Maxwell's Fall Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Maxwell’s Fall

  ISBN 9781419922596

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Maxwell’s Fall Copyright © 2009 Tielle St. Clare

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley

  Electronic book Publication August 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  MAXWELL’S FALL

  Tielle St. Clare

  Tielle St. Clare

  Prologue

  “Ballroom full of people—designers, models, me and a few other photographers and of course, the press.” Max cradled the phone to his shoulder as he stretched out on his bed. “I’d been dodging her all night. Did not want to deal with her. She finally catches me.” Jackson—Jax to his family—grunted so Max knew he still had his attention. “You know me. I don’t want to cause a scene.”

  He ignored the choking sound on the other end of the line and continued on with his tale. Timing was everything. “I’m trying to be polite, trying to get her to move on but damn, whatever I said, it was the wrong thing. She just snapped.”

  “What happened?”

  “She grabs the front of her very expensive designer dress and yanks. Rips the thing in half. Glitter’s flying everywhere. She pulls back the edges and screams ‘Are my tits too small? Is that why you won’t fuck me?’”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No lie.” Max answered his twin’s groan, pleased to recognize the laughter in his brother’s voice. Something was going on with Jax and Max didn’t know what to do.

  Even separated by more than a thousand miles, Max was determined to take care of his brother. So he did what he always did—told stories, made Jax laugh, until he could weasel out what was wrong with his twin.

  “What did you do?”

  “I looked at her tits. What else was I going to do?”

  “And…” Jax prompted. Max hesitated because well, truly, it hadn’t been his finest moment.

  “She’s right. They’re a bit on the small side.”

  “Tell me you didn’t say that.”

  “No.” Max rolled his eyes. His brother should know he had better sense than that.

  “I said, ‘Lady, it’s not your tits that are too small, it’s your IQ.’”

  “Max, you didn’t.”

  He winced at the memory. “Yeah, it just kind of slipped out. But she only got in one good punch before I escaped.”

  “She hit you?”

  Max could practically see his brother jolting up in his seat, ready to jump to his defense. As twins they were protective of each other. Doubly so because of the wolf’s innate tendency to protect its pack mates.

  “Don’t worry. She hits like a girl.”

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  Maxwell’s Fall

  Jax laughed and the sound comforted Max. Whatever was bothering Jackson wasn’t so intense that he’d lost his sense of humor. That was the first thing to go when Jackson was stressed.

  “Don’t let our sisters hear you say that.”

  “God no.” Max hadn’t lost all sense of self-preservation. Bridget and Kiki would take him down if they heard him.

  “So uh what happened to her, standing there, you know, topless?”

  “Ah, it’s Vegas, baby. Topless women aren’t that unusual.”

  “Only you, Max. This kind of shit only happens to you,” Jax said. The clink of ice in a glass told Max that Jackson was enjoying a drink. Probably a G&T. Max shuddered.

  He didn’t know how Jax drank that stuff.

  “I don’t know why. It wasn’t like I egged this girl on.” Even though Jax couldn’t see him, Max shrugged.

  “Mom always said you just fall into trouble.”

  “And you rise above it.” He laughed hearing their mother’s voice in his head. The family joke was that Max just fell into trouble—usually involving women. His mother didn’t seem to mind. She used to tell him when he fell for the right girl, he’d fall hard and the landing would be soft. He thought about Dani, his—well, he wasn’t sure what she was at the moment. He was pretty sure he hadn’t fallen hard for her, not the way Mom predicted, but that didn’t mean they weren’t good together. The sex was hot and she was beautiful. He didn’t need a “mate”, didn’t want one.

  He shook his head, clearing his thoughts and ready to make a sharp transition in topic. And get to the purpose of this phone call—what the hell was bothering Jax?

  “So what’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing much.”

  The way he said it—with just a quick sigh—made the hair on the back of Max’s neck stand up. His brother was keeping something from him.

  “Jax.” That was all he had to say—a warning that he wasn’t going let this go.

  Jax hesitated then said, “Max, I’m fine. Just helping out a friend on a project. It’s nothing big.”

  A low hum of excitement ran beneath Jax’s voice. That combined with the fact that Jax wouldn’t tell him what was happening made Max’s muscles twitch. Jax was the sane twin. The thought of him being tense and secretive made the hairs on the back of Max’s neck stand up.

  Max tapped his finger on his thigh. He opened his mouth, ready to ask again. He wasn’t letting Jax off that easily.

  “How’s Dani?” Jax asked. Max shook his head. Pretty clever, switching the focus to something Max didn’t want to discuss. His failed—or failing, more accurately—

  engagement.

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  Tielle St. Clare

  “Uh, fine.”

  “Doesn’t sound fine.”

  Damn, his brother could read him as well. “No, she’s good. Really.” He tried to inject a little enthusiasm into his voice.

  Jackson didn’t press and Max was grateful. The impulsive decision to get married had been quickly followed by the realization that things were moving a bit too fast.

  When Dani had suggested they “take a break”, Max leapt at the chance. Still, it was embarrassing to get unengaged three weeks after it had happened. He’d talk to Jax about it at Mik’s wedding, get some advice on how to tell the parents.

  “When are you heading to Mik’s wedding?” He looked out the window of his apartment. The lights of the Vegas Strip glittered in the distance. He’d been thinking about going out, dropping twenty bucks in a slot machine. He didn’t gamble much but occasionally it was a way to kill time. Better than sitting around his place thinking.

  Jax was probably doing the same thing in his house, staring at the night sky. That Jax had ended up in Alaska was still a surprise. That they’d ended up living in d
ifferent states was part of Max’s discontent. He liked being near his brother. But for now he needed to be here and Jax was reasonably settled up north. They got together several times a year. Often meeting up and going to visit their family.

  Max listened to Jackson’s groan and smiled. They obviously felt the same way about the family gathering. With Mik getting married, their mother would turn her attention on them. He could already hear the gentle nags about when he and Dani would be setting a date. “The Thursday before,” Jax said.

  “Cool, that’s when I’ll arrive as well. You bringing a date?”

  “Right.” Jackson laughed. “None of the women I know would exactly blend with our family. You bringing Dani?”

  He sounded eager, teasing, trying not to press but Jax definitely wanted answers.

  “Probably not. She’s got a new show starting. Bad time for her to be gone. Listen, I’d better go.”

  Much longer and he’d break down and confess.

  “Yeah. Have a good night.”

  “You too, Brother.”

  Max hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. It wasn’t just that something was going on with Jax, something was wrong inside Max as well.

  Without even noticing, he realized he’d gotten up and started pacing, doing his whole caged animal impression. He needed to see Jax. The phone worked but he needed to connect with his brother. Needed to see his brother. And then maybe he’d find the courage to make the face-to-face confession that he and Dani were “on a break”.

  He flipped open his laptop and got online. The only thing on the schedule for the next week was a bathing suit layout. Though he hated missing the opportunity of 6

  Maxwell’s Fall

  seeing models in tiny clothes, the urge to visit Jackson took precedence. He’d find someone to cover the shoot while he made a quick trip to Alaska.

  7

  Tielle St. Clare

  Chapter One

  When no one answered the door, Max dug into his pocket and pulled out the key ring Jax had sent him two years ago when he’d moved in. It was crazy. They lived a thousand miles apart, but still swapped keys. Jax had a set for Max’s Vegas apartment.

  He put the key in the lock, calling out at as he walked in. There was always the possibility Jax was home and just didn’t want to answer the door. God forbid Max walk in on his brother with some woman. They were close, but he didn’t need to see Jax having sex.

  “Jax! You around?” Silence echoed back. Max dropped his bag on the floor and stopped. Something was off. He scanned the room. Nothing blatantly out of place, no cushions overturned or pillows unstuffed but damn, it looked like Jackson’s house had been searched. It felt like the room had been tossed.

  Jax was almost fanatical in his need to be organized. It helped his sense of control.

  Max pushed the door closed behind him and sniffed the air, letting his wolf senses come to the front. His vision turned black and white. The loss of color sacrificed in favor of crisp sharp focus. Human sweat lingered in the room—surface scents, not imbedded in the furniture. Papers were scattered across the dining room table. Books were misaligned on the shelves. Not that Jax was completely OCD, but he had obsessive tendencies. He never would have left his place like this.

  Max closed his eyes and listened. He was alone in the house. At least as far as living creatures.

  If Jax is here, his heart isn’t beating.

  Reining in the wolf’s volatile emotions, Max forced himself to move methodically through the house. If Jax were still here, he was beyond human help. Letting the anger simmer in his chest—that someone dare threaten his twin—he checked the kitchen, newly remodeled and gleaming. Nothing out of place. Whoever had come in, they hadn’t bothered to search this room.

  Max finished examining the first floor then moved upstairs. He stopped at the top and sniffed again. The human smells continued. Jax’s scent lingered beneath the intruder’s. You know he was alive two days ago, Max reminded himself.

  Strangely reluctant to continue the search, Max forced air into his lungs and urged his feet around the corner, moving to Jackson’s bedroom first. Empty. The bedside tables had been opened and not closed properly. So had one of the dresser drawers. Not like Jax. A quick peek in the master bath told him it was empty as well.

  He retreated, not touching anything, and went to the next room. Jax’s place wasn’t big and he used the second room as an office-guestroom. Max pushed open the door 8

  Maxwell’s Fall

  and sighed. Empty. Thank God. But here the disarray was more pronounced—files opened and emptied onto the floor.

  What had they been looking for? And had they found it?

  Questions that Max wanted answers to, but first he needed to answer the most critical one—where was Jax?

  He flipped open his phone, ignored the message indicator—another call from Mik, one from Dad—and hit speed dial one. His heel bounced restlessly on the ground as he listened to the buzzing ring in his ear…and heard it echoed downstairs.

  Sighing, Max followed the sound and found Jax’s cell phone on the kitchen counter.

  Wherever he was, he didn’t have his phone.

  Max shook his head. Jackson appeared to most of the world as the stable, organized methodical brother. Only their family knew the truth. Jackson had to be organized.

  He’d forget his head if wasn’t attached—as their mother used to say.

  Max paced the living room and debated whether to call the police. Would they even care? It wasn’t obvious unless you knew Jax that the house had been searched and for all Max knew, his brother might be on a plane flying into a remote Alaska village.

  Jackson consulted with a couple of the Alaska Native Corporations and sometimes had to fly to Nome and Bethel.

  Not caring that he invaded his brother’s privacy, Max went to the phone and picked it up. The tone beeped in his ear indicating he had messages. He dialed in to Jax’s voicemail and waited. One message left two hours earlier.

  “Jackson, it’s me.” He didn’t recognize the feminine voice. “I’m just calling to remind you about tonight. I know you won’t forget—you never do—but I’m compelled to remind you. If anyone understands that, it’s you, right?” She laughed like it was a joke between them. “Anyway, eight o’clock at Gideon’s. I’ll see you there.”

  Max hung up the phone. Whoever the woman on the phone was, she was right about one thing—Jax didn’t forget appointments. If he was supposed to be there tonight, he’d be there. Or Max could officially panic.

  * * * * *

  At seven fifty-five Max sat down at the bar in Gideon’s. It was a restaurant-bistro kind of place. The dining area was down a short, dim hallway, leaving the bar in an intimate corner of the building. So far, Max liked the atmosphere—dark but not depressing. It was the kind of place he and Jax would have hung out in—if they lived in the same city. It had an elegance that would appeal to Jackson and a sensuality that called to Max. And based on the top-shelf liquor that lined the back of the bar, they probably had a great wine list. That sparked Max’s interest.

  The female bartender approached. Before he could ask for a wine list, she placed a glass in front of him—filled with clear liquid and ice. He sniffed. Gin. Tanqueray and tonic, if Max had to guess. Jax’s drink.

  9

  Tielle St. Clare

  “Evening, Jackson.”

  Max thought to correct her but something stopped him.

  “Alone tonight?” She leaned forward, the motion pushing her breasts together and straining the top of her t-shirt. Along with the interesting display of cleavage, it gave Max a chance to read her name tag. Jackie.

  “I’m meeting someone.”

  A smile bent her lips, tainted with disappointment but more arrogant than anything else. As if she knew Jax would reject her…and he didn’t know what he was missing.

  “Aren’t you always? Oh and I think she’s here now.” Jackie tipped her head toward the entrance.

  M
ax turned and followed the direction of her gaze. A woman stepped in the doorway and scanned the room with an almost computerized precision. Starting at her left, she observed, catalogued and dismissed the four other parties in the room.

  Her gaze landed on him and she nodded once, the movement brisk before she walked forward with efficient steps.

  He took the few seconds he had before she reached him to check her out. She was on the taller side of average. A gray cardboard box suit camouflaged most of her body so he couldn’t get a precise read on her form. It looked like she had some curves but he couldn’t tell through the ugly clothes. The loose skirt ended just below her knee and the matching jacket hung down past her hips, hiding both her ass and her breasts.

  The way she moved indicated efficiency and competence. And the combination made him want to muss her up—see her with her hair hanging around her face, panting as he fucked her, begging for him to come inside her.

  But the prim set of her mouth killed that fantasy. She looked like the warden of a women’s prison. A real prison—not one of the fun, sexy versions so popular in porn videos.

  Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun that rested against the nape of her neck. It left her face completely bare and made her cheekbones stark, harsh lines on her skin.

  On any given day, Max would have looked past her. Not because of her average appearance but because of the dull, repressed aura that surrounded her.

  On a bad day, this would be the kind of woman Jackson would choose. Personally, Max had always thought Jax needed to find a wild woman, someone to loosen him up, not encourage his control-freak tendencies.

  Not that the woman wasn’t pretty—she was in a rounded, comfortable sense—but the serious set to her eyes and firm line of her lips screamed she’d be no fun in bed.

  “If you ever get tired of vanilla,” Jackie the bartender whispered, “call me. I’ll give you a great ride.”

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  Maxwell’s Fall