19. Maxim
CHAPTER NINETEEN
maxim
The private lounge in Fortune was thick with cigar smoke and the low hum of conversation. Dimitri poured another glass of vodka, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. Pike was sprawled out like he owned the place and was in rare form, tossing out stories about their younger days that I didn’t care to know about but couldn’t help laughing at.
Lev, ever the enigma, sat quietly, nursing his drink. Eli, on the other hand, had barely touched his glass. His sharp eyes scanned the room like a predator, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Conall, Angelo, and Ilias lounged indolently around the area, watching the others. They hadn’t interacted much with my brother and had never met the Walters brothers. Pike and Eli were their own interesting tales of tragedy.
It was a miracle that they had found each other again after such a long time apart, but that they had fallen in love with sisters was fascinating.
This was supposed to be a celebration—a night to mark the end of one chapter of my life and the beginning of another. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the room, the unspoken tension that seemed to follow us wherever we went.
“To Maxim,” Dimitri said, raising his glass. His voice carried that lighthearted charm that always managed to mask the steel underneath. “For finally letting someone tie him down. Though I’m still not convinced, it’ll last.”
Conall growled, shooting Dimitri a dark look, but I didn’t bother rebuking him. The arrangement wasn’t one I’d appraised my brother of, and Conall knew this already, even if he didn’t like it. Somehow, I still couldn’t stop sheltering my brother from the knowledge of how depraved my father was.
The table laughed, and the weight of responsibility lifted for a moment. These men were powerful in their own right—kings of their respective kingdoms. But tonight, we weren’t rivals or allies bound by uneasy truces. Tonight, we were simply men celebrating life, even if that life was built on blood and shadow.
“So,” Angelo began, swirling the whiskey in his glass, “what’s next for you, Maxim? Settling down? Building a nice little garden in the suburbs?”
I smirked. “I’ll leave the gardening to you, Angelo. I have an empire to run.”
Ilias raised an eyebrow, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. “Empire, yes. But don’t let the empire ruin the home. A man needs balance.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never had a day off,” Pike interjected, grinning.“Gardening. That’s funny. Right, Dimitri?” He jostled my brother with his arm. My brother’s wife had a garden at their Arizona bungalow, so Pike was throwing him some serious shade for all the garden boxes he’d had to build, but I didn’t think my brother minded so much.
Ilias shrugged, unbothered. “Perhaps, but I’ve learned the value of keeping the right balance of fear and loyalty.”
A murmur of approval went around the table, but Lev broke the moment, leaning forward with a sly smile. “And what’s a proper celebration without a little entertainment?”
I shot him a look. “No strippers, Lev. I told you that already.”
Lev’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, his grin widened. “Who said anything about strippers? I’ve got something much better.”
“Really?” My interest was already piqued. I set my glass down. The night was looking up. I knew the sorts of gifts Lev gave. They typically came bloody — my favorite.
An hour later, we arrived at the same warehouse Lev had set up for our darker dealings. The air was damp, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the cavernous space. Conall, Angelo, and Ilias followed in measured steps, their curiosity hidden behind unreadable expressions.
In the center of the room, under a harsh spotlight, was a man hung up on a hook. His face was swollen and bloodied, his dark eyes glaring up at us with defiance.
“Marco Sánchez,” Lev announced, gesturing grandly. “Cartel operative with the Mancebos. He also hired the man who took a shot at your sister.” He sent a sly grin to Conall, who went red with rage.
My insides went volcanic as I thought of Cora hiding behind a car while she was being shot at — hurt because some fuck put out a hit on her. Thank God this guy hired someone so inept. If he’d hoped for an easy death, that ship had sailed. Between Conall and me, his death was going to be ugly and slow.
I stepped closer, meeting the man’s gaze. His lip curled into a sneer despite his condition. “You hired someone to shoot at Cora O’Kelly? Why?”
Marco spat blood onto the floor.
The air in the room shifted, a tangible tension crackling like a live wire. Dimitri moved closer, his jaw tightening. Pike exchanged glances with Conall, who schooled his expression, folded his arms, and waited.
Lev, of course, looked delighted. “He’s got spirit. I thought you’d appreciate that, Maxim.”
“So, this is my present?” I said, leaning to Marco.
I stepped forward, my voice calm but cutting through the silence like a blade. “I do like your style, Lev.”
Taking the knife Lev offered, I turned back to Marco. The man’s bravado faltered, replaced by a flicker of fear.
“You think you’re going to outlast this?” I asked, my voice low but steady. “You’re wrong, but if your cartel wants to test me. Test us. You’re welcome to try.”
The blade gleamed in the spotlight as I raised it, the weight of my choices settling over me. This was who I was. I’d long ago come to grips with the joy I took in killing. For a long time, I wondered if it made me like my father — like the scum he was. He took exceptional joy in butchering his victims. I was careful to keep myself to men who deserved their deaths, but I would never say I was merciful.
“You know I saw Maxim once skin a man. It was impressive,” Angelo said conversationally.
Marco’s eyes widened even further, darting from man to man.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Dios mío .” Frantically, he started saying a Hail Mary in Spanish. I could tell him that wouldn’t help, but I let him babble on.
“That what you’re going to do?” Eli asked, stepping out of the shadows. “It’s always hard work. I don’t mind helping.” He grinned as if the thought of it would make his day. Probably would. He stepped behind Marco and poked a knife right at his ass. “I always start right here. Skin them from the ass out.”
“Really? I like to do the face first. Start at the ear.” I watched Marco as we talked. His mouth quivered, but he locked his jaw as if determining that he wouldn’t scream. That was funny. The fucker would be screaming in just a few minutes.
He was quivering now, practically vibrating with it as he tried to pull himself away from Eli even though Eli was moving into his space with a knife poking him a little here and there. I did not doubt that Eli had done precisely what he’d said. I wanted information more than anything at this point.
Well, that was a lie.
A little fun — maybe.
“Was it your cartel that put the hit on my sister?” Conall asked, pushing the man so he swung a little on the hook.“Give me something. I’m more reasonable than he is.”
Well, that was a fucking lie if I ever heard one, but Marco seemed to think it was a lifeline because he stopped his Hail Marys and said feverishly, “We didn’t put the hit out. Not us.”
“What are you doing in New York? Why Cora?” I asked.
Eli poked him again with his knife, a bored expression on his face.
“Nothing. I know nothing,” he screeched with desperation.
“Nothing, huh? Okay,” Ilias said, doubt lacing his voice.
He nodded frantically as we chuckled. Maybe he thought we believed him, but we weren’t that stupid. If he were in the cartel game, he should know his orders, at the very least. There was no way that I’d ever believe he didn’t know anything.
I’d had my hands behind my back as I walked around Marco before I grabbed one of his hands viciously, and with the pruning shears that I’d been holding, I yanked one of his fingers at an angle and cut it off.
Marco began to howl, snot bubbling from his nose. If he thought that hurt, he’d love the next bit.
“Conall?”
The small stump bled dramatically, dripping satisfactorily onto the floor.
I threw the finger at Marco’s feet as Conall moved behind him menacingly. I was happy that Pike wasn’t upset by our little interrogation. Eli, I’d had some experience with, but I’d never worked with Pike.
The whoosh of the blowtorch filled the room, and that set Marco trying again to swing himself as he screamed while Conall cauterized the wound.
“Let’s try again,” I began. “What were your orders when you came to the city?”
I snipped off another finger.
“We were paid!”
And so it began. Bit by bit, information came.
When it was done, the room was silent except for the dripping corpse. Marco hadn’t gone easy, so I’d give him that.
Conall exhaled slowly, breaking the tension. “Well, that was... educational.”
Angelo tipped his glass in my direction, his smile sharp. “Efficient, as always.”
We’d learned that there had been a hit put out on Cora, but not much else if I were being honest. The Mancebos had accepted the hit, but only because they were down on some cash for a gun transaction with some other cartel. Marco was their best shot, which wasn’t saying much since he obviously sucked so badly that he tried to hire some other yahoo — who also sucked. It was like a Three Stooges episode.
“What do you want done with the body?” Lev asked. “Displayed? Shipped?”
“Where are they based out of?”
“La Paz.”
“Nah. Let’s not be sloppy. I don’t want to have any reason for sloppy work or trace evidence that could end us up in jail,” I replied. Some things had to be weighed out as not worth it.
“No joke,” Pike said.
I knew he got that. Pike had done some serious jail time and had narrowly escaped doing more for some serial killings. Only Natasha coming to Arizona and acting as his lawyer had allowed him to escape that mess.
“Push through an encrypted picture of the body. I want them to know what happens to the men they send here,” I added, glancing at what was left of Marco. “And call the cleaners.”
“Let’s hope the message is received,” Ilias added, his tone neutral.
As we left the warehouse, Dimitri clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got a good woman waiting for you, Max. Don’t let all this—” he gestured vaguely to the warehouse “—get in the way.”
I nodded, my thoughts already drifting to Cora. She was a beautiful surprise, and as much as the night had reminded me of the darkness in our world, it also made one thing clear: I’d do whatever it took to keep her safe, and I didn’t mind dipping my fingers in blood to do it.
One of the things my brother had never understood about me was that I was okay in the dark.
“So, we still don’t know who ordered the hit?” Conall said with concern as we closed the door.
“No, but I have Ronnie on that. Hopefully, we’ll figure it out because that is key,” I answered.
That piece of information was ultimately the lynchpin. One minor inept shooter was one thing … but that didn’t mean another wouldn’t follow that wouldn’t be more skilled than the first.