Bad Billionaire (Bad Billionaires 1)

“Yeah, she’s been around.” Max nodded. “It’s been interesting, having a cop in the place. She comes home from work, and half the residents scatter like cockroaches.”

“What about people who don’t live here?” I asked. “People who don’t belong?”

He looked away, thinking, and then he shrugged. “I’ve been threatened a few times.”

I stared at him. “Threatened how?”

“Small things. A guy made a comment when I came from the parking lot one night. You’re a dead man, it sounded like. I’ve had things thrown against my windows, and one guy tried to trip me on the stairs. Nothing specific. I think some guys look at a man with one leg and think he’s an easy target.”

An easy target. No one—literally no person ever—would look at Max and think him an easy target. He was an inch taller than me, and he was bigger, his shoulders and chest thick with muscle. He’d been a fucking Marine, which meant that before he lost his leg he’d done some of the hardest training possible, and since he came home he kept his training up at the gym. With that, and the tattoos on his arms, his shaggy hair and beard, and his perpetual don’t-fuck-with-me scowl, he was the kind of person you ran away from in a dark alley.

No, this was Gray’s work. Or Craig Bastien’s. They were backing up their threats.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” I said, pulling up a chair and sitting down across from Max. “The guy who set up the drugs in the TV’s that night. He wants me to come back to work for him. He knows we’re friends, and if I say no, he says he’s going to hurt you.”

Something flared in Max’s eyes—something deep and dangerous. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Let him bring it. I may have one foot, but I’m a fucking Marine. I’ll put his teeth down his throat, and I’ll enjoy it.”

Fuck. This was Max, my book-loving friend. He had some demons buried that he hadn’t quite put to sleep yet. “Yeah, I know you can deal,” I said. “Just keep an eye out and be careful, okay? Things are going to get ugly.”

“You’re not gonna work for him? I’m glad, because I’m not taking any more of your money.” He gestured to the bookshelf. “I was busting your ass with the books, but I want you out of the life, Devon. I always have.”

“I’m out,” I said. “It won’t be easy, because these guys don’t take no for an answer, but I’m out. And money isn’t a problem anymore.”

My best friend’s eyes narrowed when I said that, his expression going hard in a way I didn’t like. “Dev. What the fuck did you do?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. I wanted to be pissed off, that he assumed any money I had was the result of something illegal. But I had to admit that in his place, it would be the first thing I’d think of too. “It wasn’t a job,” I said. “I inherited.”

Max blinked at me. “What?”

“I inherited.”

“From who?”

“My grandfather.”

“You don’t have a grandfather.”

“That’s what I said, but I had one, and with my father dead—my father is dead, by the way—everything comes to me. And it’s a lot.”

“Holy shit.” He took this in. “That’s crazy. I’d say you were high, except I’ve never known you to get high in your life.”

“Jesus, man. I’m not high. It’s the truth, and it’s legit. I inherited a house and everything, if you want to come live there. It’s nice.”

Max snorted. “I’m not coming to live with you, dipshit. What is this, a sitcom? I like this apartment. If you don’t want it back, I’m staying.”

I gritted my teeth. I wasn’t going to push it. When Max dug his heels in, he was the most stubborn fucker I’d ever seen. He hated change, especially change that wasn’t his idea. He’d lived in his no-good father’s place until the old man died, unwilling to pack his stuff and leave. He’d been dealing with the old man’s illness and his own PTSD at the same time. All of that was too recent, and he was still feeling the effects. So I left it.

“The woman across the way,” I said to change the subject. “Have you seen her?”

Bad move. Max wasn’t my best friend for nothing—he picked up on the vibes right away. “She one of yours?” he asked. “You have a little thing going on with the neighbor when you were here?”

“Maybe. It, um… it wasn’t really a thing.”

“Uh huh.” Max pressed his hands together, steepling his fingers like the asshole he was, and regarded me. “Not really a thing, but you definitely fucked her. Interesting. That means she probably dumped you.”

I frowned. “Why does it mean that?”

“Because I’ve seen her. She’s good-looking, and she’s hot, but she has class. So if she fucked you, she probably dumped you.”