Page 17 of Maximus

Elena typed an email to her boss as she floated home. Her feet may have hit the pavement, but she wasn’t aware of it. The new feeling that flooded her was what helped her levitate home. She tucked into the soft neck of her cape and smiled. Max Stryker was unbelievably attractive, and he wanted her. For how long? She didn’t know, and maybe she was kiss-drunk. Maybe the dopamine flooding her system made her less cautious, but even a single night with the man was worth the risk. She couldn’t see Max treating her the way Andre had. Andre was a chameleon who turned into a snake. He treated her horribly. She knew what he was doing, and still … A St. Petersburg State College professor pulled her aside and told her to walk away from the man, that he wouldn’t stop demeaning her. He’d groomed others the way he was trying to condition Elena, and if she followed suit, she’d wake up in another country.

The fact that the professor warned her allowed her to escape that ending, and she never looked back. That same professor became her mentor; the woman was amazing and someone even Andre and his friends wouldn’t cross. She was also how Elena met Abrasha. Her professor had recommended Elena for the curator position despite her lack of experience. Abrasha hadhired her, and the rest, as they said, was history. Or it was until that night. Andre’s ghost had popped up and almost ruined a spectacular moment. Max’s kiss. Oh, that wonderful kiss.

“Where have you been?”

Elena spun and then was pushed back against the wall outside her apartment. “Artem, what are you doing?”

“Bitch, who did you take into the office?”

“What?”

He kicked the door to her apartment open and threw her inside, slamming the door shut behind them. The door came off one of its hinges and scraped along the floor. Elena scurried toward the couch, but Artem lifted her off the floor by her hair. “What’s his name?”

“Max Stryker! He’s an acquisition agent with a client who owns a painting Abrasha wants.”

A backhand caught her cheek, and a blossom of red painted her vision as she fell to the floor. He picked her up again and shoved a picture in front of her. The picture was of Max walking out of the front door of the office. “This man?”

She nodded, and blood dropped onto the picture from her bloody nose. “Yes. That’s him. Max Stryker. He works for a prince in the Middle East who owns a painting Abrasha wants. On the way home, I emailed him from my phone and told him they’d accepted his bona fides. Let go of me, you fucking animal.” The man let go of her hair, and she scurried away. She lifted from the floor and put her hand to her nose, catching the stream of falling blood. “He’s going to kill you for this.”

“Abrasha? As if.”

Elena stared at the head of security. She wasn’t talking about Abrasha. She was talking about Max. Why she knew it, she couldn’t pinpoint, but she knew Max would go ballistic if anyone hurt her.

“Did you tell this man who you work for?”

She bared her teeth at the man in front of her, and she could taste her blood. “No, that’s not how private sales work. You know that as well as I do. When I show him what you’ve done …” She wiped her hand on her shirt, leaving a dark smear of blood. Her mind clicked, and she barked out a harsh laugh. “Abrasha has warned you not to bother me in any way without his knowing. He’s told me so. You are not to bother me.”

Artem walked up to her and grabbed her around the neck. “If you mention this to Abrasha, I’ll kill you. You got mugged. Do your job, bitch. If this man doesn’t check out, I’ll bury you in a shallow grave so the dogs can come clean your bones.” Spittle hit her face, but she didn’t stop staring at her attacker.

When she didn’t flinch or back down, Artem squeezed her neck tighter and tighter. Black spots formed in front of her, and she struggled to pry his fingers away from her neck. She hit the floor and coughed, trying to gasp air into her lungs. A kick to her ribs sent her into the legs of the small table by the couch. She cried out in pain. He lifted her head by pulling her hair. “Say a word to Abrasha about this, and you will die.”

She looked at him and shouted, “Not before you do!”

Artem walked over. The last thing she saw was the sole of his boot.

Maximus’s feetpounded across the floor as he grabbed his earpiece and flew out of his hotel. He took the stairs and hit the comms. “I need backup at Elena’s apartment. Some fucker just beat the shit out of her.”

“Was it Abrasha?” Con’s voice came over the earpiece.

“No.” He didn’t know who the fucker was, but he would find out.

“Is medical attention required?” Con asked.

“Not Russian. I’m heading there now. I’ll assess.” The picture of that fucker choking her until she went limp was acid-etched into his brain.

“I’m on my way,” Reaper said.

“We’re heading out.” Val came across the comms.

“Meet you there.” Malice’s voice came in puffs as the man ran. Maximus flat-out sprinted out of the hotel. Each frantic step pushed him closer to the small apartment. He dodged small dogs and leaped over bicycles that cluttered the sidewalk near the promenade. Max threw open the door to the apartment complex and ran down the hall.

An older woman was stooped over Elena. She looked up, terrified, and spoke in Russian. “Some man hurt her.”

“I know. She called me,” Max replied as he leaned down over her. Blood caked around her nose. Her pulse was strong, and she was breathing through her mouth. He looked at the older woman. “I have friends coming to help. Would you please wait for them in the hall and direct them here?” His hands shook as he examined her.

“I can do that.” The woman stood up slowly. “I heard the yelling. I can describe the man who left.”

Max nodded as he positioned Elena so he could pick her up. “I’ll ask for his description after I care for her.”

---