Page 52 of Invisible String (The Underground #1)

“Max, I’m fine. What happened? Who did you get into a fight with? First, let’s clean you up and check to see if you need stitches. Then I need you to tell me.” I pull out a chair from my office.

I point. He sits.

I grab my first aid kit, Vaseline, which I use for my chapped lips, and warm wet towels. “Does anything hurt, like do you have anything broken?”

“I’m not sure. The adrenaline in my body is still buzzing.

I rushed to you.” He stares at me, and I control my breathing and the shakiness in my hands.

My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry—not now.

With the warm, soft towel, I move between his spread legs and gently dab the towel on his cheek.

His arms wrap around my waist, holding me in place.

The palm of his hand brushes my back in a soothing motion.

The cut under his eye is bad. It’s a small laceration, blood still oozing out of it when I apply pressure.

“I think you need stitches. I can call Lana. She works at the hospital. She does stitches.” Anger rises in me. Who did this to him?

“No, I’ll be fine. Do you have super glue?”

“I do.”

“Okay, just clean the area and add some antibacterial ointment and super glue. The Vaseline you have there will help stop the bleeding.” His palms are still moving. “Relax. I’m sorry I came here a mess. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

Worry dips in my stomach. “Why would I not be okay?”

“Didn’t you say you’ll clean me up, then we’ll talk?” A tiny smile curves across his lips.

I nod, worry churning through me. “Here, hold pressure. Let me get the glue.” Thank God I have super glue, which I use for making props.

“Okay.” I take the towel from him. I’m overwhelmed.

He has more than one cut. The others are minor compared to this one.

It’s beyond me how Lana does this every day.

She’s a trooper and a superhero in my eyes.

I pinch the cut closed after applying the ointment. “Am I hurting you?”

“Sunshine, you’re doing fine. The pain is the least of my worries. I’ve had much worse.”

I add the super glue, then Vaseline around it. God, I hope it doesn’t get infected. “Will you get it checked for me in the morning?”

His green-eyed gaze pierces into me. “Sure, if that eases your worries.”

An ache so deep in my soul, my heart twisting at the sight of him.

I care for Max so much that it hurts to see him bloody and cut up, and whoever did this must have something to do with me.

He’s asked if I’m okay. I can handle boxing matches with trainers, referees, and such, of course, but this is not one of those types of fights he got into.

Unless he went to the Underground. Fuck.

My gut is telling me something happened.

The bruising around his eye is causing it to swell nearly shut.

To help him relax and rest his eyes, I gently run my fingers through his silky hair.

It feels a bit sticky, but I don’t mind.

His head falls back slightly, and his eyes close.

He’s always loved me playing with his hair.

His grip on my waist tightens, and he releases a sharp but relaxing breath.

With my other hand, I add ointment after cleaning them, then the Vaseline, like Max suggested.

I’ve seen them do this in boxing. That must do the trick. For him, it’s not a big deal.

“I managed to stop the bleeding.” I exhale, relieved that it finally ceased. Is this what a boxer’s life is like? My heart would be on the verge of a heart attack every single time I’d see him hurt.

“Thank you, tesoro mío .” He groans as I keep running my fingers through his hair. I’m tempted to place a kiss on his chin.

“I’m going to make you an ice pack, and you need to take off that bloody shirt. I need to inspect if you have any other wounds or broken bones.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stands.

From the front counter, I scoop ice, pour it into a small bag, and twist it to a knot. When I go back to the prepping area, Max is cleaning up.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean up here.

” I hand him the ice pack. “Put that on your eye.” No cuts on his chest. Just blood that seeped from the shirt.

Grabbing a wet towel, I wash off the blood.

Beautiful tattoos adorn his sculpted chest. Above the left breast, he has a bible verse.

Psalms 91:7. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.

Max watches me with his one eye. “When I was a small boy, my mom would read stories or the Bible. This verse always stood out.” I run my fingers over a skull with a halo of flowers.

“That one represents my mother’s life.” Where his heart beats is my name.

The name he’s called me— sunshine . I swallow the lump of emotions.

Beneath the navel is the most exquisite sun I’ve ever witnessed.

Its golden rays flicker like flames, spreading out in all directions.

The rays at the top and bottom extend farther than the rest, resembling a lasso woven with gold thread.

My breath hitches, and I have to lean in to look closer.

My face is the sun. “Your name on my beating heart. You might find it hard to believe, but you’ve always been the sunshine in my shadow.

You are the guiding light in my tunnel of darkness, keeping me striving to find you.

” He tosses the bag of ice in the sink. “How could I not have your beautiful face on my flesh?” He grins devilishly, proud of himself.

“The ones on my back are just a bunch of random ones to cover the marks. I didn’t want those scars to define me.”

My mouth is still parted, eyes wide. I’m in awe, but damn confused.

He continues. “The one on my arm. A lion. And flames to cover the sleeve.” He shrugs. “I thought it was cool, and I like what it represents. The other arm has a forest. All my tattoos represent something.”

Hands down to his tattoo artist. They are all stunning; even my face is like a real portrait. It’s a younger me from four years ago. The photo he has on his computer.

I toss the bloody towel on the chair. “I’ve never seen such beautiful art. But me?” I’m still finding it hard to believe.

“Yes, you. Always you.” He groans when he takes a step, massaging his side.

Oh shit.

“Do you have broken ribs?” My hand goes to his hips. It’s red, and it will bruise. “You should sit,” I suggest.

“Nothing broken, luckily.” He sees his reflection on the metal prep table; he shrinks back. “Fuck, Carlos is going to kill me.” Carlos wasn’t with him? He must not have been in the Underground.

“Tell me what happened.”

He lifts me like he’s not injured and sets me on the table.

Max settles between my legs. “Let’s take off your apron.

It has blood on it.” Gently, his hands go around my neck, unhooking the apron, then unties it from my waist. His face is close to mine.

The urge to kiss down his neck is ludicrous to heal every scar and cut with kisses.

“Your sweater has blood on it too. Sorry, I’ll take you to buy clothes. Hands Up.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” I lift my hands, and he slides the sweater off, leaving me with the tight tank top that hugs my breasts. “Okay, now tell me,” I prod.

His focus is on my breasts while one lid closes. Leaning to the side, I grab the ice pack Max threw in the sink. Tenderly, I place it on his eye, holding it for him. His arms hold my waist.

He takes a long breath and frowns. “My last fight at the Underground, illegal fights, whatever you want to call it, was the night you were there. I had wanted to quit for some time, but the organized crime leader kept lining up men. I didn’t need the money anymore.

I was mainly doing this to release anger, stress, and distract myself.

Carlos has been riding my ass about the fact that I need to go pro already.

It’s been a long time coming. Anyway, the leader didn’t fathom me leaving.

I made him a hell of a lot of money. He was at the gala.

Fuck, I was careless. He saw me dance with you and threatened to hurt you if I didn’t fight.

He claimed if I won, it was all good, and if I didn’t win, I would have to keep fighting for him.

I showed up today. The asshole didn’t play fair. He had two guys fight me in the ring.”

A fiery storm of rage and anguish churns within me, igniting my every heartbeat with what they did to him. Discarding the ice pack, I gently cradle his face and give him a tender kiss. He did it to protect me. “It was you and the two men? Was Carlos or anyone with you?”

“No, I went alone. I fought them both and won.” His brows pull together, and he rubs his chin.

“I was worried they’d come looking for you.

I don’t trust him. I’m sorry I got you involved.

You might get pissed when I tell you this, but I don’t give a shit if you do.

I hired a bodyguard for you. He’s outside as we speak in his car.

He follows you at all times. Johnny switches with another guy, Gary. ”

What? How oblivious am I not to even know?

He lifts my chin. “I’ll go to the ends of this world to protect you.

You’re the only good thing in my life. Without you, it’s like my ability to breathe is stolen.

I can’t lose you again, not now, not ever.

So, do me this favor. Don’t give me a hard time about the bodyguards.

I need to know you’re safe when I’m not around, and another thing.

You’re staying at my place, or I’m staying at yours.

Your bodyguard might be watching, but like I said, I don’t trust Daniel, the leader.

He was angry about my victory. He thought I would lose for sure. ”

The pad of my finger traces the letters of my name on his chest. Soft.

Beautiful. A dam of emotions threatens to break.

He doesn’t need to see it, not now, not while he’s terrified something will happen to me.

The way Max puts himself on the line for me fills my heart with a tumultuous mix of warmth and a deep, aching pain.

It hurts to think about what he endured tonight.

They could have killed him. No one has ever protected me like Max does.

My father never did that for my mom. He believes he’s safeguarding me from Max, but he doesn’t truly know him.

Max stands there, eyes downcast, waiting for my reply. Of course, I haven’t answered him.

“Oh, my champ. I’m not going to give you a hard time.”

Max exhales. “I’m sorry. If I had known down the line, this would have involved you. I wouldn’t have done it. They are dangerous, and that’s not what I want you involved with.”

I cover his lips with my finger. “Shhh. You didn’t know, Max, and you fought at the warehouse because you were trying to survive. You didn’t see the outcome. You can’t predict the future. Nor did you know they would use your incredible skills against you. Let’s hope he leaves you alone now.”

Max nips at my finger on his lips. I raise my brows and look him in the eye. My hands roam freely on his chest like they know where to go. Then up to his neck. When I bring him in, he watches me curiously.

“First, I would like to meet my so-called bodyguard. You also need to inform Carlos, or at least someone who can lend a hand, about this situation. I don’t want you going to that fighting warehouse alone. Or I’m going to get you a bodyguard.” My tone comes out threatening.

Max doesn’t take me seriously.

He laughs—a full-blown, beautiful laugh.

“Max, stop it. You’re going to open the cuts up,” I warn.

His mouth closes shut, but he’s stifling it.

“A bodyguard? Me? My fists are my weapons. Sorry, tesoro, but that’s unnecessary.

You want to meet your bodyguard? Done. You don’t want me to go alone to the warehouse?

Done.” His expression turns solemn. “Thank you for being understanding.” Max presses a kiss on my cheek.

He wraps a long strand of my hair around his finger.

“I’m relieved you’re fine.” He fixates on my lips while the salty tang of sweat from his skin permeates the space between us.

Oddly, when it comes to Max, it turns me on.

“I want to kiss you.” His voice is a low, delicious rumble in my ear.

“That’s not a good idea,” I whisper for some reason.

“Why? We both want it.” His thumb swipes at my lips. Out of habit, I lick it.

“You’re hurt.”

“Not my lips, not my tongue. They move just fine, baby.” He eats the space between us. Our heavy breaths mingle.

“Still not a good idea.”

“Why? Is it because you want to be the one who tells me to kiss you? You want to have the upper hand right now?”

He knows me so well, it’s almost unnerving. If he’s the one instructing, he knows I’m conceding. But if I initiate, I’m the one in charge of the moment. Right now, I need that control. It would make it seem like my walls are crumbling. Which they are. I can’t let him see that. Not now.

“Yes,” I breathe into his parted lips.

“Then tell me what you want, what you need. I’ll give it to you. I’ll take anything you give me.”