Chapter 9 Eight
Two bodies cooled in a Zurich alley, blood seeping between cobblestones. The cordite smell still clung to my clothes. I'd killed for less. Tonight, I'd killed for him.
The hotel suite was too quiet. My leg screamed as I carried Maxime through the door, the same leg he'd spent eighteen months coaxing back to function. How many times had he lifted me like this during recovery? How many times had his hands steadied my weight when I couldn't stand on my own?
Now I was the one carrying him. My body remembered every humiliation of that reversal.
His tablet hit the floor. The thing was practically grafted to his hand, had been for decades. Seeing it discarded told me exactly how far gone he was.
I got him to the bedroom and laid him on the mattress. My hands were shaking like an amateur who'd never seen violence up close. When the hell had I turned into a man who trembled at the thought of losing what he owned?
Shaw would pay for this.
Maxime's breathing was shallow, too fast. I pressed two fingers to his throat, checking his pulse above the fingerprints I'd left on his skin. His heart was racing, the rhythm all wrong. Whatever Shaw had used was strong enough to drop a man with Maxime's constitution and tolerance.
I needed to know what Shaw had done to him, where he'd touched. I needed to map every point of contact and erase it.
I started with the jacket, fingers searching for traces of Shaw's touch. Then the silk shirt he'd used to hide my marks. Each button revealed more territory that belonged to me. His skin burned hot as I checked for injuries, for contamination.
There were no needle marks, just my claims and whatever poison was running through his system.
I got rid of his belt and shoes, leaving him in tailored pants and nothing else.
The sight of him half-naked and helpless in my bed made rage surge through my chest. His pale skin stood out against the dark sheets.
The smooth plane of his chest carried nothing but my bruises, a sparse trail of dark hair leading down from his navel.
His wrists were delicate, and his neck bore every mark I'd put there.
Mine. Even with Shaw's poison in his blood.
But the bastard had kissed him, transferred poison through lips that should only ever taste mine.
I'd killed Shaw's men clean and quick. Shaw himself deserved to suffer. I wanted to peel his skin off in strips, hear him scream until his throat bled, show him exactly what happened to men who touched what belonged to me.
"Water." Maxime's voice cracked. "Please."
I grabbed a bottle from the minibar. When I got back, he'd curled onto his side, one hand pressed against his throat where my bruises throbbed darkest.
Even drugged, he reached for my marks.
"Sit up," I said.
He obeyed without hesitation. I slid onto the bed behind him, pulled him back against my chest so he sat between my legs, and held the bottle to his lips. He drank slowly. Water spilled, trickling down his chest.
I caught each drop before it could fall, my thumb brushing his collarbone. He shivered and leaned into me like he belonged there.
"Algerone?" There was uncertainty in his voice. "Are you real? Or did Shaw make me dream you too?"
"I'm here."
"Good." His head lolled against my shoulder. "I'm tired of pretending not to love you."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Thirty-two years, and he'd never said it. The drug had stripped his defenses, leaving him raw and honest in my arms.
He'd touched me every day for eighteen months. Bathed my broken body. Changed my bandages. Forced my ruined leg through physical therapy while I cursed him and shoved him away. He'd seen me at my weakest, my most pathetic, and he'd never flinched. Never complained.
I'd given him nothing in return. Not a single touch that wasn't born of necessity.
"Shaw knows about the boys," Maxime said, words slurring but his mind still working. "Has photos. Evidence of the Volkov connection. Said he would use RICO prosecution, federal charges. We need to—"
"The boys will be fine."
"No." Some of his usual authority pushed through the drug.
"You don't understand. He has everything, Algerone.
Financial records, surveillance footage, witness statements.
He's built a case that could destroy them.
" He paused to fight the fog. "I reviewed the documents before he drugged me. It's substantial."
"The boys will be fine," I repeated against his ear. "Shaw's mistake was thinking they were leverage instead of weapons."
"My fault." His head fell back against my shoulder. "I kept them from you. Should have told you, but... I was terrified you'd choose them. Over me. Over what we built together. Selfish, but there it is."
As if anything could displace him.
"You protected them tonight from Shaw," I said. "That matters."
"Had to." He turned, trying to focus on my face. "They're yours. Everything you love becomes sacred to me. Even when it hurts. Even when they hate me for what I did."
His hand found mine, fingers locking together. "Twenty years I watched you search for them. Twenty years I knew where they were and said nothing." His voice broke. "Worst thing I ever did. Not just to you. To them. But I couldn't... I couldn't let you go."
"I was cruel." The admission tasted like ash. "You kept me alive, and I punished you for seeing me weak."
"You needed to be angry at someone." His fingers tightened on mine. "I've always been good at absorbing your anger." He shuddered. "I would have taken care of you forever," he whispered. "Even if you never touched me again. Even if you hated me until you died."
"Why?"
"Because you were alive. Because I could hear you breathing. Because when I helped you walk, I could feel your heart beating under my hands." A pause. "I thought I'd lost you. When the explosion happened, I thought—"
He couldn't finish.
I pulled him closer. His skin burned against mine like a brand.
This man. This broken, brilliant, treacherous creature. He'd betrayed me more completely than any enemy, stolen twenty years of my children's lives, and lied to my face for decades.
And when Shaw threatened what was mine, Maxime had chosen pain over betrayal. He’d protected my sons knowing his sacrifice might never earn forgiveness.
"Shaw touched you. Where? I need to know where."
"Just my wrist when he leaned forward." Memory surfaced through the fog. "And his lips. His lips on mine."
"Show me."
He lifted his wrist with trembling fingers.
I could see it clearly, could imagine those manicured fingers pressing against skin that belonged to me.
I brought his wrist to my mouth and bit down hard enough to leave marks that would last longer than Shaw's touch and deep enough to erase any trace of the other man.
He gasped and pressed harder against me.
"The makeup," I growled against his skin. "I want it gone. All of it."
"Yes." He tilted his head to give me access. "Please. I hate hiding your marks."
His pulse jumped under my fingers. I grabbed the washcloth from the bathroom and dampened it with the remaining water. He went pliant as I started wiping away the foundation, revealing my work inch by inch. Purple-black fingerprints appeared like photographs developing.
"Look at you." I traced the darkest bruise. He shivered. "Perfect. Every mark tells the world who you belong to."
"He kissed me." The words tore out of him. "Forced his lips onto mine. Made me taste poison. I tried to fight, but..."
"But what?"
"But all I could think was that it wasn't you." His voice broke. "That his lips were wrong. That he was taking something that belongs to you."
The washcloth clenched in my fist until water dripped through my fingers.
"How long?"
"Seconds. Less. I pushed him away immediately, but the poison was already on his lips. Already in my mouth."
I set the washcloth aside carefully. If I didn't control the motion, I'd destroy something. Then I kissed him hard and bit his lower lip until I tasted blood before soothing it with my tongue.
When I pulled back, he was panting.
"More." His voice was wrecked. "Please. Need you to erase him. Need you to make me yours again."
I shifted him forward and studied his back. He was all unmarked pale skin except for a few old scars. Territory Shaw had never seen or touched. I needed to mark it all. Claim it completely.
I bit down on his shoulder hard enough to break skin. Then his spine. Then the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Each bite drew blood and sounds from his throat that went straight to my cock.
"Mine," I growled against each fresh wound, licking blood from my lips. "Every inch of you belongs to me."
"Yes." The word came from somewhere deep. "Always. Even when you hate me. Even when I don't deserve it."
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
Enjoyed meeting your pet tonight. Sweet thing, once you get past the attitude. -G
Rage clawed up my throat. I wanted to hunt Shaw down now and make him scream until his voice gave out.
The screen cracked under my grip.
"What is it?" Maxime mumbled against my chest.
"Shaw thinks he can taunt me." I set the phone aside before I destroyed it completely. "He has no idea what's coming for him."
But Shaw had given me something valuable. He’d confirmed that Maxime's devotion went deeper than professional loyalty.
"Need to make calls," I said against Maxime's hair. "Sleep now."
"Don't leave." His fingers twisted in my shirt. "Please. Can't bear it if you leave."
"I'm not going anywhere."
He relaxed slowly, but his hand stayed fisted in the fabric. Even unconscious, he couldn't let me go.
My phone rang twenty minutes later.
"Yes?"
"I detected an emergency signal from Maxime's device, Xavier said. “What happened?"
"Security breach. Shaw made a move against us. Maxime was targeted."
A pause. "Is Maxime okay?"
"Secure. Drugged, but recovering."
"What kind of targeting?"
"Recruitment attempt. Failed."
"How did Shaw try to recruit him?"
I considered how much to tell him. Xavier was brilliant and useful in ways that bordered on the supernatural. But he was my son first, my ally second.
"Chemical coercion. Maxime refused to cooperate."
"Huh." There was genuine surprise in his tone. "What do you need from me?"
"Intelligence on Gideon Shaw and GidTech. Everything you can find. But keep it quiet. We need to understand what we're dealing with before we move."
"Got it. How soon?"
"When we're back stateside. Right now, we're extracting."
"Algerone?" There was a different note in his voice. "Shaw can't have cracked the Banshee protocols yet. I mean, assuming he actually has the prototype."
Grim satisfaction settled in my chest. Shaw had stolen hardware he couldn't use.
"How long would it take him?"
"Months, if he's lucky. I didn't exactly leave breadcrumbs." Xavier paused. "You want me to add more safeguards remotely?"
"Not yet. Let him think he's closer than he is. We'll use his frustration against him."
"Understood." The line went dead.
Xavier knew not to ask unnecessary questions.
I moved to the window and studied Zurich's skyline. Steel and glass spread out below like a circuit board. Somewhere out there, Shaw thought he was clever. Thought he'd gained the upper hand by poisoning what belonged to me.
He'd made his move. Now I'd make mine.
But not here. Not on his territory. Shaw had the advantage in Zurich. Here, he had resources and connections I couldn't match in a foreign city. Better to retreat, regroup, plan properly. Let him think he'd won while I prepared his destruction.
I went back to the bed and slid in beside Maxime. He curled toward me immediately. His hand found my chest, fingers spread over my heart like he could hold it steady through touch.
I traced the bite marks I'd left on his skin. There was no going back to the careful distance we'd maintained before and no more pretending he was just my assistant.
Tonight showed me how much I stood to lose. Losing him would destroy me. Not professionally or operationally. Fundamentally. I'd survived betrayal and bullets, survived nearly losing my leg. I’d weathered every storm fate had thrown at me.
But losing Maxime? There would be nothing left worth salvaging.
He owned me as completely as I owned him.