Maximus (Guardian Security Shadow World #15)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

H er head hurt, and her neck was sore, but what was more important was how Max looked at her. That was the look her father had given her when he’d told her the family dog had passed. “How did you know about him, Max?”

The woman gave her a small smile, then slipped out the door, shutting it behind her. “She’s very beautiful.”

“Is she?” Max said and shook his head. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Elena closed her eyes. “My head hurts. Please don’t make fun of me or make me ask you again.”

Max took her hand in his. “I’m not making fun of you. Val is a married woman who may be beautiful, but I don’t care. She’s a coworker and a friend. That’s all.” He sighed and said, “I’m not an art dealer.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “You are. I’ve read articles, years old.” She put her free hand against her cheek and hissed. “He kicked me in the face.”

“I can see the pattern of his boot on your cheek,” Max said and then cleared his throat. “Your boss is Abrasha Molchalin.”

Elena’s eyes popped open. Her neck seized when she tried to move too quickly. The pain shot a sharp dagger through her brain, and she winced and groaned. “I didn’t tell you that.”

“You didn’t have to. My organization knows you’ve worked for him for the last four years. They sent me to get to him.”

“Get to him? For art?” She was so confused. “I don’t understand.”

“No. I work for a global security entity. Abrasha Molchalin is a wanted criminal.” Max’s voice was steady, unlike hers.

She wanted to cry. In fact, she might be crying. Her cheeks were wet, but she was too sore to care. She closed her eyes again. “My father said he was not a good man.”

“He’s killed a multitude of people and caused the death of countless others. People whose only offense was being in his way. His crimes are beyond any other living being on this planet.” Max’s thumb stroked the back of her hand. She was quiet for a moment before her brain started to patchwork what he was telling her together. So, he didn’t have art to sell. He only wanted …

Dear God, no. He couldn’t be trying to use her, could he? Was she nothing but a commodity, again? Was his affection an act? Had she fallen for yet another great actor but horrible person? She turned her head, wincing, but she wanted to know if she was right. “You’re using me to get to him.” She pulled her hand out of his.

“At first, I was,” Max admitted. “Then, after we met, not so much.”

“What does that even mean?” She rolled away from him. Her body ached, and she wanted to sleep, to wake up and have all of it be a bad dream.

His hand landed on her shoulder, and she was glad for the warmth and the comfort, even if he was a liar.

“It means I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re funny, beautiful, witty, how you see art, the world, life … you’re so special. I realized that almost immediately. You’re different, and how I react to you is different. I don’t have the correct parameters to explain why I clicked with you, but I know I do. I’ve tried to figure out how to bring you out when I’m done here. But I didn’t know if you felt the same way.”

“Parameters?” She closed her eyes. “So romantic.”

“I know it isn’t romantic. But then again, I’m struggling here. In real life, I’m a computer specialist. Remember I told you I wouldn’t be in the art world much longer? I’ll go back to sitting behind my computers.”

She remembered. “How do you know so much about art?”

There was a long pause, so long she turned back over, audibly hissing at the effort. “How?”

He tapped his head. “I can become what or whoever I need to become. My intellect is said to be off the charts. If I need to become a specific entity, I study, learn the right language and information, and then I am … transformed.”

“That’s what you meant when you said your Russian was self-taught?”

He nodded.

“How long did it take you to learn about art and to speak Russian?”

“I taught myself Russian when I was thirteen. It took a week to master. To become an art expert, a month.” He shrugged. “I’m not sorry for going after Abrasha. He’s evil in its basic form, but I’m so sorry Sokolov attacked you because of me. I told you the truth whenever I told you how I felt about you. You matter to me.” He shook his head. “Not many do.”

“I need to think.” She turned away from him.

“I understand. I’ll leave.”

“No!” She gasped in pain when she tried to grab him. “No, please, don’t leave. Just give me time. I …” She looked at the door. “I don’t want to be alone here.”

Max looked at her. While his eyes were intense and angry, he touched her cheek gently. “You’re safe. I won’t let him or anyone else close to you. I’ll be here until you tell me to leave.” He stood up. “I do care about you, Elena. I didn’t exaggerate that, nor did I lie about it.”

She stared at him for a moment. “I believe you, but I’m… overwhelmed. Please give me some time.”

He nodded and quietly left the room. She carefully moved to a semi-comfortable position and stared at the wall. She knew Abrasha was a powerful person. She understood the hesitation in people’s eyes and knew that normal people didn’t travel with five or six bodyguards. She’d buried her head in the dirt and built a life around the art she loved.

But at what cost? Was she enabling his cruelties? The paintings he bought for outrageous prices were worthless. Were they part of his crimes? She thought of the conversations she’d had with Abrasha. He was used to giving commands and expected people to follow them.

When she’d started working for him, Elena shivered as she thought of Abrasha’s stern warning to Artem Sokolov. She’d overheard Abrasha threaten to kill him if he touched her without permission. The warning stuck with her for years. She always gave Sokolov a wide birth. That wasn’t difficult on a daily basis. She only dealt with the man while transporting paintings to the showing venues. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t care—her carefully constructed paper maché world had crumbled. Sokolov’s fists had destroyed it.

Her mind wandered to Max. Was that his real name? How did he expect to arrest Abrasha and extradite him from Russia? What type of political pressure did his global security company have? She doubted the Russian government would be pleased that he was in the country and stalking one of its billionaires, which put Max in danger. Her heart raced, beating hard against her ribs. If Sokolov investigated Max, would he find out who Max was? She’d given Sokolov Max’s name. Oh, God … she had to warn him.

Elena carefully sat up and swallowed hard as she waited for the tiny fiend with a hammer and chisel inside her brain to stop bashing at her skull. Using the wall and furniture to support her, she shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the light.

Oh, God. The reflection staring back at her was horrid. Blood clotted in her nose, although it looked like someone had tried to clean her face. A waffle pattern from the bottom of Sokolov’s boot was mottled red on her cheek. Her face was puffy, and the whites of her eyes were spotted with blood, but her neck … oh, her neck. She traced the finger marks that were clearly visible on her neck. She was lucky to be alive. The thought popped into her head, and she nodded slowly in agreement with her inner voice. She was very lucky Sokolov had stopped when he had. She'd never know why she’d taunted him when he was leaving. The comment was her truth, and she’d needed him to know it. She might die, but he’d die first. That was a fact she knew in the fabric of her being.

She washed her face using cold water, which felt amazing against the heat of the bruising. After taking some pain relievers, she combed her hair and thought about what she would say to Max. How could she trust he’d told her the truth about his feelings for her? What proof could he provide? What proof did she want from him? Was that even a thing? Her mind batted all that away as she recalled she’d told Sokolov his name, and the chief of security would be searching for him.

It took far longer than it should have to change her shirt. Her neck and shoulders were so sore that moving them to shrug in and out of her clothes was an effort. She opened the bedroom door and used the wall for support as she went to the living room.

Max was in the kitchen, and he turned to look at her. “I’ve heated the water. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” Elena moved to the chair and slowly sat down. Max had a cup in front of her by the time she’d adjusted enough to be somewhat comfortable. “I told Sokolov your name. You’re in danger. He’ll track you and try to confirm you are who you say you are.”

Max sat down on the couch and leaned on his elbows as he looked at her. “Max is my real name. Stryker isn’t. My cover is unbreakable. He won’t find anything except what I want him to find.”

She reached for her tea, but he handed it to her before she moved too far. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic and stared at the liquid. “What’s it like being you?” She wanted to understand. Her heart was begging her to find a way to live with the fact he’d used her as a means to an end. Even if his feelings were real, the fact he’d used her and continued his job remained.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure I know how to explain it. I am who I am. I’ve never known anything different.”

“Your work for this agency. What exactly do you do?” She was grasping for anything she could hold as fact.

“Normally, I sit behind my computers and ensure things run as they should and bad actors don’t infiltrate systems. I wanted to learn the art of this particular branch of service, so I convinced my superiors to let me train. I did, and I’m used on very rare occasions. To them, I’m more valuable behind the screens.”

“But you’re more important here in this situation. Why?” She sipped the warm tea and closed her eyes, letting the warmth soak through her.

When she opened them, Max was staring at her. “Because I could infiltrate the weakest link in Abrasha’s closest set of associates.”

It took her a few seconds to realize she was that link—the weakest of his associates. The thought stung, and she took another sip of her tea. “Was it always your thought to make me fall in love with you?”

Max blinked and cocked his head a little to the left. “What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” She was tired and in pain and didn’t want to play that game.

“You’ve fallen in love with me?” Max asked, making the same movement with his head.

“What?” Elena jerked and hissed at the sudden movement. She hadn’t said that, had she?

“You asked if my plan was always to make you fall in love with me. I’ll answer that with as much emphasis as I can. The answer is no. I didn’t believe there would be a connection between us for a second. I didn’t because I’ve never felt this way about any woman. Connections are hard for me to form. Not because I’m autistic or have any physical or mental issues.” He sighed and ran his hand through his dark hair. “I rarely meet anyone who can hold my attention. I know that sounds stupid, but except for my family, there are maybe four people in the world that I … attend. I listen to their words instead of working on problems in my mind. I’m with them at all times. With you, I’m present . I’m here with you because of some connection I don’t know how to define or recreate. I would if I could. I would make myself more normal and have a multitude of friends, but that isn’t how my brain is wired.” Reaching out, he placed his hand on her knee. “You asked me if I set out to make you fall in love with me. Have you?”

How did she answer that question? How did she explain? “I don’t know how to answer that.”

He looked down for a moment before lifting his eyes and saying, “Tell me what you feel.”

She stared at him. “Betrayed. Scared. Hurt. Used.”

“Fair enough,” he said as his hand slipped from her knee.

She sighed. “If you’d asked me before Sokolov attacked me, I would have said yes.”

“But now?” He reached forward and took her tea from her, setting it down on the table. Then he took her hands in his. “You knowing the truth about me, about why I’m here, doesn’t change how I feel about you. But what do you feel for me now?”

She stared at their joined hands. Her emotions were all over the place. “I suggest we wait and see.” She saw his head cock slightly to the left and realized he made that movement when he got an answer he didn’t anticipate. She clarified. “My feelings now are dominated by what happened tonight and what I learned about you and my employer.”

“How would you like to go forward? I’ll still go after Abrasha, but if you don’t want to be a part of it, I’ll find another way forward.” Max still held her hands in his. Their knees touched. They were linked physically and emotionally. To what extent, she wasn’t sure, at least not anymore.

“Is this the best chance of you arresting him?”

Max blinked. “This is the best chance we have now. It could take time to find another way.”

“And you can prove he’s guilty of these crimes you’ve said he committed?” She’d been sold a bill of goods and didn’t want her employer unfairly persecuted.

He nodded. “I can get you the evidence. It’s horrific, and it’s absolutely true.”

“I want to see the evidence. I want to confirm what you’re telling me is the truth.”

“And when I prove it is?”

“If you do, I’ll help you.” She watched to see if she’d see any relief in his frame, but there was none. He only nodded.

“I’ll have it for you when you wake up.”

“You’re leaving?” Her eyes darted to the door, which looked to be repaired to some degree.

“You asked me not to leave. I’ll sleep on the couch. One of my coworkers will bring the information you need.”

Relief flooded her body. He wasn’t leaving. He’d be there if Sokolov came back. “I should take a shower and go to bed.”

He stood up, still holding her hands. “Do you need help with anything?”

“Other than getting up out of this chair? No.” A small smile played on her lips when his head cocked slightly to the left. His eyes softened, and he stood firm, helped her stand, and walked with her to the bedroom.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back before saying, “I’m here, and Sokolov cannot hurt you.”

“You’d think he’d be the one I was concerned about hurting me, wouldn’t you?” She saw him wince as if he’d been hit. Maybe she wanted him to feel a bit of what he’d done to her.

“I can’t take back what happened. I can’t make that right. Nothing I do or say will change what I’ve done. But if you feel anything for me, judge me for what’s happening now. My actions, not my words, can prove my intentions and character. Let them speak to you, not the wounds from your past.”

She slid her hand out of his grasp. “Goodnight, Max.” He smiled and turned back toward the living room. She shut the door and leaned her forehead against it. How could she feel so much for a man like him? A man who had used her and still wanted her help to reach her employer, a man who had only ever been fair with her. She’d need to be convinced Abrasha was the criminal they said he was.