MAXWELL

I ran outta that house like the devil himself was chasing me. It was all too much, shit piled on top of more shit. This wasn’t why I’d come here; it wasn’t my fucking problem. I felt so trapped, the walls closing in on me from all angles; no matter where I turned, I was fucked. I drove around for hours until I found a secluded spot on the outskirts of town, pulled over, then completely lost my shit. I yelled, screamed, punched my dashboard until the plastic gave way and split into pieces. The jagged edges sliced straight through my hand and left behind uneven gashes on my knuckles. Blood trickled down my arm in waves of crimson, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the pain, like an old friend I hadn’t seen in years. I stared down at my mangled hand and remembered the last time I’d seen so much blood there, blood that wasn’t my own but that of the shadow, and I remembered that feeling of freedom.

The night I’d arrived at Buck’s junkyard, I wasn’t sure he would remember the young boy he met during his visit to the mansion. It had been five years since he’d spoken to me outside that office and gifted me with a small pocketknife that I held in my hand covered with blood. He wanted me to repeat his name so I could find him when the time came. He must have known about the secrets in that mansion and somehow it persuaded him to give me a weapon to protect myself against the evil. Small enough to hide yet strong enough to get the job done when I had to use it. I never forgot his name, or the way he asked me to repeat it. When I was lonely, I would write it over and over on a piece of paper until my hand ached and I could no longer hold the pen between my fingers. Then I took those pages of written names and burned them until they were ash; they were my secret to hide.

I’d used my parents’ political lifestyle against them every chance I got. Frequent travel and speaking engagements made it easy for me to plan my escape. I rifled through my father’s private records and found what I was looking for: the name and address for Buck Calhoun, filed under ‘Biker scum.’ I rarely saw the senator, and when I did, he would ignore me or retreat into his office and lock himself inside. We never did anything as father and son, two passing ships that never spoke or acknowledged each other’s presence. Strangers would probably find that part of my life impossible. How could two people who lived in the same house not speak to one another? Simple. One look at me, and he ran the other way. By the time I was twelve, I returned the favor, no longer interested in having a relationship with him, or anyone else for that matter. I spent my days alone. Tutors took care of my education, and the servants made sure I had food and water.I stole everything I could get my hands on: money, sealed envelopes marked confidential, everything I needed to get away and stay away. The night I ran, I bought a bus ticket to Remington, grabbed a cab that was parked outside the terminal, and went directly to the junkyard.

The locked gate proved to be my breaking point as the events from earlier that evening came rushing back and crashed my hopes like a wrecking ball against a condemned building. I grabbed the chain link fence with both hands and shook the metal as hard as I could. I kicked and screamed like an animal, completely lost control of my senses and gave into the hysteria. Like a dark knight, Buck Calhoun stood in front of me, his chest puffed up and pissed as hell. He saw me through the security cameras and was ready to crack my head in for destroying his fence. He shook me by the arms to stop me from screaming. I couldn’t speak, the words lodged in my throat like a handful of rocks.

“Calm, boy. Calm. Calm yourself,” he repeated over and over again. Emotionally spent, I dropped to my knees in front of him and produced the knife as an offering. The blade was closed and the handle was crusted over with dried blood and dirt. I waited for any sign that he recognized me. A few seconds later, Buck had said the words that changed my life forever.

“It’s over now, boy, you’re safe.”

Buck would beat my ass if he found me sitting in this car, running and hiding like a scared little bitch. He didn’t raise us to run from a fight; we faced that shit head on, damn the consequences. My mother fucked with the wrong man if she thought her little stunt was going to work. She wanted to play this foolish game of quid pro quo, holding my past hostage so I would help her secure her future. Money and power were the only things that mattered to that cunt, and I had plenty of both. Arrogance is the Achilles heel of too many to count, the ultimate downfall of the rich and famous. They think they are invincible, above the law. How satisfying it would be to watch my mother crash and burn to the ground. That fucking asshole Jeremy was too stupid to be anything but a lackey. He thought he could corner that pretty nurse as if she were some sort of paid whore, yet the look in his eyes had told me that guy was soft as butter. That woman had way too much fire for someone like him; she’d break him I half. When I heard him ask her about the type of underwear she was wearing, I wanted to rip his cock off and shove it up his ass. He wouldn’t last twenty-four hours at the junkyard with my brothers.

My brothers.

I had to go back. If I had any hopes of ending this nightmare and returning home to the family I loved, I had to find the information I came for. I was valuable to my mother, I harnessed a skill that few had, and she needed me for it, a pawn to use then discard. I had a different idea. It made me smile to myself. I almost felt sorry for them. Almost. I threw the car in drive and headed back to the mansion in a much more stable frame of mind. I was no longer hesitant, hell, I even turned on the radio and sang along to an old Aerosmith song. I parked right out front and bounced through the front door with the grace of a ballet dancer. I took the spiral staircase two at a time, but there was one thing I had to do before I began my mission.

The nurse was tending to her duties, checking her clipboard and jotting down notes. She moved around the senator’s bed with ease. I couldn’t help but notice how her eyebrows furrowed when she concentrated on a particular task. She held the tip of the pen to her mouth, and I felt a jolt of pleasure straight to my balls when her little pink tongue darted out and touched the tip. She was a thing of beauty; the outline of her pussy lips when she’d flashed me her underwear was something that prick Jeremey would never get the chance to experience in his lifetime. Too bad he’d failed to realize that before he made a fool of himself.

“If I ever get sick, I’d definitely want you to take care of me.” I leaned casually on the doorframe and took in an eyeful.

“Oh. I didn’t see you standing there, Mr. Lancaster. Can I help you with something?”Her use of my previous name knocked the breath from lungs and I exhaled loudly in frustration. She didn’t know I wasn’t a Lancaster, and I shouldn’t really fault her for her mistake, but to hear it again after all these years was a harsh reminder of the boy I used to be.

“Oh, my God, what happened to your hand?” Shit, I’d forgotten about the cuts.

“It’s nothing. Just a few scratches. Nothing to concern yourself with.” I tried to play it off, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Please sit down. Let me take a look at it.” She pointed to a nearby chair.

“I don’t think that’s necessary…”

“Now! I’m the nurse, and I’ll be the one deciding on the necessity…sir.”

She left me no choice but to do as she said, so I sat my ass down on the empty ottoman that was pushed up against the far wall. She ran out the room and returned seconds later with a small first aid kit, a wet towel, and a pair of rubber gloves. To my surprise, she bent down on one knee after she pulled on the gloves, and grabbed my mangled hand for inspection. The site of her kneeling down before me had my dick hard as stone and my balls filling rapidly. I needed a distraction or this was gonna get ugly real fast.

“I never apologized for pushing you down this morning. I’m real sorry that happened. It was a dick move on my part. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” It was a true statement and I owed her as much.

“It’s no problem. I’m sure your years at boarding school taught you better manners.” Her subsequent smile made me smile, something I hadn’t done in over a year. Her light touch and personal attention as she cared for me was soothing, and I felt a moment of unexpected calm.

“I’m Maxwell O’Neill, by the way. Not Maxie and not Mr. fucking Lancaster.”

If she was shocked by my declaration, she held it back. She concentrated on putting the finishing touches on the wounds and applied a bandage once it was done. Satisfied with her work, she stood from her knees, ripped off the gloves, and tossed them in the trash. I felt a twinge of sadness that she no longer kneeled before me; it was as if she belonged there somehow.

“Well, Mr. O’Neill, you’re as good as new. Try and stay out of fights with rose bushes for now on, will you?” She turned to walk away, but I wanted her to stay, just a little longer. I reached for her hand and held it so she wouldn’t leave me.

“I didn’t get your name?” She inhaled sharply as soon as our skin made contact. It was electric, and I felt a blast of heat straight to my cock. I let go of her hand and took a small step backwards. Our connection broke immediately. It was for the best. I had to clear my head from thoughts of fucking her senseless while she screamed out my name.

“Haven,” she stuttered, “Haven Sloan…sir.” A fitting name for an angel of mercy.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, sweet Heaven.” She smiled tightly, and I watched as she walked away.

I was left alone with my dying father for the first time in years. I was happy she’d left the room. The things I needed to say to him weren’t pleasant and I didn’t want an audience. The conversation was a long time coming. Too bad it would only be one sided. I hadn’t counted on the fact that the senator could no longer talk, but it didn’t matter; it was my burden to unload, not his.He’d have his time to confess when he was standing at the gates of hell waiting to be let in. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that when his time came, he’d slow dance with the devil himself.