Lead Me Not (25 page)

I opened the door a crack and peered outside. It was so dark, I could barely see a thing. But a car had been pulled around the back of the building, and its headlights shone on a scene I wish I could forget.

Maxx stumbled precariously on his feet while two guys, including serial-killer-Mohawk-man, beat the ever-living shit out of him. I shoved my fist into my mouth to smother the scream that bubbled up in my throat.

Maxx wasn’t moving. He didn’t put up a fight. He just lay there
as their feet connected with his body over and over again. Mr. Mohawk lifted Maxx up and screamed something into his face. I couldn’t hear a thing over the reverb.

Mohawk punched Maxx in the jaw and sent him sprawling. Maxx moaned in the dirt, and even in the darkness I could see an excessive amount of blood. I felt sick. I thought I’d throw up all over myself. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified.

But I couldn’t just stand there and watch Maxx be beaten to death. I pushed the door open harder than I meant to. It slammed against the wall, sounding like a gunshot in the night.

The two guys pounding Maxx turned to me in unison, and my blood froze in my veins. These were some cold-assed dudes. Crap, they were going to kill me! I was a witness to their assault; they’d have to get rid of me!

I looked down at Maxx on the ground. He wasn’t moving, and I could see that his eyes were closed. I needed to see if he was still breathing.

Tentatively, I walked down the metal staircase off the fire exit and held my hands up. “I just want to see if he’s all right,” I said placidly. I spoke slowly and carefully, making sure to keep my movements steady.

The man standing beside the guy with the Mohawk cocked his head and regarded me. I couldn’t get a read on his face. He was older, maybe in his forties. He had thick, dark hair that could only be dyed. It was too thick and too black to be real. He wasn’t remotely attractive. In fact, he was the scariest thing I had ever seen.

“You know him?” he asked, jerking his head toward Maxx’s prostrate form. His voice was gruff, like that of someone who had been smoking a pack of Marlboros a day since he was twelve. It was the voice of nightmares and bogeymen. Why the hell was he hurting Maxx?

What messed-up,
Sopranos
-like shit was Maxx involved in?

“He’s a friend,” I said, enunciating my words. I was such a moron. Why didn’t I just hand my life over in a pretty little box for him to stomp on? I could almost imagine him thinking of all the ways he could dispose of my body. I wasn’t very big, so it probably wouldn’t be too hard.

Scary Marlboro Man snorted. “You need to do a better job choosing your friends, sweetheart.” He laughed as though Maxx weren’t bleeding out at his feet.

“Is he okay?” I couldn’t help asking. I stopped moving, not wanting to get too close to either of the men.

Mohawk shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck if I know,” he mumbled, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the car.

Marlboro Man put his hands in his jacket pockets and looked me up and down. It was extremely unpleasant. I felt violated by his gaze, as though he were raping me with his eyes.

“If you’re his friend, get him out of here. And tell the piece of shit to get his priorities in order. That was his last warning.” He got into the car with Mohawk, and they backed up the car and left.

Without the headlights, everything went pitch-black. I could barely see Maxx, who still hadn’t moved. I fell to my knees beside his body and shook him.

“Maxx! Are you okay?” I yelled, as though he were deaf. Maxx moaned and rolled his head. I shook him again. “Maxx! Wake up!” I was feeling mildly hysterical. This was not how I had pictured my evening going.

The movie inside my head had me finding Maxx and talking him into leaving with me. We would go back to my apartment, where we would have this amazing heart-to-heart. Maxx would break down and share all of his deep, dark secrets. He would tell me I was the only one who could help him. I would vow to stand by his side. And then we would have the most fantastic sex of our
lives.

I was absolutely delusional.

Maxx finally came to. He said something, but it didn’t make much sense. It was garbled and confused. After a while, I was able to get him to his feet. Not only was Maxx fucked-up, but he was severely injured, making walking an arduous task. I was thinking a trip to the ER was in our future.

I draped his arm around my shoulders and propped him as he struggled to get to his feet. “I can’t carry you. You’re going to have to walk to my car,” I said firmly.

“Okay,” was all Maxx said. I wasn’t sure he realized who I was or what had happened, he was so out of it. Instead of going back through the club, we slowly made our way around the side of the old department store toward the front.

It took what felt like an hour to get him there. I had to stop frequently to rest. Maxx was a big guy, and he wasn’t helping me much. I had to yell at him periodically when he seemed in danger of passing out.

Once we were in the light of the streetlamps, I was able to get a good look at him. One side of his face was bruised and swollen. His left eye was already shut. His upper lip was split and bleeding. His white T-shirt was stained with dirt and blood. He looked like hell.

“Maxx!” someone yelled. I didn’t stop, afraid that whoever it was would want to finish what the two goons had started.

“Stop!” the voice called out. I heard footsteps running behind me and turned to see one of the doormen. Not biker Randy, but the other one, the one who had flirted with me when I had arrived.

“Fuck, what happened to him?” he asked, immediately taking Maxx’s other arm to help me.

“Thanks,” I said sincerely. We were moving much faster now that I had assistance. The doorman wasn’t overly big, but he was
strong. He handled Maxx easily.

“He was beat up,” I explained, not sure why I was telling this guy anything, only that he was helping, and right now that was enough for me.

“Gash,” the doorman said under his breath.

“Huh?” I asked, my foot catching on a rock, making me stumble. Maxx moaned as I collided into him.

“I’ve got him, you can drop his arm,” the doorman told me. I did as he said, relieved to be free of Maxx’s deadweight. Maxx looked horrible. He was trying to open his eyes, but he wasn’t having much luck. The left one was swollen shut, and the right one was glazed and unfocused.

“Can you get him home?” the doorman asked me. I nodded, wrapping my arms around my middle. I was shaking uncontrollably, and my heart was hammering in my chest. I was close to having a meltdown.

“Where’s your car?” the doorman asked me, sounding frustrated and out of breath from carrying Maxx’s six-foot frame.

I pointed to the far back corner of the parking lot. The doorman hoisted Maxx up so he could get a better grip and jerked his head impatiently. “Lead the way. Our boy isn’t light,” he complained through gritted teeth.

“What’s your name?” I asked him, tired of referring to him as “the doorman” in my head.

“Marco,” he answered tersely.

“I’m Aubrey,” I told him, though he hadn’t asked for my name. I felt that given our current circumstances, we should be on a first-name basis.

Marco didn’t make any comment, and I got the impression he honestly didn’t care who I was.

I hurried ahead of him to my car and unlocked the passenger-
side door. Marco heaved Maxx onto the seat and positioned his head so that it was upright. Maxx’s eyes squinted open. I wasn’t sure he knew who either Marco or I was. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and then closed his eyes again.

Marco muttered a string of curses and then started patting Maxx’s pockets.

“What are you doing?” I asked, not liking how rough he was being. Maxx was clearly about to lose any semblance of consciousness. Marco ignored me and pulled out a plastic baggie from Maxx’s jean pocket.

He held it up to the light, his mouth tightening and his eyes narrowed. It was empty. Marco dropped the bag on the floor of my car, and I had to stop myself from demanding that he pick it up and dispose of it properly. My OCD didn’t recognize the crazy situation I found myself in. All it saw was trash where it shouldn’t be.

Marco pulled a wad of cash out of the same pocket and started counting it.

“Wait a minute! Isn’t that Maxx’s?” I asked in dismay. Was Marco going to rob Maxx right in front of me? What kind of fucked-up world was I in?

Marco lifted his lip contemptuously and didn’t bother to look at me as he said, “You need to mind your own business, pretty girl.”

He finished counting the money and made a noise of disgust before shoving it back into Maxx’s pocket. He gripped Maxx’s chin and then slapped him across the face. I let out a pathetic squeak of alarm.

“Stop it! He’s hurt!” I protested, my horror giving me a voice when I should have probably stayed quiet.

Marco ignored me and smacked Maxx again. Maxx tried to open his eyes and weakly pushed Marco’s hand from his face. “Leave me the fuck alone,” he slurred. At least that’s what I
thought he said. The words were strung together, and I couldn’t be entirely sure. But given the way Maxx was struggling against Marco’s grip, I could only assume that was the general message.

Marco gave Maxx a hard shake. “Where’s the rest of the money?” he growled.

Maxx pressed himself into the back of the seat and shook his head limply. “That’s all of it, man,” he argued.

Marco dropped his hand from Maxx’s chin and looked down at him with repugnance. “Fucking junkie,” he bit out, spitting in the dirt by my car.

I slowly got into the driver’s seat, not making any sudden movements. Maxx’s breathing was shallow, and he seemed to be struggling to stay awake. He moaned and brought a hand up to his bruised face. “Ouch,” he said softly.

“Should I take him to a hospital?” I asked dumbly. I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.

Marco curled his lip again. “Don’t bother. He’ll live. Though he might wish he hadn’t if Gash decides to finish what he started.”

I had no idea who Gash was. I didn’t know what Marco was referring to. I just wanted to get Maxx out of there. I was feeling the beginning of a panic attack rearing its ugly head.

Marco slammed the passenger door, and I rolled the window down. “Just get him home. And tell him I’ll be by to see him in a few days and that he’d better have one hell of an excuse,” Marco said, his words an obvious threat.

I didn’t bother to comment. I didn’t know what was going on, and right now finding out wasn’t my priority. Getting Maxx out of here in one piece was.

“I don’t even know where he lives,” I said.

“He lives in an apartment above the Quikki Mart downtown. Now get him out of here. Now!” Marco barked, and I jumped.

“Okay, okay. Keep your pants on,” I muttered loud enough for
Marco to hear me. He cocked his eyebrow at my statement, and his lips twitched. If I hadn’t known any better, I might have thought he found me amusing. Marco banged the top of my car before walking off.

“Aubrey! Is everything okay?”

Oh god, just kill me now!

Brooks and Catwoman were standing beside my driver’s-side door. Brooks peered down at me, his brows furrowed. His eyes flicked to Maxx, whose lucidity was questionable.

Brooks’s mouth pinched into a line, and his eyes narrowed. “What are you doing with
him
?” he spat out, clearly unhappy with finding me with Maxx.

Unfortunately for my friend, I didn’t have time for long-winded explanations. “I’m just giving him a lift,” I said, shrugging a shoulder and hoping my excuse would be good enough.

Maxx chose that moment to regain consciousness. He rolled his head and looked at me. He seemed confused by my being there, but then his battered face brightened as his glazed eye focused on me.

“Aubrey, baby,” he slurred, reaching over to drop his hand on my thigh.

“What the fuck, Aubrey? Isn’t this the guy in your group?” Brooks asked, pointedly looking at Maxx’s fingers, which were tracing a line up underneath my skirt. Shit.

I tossed Maxx’s hand away, and he chuckled before closing his one good eye again.

“It’s nothing,” I started to say, but Brooks held up his hand.

“Do you understand what could happen here? He’s fucking loaded, Aubrey! And you’re hanging out with him like this? Inappropriate doesn’t even begin to cover what
this
is,” Brooks preached, climbing up on that big ol’ soapbox he was becoming so fond of.

I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, least of all from Brooks. Maxx started making a gurgling sound in his throat, and I was worried he was going to puke in my car.

“We can talk later. I’ve got to go,” I said in a rush. Brooks leaned into my open window and dropped his voice to a whisper. He was invading my personal space in a way I had never seen him do before. I leaned away, feeling uncomfortable. I looked over his shoulder at his date, who seemed less than thrilled by Brooks’s blatant show of male ownership of me. I didn’t blame her, and in truth I felt bad for her.

“Don’t do this, Aubrey. This is illogical and irrational and completely beneath you. Don’t be so stupid,” he said firmly, as if calling me stupid was the magic ticket to get me to listen.

He clearly didn’t know me at all.

“Get away from my car if you don’t want me to drive over your foot,” I warned, revving my engine to emphasize my point.

Brooks glared at me. I glared at him. We were in the middle of a silent showdown. Then Maxx started to heave, and Brooks jerked back from my car. I leaned over Maxx and opened the passenger-side door, pushing his head outside just in time for him to throw up.

“Ew, Brooks. Let’s go,” the girl in the catsuit whined. I didn’t bother to look at either of them. I was too busy rubbing Maxx’s back as he puked his guts out.

I could tell Brooks was hesitating, but finally both he and leather girl walked away. Maxx finally finished mangling his guts and flopped back in the seat with a moan. I got out of the car and hurried around to close his door, careful to avoid the puddle of
vomit in the gravel. I felt bile rising in my throat but was able to keep it down.