I shook my head, infuriated with myself for being so naïve. And I was angry as hell with him for being wasted. This wasn’t a man looking for any sort of salvation. This was a man enjoying his trip to hell.
Maxx’s fingers dug into the exposed skin at the hem of my shirt. I could feel the pinch of his nails as he squeezed. He leaned in close to me, until we were breathing each other’s air.
“I’ll eat you up, little girl. Would you like that?” His voice was rough and hoarse, as though he had been screaming. He was being strange. I had yet to meet this particular incarnation of Maxx’s personality—the strung-out egomaniac. And I could tell right away that I didn’t like this version one bit.
I pulled out of his grasp and took a step backward, knocking into a girl behind me.
“Watch it,” she yelled, elbowing me in the back. I stumbled forward, and Maxx caught me. My chest collided with his, and for just a moment I felt him relax. His arms came around me, and he cradled me to his body. The seconds passed as we stood there with Maxx wrapped around me.
He leaned down to press his cheek into my hair, and I felt something drain out of him. His shoulders drooped and his knees bent, but his arms tightened their grip. “Aubrey,” he murmured into my ear, and I could feel the cold tip of his nose glide along the side of my neck.
Maxx sagged into me, and I staggered under his weight. “Maxx!” I yelled into his ear, trying to pull back. He stumbled toward the wall and leaned heavily against it. I reached up and yanked his cap off his head. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black. Even in the horrible lighting, I could see there was something very, very wrong with him.
“What did you take?” I raised my voice loud enough for him to hear me over the pounding bass. Maxx rolled his head from side to side but didn’t answer.
I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and gave him a shake. “Maxx, goddamn it, what the hell did you take?” I screamed into his face. He pushed my hands away with fumbling fingers.
“Back the f**k off, Aubrey. Just leave,” he growled. After a few minutes, he pushed himself off the wall and lumbered through the crowd. I took off after him, shoving and nudging people as I followed him. People attempted to stop him, and he was less than civil in brushing them off.
I was scared. Maxx’s movements were sluggish and unsteady. He seemed to have a hard time staying upright. There was no way I would let him out of my sight.
Maxx headed toward the back of the old department store and had almost made it to the exit when a guy who looked a lot like scary Randy, the doorman, grabbed him. He sported a green Mohawk and some sort of tattoo beneath his right eye. He was big and beefy, looking as though he ate kittens for breakfast. And he appeared to be extremely pissed off. At Maxx.
Shit. What the hell was going on?
Mr. Mohawk yanked Maxx through a door at the back of the room. I hurried to follow him, not thinking beyond the fact that some scary-looking dude had taken him. Any thoughts about my own safety had flown out the window.
I pushed open the door, which led to a dimly lit hallway. I could see a sign that read “Staff Only” beside a door that was starting to close.
I practically ran so I could catch it before it shut. I used my shoulder to shove it open and slipped inside. I could hear shouting. I followed the noise to a fire exit. The thump, thump, thump of the music made it impossible to hear the words being screamed. People were angry, bordering on homicidal.
I opened the door a crack and peered outside. It was so dark, I could barely see a thing. But a car had been pulled around the back of the building, and its headlights shone on a scene I wish I could forget.
Maxx stumbled precariously on his feet while two guys, including serial-killer-Mohawk-man, beat the ever-living shit out of him. I shoved my fist into my mouth to smother the scream that bubbled up in my throat.
Maxx wasn’t moving. He didn’t put up a fight. He just lay there as their feet connected with his body over and over again. Mr. Mohawk lifted Maxx up and screamed something into his face. I couldn’t hear a thing over the reverb.
Mohawk punched Maxx in the jaw and sent him sprawling. Maxx moaned in the dirt, and even in the darkness I could see an excessive amount of blood. I felt sick. I thought I’d throw up all over myself. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified.
But I couldn’t just stand there and watch Maxx be beaten to death. I pushed the door open harder than I meant to. It slammed against the wall, sounding like a gunshot in the night.
The two guys pounding Maxx turned to me in unison, and my blood froze in my veins. These were some cold-assed dudes. Crap, they were going to kill me! I was a witness to their assault; they’d have to get rid of me!
I looked down at Maxx on the ground. He wasn’t moving, and I could see that his eyes were closed. I needed to see if he was still breathing.
Tentatively, I walked down the metal staircase off the fire exit and held my hands up. “I just want to see if he’s all right,” I said placidly. I spoke slowly and carefully, making sure to keep my movements steady.
The man standing beside the guy with the Mohawk cocked his head and regarded me. I couldn’t get a read on his face. He was older, maybe in his forties. He had thick, dark hair that could only be dyed. It was too thick and too black to be real. He wasn’t remotely attractive. In fact, he was the scariest thing I had ever seen.
“You know him?” he asked, jerking his head toward Maxx’s prostrate form. His voice was gruff, like that of someone who had been smoking a pack of Marlboros a day since he was twelve. It was the voice of nightmares and bogeymen. Why the hell was he hurting Maxx?
What messed-up, Sopranos-like shit was Maxx involved in?
“He’s a friend,” I said, enunciating my words. I was such a moron. Why didn’t I just hand my life over in a pretty little box for him to stomp on? I could almost imagine him thinking of all the ways he could dispose of my body. I wasn’t very big, so it probably wouldn’t be too hard.
Scary Marlboro Man snorted. “You need to do a better job choosing your friends, sweetheart.” He laughed as though Maxx weren’t bleeding out at his feet.
“Is he okay?” I couldn’t help asking. I stopped moving, not wanting to get too close to either of the men.
Mohawk shrugged his shoulders. “Fuck if I know,” he mumbled, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the car.
Marlboro Man put his hands in his jacket pockets and looked me up and down. It was extremely unpleasant. I felt violated by his gaze, as though he were raping me with his eyes.