jokes. I share my brief and few sexual experiences. I ask him to tell me
his secret.
Who is Max Huntington?
I trace my finger over the tattoos on his shoulders, and then slide
the sheet away to follow the lines and swirls over his chest and down his
abdomen. Failures to him. Beauty to me. His heart rate rises again; the
machine beeps a faster rhythm.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I murmur.
My fingers run over his tattoos again and again. The longer I stare,
the more I see. Here and there, little embellishments have been added
to the lines. I lean forward and trail my fingers across the tattoo running
over his shoulder. Are these feet? And a tail? I tilt my head and look into
the face of a dragon, hiding in a wavy sea.
I know this dragon. The last time we met, he was green and hanging
in Max’s office.
Hands shaking, I tug up the sheet. Only then do I notice the skin
on the unmarked side of his body is red and inflamed—a small square
just over his heart. I walk to the other side of the bed for a better look.
He has a fresh tattoo—a new failure. Two stylized lines forming the
rough shape of a heart, and inside is written “Makayla.”
Chapter 27
Shhh. It’s Me
Utterly drained after spending twenty-four hours straight sitting
by Max’s bed, I take Amanda’s advice and go home to eat, shower, and
change, confident that the nursing staff will heed both my instructions
and my threats and call me immediately when he wakes. By the time
I’m finished, it is dark and I decide to splurge on a cab. The driver’s
arms are covered in tribal tattoos, very similar to the tattoos on Max’s
body… and the paintings in his office.
On a whim, I redirect him to Redemption for a quick look at the
paintings before I go to the hospital. We make good time through the
city, but when we arrive, the parking lot is empty and yellow police tape
crisscrosses the front door.
“You sure you want me to let you off here?” the taxi driver asks.
“Looks like it’s closed.”
I open my mouth to tell him to drive away when Rampage and
Blade Saw walk across the parking lot.
“Could you wait just a minute?” I slide out of the taxi and race
toward them.
“Hold up. What’s going on?”
They look up and their grim faces tell me everything I need to
know. “Permanently shut down?”
Rampage nods. “Ambulance crew and hospital reported the
use of an illegal weapon and an unsanctioned fight. The police ar-
rested the Pulverizer before he got on the plane. CSAC shut us down
last night.”
“So what are you doing here?”
Rampage grins. “Sneaking in.”
“Can I sneak in, too? There’s something I wanted to see in
Torment’s office.”
“Good thing you’re here,” Rampage says, nodding. “After I’m done
with Blade Saw, he might be in need of medical attention.”
I pay the taxi driver, and we wait until he has disappeared before we
head around the building to one of the back doors. Rampage pops a key
out of a compartment in the doorframe, and we hurry inside. When I
reach to close the door, Blade Saw grabs my hand.
“Leave it open. Obsidian, Hammer Fist, Homicide, and Jake are
joining us. Jackhammer is bringing a keg. We’re gonna toast Torment,
get pissed, and beat the shit out of each other.”
“Sounds like fun.”
Rampage raises an eyebrow. “You’re welcome to join us. Torment’s
girl should know how to fight.”
I give him a half smile. “Maybe later. I have stuff to do first.”
I walk through the silent warehouse to Max’s office. The door is
unlocked, and I flip on the light switch. Empty. A week ago Max sat
in that chair. He told me he trusted me, and I let him down. My chin
quivers and I close my eyes breathing in the faint scent of his cologne
and the fainter scent of him. I miss him so much. I never knew hearts
could really hurt.
of the paintings from the wall. Now that I’ve had time to study Max’s
tattoos, the similarities are remarkable. The same swirls, curlicues, and
patterns from his tattoos appear in the painting, even the dragon’s face.
I flip it over. A small printed card on the back identifies the artist as
Suzanne Morgan Huntington. His mom. He inked her into his skin as
the biggest failure of his life. My poor Max.
I replace the painting and take down the other one. The designs
on this one match the tattoos on Max’s back. When I flip it over, I find
the same card, but this one has the word “Dallas” penciled in beside the
name. My Max is a Southern boy after all.
By the time I leave the office, the illicit party is well under way.
Homicide and Obsidian are wrestling on the mats. I take a seat on the
bleachers, and Rampage hands me a cup filled with warm beer.
“I used to think I didn’t have any fight in me.” I sip the beer, and
the warm, bitter liquid slides down my throat. “I thought I had no fire. I
drifted through life never knowing where I was going or what I wanted.
Then I met Torment. He made my life exciting. He opened my eyes.
He made me see I had fight.”
“You’re a fighter to the bone,” Rampage says. “The way you climbed
into the ring on the first day you were here…not a hint of fear…hell,
that’s when I knew you belonged here. Torment saw it. We saw it. I’m
glad you finally see it too.”
I rest my palm on his massive shoulder. “I want to learn how to
fight. Really fight. I don’t want to be afraid. I want to know I can hold
my own against anyone. I want to be able to watch Torment fight and
know when he pulls a punch and when he lets go.”
Rampage grins. “You want a lot of things.”
“I’m just getting started.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” he chuckles. “Follow me.”
My heart thuds as I hurry after him down to the practice mats.
He is alarmingly determined, moving faster than his size would
suggest possible.
“Yo,” he booms. “Makayla wants to learn how to fight. We’re
gonna teach her. Everyone has a specialty. You teach her that. Anyone
hurts her, you answer to me.”
“If she wants to fight, she needs a ring name,” Obsidian interjects.
They all stare at me in silence. I shift from foot to foot, sensing the
importance of this moment and yet wanting to get it over with so I can
get down to training.
“Doc.” Homicide says with a grin.
“I’m not really a doctor.”
Blade Saw gives me a warm smile. “You are to us.”
“Everyone agreed?” Rampage asks to a sea of nodding heads.
“Right. You are hereby christened Doc.” He dumps his beer over my
head. Everyone cheers. I laugh until my stomach hurts. The only thing
missing from this perfect moment is Max.
On Wednesday, just after lunch, the ICU nurse calls to tell me Max is
awake. I grind it out at work until my
shift is done. The second the clock
strikes five, I race through the hospital and burst into his room. Max is
sitting up in bed. He looks tired, thinner, but still impossibly handsome.
“Max! You’re awake!” I throw my arms around his neck and sob
into his shoulder.
“It’s so good to see you, baby.” He strokes my hair. I cry harder.
Max chuckles. “It would be good to see you if I could actually see
your face.”
Turning away, I fish through my purse for a tissue. “Not now
it won’t.”
“Turn around,” he says softly. “Your tears are beautiful to me.
They tell me you care.”
I turn around and look at my Max. My lips quiver again. More
tears. More tissues.
“Shhh. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He cups my cheeks in his palms and
wipes my tears away. “I guess you care after all.”
“I love you, Max.”
Max’s eyes soften. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear
you say that.”
I sniff and wipe away the last of my tears. “Can I kiss you?”
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that, too.”
Our lips brush together. Soft. Tender. He curls his hand behind my
neck and pulls me closer. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He captures my lips and kisses me long and sweet, and then he
buries his face in my neck and whispers, “Makayla.”
“Ahem.”
Cheeks burning, I pull away when Nancy, the shift nurse, breezes
into the room to check the monitors.
“Heart rate up.” She peers over her glasses and gives me a wink.
“You’re not going to be a very good paramedic if you make the patient’s
heart rate go up instead of down.”
“You decided to enter the paramedic program?” Max’s eyes warm.
“I could have done so much more for you, but I didn’t have the
training. It almost killed me. And since you paid off my loan, I thought
you might be accommodating of a long-term payment plan. I’ll be
making a lot more money as a paramedic.”
“I’m proud of you, baby, for following your dream.” He cups my
cheek and I lean into his warmth.
“Took me a while to figure out what that dream was.”
Nancy finishes her checks and discreetly disappears. Max trails his
fingers along the line of my jaw.
“Rampage stopped by this afternoon. He told me what happened.
He said if you hadn’t stabilized me, it could have been much worse.
Like Frank. You made a difference.” He pulls me down to sit on the bed
beside him, nuzzles my neck and nibbles at my earlobe. “You smell so
good. Like flowers in the sunshine.”
“Max. Stop. What if someone comes in?”
“They’ll wish they could nibble your earlobe, too,” he chortles.
I huff through my nose. “I was telling you something important.”
“I was listening, baby.”
Mollified, I allow him to nuzzle my neck while I talk. “You made
me realize the reason med school didn’t interest me was because I need
excitement. And I need it now. Not in ten years. You made me feel alive.
I want that from my career, but I still want to heal people. I called Ray
and we worked out a deal. I volunteer with his crew and his company
will pay for my paramedic training.”
“Do you think you might be able to squeeze in a few shifts at the
club? After Rampage told me we had been shut down for good, I decided
it was time to go legit. I’ve already called Jason and my attorneys. We’ve
applied for a license. We’ll be a sanctioned MMA club, and I’ll need a
doctor and medical staff—you.”
The door swings open and a well-groomed, middle-aged couple
join us in the room. Max glances up and his face darkens. “What the
hell are you doing here?”
I hold out my hand and introduce myself to Max’s aunt and uncle,
Richard and Elizabeth Morgan.
I swallow hard, appalled at his outburst and embarrassed for his
family. “I called them, Max. I was looking at your tattoos when I
remembered the paintings in your office. I got your mother’s details
and did some Internet searching. I thought you would be happy to
see them.”
“Damn it, Makayla. I left for a reason. If I wanted to see them
again, I would have contacted them myself.”
My bottom lip trembles. I had nurtured a faint hope this wouldn’t
go badly. I imagined tears and laughter and forgiveness and joy. Not
anger or the self-hatred I can see in Max’s eyes.
“You were unconscious. The doctors didn’t know if you would
make it. I thought you should have your family with you.”
“You were wrong.”
His words sting, but I press on. “No, you’re wrong. I talked to your
aunt and uncle. Not one single person in your family blamed you. No
one thought a fourteen-year-old boy should have been able to take on
four seasoned mafia enforcers—no matter how good a boxer he was.
And your mother wasn’t disinherited. Her money was put in a trust
for you at her request. She chose to break with the family. They didn’t
choose to break with her.”
Elizabeth gives my shoulder a squeeze, and I find the strength to
carry on. “I called your father’s family, too. They never blamed you
either. Your aunts and uncles are on their way here from Georgia. You
have family, Max. They love you. Even though you don’t believe it, you
deserve to be loved.”
Heart aching, I grab my purse and pivot to the door in the silence
of the room. “Love is a gift. Don’t throw it away.”
The next few evenings pass in a blur. I go to work. I sneak into
Redemption for fight training. I spend the night kissing the mats. I
drink too much beer with the guys. I go home and pass out. I arrive
exhausted for work the next day. Max doesn’t contact me, and I don’t
contact him.
Friday night, Homicide brings in a bottle of tequila. I am an amazing
fighter under the influence of tequila. I resolve always to drink tequila
before a fight. By ten p.m. I also resolve never to drink tequila again.
Rampage decides I should have a little rest in Max’s suite while
everyone else plays strip poker. He pulls out a hidden key from behind
a brick and ushers me inside. After he leaves, I strip off my clothes and
climb into Max’s bed. I breathe in his scent and imagine he is with me.
I must have drifted off because I am awakened by a warm hand
sweeping over my back. When it curves around my bottom, I stiffen
and push myself up.
“Shhh. It’s me.” Max’s deep voice echoes in the stillness.
“Me is supposed to be in the hospital,” I mumble into the pillow.
His warm hand on my skin is delicious. Almost as delicious as tequila,
which I am never drinking again.
“I got out early for good behavior.” His delicious hand sweeps
along the side of my body and strokes the curve of my breast. Even more
delicious. I flip over and offer my full self for his caressing pleasure.
“How are you feeling?”
Max chuckles. “Well rested. How about you? You seem a little t
ipsy.”
“Smashed, actually.” I push off the sheet so his hand does not face
any impediments and is free to travel where I want it to go.
“You’re very responsive when you’re smashed.” His fingers slick
between my folds, and he holds them up so I can see them glisten.
“Mmm. Pretty.” I draw his hand down to my mouth and wrap my
lips around his finger. I suck gently and slide my lips back and forth. I
taste sweet and salty.
Max groans. “Don’t do that, baby.”
I drag my lips away. “Why?”
He swallows. “I just…it’s hard.”
I roll over and nuzzle his crotch. He is very obviously erect. “Yes, it
is. Let’s do something about that.”
Max snorts a laugh. “I don’t want to take advantage of you in your
drunken state.”
I flip over again and lie spread-eagle on the bed. “Please do. I wish
you to take advantage of me in every way possible.”
His voice deepens to something guttural, something that just adds
to my itch. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”
“I’m trying my best here. You gotta give me something back.” I
stretch and wiggle on the bed. Max cups my breast in his warm hand
and tweaks my nipple.
“I’m still very annoyed,” he murmurs. “Arranging for my family to
visit was a shocking surprise.”
I arch into his hand. “Annoyed is good. You want to spank me or
tie me up? I’m pretty much game for anything right now.”
“How about we sleep?” Max stretches out on the bed beside me,
fully clothed.
“How about we don’t sleep?” I unbutton his shirt and ease it open.
“How about Makayla lies on top of you and licks all your delicious
tattoos?” I follow the dragon marking down his chest with my tongue,
but stop when I am parallel to his heart. “Why did you get this?” I trace
a gentle circle around my name.
Max sifts his hand through my hair. “I thought we were done. I
failed you like I failed my family. I couldn’t get you to trust me.”
I ease myself on top of him and wiggle until his erection is nestled
tight between my thighs. “You didn’t fail me. My issues were my own.
I was worried you were like my father, but I thought about it a lot
when I was sitting with you in the hospital, and I spent a lot of time
with the guys downstairs. My father’s violence and your violence are