Page 51 of Property of Max
Knuckles sighs and drags a hand down his face. “Got shit going on, that’s all,” he mutters. “I know I’ve been an ass. I’m sorry. I just want to protect this club. I didn’t realize she meant something to you, brother.”
“It shouldn’t matter,” I say, my voice low but firm. “We claim Palm Springs as ours. That means we keep the streets as safe as we can and we protect its people. Someone comes to us for help?That should never have been in question, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t speak up in that moment.”
“Yeah, we all are,” Spike says, his voice rough. “I’m sorry, Max. I know it doesn’t change anything that I didn’t realize she was your person, but I am sorry we failed her…and failed what we promised this city. So… what’s the plan?”
“Well, the girls already scared his balls off,” Skip says with a sharp laugh.
“It goes beyond that,” Foster cuts in, his tone flat. “We dug deeper. Lila isn’t the first. One woman claims he raped her, but she never went to the police.”
“There’ve been complaints over the years, too,” I add, remembering the stack of buried reports Foster handed me. “All shoved under the rug. Add to that two arrests for beating his ex-wife, and a third for breaking and entering.”
Tank’s growl rumbles across the table. “How the fuck is this man not behind bars?”
“Because he’s filthy rich,” Skip mutters. “Money buys silence. Buys freedom.”
I lean forward, my voice cold. “His money doesn’t make him untouchable. No matter what the fuck he thinks.”
Foster pushes away from his screens and speaks in the same calm voice he uses when he’s already calculated the odds.
“We can’t just drag him out,” he says. “Not now. The girls already left prints on this. If it looks like payback, it explodes. But we don’t need guns to remove his power. We take his anchor…his money and reputation…and we make the system do our work for us. His ex-wife is the one who leaked that security footage. I’ve already made contact with her to see if she’s willing to help. I’ll bet there are others out there with similar accusations like Lila’s.”
He lays it out clean: financial pressure, forensic audits via contacts who can prod banks and regulators, crediblewitnesses prepped and protected, and airtight documentation for reporters who’ll run the story. Make it look like the courts and the city did their job while Foster makes sure nothing points back to the club or, more importantly, our women.
Skip snorts, the only sound that breaks the gravity. “Fine. But if his restaurant gets shut down, I’m personally boycotting every restaurant in Palm Springs.” A few men shake their heads at his antics.
“This is for Lila. And for anyone else who comes to us expecting protection,” Spike says. “We don’t fail them again.”
We all nod. The plan isn’t pretty, but it’s final. Removal without spectacle. Outside the war room, the city hums unaware; inside, we begin to pull a predator apart with scalpel strokes instead of sledgehammers.
***Lila***
“Why are we at the compound?” I ask as Max hops off his bike. “I thought we were going to a party?”
“We are,” he says with a grin.
“Max, the compound is ten minutes from my apartment,” I laugh as he helps me wrestle off the bulky helmet. “We’ve been riding around for half an hour.”
Not that I mind. There’s nothing like being on his bike. It’s freedom and flight all rolled into one. The wind in my face, the rumble beneath me, and the steady strength of him in front of me. Leaning against his back, feeling the raw power in every move he makes…it’s intoxicating.
“I just wanted to feel you pressed against my back for as long as possible,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “Now, let’s go inside.”
“What kind of party is this?” I ask, suddenly unsure as my eyes sweep over the dozens of bikes lined up along the path.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not a party girl,” I admit.
“Relax.” He tugs me into his chest; his arms fold around me, solid and sure. The world narrows down to his heat and the steady rise and fall of him, and for a second, I can’t remember what I was worried about.
“This is a party for Abby,” he says, voice warm with pride. “Her opening-day celebration.”
“Max,” I gasp, pulling back a little. “You should have told me. I would’ve brought her a gift.”
“We did.” He shrugs with that easy, infuriating smile. “We got her some of those rolls of fabric she uses. She’ll flip. Come on. I want to introduce you to everyone properly this time. They’re still pissed at themselves for not helping you when you first asked.”
“And you’re not?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He stops and turns to face me. “I didn’t speak up,” he says quietly. “And for that I’m sorry. But I didn’t just sit back, Lila. I was making plans to deal with that fucker in a way that wouldn’t drag the Shadows into it. Then that video leaked, and the girls acted first.”
“I wish they hadn’t,” I sigh. “They could’ve been seriously hurt.”
