Read Online Sexual Persuasion by Maryn Sinclair - Free Book Online Page B

slow simmer to full boil. His fists clenched, and his nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms. How many other pictures had Davidson collected on the good citizens of Boston? And what did he have on his boss?
    Alex leaned across the table. “You’re playing with fire if you think you can blackmail Max.”
    Sweat beaded on Davidson’s face. “Again, I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying. I have nothing on Max.”
    “Is booze your excuse for everything?”
    Davidson squinted, ran his sleeve across his forehead. “I say things I don’t mean when I’m drunk and do things I shouldn’t. I’m fucked up.”
    “Add your drinking problem to a gambling one, and you’d do yourself a favor to get into a program. I doubt you’d find one that addresses all your vices, though. And while you’re at it, find some smarten-up pills, because being stupid could have detrimental consequences.”
    “On top of dipping your wick into both my old girlfriend and into Max, you’re my friendly shrink too?”
    Davidson’s mention of where Alex dipped his wick infuriated him. “Once more, don’t fuck with Max.” He flipped through the photos. “And you’d better not do anything to hurt Charlotte. You’re already up to your neck in shit. Don’t get in deeper.”
    “Thanks to you.”
    Alex leaned over and spoke in a low, steady voice. “No, asshole. Thanks to you. Stop blaming everyone for your fuck-ups. You gambled; you lost. No one made you do it.”
    “You should know how it goes.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Your old man’s gambling sent him to jail, didn’t it? I should think you’d have more compassion.”
    “I’ve plenty. If I didn’t, I’d kill you.” He tucked the photographs into the back pocket of his jeans. “If you ever bother Charlotte again, I will.” He rose and left the coffee shop, his hands shaking. He’d never threatened a man in his life.
    The despicable photos brought back something he’d said to Max about Jack’s access to filming and recording people in sensitive situations. The Regent had a stellar reputation because Jack had good people working for him, holdovers from his father’s regime. Politicians and movie stars stayed there; local bigwigs conducted business meetings in the rooms. Alex imagined the trysts that went on under the guise of privacy.
    He put the key in the ignition, about to start his car, when he looked up to see Jack emerge from the coffee house and swagger toward Copley Square and the Regent. Halfway down the block a tall, muscle-bound guy came out of nowhere. He wore sunglasses and a ball cap and looked like he’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson in his prime and lost. Even at that distance, Alex saw a jagged scar cut diagonally across the side of his neck. The guy grabbed Jack’s arm, and by the surprised look on Jack’s face, this was no arranged meeting. The two men exchanged words. Angry words. Alex wished he could hear.
    After a minute, the man jabbed his finger in Jack’s neck. Jack stumbled backward and would have hit the ground if the man hadn’t grabbed him and held him up. Alex knew that move. Mountain Man stabbed a pressure point. Pain depended on how hard he pressed. He could have rendered Jack unconscious. Jack looked pissed. They exchanged more words. Then the man with the steel finger did it again, this time in Jack’s kidney. Jack went down. The man walked away in the other direction, leaving Jack writhing on the sidewalk.
    Alex couldn’t resist. He hopped out of the car and jogged the half block to where Jack now teetered to his feet. “What the hell was that all about?”
    Jack braced himself against a tree, holding his side, gasping for breath. “You ought to know, sending that maniac after me.”
    Alex shook his head. “Not me.”
    “Then your boss. Didn’t you say I wouldn’t know when lightning struck? Well, lightning just fucking struck. You reported back to Carpathian and told him shit I said when I was too drunk to know