Maksimillian ‘Max’ Angeloff

Clawing my way out through the hellish gates of a damned history, I open my eyes and lift my head.. Allowing the water to rush down my face and drown everything out, I hone my focus on the end goal and push the guilt from my mind.. I refuse to think about the devastation my decision will cause my brother and sister when they discover the truth..

The world will change, the pieces will shuffle and the chessboard will reset when I remove its king.. Undoubtedly after that, a war will follow. Pakhan Stori Petrovich will ensure I am avenged in order to protect his fearsome reputation, and the leaderless Outlaws will have to choose.. Either they surrender, or meet their slaughter..

But I can't think about Stori, or Sasha or gangland wars right now.. Instead I take several deep circular breaths, concentrating on trying to lower my dangerously high blood pressure..

I try to ignore the intrusive memory of Javier Navarro's final words to me before I put him down like the mange-riddled mutt he was:
‘You don't know what you've got, Pendejo.’

And I try not to lose myself to thoughts of Sunday's lips pressed sweetly against my own and the electrifying kiss we'd shared at the docks..

But on that last count, I fail..

It seems I think about little else lately except Sunday, her rare and beautiful smile, her breathy Spanish siren song and her bright golden eyes that draw me in like gravity.. Her feminine, shapely figure that fills out at the chest and hips, is a maddening temptation and her honey-brown complexion is velvety and smoother than dulce de leche..

My hard body aches for her soft flesh, every piece of me craving with a deliberate and dictating need.. Carnal and inevitable.. I want her in all the ways I shouldn't, and with each lingering glance and every sweet sigh, I edge a little closer to losing my mind entirely..

But it's not just filthy thoughts of wild sex that riles me up, it's something more.. Feelings that have lain dormant for so long, I'd almost forgotten how to feel them..

Sunday isn't like the mafia mistresses who flirt with me at the casino, looking for a sugar daddy to float their bad habits..

She isn't like the thirsty divas at Blazhénstva, eager to get on their knees just to make it one cock closer to the inner circle and that taste of power they desperately crave..

She isn't like my ex-wife, who's lies still spin webs of suspicion in my head, imprisoning me in a never-ending spiral of self doubt..

And she isn't like me or my siblings, too emotionally stunted to speak her heart..

No, Sunday is a fresh summer breeze, or a springtime sunset.. A romantic sonnet, or enchanting melody.. She is everything good and I am a corruption that she must endure..

I should never have made her a means to my ends..

The longer I exist, embedded in an underworld where acts of evil are rewarded and morality makes you weak, the closer I get to evolving into everything I despise..

I am becoming everything Sasha had wanted me to be.. I am becoming him..

Each day I feel as though I lose another small piece of myself and one day soon I am afraid there will be nothing of me left..

Hell.. There is hardly anything left of me now..

Pawing at the button pad that turns off the shower, I wrap a fluffy white towel around my waist and pad back through the wardrobe.. Entering my bedroom, I find the sleepy beast Paco curled up on the floor at the feet of an unexpected Sunday, sitting nervously on my bed..

“Hola!” An awkward peep escapes her when our eyes meet.. “I came down here because I realised I forgot to say thank you, for the phone and the clothes and, well– everything.. But you're busy so I can wait out in the hall–” Sunny babbles embarrassedly, ducking her head to turn away as if to preserve my modesty and I suppress a chuckle at her meek reaction..

“You can stay..” Coaxing her with a calm tone, her gaze flicks up to meet my own, a quiet curiosity reflected deep within.. “If you want..”

“Okay..” Slowly and unsurely, Sunday sinks back down to perch precariously on the edge of the mattress looking like she is undecided on whether to stay or scurry away.. “Uhem– so like I was saying–” She clears her throat with a forced cough before speaking in a rehearsed manner, almost as if she'd been sitting there practising what she would say.. “Thank you, Max.. Javier never let me have such nice things and– it’s all more than I could have asked for, really..”

“You know what tt-they say; happy wife, happy life.” I hum playfully, fighting an agonising inner battle to quell the surge of yearning heat that floods my veins, even as she slides gracefully from the mattress to land on tiny bare feet..

“I am.. Happy, I mean..” Bubblegum-pink silk kisses the floorboards, the hem of her slinky slip dress swishing in temptation as she inches just a little closer.. “And I'm grateful.. If I had to be sold to anybody, I'm glad it was you..”

“Loaned..” I correct her with a wry smile..

“Si, loaned.. That's what I meant..” With eyes like honeycomb, syrupy and gold, Sunday searches herself to find a fragile resolve.. “Actually, I was hoping that maybe we could talk about that–”

Her request sounds much more like a question as her gaze tracks downward, exploring the inked outlines of a Recon Jack tattoo, the eight pointed stars etched into my flesh, and lower to the glistening water droplets that still cling to my naked torso..

“Talk about what?” Apprehensive tension tightening the muscles in my neck and jaw.. A newfound dread gnaws at me, causing me to wonder if she is reconsidering our agreement now knowing what I did to Javier..

Maybe I shouldn't have taken her down to the docks..

Sunny chews her bottom lip, returning my stare with her wide eyes.. “I dunno.. Everything?”

“Go ahead, Zayka.. Talk..” Steeling myself behind a stoic facade, I manage a curt permissive nod before turning my back to her in order to rummage through the dresser in search of sweatpants.. I can feel her eyes searing my skin as I drop the towel, letting it fall to the floor before stepping into the gray sweats..

“Dios mio, Max!” She whispers, horrified by the monstrous markings that carve their way down my back.. “What happened to you?”

She asks the one question I could never answer;
What the hell did happen to me that night?

The righteous man I had once been died on that downtown street and now I am stuck inside the suffocating hollow shell of who I had once was.. Unable to look back, but not really moving forward either..

“They call it road hauling..” I explain on a pained sigh, using the towel to roughly rub my hair dry before tossing it aside.. “And it ain't something you're supposed to survive..”

“It looks as though somebody cut off your wings..” Cool fingertips ghost over my shoulder blade and I jerk away from the sudden contact, spinning around to find her right there, smelling of vanilla and ripe berries, looking like a fantasy come to life.. “Does it hurt?”

“Only my pride..” I admit as she closes the distance between us..

“Haces que me sienta mal..” (my heart pains for you) The shimmer or silvery tears well in her eyes and she furiously blinks them into recession..

I catch her delicate wrist as she reaches up to brush my damp hair back.. Summoning all my willpower and restraint to hold her at a distance instead of pulling her perfect little body against mine.. “Zayka, don't–”

“Why? You don't like it?” She asks with a worried warble, long dark lashes fluttering innocently..

“No..” I grunt, straining from the self control it takes to resist her affection..

She peeks down to the thickening bulge of my cock as my heated blood travels south and the primitive part of my brain activates.. “Are you sure? Because it kind of seems like–”

“ff-fuck!” Frustrated by my own internal war, I shake my head and release my hold on her wrist before she pulls her hand back, allowing it to settle over her startled heart..

“Lo siento, Señor..” (I'm sorry sir) She drops her chin to her chest, retreating into herself and I immediately regret my course tone.. “I swear I'm trying my best to make you happy, Max.. But somehow I always seem to end up making you angry..”

Cupping her sweet cheek in my palm, I lift her face to find those metallic orbs, glistening up at me apologetically.. “The only person I'm angry with is myself.. For bringing you here.. For putting you through all this–”

For the unrelenting thoughts of throwing her down on the bed and kissing every inch of her perfect body while she squirms in ecstasy..

Fuck…

“But I want to be here–” She smiles again, this time her striking halcyon eyes are illuminated with a hopeful light.. Her hands creep up my chest to softly graze long fingernails across my tattooed pecs and my gaze is drawn to the soft curve of her plump lips.. “With you..”

A man can only withstand so much..

Being needed by her, and needing her so badly that I can hardly breathe, my resolve fractures, overrun by the all consuming urge to taste Sunday's strawberry pink lips, just one more time..

I kiss her hard, devouring the fiery spark of passion she returns with her silky tongue.. “Mmmmmh..” A whiney whimper of need vibrates through her petite body as Sunny melts into me, her warmth and sugary scent clouding my better judgement..

Slender arms hook eagerly around my neck and used as leverage to deepen the kiss, so I haul her closer and grip her firmer in response.. As I squeeze one perfect ass-cheek in my greedy mitt, she moans into my mouth, undulating against my hardening cock and urging me for more..

But I can't give her more..
Or at the very least, I know I shouldn't..

That is when reason and logic click back into place..

“You shouldn't be here, Zayka..” It is a cruel torment for me to draw away, but it is so much safer for her.. Nothing good can come of her attachment to me or the impossible idea that I am somehow redeemable..

“Why does everybody keep saying that?” She gripes quietly, shaking her head as she makes a short retreat to wrap her arms around herself.. “Verity, Viktor, Luka– and now you.. None of you really want me around–”

“I do..” I reiterate my position clearly, tenderly thumbing the bruises upon her cheek, I sigh.. “But I– I can't lie to you, Little Bunny.. And I don't want to disappoint you..”

"You haven't disappointed me yet." She flushes bright pink to the tips of her dainty ears.. “Eres el chico más dulce que he conocido..” (you're the sweetest guy I've ever met)

“You escaped the wolf, only to run into a bear..” Upon an earnest warning, I make a promise to the girl I am sure to keep.. “Zayka, I am a different kind of despicable than Navarro.. But I am a sinner nonetheless..”

I know myself well enough to see my virtues and vices and when it comes to women, I have an awful habit of disappointing them.. My mother had despised me from the day I was born.. My sister will never forgive me for abandoning her.. My wife had grown to hate me so much she tried to put me down like a dog..

That is how I know whatever kindness Sunday sees in me now will soon be overshadowed by the black hearted meat-grinder of a man I truly am and the violent path I walk..

You don't accidentally stumble into my line of work.. The climb to the top is brutal and bloody and a trail of mayhem and destruction that has paved my way.. And I did it all for that unquenchable thirst for control, for power.. For revenge..

So no.. I am not sweet.. However innocently misguided her option of me may be..

“I didn't mean it as an insult, Max..” She titters shyly.. “I was just trying to say that– I'm happy here.. And I feel safe when I'm with you..”

“You are safe with me..” I vow solemnly, determined to make good on my words.. “I won't let anybody hurt you again..”

“I believe you..” Sunday smiles, demure and without a waver of distrust.. “So maybe we are both right.. Maybe you are a sinner.. And maybe they cut off  your wings, but–” She flushes a pretty rosy pink.. “El diablo también perdió sus alas cuando cayó en desgracia..” (the devil lost his wings when he fell from grace too)

“The road to hell..” I muse the old adage of good intentions turned to tragedy, slowly releasing her waist and forcing myself to stand down.. Because no matter how true my intentions towards Sunday might be, and no matter how much I’d like to let myself hope, even just for a moment, I can't promise her tomorrow.. Because the day is coming when I won't be here..

Sunday can't rely on me for forever, and she deserves that kind of dedication..

“This isn't hell, Max..” Her dulcet purr tickles my spine and I'm pretty sure she isn't speaking religiously.. “Not even close..”

“What is it then?”

“Maybe it's a dream..” She shrugs, turning away from me with a sleepy sway..

“More like a nightmare..” I scoff, folding my arms across my bare chest, watching as Sunday wanders over to the foot of the bed..

“That would probably explain why I feel so scared all the time..” Shuffling on the spot before turning her sweet imploring eyes on me, Sunday summons the courage to finally ask what I suspect she had come for all along. “Would it be okay if I sleep in here again tonight, with you? It's so quiet upstairs and um–” She blushes, making up a lighthearted excuse.. “Paco gets lonely..”

I chuckle, looking down at the unphased hound, snoozing peacefully on the rug.. The dog seems completely relaxed to me.. “Lonely, huh?”

It is Sunday who jostles anxiously, fidgeting and squirming on the spot.. She nods.. “Muy miserable..” (very miserable)

I know I should send her back to her room, keep my stone-walls in place and remain on guard, vigilant and uncompromised.. But the way she is looking at me, all puppy eyes and pouty lips, it's impossible to deny her a damn thing.. “As long as Paco doesn't snore..” I concede with a humorous smirk and Sunday giggles, a sound like satin pouring into my ears..

“He does!” Sunny laughs.. “But you won't even notice it after a while..” With a relieved lightness to her step, she returns to the bed, flinging back the covers to dive underneath them.. Sunday watches me cross to the bed.. I pull back the sheets to slide in beside her, splaying flat on my black beneath the downy comforter..

Beside me, Sunny lets out a frustratingly adorable yawn and closes her eyes with a sleepy smile.. “Buenas noches, Dulce El Diablo..” (goodnight, sweet devil)

Extending a long reaching arm, I flick off the bedside lamp to drench the room in darkness.. “Spokoynoy nochi, Zayka..” (goodnight, bunny)