Page 51

Instead, the numbers blur and all I see is Everest’s face and the tears that glistened in her eyes when I’d wrapped my fingers around her throat to cut off whatever lie she planned to spew.

All I can focus on is the fact her lips are as soft and sweet as I remembered, and how badly I want more.

I glance up as Maddox stomps from the room, then lift my phone to see if the little dot from Everest’s tracker has moved.

It’s only when the alert for movement in the garage dings that I stop staring. I pull up the camera in time to see Madd roll his Hayabusa out, then curse when I hear the distinct rumbling purr of the engine starting.

That psycho is heading to the building, to Brix’s penthouse.

“Fuck!” I roar, lunging to my feet and racing through the house.

The keys to my McLaren sit on the counter and I snatch them as I race through the kitchen. Fuck. What the fuck is Madd thinking?

Were it anyone else, I might not worry too much but that asshole has been on a tear since the day Everest failed to meet up with us, since she stopped answering our calls.

When she disappeared.

Since then, he’s had nothing short of a death wish while sending as many assholes to hell as possible. Usually with his bare fucking hands.

Too many times, I’ve had to warn him of his carelessness. He has a habit of leaving messes behind, the kind of messes that could end up sending the authorities straight to our door. Yeah,I’ve got half the force and a majority of the judges in my pocket, but all it takes is one do-gooder Fed and we’re all fucked.

My McLaren might hug the curves and eat pavement with ease, but Madd’s fucking bike can split lanes and avoid the traffic I’m now fighting.

I’m not sure whether I’m worried he’ll start a brawl with Brixton’s giant ass or simply stalk into the apartment guns blazing.

Problem is we all have access to the penthouse, so it’s not like Brix can simply choose not to let his brother up.

“Fuck!” I roar into the dark interior of my vehicle. “Call Brix!” I yell at the Bluetooth system, my nostrils flaring as I suck in deep breaths.

A few rings, then it goes to voicemail.

Oh, this motherfucker.

Again, I yell out the same order to call Brix.

And once again, it goes to voicemail.

It isn’t until the third attempt Brix’s deep voice rumbles over the line. “What?” he answers.

Sometimes, I swear these two forget who the fuck they work for. “Madd’s on his way to you,” I say without preamble. “And so help me God, Everest better not be fucking dead.”

“Why the fuck would she be dead?” He genuinely sounds confused by my statement.

“Giving you a heads up. And later we’re going to have a talk about who the fuck you work for and a little refresher on the fucking rules.” I end the call before he can respond.

I hate to say it, but if it ever came down to hand to hand combat, pretty sure Brixton would beat my ass. But as the Don of the Antoniou family – and the fucking region – there are only two fucking choices: fall in line or take me out.

Shoving the gas pedal to the floor when the traffic finally opens up, I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles ache and my palms are sweating.

I really don’t even know which part I’m more fucked up over, what I fear worse – Brix and Madd throwing blows or finding Everest dead at the hands of one of only two people on this planet whom I trust.

No matter how many times I threaten it, I’m not sure whether I could actually end the life of either of my brothers. Not that I’d ever admit that aloud.

It takes another ten minutes before I pull my car into the secured garage and park it directly in front of the elevators where Madd’s crazy ass dumped his bike. It literally looks like he lunged off, letting it drop to the concrete as though the fucking thing hadn’t cost over thirty grand with all the shit he had upgraded.

As I climb from my driver’s seat, I shake my head when I realize the bike is still purring. Fucker didn’t even bother killing the engine before heading upstairs. I’m sure if he could have, he would have simply ridden the bike up every flight of the stairwell. But he would need the special keycard to gain access to the private top floor through the stairwell instead of the elevator.

Trying to will my heart to a normal rhythm, I restrain myself from punching the fucking button with my fist when the elevator takes entirely too long to drop to the garage floor, the doors opening with a barely audible whisper.