Page 3 of Maxim

“Huh?” He tries to shoulder-barge me, but I immediately block him in.

“Does it give you a hard-on?”

“Get out of my fucking way!” he snarls. I laugh when he tries to shove me out of the way. It’s like being zapped by an annoying mosquito.

“If there’s one thing I hate,” I tell him, “it’s men who abuse women.” Before he can argue, I smash his head against the mirror. The glass shatters, shards falling into the sink. “Oops, seven years of bad luck for you!”

The shocked expression on his face is almost comical, but I don’t have time to savor it. The bar is busy and someone will likely try and force the door open any minute now.

Blood spews everywhere as the asshole tries to stand. He makes a pathetic attempt at punching me, which I easily block. Then I rain blows down on his head and throw a few kicks in for good measure once he’s on the floor.

Bones crack and screams bounce off the tiled walls. I don’t stop until his face is unrecognizable. It will take him a while to recover, which will hopefully be long enough for him to see the error of his ways and forget he ever met a certain curvy brunette.

Before I leave the bathroom, I crouch down and whisper in his ear, “You have 24 hours to leave town and never come back. If I see you in this city again, you’re a dead man.”

There’s a faint moan and a wet exhale, so know he’s not dead. I hope he has the sense to heed my warning.

When I walk back into the bar, she’s gone, and disappointment dampens the buzz I got from dealing with the asshole in the bathroom.

There was something about her. Not just her looks, although she’s definitely my type. It was more her aching vulnerability that called to me.

Most of the women I spend my time with are brittle and fake. We use each other and then go our separate ways. My life is too dangerous. There isn’t room in it for a relationship.

Anyone associated with me immediately becomes a target and I’m not willing to do that to someone I care about.

Not that I care about anyone these days, other than my sister, Vanya. But she’s far away and living her best life with the idiot she married. As much as she’d love to see me settle down, we both know it’s not going to happen.

Since the woman has gone, it’s time for me to leave too. It won’t be long before the motherfucker I just beat to a pulp is discovered, and I need to be as far away as possible when that happens.

I throw a fifty on the bar and then walk out.

Chapter three

Nat

One Year Later

My phone buzzes as I scan my notes on the screen.

Jane: Drinks. Leo’s.

I’m torn. On the one hand, I have soooo much work to do, but on the other, it’s been ages since I met up with my girls.

Jane: No excuses!

Dammit. She knows me too well.

Me: FINE! Be there in 20.

Just as I’m packing my shit away, my phone pings with an email notification. I don’t recognize the sender; it’s from a throwaway email address. Normally I’d ignore random emails because they are almost always SPAM, but something prompts me to open this one.

Possibly the subject line: HELP.

We need to talk about the mayor.

As emails go, it isn’t giving me much to go on. There’s no name, contact phone number, or anything.

Curious, I hit reply.