I tucked my hair behind my ear and ducked my head, wishing I could hide under the table until this part was over. Overcoming my shyness to pose for Isabel’s pictures was a challenge on my best days. And this was so not one of them.
“It’s not Gavin,” I said truthfully. I couldn’t tell them about what’d happened with Max, but I could at least share a little of the anxiety that’d haunted me all day. “I, um, overslept and didn’t have time to do my makeup this morning. Then I worked late and came straight here. My blouse is wrinkled, and my skin looks like crap. I didn’t even put on mascara.”
“You don’t need mascara,” Charlie admonished gently. “And you have gorgeous, clear skin. I never would’ve taught you my makeup tips and tricks if I’d known you would rely on them so much. You look beautiful no matter what. Trust me, no one will be focusing on your wrinkled blouse.”
Davis shot me a sympathetic look. “Gavin really did a number on your self-esteem today, didn’t he? Look, I’ve seen pics of you from high school, and yeah, your style was a train wreck.”
“Davis!” Isabel hissed, going into protective big sister mode. “Not cool.”
He waved her off, keeping me fixed in a no-nonsense green gaze. “We all go through an awkward phase. I used to wear acid washed double denim. Double denim, Allie. It was tragic. But you’re fabulous, and now that you’re all grown up, you look just as fabulous on the outside. Don’t let that bully dull your shine. He doesn’t deserve one more second of your time.”
“Accurate,” Charlie agreed, tugging me close in a one-armed hug. Despite my lingering insecurities, my lips curved in a smile. I loved my friends so damn much.
Isabel snapped a pic and grinned at me, unrepentant. “Perfect candid for the socials. You two look adorable.”
“Excuse me!” Davis said, affronted at being left out.
Isabel captured an image of his indignant glower and snickered. She showed it to him, and he groaned. “No, don’t post that. I look constipated.”
She pulled him close and took a selfie of the two of them as a loud, genuine laugh burst from my chest. Their antics cleared away the last of the storm clouds that’d hung over me all day. Isabel beamed at me and snapped another pic of me laughing.
“Stunning,” she declared.
I lifted my margarita to my lips and took a long drink. It was past time for me to unwind, and I didn’t have to go into work tomorrow. I had freaking earned this salt-laced tequila.
I eased back into my seat and sipped at my beverage, basking in the pleasant warmth of the alcohol and the effervescent energy of my friends. Nothing bad could touch me when I was surrounded by their love. Not Gavin’s bullying and not the haunting memory of Max’s snarling face. For a few blissful hours, I was perfectly content.
I should’ve known it was too good to last. When I stumbled off the bus and began to close the short distance to my apartment, I stopped dead in my tracks. A man with tousled black hair and a leather jacket lurked directly across the street, half hidden in shadow.
My nightmare had followed me home. My initial instincts had been right: Max was stalking me.
Chapter 6
Allie
Incandescent rage flooded my body in a pulse of reckless strength. I’d been through too much, and seeing the bastard stalking me caused something to snap inside my mind. The adrenaline rush sharpened my senses so that my full focus centered on Max.
Ever since he’d first materialized from the shadows in my apartment and slipped a needle into my neck, my instinct had been to try to run away. Well, that instinct hadn’t saved me from being tormented. It hadn’t saved my dad from Max’s deranged, sinister plans. Proof of his menacing resolve radiated from his hulking, shadowy form.
He intended to continue to victimize me. I’d allowed one bully to shred me today. Now, I’d been buoyed by my besties and more than a little tequila. My blood ran hot in my veins, and my fingers curled to fists at my sides. I’d be damned if I let another man crush my spirit. Especially since my dad’s safety was at risk.
When Gavin had taunted me this morning, I hadn’t been able to find the strength to stand up for myself. But Max wasn’t solely a threat to me, and I sure as hell would protect my family.
Max thought he could loom in the shadows and wait to get me alone again? Screw that. He’d made the mistake of letting me glimpse him in public. It was probably part of some sick intimidation mind game, but it would backfire on him now.
My street wasn’t particularly busy, but we were both out in the open. If I confronted him now, he wouldn’t dare try anything with potential witnesses around. Max didn’t want to be caught. He’d let me go on the condition that I keep his little abduction-and-interrogation session secret. That meant he wouldn’t risk getting the cops called on him if I screamed for help where people could actually hear my pleas.
I would tell him in no uncertain terms that my father had nothing to do with the Bratva. He would get the picture and back off. His vendetta was rooted in lies, and once he accepted that, he’d leave me and my dad alone.
Rage, alcohol, and a determination to protect my dad fueled me with purpose, harnessing my full focus. Peripheral concerns like Max’s mental instability or his massive muscles became white noise at the back of my mind. At that moment, it seemed completely logical that my only option was to confront the son of an infamous mobster: the deranged, damaged man who’d held me captive in his basement mere hours ago.
Before I could formulate any second thoughts, I squared my shoulders and turned to face Max. My chin tilted in challenge, and I spared only a brief glance at the road before taking the first purposeful step toward him. I stomped across the pavement, timing my movements to dodge the light traffic that traversed my neighborhood at this time of night.
Max’s body tensed, and his head jerked back as though I’d sucker punched him. I was close enough now to see his mouth drop open in shock, and I caught the flash of widened eyes through his tangle of curls.
That’s right, douchebag, I thought with grim satisfaction. I am not a victim. Be afraid.
I am strong. I am independent. I can do this.
A tingling giddiness washed through me as I repeated my mantra of self-empowerment. The heady sensation raced from my brain to my fingers and toes. My knees wobbled at the strange, dangerous rush, and I missed a step on my high heel. My ankle turned, and the ground rushed up to meet me.
Several sensory inputs slammed into me all at once: jagged pain cracked into my knees, a car horn blared, and a harsh curse snapped through the night air. Suddenly, strong arms closed around me, hauling me up and out of the way of oncoming traffic. For a second, shock rendered me motionless. The logical burst of fear at being trapped in my ferocious captor’s arms didn’t register; survival instincts made my fingers bite into his corded arms, pressing into his leather jacket hard enough to bruise as I clung on tight.
The car horn blared again, followed by more cursing from a different masculine voice. A tremor wracked my body, adrenaline spiking higher than ever. My nerves were jittery, my mind a tangled mess.
“Fuck off,” Max snapped back at the enraged driver who was currently cussing me out. He pulled me closer, and I realized my legs shook so badly that I couldn’t put any weight on my feet. Max’s strong grip was the only thing holding me upright.