Fighting Back (Harrow #2) (4 page)

‘I know how to restrain myself,’ he growled, scowling at Mauri’s amusement.

‘Did Ivy work there? I can’t imagine how you would have reacted if a patron tried to take liberties with—‘

‘I would never let her work in a place like that,’ he said.

‘You shouldn’t have been working there either. Neither of you will have to worry about descending into those kind of positions if you consider my offer. All I am suggesting at the moment is that you consider it.’

‘Does Brad know you’re making this offer? Does Bruno?’

‘Brad is happy for you to come back and join us.’

‘I’m not coming back just because you can’t control your operation.’

‘You can control it, and we can offer you more. I am offering you a position here, a position of authority. You and Ivy can live right here at the mansion and you can keep your place in the family.’

‘Until you’re gone and then—‘

‘I think you can hold your own,’ Mauri said. ‘Once you’re back, and they know there’s nothing that they can do about it, you will all accept each other. Then when I am gone, you’ll already have a foothold.’

‘So I’m supposed to be grateful? No.’ Dax shook his head. ‘I’m not considering anything until I know you’ve laid it out to everyone. I’m not coming back to start a war with anyone. Truth is, I don’t care enough to fight for the sanctity of your enterprise.’

‘I think you do,’ Mauri smiled. ‘Why else would you be here?’

‘I came because Brad said you had something to say.’

Mauri rose to his feet and came to stand in front of Dax. ‘Here’s what I have to say: I want you here, I want you running things, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen.’

‘Whatever it takes?’

‘What’s your biggest problem? What’s the biggest barrier to you coming home and taking your place at my side where you belong? Is it Ivy’s objections? Or are you worried about Brad, Trystan, and Bruno?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘When you do, tell me, and I’ll take care of that problem for you.’

Mauri began to shrink back, but Dax grabbed his shoulder, which was something he’d never done in the past. Both of them looked at the point of contact, stunned that it had even happened, but Dax didn’t release his hold. Reminding himself that he was no longer a lackey, and that he was stronger and faster than Mauri, he had nothing to fear here.

‘Don’t touch a hair on my wife’s head.’

‘There are other ways to take care of problems,’ Mauri said. ‘I want to show you my commitment to this proposal. If talking about it with the others will alleviate your concerns then I’ll take care of it. I have already set in motion a plan to persuade you.’

‘What plan?’

‘When it comes together, I will clue you in. For now, I’d like it to remain a surprise.’

Mauri backed away and went to drink the rest of his Scotch. ‘It’s not going to happen,’ Dax said though he lacked the conviction he’d held when he first came in.

‘I want you to take my proposal back to Ivy, she will have to approve, I understand that. You must remind her of what luxury we can provide,’ Mauri said, holding his hands up to the mansion they were in. ‘She can have anything that she wants; money will never be a barrier for her again. That kind of lure can be powerful for a woman of her background.’

‘What do you know about her background?’

Mauri didn’t respond to the question. ‘Next Saturday I am holding a party downstairs. I want you and Ivy to be my guests here. You will be safe at a party, you’ve attended them here before. Until then, consider what I’ve said, talk it over, and we’ll find a minute during the party to talk alone.’ Mauri went to the door he’d emerged from and turned back to smile at Dax. ‘Thank you for coming, son. You look strong and healthy. Ivy is good for you, I can tell. Send her my regards.’

He went back into the side bedroom and the double doors Dax had entered through opened behind him to reveal Serg. Lost in thoughts of what Mauri had said, Dax went to Serg and passed him to find the exit as quickly as he could. He’d already been away from Ivy for too long, he could tell because the pull of Maurice Stark was strong, and that was a riptide he wasn’t immune to.

‘A party?’ Ivy asked.

Dax had just finished recounting the story of his meeting with Mauri at the mansion. The night was locked outside, and they lay naked together in the pure white sheets of his bed. When he’d returned to the apartment, Ivy was already in bed. As soon as he joined her, she’d sensed his frustration, and so she let him vent some of that energy on her body.

After some physical exertion he was calmer, so she put him on his side of the bed and lay on her own side, putting some space between them to allow words to take the place of actions. Facing him, she had stayed quiet while he relayed the story of his encounter with Mauri.

‘It’s next Saturday,’ he said. Today was Friday, so at least they had a week to think about the invitation. ‘He wants us both there.’

‘You told him what he could do with his party, right? You told him that we weren’t interested in anything he had to offer… didn’t you?’ His silence was conspicuous, and her suspicions were only heightened when Dax rolled to his back and scrubbed his hands over his face.

‘I’m going next door,’ he said and kicked the sheet away from his body.

Snatching his arm, Ivy shunted closer. Using all of her strength, she subdued him and prevented his departure from the bed. If he went next door into the second bedroom, then she probably wouldn’t see him for a couple of hours. That was where his punching bag and weight bench were. He liked to use the equipment to alleviate his internal conflicts.

‘Are you considering his offer?’ His lack of a response was all the response she needed. ‘Oh my God, Dax.’ Sitting up in the centre of the bed, she crossed her legs and rotated her body to face his. ‘You want to do it? You want to move back here, to California? You want to work with Brad? Sorry, I meant under him?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, leaping from the mattress. ‘I know I’m not going to say no without considering it. We owe Mauri—‘

‘What?’ she asked, unable to prevent a frown from seizing her expression. ‘What do we owe him? Please, tell me, what is it you think you owe the man who asked you to give up the only woman you’ve ever loved for the sake of his playboy son? What do you think you owe him?’

‘Don’t you get it?’ he asked, coming back to stand by the bed. ‘This could be an amazing chance for us.’ Crouching down, he rested his chest on the mattress and leaned over to snatch both of her hands. ‘We could run things, I could do things my way and—‘

‘Drugs,’ she said. ‘You want to deal drugs? You want to be responsible on an industrial scale for the lives and deaths of users across the continent?’

‘People are going to use drugs whether we provide them or someone else does, recreational drugs aren’t going anywhere. Why should we beg off and let someone else take this opportunity? We could be rich and—‘

‘Money?’ she asked, tugging her hands out of his. ‘If I wanted a mansion and a fancy car I’d send you into the ring every night. I don’t do that because I love you too much to see you hurt.’

‘I wouldn’t have to be hurt doing this. I can stay in the background, send the other guys out to do the dangerous jobs.’

‘There will still be plenty of guys who want to poach your territory, your employees, and your customers. There’s a reason that most drug kingpins don’t see forty! I don’t want to see you getting yourself in deep and then being the fall guy when Brad can’t handle what he’s taken on. You said yourself that Brad takes orders well, but he’s not street smart, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing.’

‘Which is why Mauri wants me in on the deal.’

‘Which might work out great while Mauri is alive and looking out for you. How long will it last when Brad decides that he doesn’t need you anymore? I don’t trust any of them.’

‘I know,’ he said. Moving away from the bed, he went into the bathroom, leaving her alone in their sheets.

‘If you want to talk to Mauri again, we can go to the party,’ she called toward the bathroom. ‘But there’s no way I want to move into that mansion! I would never be able to relax!’

A minute or so later, he came back out and propped himself on the doorframe. ‘I want to see Trystan.’

‘At the party? Or before that?’

‘Either,’ he said. ‘But it can wait for now.’

‘He’s at the mansion?’

‘Sounds like Mauri’s had him locked up there for a while. I suppose that when he found out Mauri was sick he had an excuse to go even more off the rails.’

‘Do you think he’s a threat?’ she asked.

‘To you?’ He shook his head. ‘I’d like to see him try and get near you now. Mauri knows that I’d walk if you were threatened.’

‘That doesn’t make me feel better,’ she said, tangling her fingers in the bedsheet.

‘You’ve fought him off once, you could do it again if you had to.’

‘I guess,’ she said, collapsing to her back. ‘I know that he’s responsible for us getting together, for us meeting, but…’

‘But?’ he said. Swooping onto the bed with barely a sound, he ambushed her, covering her body with his and holding her in this submissive position.

‘I’d really like to stick a fork in that guy’s eye,’ she said, drawing her fingertip over the ivy tattooed on his arm.

‘I’ll remember that when I get him alone,’ he said and kissed her. Just when she was pliable enough to part her legs and arch up, he took his lips away. ‘I’m going next door for a while.’

‘He got you thinking, didn’t he?’ she said, sliding a hand to his hair. ‘Or is it being back here, in your old life, that’s got you thinking? Do you miss it?’

‘I miss kicking the shit out of scumbags,’ he said.

‘Plenty of them around I guess,’ she said. ‘If you want to go back to enforcing, I can’t stop you. But being here, around the Starks again, it feels wrong, Dax. They don’t want us to be together.’

‘They don’t care about us anymore,’ Dax said. ‘At least Mauri doesn’t.’

‘Is that why you want to see Trystan? You want to be sure that we can be safe here? To check that he doesn’t have some other agenda that could damage us.’

‘Trystan isn’t a planner, he comes up with ideas and expects everyone else to figure out how to implement them,’ Dax said. ‘He doesn’t think through his actions either, he just does whatever the hell he wants. I know ‘cause I used to be the one picking up the pieces after he blew them all to shit.’

Dax got a far off look in his eye that made her think that there was something else on his mind, which was nothing to do with them or Trystan and their past. Something else was in his thoughts, and it was something that he wasn’t sharing with her. She’d give him some time, but if he didn’t spit it out in the next day or two, she would wheedle it out of him.

‘Go next door and hit your bag,’ she said, dropping her arms from his and giving him a shove. ‘I’ll be right here if you need another way to process.’

Being physical, between the sheets, in the gym, or in the ring, was Dax’s way of figuring the world out. He liked to have a goal and when he reached it, he felt that he had achieved something.

Tonight she wasn’t enough of a challenge for him, so she’d let him go and work up a sweat next door. When he came back, he would maybe have figured out how he felt about what he was going to do next, thus giving him another goal to achieve.

She had her own ideas of what she wanted to spend the next few days doing, but those would keep for tonight. Her mess wasn’t connected to Dax, she just had a few doors to close before she could embrace whatever they were going to face with the Starks.

Having had the night to think about it, Ivy was stuck on one thing: taking over the empire. That’s what it came down to. Maurice wanted Dax to take over when he passed away. Brad would be the sophisticated front while Dax headed up the dirty work division.

Last night, her first instinct had been to tell Dax no and demand that they go home, but they’d argued enough in the last few days. When he did eventually come back to bed after beating up his punching bag, he hadn’t woken her, and by the time she was out of her morning shower he’d already left to go for a run. He’d come back for a shower, and she’d made breakfast, but conversation had been stunted. Despite all of his working out, she could tell that he was still torn about their future.

Now Dax was out again, this time to pick up lunch. Takeout was his way of contributing to meals, he could cook steak and mix a mouth-watering salsa, but that was as far as his talents went when it came to cookery.

Standing in the bedroom closet she scrutinised the space, which was filled with Dax’s clothes and possessions. The whole apartment was full of his things while all she had were the items she’d thrown together back east.

Dax had made something of himself, he had money, and a way to support himself. He could be cast out, penniless, and he would still be able to earn a living through his fighting, and now he’d been offered a chance at owning part of a multi-million dollar criminal empire.

She’d made their bed with fresh sheets and then moved into the closet. Ignoring Dax’s things, she sought out a sports bag because she needed luggage that would be smaller than the suitcase they’d brought on their trip here.

The bag that she located she recognised as the one they’d had in Vegas when they got married. Taking the bag out, she laid it on the bed, and unzipped it to check that it was empty. Inside she found only one thing: a pile of zip ties bound by an elastic band.

Removing them, she thought of their wedding night, which was the night she’d found this same item in this bag. Fingering the plastic, she was reminded of the night she tried to escape from the beach house on the first night that Dax had introduced her to these restraints. Now she would never consider sneaking out of her husband’s bed in an attempt to escape from him.

Tossing them aside, she put her hands in the bag again, this time to push out the sides and give the bag its shape back. Then she went into the closet to retrieve some of her folded clothes from a shelf. She carried them to the bedroom and put them in the bag.

She was back in the closet picking her underwear out of Dax’s top drawer when the front door opened. Digging out the last of her lacies, she grabbed a pair of Dax’s socks, and closed the drawer with her elbow.

Quickly dropping the apparel into the bag on the bed, she hurried through to the kitchen intent on talking to Dax about her trip during lunch. But when she got there, it wasn’t her husband plating up lunch that she focused on, it was the giant standing at his side.

‘Ivy,’ Dax said. ‘You remember Serg?’

Her forced smile couldn’t be confused for genuine, but Dax carried on pulling containers from the brown bag he had on the kitchen counter behind the hutch that concealed the specifics of what he was doing.

Serg rose from the stool on the living room side of the hutch and came toward her with a hand out, but Ivy took a step back. ‘Don’t come over here,’ she said and Serg stopped.

Dax looked up at her, then cast his eyes to Serg and brought them back to her. ‘You don’t have to worry about Serg,’ Dax said.

She wasn’t worried, but she also wasn’t an idiot. The guy was nearly seven feet tall, and his ice blonde hair and narrow eyes were designed to set a person on edge. ‘Who is worried,’ she said without taking her eyes away from Serg. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Catching up,’ Dax answered for Serg and brought three plates around to the dining table.

If Ivy had superpowers, she’d be reading Dax the riot act through telepathy. To say she was pissed right now, was an understatement. This apartment was supposed to be a safe space, and as much as Serg had not done her direct harm, that didn’t mean that she trusted him.

Dax sat at the head of the table and began to tuck into his food. Serg picked up a bag from his feet, then sat in a chair next to Dax and pulled out a pile of ledgers, which he pushed over to Dax before tossing the bag aside and tucking into his lunch.

‘This is everything?’ Dax asked, Serg nodded. ‘Where’s the little green—‘

‘In the front,’ Serg said, leaning down to pull a small dark green, leather-bound book from the front pocket of the bag on the floor.

He handed it over to Dax, who pushed all of the larger books aside to focus on the little green one. Dax opened it and put it next to his plate. He read a bit and took another mouthful of food. She was still looking at Serg, who glanced up at her and their gazes locked. Dax must have felt the connection because he had been reading, but he looked up at her too.

‘Are you gonna stand there all day?’ he asked. ‘Want me to get you a knife from the kitchen? Will that make you feel safer?’ She didn’t appreciate his sarcasm, which she hoped that her glare conveyed.

‘You married a lethal weapon,’ Serg said. ‘I might be a big guy, but size doesn’t matter to Dax. I’ve seen him take down guys bigger than me.’

She trusted Dax to protect her if he had to. But he and Serg were friends and possibly future-colleagues, Dax wouldn’t be pissing off Serg any time soon.

‘What is that?’ she asked, nodding to the book that Dax’s hand was open on.

‘The unofficial operations log,’ Dax said. ‘This is where we keep track of who owes us what and how long they have to pay it.’

We. Us. She couldn’t help except to read into what Dax said. He didn’t speak of his life with the Starks in the past tense; he was in the present and very much a part of what Serg was showing him. His eyes went back to the book, and she crept around the table to where he’d put her lunch on the opposite side of the table to Serg’s.