Mad Max (Chicago Crew) Read online

  “We don’t know how he got away, I swear it, man.”

  “Did I ask you to speak?” I bellow and lunge for the offensive tosser. Andre stands off to the side out of the way, quietly watching me lose my temper. It’s his usual place, unless I order differently.

  The man stumbles back, but he’s too slow. I have my clutches on him in the next blink, his bloated head in my grip. Flattening my palms on each side, I set to squeezing. My arm muscles bulge as I compress tighter and tighter. The bloke screams with pain, his eyes clenching closed as he can’t escape me. It feels positively riveting to have his life in my bare hands.

  I let free a noisy, delirious laugh. “Do you see now? Piss me right off, and I’ll squeeze the bloody brains from your fucking knob heads! All of you!”

  The bloke wails as blood trickles from his ears, wetting my shirt sleeves. I let go at once, flinging him down with force. He falls to the ground, crying out, blood smeared along his cheeks and throat. I scowl down at him. “Let this be a warning. Do not disappoint me or I’ll make an example of you. I thought you bunch knew as much by now.”

  I flick my stare to Andre. “Find me someone who’s competent, or I’ll shoot them all and start completely over.” The threat is clear: make them do better, or you die too. Hope the bastard gets it or else he’ll be snoozing six feet below the frozen grass.

  Now, I’m forced to alert Thaddaeus that we have nothing new. I don’t like coming up short. It pisses me right the fuck off and tends to make me act a bit unhinged. Rash decisions are my forte, although they bite me in the arse at times without me learning much from it. In the case of Dante and the takeover, I need every bit of information I can dig up. Joker won’t get to the head of the table by me fucking up.

  Tugging a fresh hanky free from my inside pocket, I wipe my hands clean of the blood. It’s a shame this shirt is ruined. I liked this one. Tucking the hanky in my trouser pocket, I release the cuff buttons and roll them up my forearms. It’ll have to do until I get back to my flat. The cold around here never bothered me much anyhow. In my opinion, London has a far crisper chill with the wet mixed in all the miserable time.

  Aside from the pestering Vendetti issue, I can’t get Ismerlda off my mind. Women rarely make much of an impression on me to remember them, let alone to dwell over them throughout the day. What could she possibly do all day at her job? I wonder if she’s with a client right now and, if so, who it is. The thoughts pounding through my head will drive me mad if I don’t have some answers soon enough.

  Freeing my mobile, I notice I’ve nothing from my fiancée. She doesn’t seem to fancy me much, at least not enough to ring me or message. Nevertheless, I brush it aside and send a quick text to T, letting him in on the latest. Which happens to be not a motherfucking thing. Grrr, I grumble to myself. Rereading the message I sent him has me wanting to squeeze that numpty all over again. Perhaps I’ll go for squeezing his bullocks off this time around. I wonder if he’d come up with results then? Fucking tosser.

  I type out a quick message to Ismerlda while I’m at it. May as well be the first one to break this ridiculous phone silence she seems fond of.

  Me: Dinner, tonight?

  Staring at the screen for a few beats, her reply never comes and it further irritates me. It looks like it’s going to be one of those blasted taxing days. Fuck it. I prefer to take matters into my own hands anyhow.

  “Andre!” I shout, and the fella practically comes running. At least he doesn’t trip. That’d be a real travesty, falling at my feet in front of the crew moving about. Andre’s not a small man by any means either, but he knows his place—as my dog. “Fetch the car. We’re paying my fiancée a little visit. It’s time those bloody businessmen know who she belongs to and who’ll kill them should they cross me.”

  “Yes, Mr. Macintosh.” He nods and shifts for his desk. He grabs his keys and straps on his Glock under his suit jacket.

  “This isn’t a bloody school outing. Hurry the fuck up and get on with it, bloke.”

  His head bobs as he jogs out the door. He knows better than to call me until the car’s warm and directly in front of the door. I may be a gangster, but I’m still an indulgent arse when it comes to luxury and being a bit spoilt. I’ll get dirty in a blink, but don’t fuck with my comfort. It’ll only get you on my shit list and eventually slaughtered.

  We make it to Ismerlda’s building in about forty minutes. The traffic in this damn city can be unreal when you catch it at the wrong time, and we happened to get lucky today. I toss the receptionist my license. I’m legal in the US, thanks to my mate helping me get everything started. It took years, but eventually it happened, and I was finally privy to everything the Americans are. Dual citizenships are a grand thing to have when you’re in my line of work.

  “I can call their floor, but there’s no guarantee of you going up today. I don’t have you on the appointment list nor the preapproved visitors log.” She types away on her computer, sparing me a quick glance, but nothing more.

  My brow hikes. The two men I sent to work with Ismerlda today are upstairs in her office at this very moment, so I shouldn’t be surprised the ground floor isn’t wanting to buzz me up right away. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I walked in with one of the senior employees, but apparently showing up without one is an issue. I’d be pleased with this turn of events if it were any other bloke and not me. I’ve never done well with barriers—I tend to forge my own path through them—and this may end with me taking someone’s badge and scanning the lift with it until I have Ismerlda in my sights.

  “I’m her fiancé,” I counter, attempting to remain polite. It’d take nothing at all to shoot her buttoned-up tits, along with the two pigs stationed on opposite sides of the expansive entryway. They aren’t real bobbies or anything, just the pricks you rent who put on a uniform to pretend they’re bad arses. I doubt they’re even armed, as Chicago is positively bonkers when it comes to their gun laws. I have a few strapped to me, however. I never leave home without my trusty firearms.

  “I don’t have you on my list. I apologize,” she responds without any mirth in her tone whatsoever.

  I cast an irritated glance to Andre and bark at the vexing woman, “Don’t just bloody sit there! Call her!” Did I mention I’m not a patient man before? Well, I’m not, especially when rudeness is involved. I’ll bloody well hurt your feelings.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to calm down, sir. I’m only one person here,” she mutters, and my scorching glare has Andre popping into action. He leans in close to the numpty, turning his charm up. After a few giggles, she’s finally clicking buttons on the mobile and putting the call through to whomever the fuck she needs to speak to.

  “Oh,” she comments into the receiver, glancing at me briefly as if she knows something I shouldn’t. This is going over just peachy. I’m positively enthralled with the bullshit. She repeats herself a few times, including the random look in my direction before she eventually hangs up. She informs Andre, “It appears that their office is swamped and they won’t be letting any new clients up today. You’ll have to schedule an appointment with their office and return another time.”

  I growl, the warning sound vibrating deep in my chest, and yank my mobile out. I have my men on the phone in the next blink. “Get her down here now, before I light this bloody place up. I don’t give a flying fuck if you have to drag her stubborn arse to the lift. You make it happen, now.”

  My attention flicks back to the mousy woman with a chip on her shoulder. “Do ya have any idea who the fuck I am? You’ve pissed me right off and, newsflash, I could kill you right here and have your body hidden before the authorities arrived. You’d be here and gone and no one would ever know, nor care,” I threaten, and she pales.

  I step away as Andre swoops in, attempting damage control.

  Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is.

  – German Proverb

  The lift dings, making my head fly up from my mobile. The doors slide open, revealing my
lovely bride-to-be. She’s a sight to behold. The two fellas I’d assigned to her safety this morning drag her out into the lobby area with them.

  “I hate you!” she belts viciously as soon as we make eye contact. I laugh loudly at her tone along with the sight of her bright-red neck, flushed with anger. She reminds me of a furious kitten, claws out ready to do damage.

  “I’ll never tire of hearing that, darling. I was simply stopping in so we could grab a bite to eat. Your safety is in jeopardy, and I’m here to see you are fed and left alive for me to torment later. Ever the polite chap, I am. Now give me a bit of a break.”

  She huffs, fighting her way out of the blokes’ grips to dramatically stomp in my direction. She pauses directly in front of me, her hand sailing out to connect with my cheek. She slaps the bloody shit out of me, leaving my flesh stinging in her wake. “How dare you show up here and drag me out of work. I was in a meeting, for heaven’s sake! Give you a break? Not in your lifetime!”

  The guy off to her left pipes up, spoiling her ruse. “She was on social media, bitching that you don’t have any profiles for her to check. She hasn’t had any meeting yet today.”

  My lips tip up into a pleased smirk and I’m back to feeling a bit cocky over myself. I snicker, “You were searching for me? Tsk, tsk, lovey. Color me intrigued you’ve Googled me.”

  “Only because I had nothing better to do.”

  “Sure, darling. If that’s how you want to play it. Shall we? I’m parched.” I hold my elbow out to her.

  “I don’t have a coat on, wise guy. I’m not going out there in only a dress, it’s too chilly.”

  “Good thing the car’s right out front then. I’ll have no issue warming you, shall you need it.”

  “What? How? You’ll get towed.”

  My smirk morphs into a smug smile. “I’m Max Macintosh, lovey. Anyone towing my car would get their jugular removed in their sleep.”

  “Oh Lord. Let’s just go next door. It’s close and I don’t want to anger the partners here any further than the little show your guys just put on upstairs. They’re already losing patience with me being late and having new security all the time. I’ll be getting my walking papers before I know it if I don’t get it together. I refuse to lose my job because of you, Brit boy.”

  “I could take care of them if you’d like? Say the words and it’s done. You can run the place if you want,” I offer with a casual shrug.

  She tucks her hand in the crook of my elbow and gapes at me. “You shouldn’t joke like that. The wrong person may hear you. There’s cameras everywhere in this building.”

  “Who says I’m joking? I’m being completely serious with you.”

  She giggles a bit to herself while shaking her head. “You’re something else, Maximillian. Don’t kill my partners. The business wouldn’t operate as smoothly with them gone, nor do I want that much responsibility.”

  I lift my hands, showing Ismerlda my palms. “All right then, but the offer stands.” I push the door open for her at the quaint pastry shop located next door along the sidewalk. “Pastries?” I ask, eyes promptly skirting around the room and checking over the customers busily eating. I can never be too careful, and while I don’t fear anyone, I’d like to be aware if someone’s gunning for me.

  “Amongst other treats…and beverages. The Java Cafe makes soup, sandwiches, and a few other delicious entrees. I love their French dip, especially on a day like today. It’ll warm you up from the inside.”

  “If it’s a bit of warming you need, I could manage that as well.”

  She snorts, but doesn’t shoot me down when I take her hand in mine. She walks straight to the counter, acknowledging the young chap behind the counter. “Hey, Jermaine. I’ll take a French dip with chips, and a cup of the hot black Yorkshire tea please. I’ll need a to-go box. You know I can never finish it all in one meal.”

  My brows shoot to my hairline at her ordering a strong black tea. Rarely do I agree with my mates here in the States, but for once, I find myself nodding my approval. “Yeah, bloke, I’ll have another. Heavy on the crisps.”

  “Crisps?” she mutters, looking behind the counter. I’m assuming she’s looking for the crisps. “The bloody chips, woman. You Americans had to go and change the names of things. Such a headache.”

  She huffs. “First of all, I’m Italian, Brit boy, and secondly, I didn’t change the name to anything.” She turns away from me. “Extra chips for the big rude guy, please, Jermaine. Apparently, he’ll be having the same as me.”

  “Sure thing, Miss Castelano.” He bobs his head. I hand over a crisp hundred dollar bill, not about to have her attempt to pay.

  I purchase nearly everything I want in cash. It only makes sense, considering all of the monies that come through my hands. He gives me my change, and I escort Ismerlda over to a window seat. “Will you be warm enough here or shall we move inward?”

  She giggles, and it’s the best sound I’ve heard all day.

  “Do I amuse you?” I ask with a lifted brow, taking the seat across from her. I could sit beside her as any couple would, but I’d rather take the opportunity to get a good look at her. We barely crossed paths this morning, and I was curious what she gets up to during the day. I’m not accustomed to having someone like her around in my space as well as in my thoughts. I have to grow used to her routine and her habits.

  “At times.”

  I grunt, displeased at the feeling she’s now mocking me. I don’t do well with taunting in the slightest. It turns me a bit rage-y.

  “It’s not like that. Your accent and word choice takes some getting used to is all—nothing bad or anything.” My frown deepens. She continues, “I actually like it, not that I should admit as much to you. You seem to have a big enough impression of yourself without needing me adding to it.”

  “You sound put off. Is enjoying my accent really that bad?” I ask as the shop keeper sets our cuppas down and scurries back behind the counter.

  She shakes her head, tucking her dark wavy hair behind her ear. It makes her appear younger than her mid-thirties self. She may not be as young as some of the women I’ve dated in the past, but I do fancy that about her. She has her own sense of self and she’s independent with a successful career and banging body. I’ve thought of shagging her sexy arse more than I want to admit; the same goes for today as well.

  I reach across the table, my finger lightly grazing along her jaw, admiring her bone structure. Yanking her over this table and jerking her panties to the side so I could sink my cock in her tight, wet cunt would be the highlight of my afternoon. I can picture the outrage of the customers already. The couple in the corner would gasp and threaten to call the authorities, while the chap behind the counter would beat his meat all over that fresh pastry dough he’s got laid out. I’d never forget it, that I’m certain of.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she interrupts the blissful musings running through my mind.

  “You look positively stunning in navy. I fancy your hair like this as well,” I murmur, and her chest flushes.

  Her full tits are another thing entirely, just waiting for me to have my fun with them. Perhaps I’ll come all over those brilliant titties after I have my fill of her pussy. I’ve got to get her barriers down and make this happen. Of course, I could always just throw her down and take what I want. I’ve rarely had any bird fight me on it, but I bet Ismerlda would. She’d probably claw my eyes out if I attempted to take what I want from her, and that knowledge only has me craving her fiercer.

  When did I become the sappy bloke all tied in knots who gives a royal fuck, anyhow? She was hurled into my life through a mere favor to my best mate, and now I’m imagining white picket fences with her? That’s not me, it’ll never be, and I’m perfectly complacent with the fact. It’s far time I get my head on straight again.

  “Oh, we’re giving compliments now? Okay, I’ll play. You look handsome today as well. I happen to like a man in a well-fitted suit.”


  “Thanks, I think,” I mutter, my forehead screwed up with wrinkles, not sure what to do with her. She gets me out of sorts, as I never know if she’s being serious or not. If she weren’t going to be my bride soon enough, then I’d not waste any more of my time with her at all.

  Wearing a devious grin, she lightly puts the tip of her finger in the hot tea. She stuns me by reaching across and touching it to my lips with the warm liquid. “Is it up to your standards, Brit boy?”

  Parting my mouth, my tongue flicks out, tasting the pad of her index finger. I nip at the flesh as she moves to pull it away. “Delightful. I’d fancy a bit more, if you’re offering,” I reply a bit gruffly. My cock is damn near tenting my trousers and will be if she keeps this bit of flirting up. I need to fuck, badly.

  “Good thing you have a full cup in front of you then, huh?” she murmurs, and I have to shake my head so I can think straight. The bloody tart transforms me into a bumbling tosser. I refuse to become a weak arse because I get twitter pated with her stare.

  I don’t have a chance to reply as our sandwiches and crisps are set down in front of us. I get an extra plate filled with crisps. The kid also places extra napkins at the end of the table and asks if we have any more requests. I ignore him completely, while Ismerlda thanks him and sends him on his merry way.

  “I could think of better things to eat,” I mention, staring at my food and taking a hefty bite. It has her cheeks flaming, and another point goes in my direction in this quiet battle of wills we seem to constantly be entwined in. She’ll learn soon enough that I won’t back down from her. She can toss her adorable little attitude and stubborn streak in my direction all she desires, I won’t fold. This went from a favor, to intriguing, to a challenge.

  Game on, darling, game on.