max’s black waves fall in his face as he turns to me, and I want to slap his cheek. Getting that ring is out of the question. It is mine. It was hers. It’s the only thing my mother had that was her own, and now it’s the only thing I have of her.

Both men stare at me, awaiting my reaction, and all I can do is nod my response.

“Oh, well! That’s easy! Done. When do you want it by?” Max asks Tony.

My mouth falls open in outrage, heat rising to my cheeks and out of my mouth. “We will not be giving it away! You gave it to her!”

Tony’s long fingers spread before he drums them on his desk. “Yes, but I collect jewels. I gave it to her, not the Von Dovish clan.”

“She gave it to me. It was the only thing—” Snapping my lips closed, I stop myself. It feels like I’m going to lose this battle. Memories of my mother caring for me tenderly as a child flood my mind while picturing her with that ring in her jewelry box... Finally, my voice squeaks out, speaking only to Max. “I’m so sorry, lion. I can’t.”

He looks perturbed, his brows lowering as he purses his lips. As if strategizing a plan, he asks Tony, “You said there are two rings. Where’s the other one?”

Placing an arm on either side of his chair, Tony rocks back. “It was stolen years ago by a very crafty jewel thief. I heard one of my acquaintances from Appleton City may have bought it from him. But I don’t think the new owner would give it up for anything. Not even for a turn with Miss Von Dovish, despite her overwhelming beauty.”

“Appleton City. Who?” Max asks. Maybe he’ll let it go. I stay still, as if moving will cause this quest to get even worse than it already is. Can I trust that Max won’t try to steal it from our estate?

“A collector. I only know him as Zayne. He owns a museum, but we supply his guns. I’d be happy to divert that flow to you, Mr. Freidenberg, if you bring me Yvette’s purple sapphire. Perhaps you can convince your lover here to give it up.”

Downing his bourbon, Max clears his throat and responds confidently. “Yep. I’ll get you the ring.”

“What?! I didn’t agree to that.” My spine snaps into a straight line as I sit up.

“I’ll get you that ring.” Max nods at Tony, the two ignoring me completely.

Speaking over me, they continue their conversation. “Thank you, Mr. Freidenberg.”

“Call me Max. I’ll bring it back to you.”

“No, you won’t!” My voice is almost a scream.

Max’s firm hand grabs me by the bicep, pulling me to a stand. While he’s dragging me out of the office, I yell at Tony over my shoulder. “No, he won’t!” But the man’s handsome face just darkens as he gives me a sly half smile.

“Shut the fuck up,” Max growls low in my ear, the sound causing ripples in my system of hating and tingling at his tenor. Shoving me out onto the front porch, the guards open the car doors for us. Max continues to push me into the driver’s seat forcefully and jostles me inside. Leaning into the car, his large body hovers over me as he places his face inches from mine. “Shut the fuck up, Livia. I got this one. You stay out of it.”

I knew I couldn’t trust him. This is the entire reason I hadn’t let him inside me. Emotionally or physically. “You will not steal my mother’s ring,” I say, venom spewing from my lips. When he doesn’t move, my eyes look past him and out the windshield. Quietly, I say, “It’s the only thing I have from her that’s mine, and I’m keeping it.” Sneaking my fingers in my front pocket, I rub my charm three times. It doesn’t feel so lucky anymore.

Max snorts. “Who knew Livia Von Dovish, mistress of pain, would be so sentimental over a fucking ring.” He reaches to grasp the hand in my pocket, but I pull it out quickly and snatch his. His fingers stroke the object. “Is that it? Is that the ring?”

Speaking through my clenched teeth, I tell him, “No. And take your fucking hand off me.”

“You’ve got a hold of me, foxy.” He shakes his hand. “Let go.” I drop it like his skin just burned me.

He chuckles and walks around the car to get inside. I should just take off and leave him here with his best friend, Tony, but as soon as he gets in, I punch the start button for the ignition. One final warning leaves my lips as I jolt off toward the seaside road. “You’re not stealing that ring.”

If he does, I’ll kill him.