A Pound of Flesh (A Pound of Flesh #1)(88)

“Go,” she said with a soft smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

Without a pause, his mouth met hers again, nipping and sucking desperately at her lips. He pushed from the wall.

“Be careful,” he ordered with a pointed finger. “Text me when you get home tonight.”

Peaches laughed and saluted him.

“I mean it,” he said, no hint of playing in his voice.

Her smile dropped. “I will. I promise. Go and look after Max.”





18


Carter heard Max before he saw him. The idiot was shouting something about leaving him the f*ck alone. There was scuffling and a yelp. Carter strode into Max’s sitting room, past a furious-looking Paul, to find Max draped across his couch, looking three sheets to the wind, with a busted nose and a right eye that was closing up nicely.

“Fuck’s sake,” Carter muttered.

“Carter!” Max called with a wide, blitzed, drunken smile. “Check this out!” He proceeded to lift his shirt to show several large bruises and a cut along his rib.

Carter’s head snapped toward Paul and Cam, the latter of whom was sitting in a corner of the room with a joint in his hand and a whore on his lap. “Where the f*ck were you when all this went down?”

Paul held his hands up and shook his head. “Don’t bring it here, man,” he warned. “The idiot left us, told us to stay where we were. I did my best!”

“No doubt,” Carter conceded. “Were the cops involved?”

Paul shook his head. “The f*ckers hauled ass before they made an entrance.”

Carter walked over to Max, who had shut up and mellowed while he watched his friend Al spark a smoke and hand it to him. Max moaned when he inhaled and blew out the smoke but flinched and grimaced when he tried to move. The bastards had sure given him a beating.

“How many were there?” Carter asked Paul.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “There were two when I got there, but there could have been more.”

Yeah, no shit. Max looked like he’d been set upon by the entire National Guard.

Laura, Max’s latest toy, still in her club outfit, appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of water and a towel. She gave Carter a tight smile before she kneeled at Max’s side and began trying to clean him up. “Trying” being the operative word, as Max swatted her away while mumbling expletives.

“Stop it, O’Hare,” she snapped, “before I put you on your ass for real!”

Max grinned at her, cigarette dangling from his bloodied lips, and winked with his good eye. “You know you make me hard when ya talk that way.”

Laura rolled her eyes and continued to dab at Max’s mangled face.

“We need to get your dumb ass to the hospital,” Carter said. Laura unfastened Max’s shirt and the full extent of what had been done to him could be seen by all. Carter’s teeth clenched when Max jumped as Laura ran the towel across his ribs.

“I’m fine,” Max answered. “Besides, the hospital asks questions.”

“Max,” Carter argued. “If we just take—”

“I’m not going,” Max said in a tone that demanded compliance. “The docs will call the fuzz. I don’t need them on my case. Not that they’d find shit. The f*ckers took my coke.”


Carter ran a hand across his jaw and exhaled in frustration. “How much?”

“Enough.” Max eyed him curiously. “I thought you were at the bar. Paul said something about you disappearing.”