Page 17 of Max

No one said anything; they were all wondering what had changed for this urgency to have come about. I didn’t stand down; I couldn’t. My brother’s ass was on the line, and Skylar's. The determination must have been written all over my face since the captain took his phone out of his suit jacket pocket and walked away.

“I’m going to give a courtesy call to the DEA,” he turned, continued walking backwards, and pointed his finger at me. “Do not make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” I grunted.

I didn’t know if I would or not, all I could do was hope, and for the first time in a long time, I did. But not for him or my brother. I hoped for her. If this went sideways, she was the first to take the brunt of it all. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I have something else,” I continued. “Another name.”

“Sock it to me.” Brody was already leafing through the file and writing something down.

“Skylar Jackson.” I waited to see if the name would bring up any reaction.

It didn’t. She was a complete mystery to everyone.

“Who’s she?” Olivia piped up.

“She’s the situation,” I reluctantly said since I knew I couldn’t hide anything from Liv. As I couldn’t from Rory. “She’s also the owner of Home Sweet Home Designs.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Joe stated. “You hooked up with the owner of the warehouse?”

“I didn’t hook up with her,” I said, slowly trying for patience. “She needed help, so I gave it to her. I also know she’s innocent in all of this. Until yesterday, she didn’t know what was going on and how deep in shit she is. How that came about is none of your business.”

I wasn’t about to tell them I became addicted to her texts over the years. Every damn time my phone pinged alerting me I had a message; my hands shook just at the thought it could be hers. At first, it was all about how sweet she was in them. I knew they were not meant for me, and every time I promised myself I would text back and let her know someone was using the number and she probably shouldn’t expose herself so much to a complete stranger. I always found some excuse as to why I would do it next time. Then, my hands shook out of fear. After the first mention of her boyfriend hitting her, I was scared out of my mind the next text wouldn’t come. I’ve seen way too many ugly, devastating outcomes of domestic abuse. They all started with the first slap. They all spiraled into a beatdown until that beatdown ended with a dead body of a broken woman. I again toyed with the idea of texting her back, so that she would know she has someone to help her if she needed it. Instinctively, I knew, if I did, she would stop writing. That left me with only one choice., to wait. Wait for her to ask for help.

“Prepare for Armageddon,” Liv stated. When all eyes swung to her in questioning, she ignored them and continued. “Max likes her.”

Liked her?

No.

It was more intense than that.

From the moment I saw her gathering up her wedding dress and start running, her long, blonde hair all over her face and shoulders, I knew I was in deep. That depth became even more profound when she sat in my car, still clutching her flowers, giving me her trust without ever having laid eyes on me before. Then it became deeper again as I came to her once more, and the instant she heard my voice, she relaxed, showing that trust had no limits. Even deeper, as I watched her fear morph into horror, then to nothing as she passed out. And deeper as I watched her sleep her shock off, the soft snoring sounds hitting me but stopping every time I put my fingertip on her arm. Deeper as she delivered her little speech at the bottom of my staircase, and she figured out she did have free will. Then, again, as she figured out, she was strong, and she showed me she had spunk when she decided she was going, and nothing I said or did was going to change her mind. All that was a beautiful sight. It was also cute. Despite the situation, it was funny as hell. In one day, I went in headfirst, until I lost sight of what was up and what was down, I was in so deep. I didn’t tell them any of that. I also didn’t correct Olivia, either. There was no point.

“You need to call Stone,” Brody piped up.

“Kid let him be,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“No, if this is what I think it is, then we need him,” Brody replied.

I looked to others for help. Joe was grinding his teeth, Liv was looking at her boots, and others started walking away.

“No.”

“Max, my man,” Brody leaned over the table, his fists on it. “Call Stone.”

This unusual behavior. Something had Brody rattled.

“What’s going on, kid?” I asked softly.

“You said that the DEA is investigating Barone, that means that he’s a mean mutherfucker. Now, you’re telling us that there's a woman that means something to you in all that mix-up. Something more than just a pair of legs and tits that you can have fun with for one night. But something big, that has you coming in as if it's a no big deal after months and months of not a single peep out of you. We all waited with our breaths held for the day you would come back, but with every passing day, realizing that wouldn’t happen. Still, you come in with no intention of coming back. You’re here for info, meaning you’re preparing to go maverick if needed. Now, what all of that tells me is that we need the whole team. Only then can we have your back when you cross the line. And don’t bullshit me, I see the wild in your eyes, I see the itch for chasing down this Skylar woman, barring down the doors of whatever of your flip you’re currently living in and keep her safe. That means,” the veins in Brody’s neck were prominent. “You need to call Stone.”

I had nothing to say to that.

Every word he said was true.

So, I said the only thing I could.