Page 30 of Compulsion

I marched up to the door and asked for Mr. Nuñez. I stood my ground when the Weed tried to tell me he didn’t know if Mr. Nuñez was available. I made the most of my extra four inches to stare him down. I knew what to do with weeds, and it wasn’t anything to do with gardening. Seve was there. I knew he would be.

Weed made some mumbled call into his radio, and I stood for another ten minutes, getting wetter. He pulled back into the relative shelter of the doorway, but I stayed out in the rain. Things had changed for me. For whole sections of time, I slipped in and out of another world—a far less comfortable one. A world where rain was the least of my troubles.

Seve came out a few minutes after that. He stared at me and I stared back, then he inclined his head in welcome like he often had before. He was dressed in a full suit today, obviously his working day look. He looked spectacular. It was probably designer—a soft, charcoal-gray fabric that hung from his broad shoulders with perfect elegance and hugged his narrow waist and hips. The plain white shirt shone with an expensive glare that I’d never found in the discount stores. His tie was subtly understated but probably silk. The damn clothes didn’t matter, of course, because all I could think of was the body underneath.

“Max.” His eyes had settled into a dark wariness. It had been a couple of weeks since we’d seen each other, since I’d pushed him away from Jack’s car and driven away. A couple of weeks since we’d last fucked. I didn’t want to recall any of these particular statistics.

“I think I know one of the men who attacked me, Seve.” I could feel trails of water running down my collar as the rain got heavier.

Seve didn’t answer. He seemed to be waiting for me to say more. His eyes were hooded.

“He’s called Peck. I knew him in London. He’s the lowest kind of scum, but then you probably know that. He’s on your staff, isn’t he?” What were the chances I’d meet up with the one guy in London I’d hoped never to see again? Was it luck or fate that I’d ended up frequenting another Medina venue—that my past would hang around me like the worst kind of storm cloud? And what were the chances Seve had the same kind of random luck? None, I reckoned. “Louis says maybe you don’t know what goes on at your family’s clubs. Maybe there’s some other source for your smart car and expensive flat and your loyalty to your family business. But I know things about it, Seve. Firsthand. And I find it hard to believe that you don’t.”

Seve spoke at last. The rain was beginning to make sodden patches on his shoulders. “Max, you’re talking nonsense. I don’t understand you. I checked the staff here after you were attacked, and yes, I believe I remember a man called Peck. My uncle sent some support from the London club just a couple of months ago. I didn’t know this man personally, I assure you, but I have sent all the staff that my uncle lent to me back to London with a report of their appalling behavior.”

I was shivering, and not from the rain. Peck had been here, I’d been right. Coincidence, or a deliberate plan?

“I want us to talk, Max, but these accusations are bizarre. I never sent those men to attack you. I didn’t know anything about it! And I don’t like the way you talk about my family’s business. My uncle runs a legitimate entertainment group. What else are you implying?”

There was a sharp edge to Seve’s voice. Should I have been more cautious? Weed was hovering in the background, though Seve raised a hand and gestured for him to stay back. There were a few people about on the streets, but they were hidden under umbrellas and scurrying back home. I was alone and relatively unprotected. But I was also wet, bloody angry, and I wanted to hit the very man I wanted to caress. “I don’t think it’s me who should be answering questions, do you? That’s not what I’m here for.”

Seve tilted his head. “What are you here for, Max?”

And in that moment, I knew he had me. What the hell was it I wanted? Seve to confess that he knew Peck, that he’d sent him to see me off? The look in Seve’s eyes was hungry for me, not angry that I hadn’t taken the brutal hint. And did I expect him to admit the illegal activities that his uncle’s business fronted so blatantly? Why should he, even if he knew? For my own edification? For some kind of revenge—or compassion for what I’d been through? Or… did I just want to see Seve again? Crap. It was all crap. He was right, I was in no position to accuse anyone about anything. I turned to leave.

“Wait!” Seve hurried down the steps to reach me. “Max, for God’s sake, wait.” There was a spark in his eyes, sharp like pain. “I don’t understand you.”

“So you once said.” I sighed.

“Is it to do with this man Peck? I don’t employ everyone personally, you know. They are my uncle’s men.”

“His men?”

Seve shrugged—the graceful, sensual movement that set off warning bells in my damp, shivering body. “They have worked for him for a long time. They are on the central payroll. They look after the family.”

“Shit, Seve, it sounds like the mob.”

He laughed scornfully. “Don’t be so melodramatic! My uncle is just a businessman. It’s necessary security for the club, and I suppose it’s protection for me. Or so my uncle says.” He frowned. “It’s not what I want, Max. I don’t need it and I tell my uncle so. And you should never have been threatened by any employee of ours. It’s unforgivable. It won’t happen again.”

“Too fucking right it won’t.” I wished I sounded more righteous than petulant. “You know what Peck’s into, Seve, back in London—you must do! And it’s a hell of a lot more than security.”

“I don’t know anything about him. This is the only thing I know about.” He waved a hand back toward the entrance to the club. “Compulsion. This is the only thing I do. And it’s just a nightclub. Nothing sinister.”

I looked into his face, blinking against the rain, and for the first time, I saw his confidence waver. That superb, sexy arrogance that had attracted me in the first place. Was that how I wanted to see Seve?

“Why won’t you listen to me, Max? I don’t know anything else about it. What the hell else is bothering you?”

I backed away. I heard the squelch of a shallow puddle as I stepped into it, and Seve put out a hand to hold me, to help me. All I could see were his eyes. Bright and fevered, almost scared. What of? Of what I was saying—what I knew? Or that I was running away from him again? I knew I didn’t want to. I knew I wanted him. So, so much.

“Don’t go, Max. I don’t want you to be scared off. It’s the last thing I want. But I cannot accept your anger toward my family, not without some explanation. You must tell me what’s troubling you.”

“Why should I?”

His hand grasped my arm. Outwardly, I felt the wet fabric of my shirt clinging to my skin, but inside I sensed the heat of his body, flowing into mine.

“You also said once… the trouble you had wasn’t worth it, not even for me. For me.” His voice was low and husky. “No one has ever factored me into any decision like that before. No one has ever weighed me up against anything else.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand why he was so taken with a stupid comment of mine. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his hand on my arm, the skin looking gray under rivulets of rain.