Page 51 of My Pucking Crush

I point the gun at his cock. “I’ll ask again. Just give me a name.”

“Fuck you,” he grounds out, his voice tilting.

The accent ever so slight, but I recognize it.

Russian.

I know Belova is behind this, but I want to know who in Ivan’s organization is calling these shots to hurt Max.My Max.

Belova is busy in tuxedos and waving to cameras. He’s a figurehead at this point, and has brigadiers making these reckless transactional decisions.

“Who do you owe your life to?” I switch up the question. “You had to know you’d die. That I couldn’t let you live.”

His eyes, red from the pain, close as he waits for his demise. Not yet, asshole.

“Max,” I mutter. “Grab my phone from the dresser.”

He’s frozen at first, but when I catch his reflection from a mirrored closet door turning away, I punch the guy in the throat, leaving him gasping for air.

When Max gets back and sees all the blood up close, he drops my phone. “Oh God,” he chokes out.

I hop off this animal and try to hug Max, but he backs away.

Could be because he saw how violent I get when provoked.

Could be because I’m naked.

Could be because I have blood all over me.

I lay down my gun on the bed, and hold up my hands. “It’s going to be all right.”

“Who is that?” he asks, fury overtaking him more every second, the angry defensemen emerging sexy as hell.

“I’m going to find out.” I bend down to pick up my phone.

Max stares at my hands, blood already seeping into my fingernails.

“Go into my bathroom, close the door and—”

“No,” he cuts me off. “I’m staying. Right here. With you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can handle this,” he says sharply.

So fucking tough. I love it.Andhate it. Acting too tough can lead to being overconfident and mistakes get made.

“Fine. Stay right there.” I finally notice my ragged breathing.

“God, Luc, your arm. You’re bleeding.”

“He caught me with the knife. It’s not deep. I’ll be fine.” I look down at myself. “Can you grab me a towel from that bathroom?”

Max is still in his tux, and blood can travel up to twenty feet. He’s got to get rid of those gorgeous threads.

Fuck. I need... I need my sister, Samara.

With the towel, I clean my hands as best I can. I don’t want to get rid of this phone. It will need a thorough cleaning, but Sam can do that, too.

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