Deadly Secrets

Chapter 33: Bodyguards

Well Roman wasn't wrong about the shack.

It looked like one of those modular temporary buildings, the white ones which are usually seen on construction sites. Nestled between the cargo containers, it was almost invisible at first glance, namely during the day, when it wasn't in use. At night however, the entrance was guarded by two burly men; they wore black adherent t-shirts that outlined every muscle on their broad chests, cargo pants and matching combat boots. Their toned arms were congested with tattoos, and their bear-like hands could lift you up and snap you in half like a twig. It was no surprise that they weren't cold: they probably had enough testosterone and steroids running through their veins to kill a man.

The yellow lightbulbs lining the makeshift veranda casted ominous shadows over their harsh lineaments, making their deep-set eyes look even more ingrained into their skull. If they looked intimidating before, the lighting made them look almost animalistic now.

Max was rarely thrown off by another person's appearance, especially when he knew that the lunkheads standing before him were all muscle and no brain. He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his head, a grim expression on his face as he walked towards the front door.

"I am here to see Roman," Max stated, a challenge in his eyes. He could take both of them down in a couple of minutes, never mind that he was unarmed. Without giving them a second glance, he moved to open the door but was blocked by a meaty hand. Max's eyes slowly travelled up the man's arm and up to his face, his mouth set in a thin line.

You really don't want to be doing this, buster.

"Who are you," the one on the right asked in a gruff voice, ignoring Max's request.

He was also the one that dared to cross Max's path.

"I am here to see Roman," Max repeated more loudly, a harsh edge to his tone. His eyes were still on the guys face, unmoving like his stance.

The two men looked at each other then at Max, their arms falling to their sides. They slowly began to lumber towards Max, either with the intent to intimidate him or beat him into a pulp.

"Max! Is that you?" Was Roman's muffled voice from the inside.

"Yeah man. Your idiotic manservants are blocking my way. Tell them to fuck off before I kill them both."

One of them reached out and one-handedly grabbed Max's jacket by the neck, his nostrils flaring in anger and a growl resonating in the back of his throat.

Max didn't even flinch. He instead kept his green eyes on the man who looked like he was about to explode from rage.

"Let him in goddamnit!" Roman's exasperated voice again.

The gorilla let Max go, but not before he tightened his grip around Max's collar and snorted with disgust.

Max simpered and adjusted his coat, brushing off the man's inferiority.

"Don't touch me again," Max warned, and he spat on the ground.

Dirty looks. Teeth grinding. Swearing.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and swung open the door, revealing a smug-looking Roman perched on the edge of a velvet armchair. An expensive looking fur-coat enveloped him, hiding an equally expensive blue suit, and his hair was combed back in its usual style. He lifted the hand holding a cigar and the rings adorning his fingers caught the light and glittered entrancingly.

Two more men flanked him on either side, with appearances as daunting as the ones standing outside.

If Max had been drinking water, then he would've spat it out.