That sounded so stupid. Why couldn’t she give Eve reassurance? Hope?
“Are you … are you going back to New York?”
“Not right away.”
“What … what about me? What’s going to happen to me?”
She sounded scared, and that was the last thing that Max wanted for her sister.
“You’re my sister. We’re family. I’m not going anywhere without you.” She hesitated. Max couldn’t imaging living in Cape Haven. Yes, to visit—it was beautiful and peaceful, even with all the darkness they’d faced these last two weeks. Her life was in New York City, but she was used to traveling. “We’ll make it work,” she said, feeling more confident as she spoke. “I can work from here, go to New York when I need to be in the studio. I can cut back on travel, focus on cold cases on the East Coast. Maybe I’ll quit.”
“Quit your job? I thought you liked what you do.”
“I do. But I don’t need to work.”
“What would you do?”
“Take care of you?”
Eve smiled. “You know I’m sixteen.”
“Yes, but you still need someone. I mean, I suppose you could be emancipated, but I am your sister. I want to be your sister.”
“I’d like that a lot.”
Relief flooded through Max. “Okay. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Do you want to move here?”
Max didn’t say anything.
“You promised you would never lie to me.”
“I can live here for a while. I might go crazy, but this is your home.”
Eve shook her head. She held up the urn. “My dad was my home. Everything I knew about me was wrong. About my mother, my father, Uncle Brian—everything here reminds me of my dad, but it reminds me of what happened, too. I don’t know—I think, maybe, I just need to figure out who I am and who I want to be. Does that sound stupid?”
“I think you are very wise.”
“Would you … would you consider letting me come to New York with you?”
“Do you want to come to New York?”
She nodded. “But I don’t want to be trouble.”
“You’re not trouble. Eve, you are my sister, you are part of me. I never thought I’d have a sister. You’re the best thing that I could have found when I started this search. I want you with me. Here or New York, wherever you want to go. We have time to figure it out.”
“Okay. Good. I want to go to New York with you. Maybe visit here sometimes?”
“Whenever you want.”
“You mean that?”
“Yes, I do. Your house is your house. You have part of Havenly.” Max was already talking to her lawyers about buying out Boreal’s half of the resort. Considering what their principal Colter had done, she knew she’d get it. But she’d share those details with Eve when they were both not so emotionally on edge.
Eve looked down at the urn. “He died for me.”
“Gabriel died a hero. Because he loved you, and because that was the type of man he was.”
Eve opened the urn and turned it on its side, letting the wind carry Gabriel’s ashes into the waves. She then leaned over and rinsed the urn out, then filled it with water. “Is this silly?”
“No,” Max said.
“Can we sit out here a little longer?”
“We’ll sit out here as long as you want.”
Eve put her head on Max’s shoulder. Max held her sister close to her side. Tears fell, silent, as they said good-bye to a hero.
* * *
Max was staying at the Truman house with Eve. Ryan had come down for the funeral, but had to go back to Norfolk to wrap up some paperwork. He returned Sunday and Max didn’t realize how happy she was to see him.
Max hugged him as soon as he walked in. He hugged her back. “Where’s Eve?”
“Sleeping. I don’t think she’s slept much this week, but after the funeral—and our private burial—she needs it.”
“David?”
“Flew back to New York yesterday.”
“So it’s you and me.” He kissed her forehead.
“And Eve. I don’t want to leave her alone just yet.”
“Of course not.”
He kissed her again, this time longer. She felt that familiar heat rise, then he stepped back.
“Wow,” she said. “You really missed me.”
She was trying to make light of it, but Ryan’s expression was serious. “Very much. You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m okay. Eve will be okay, too.”
She led him to the living room. She’d put the seascape back into its frame and rehung it. Ryan had taken the Degas to FBI headquarters. The house looked like a home, but it was no longer home to anyone.
“When are you going back to New York?”
“I’m going to take the week and put Gabriel’s affairs in order, arrange for a caretaker for the house, then play it by ear. Eve doesn’t want to stay in Cape Haven, but she might change her mind.”
“You’d move here for her?”
“I would do anything for her. Right now she wants to move with me to New York. I told her okay, but I don’t know if that’s the right decision.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s grieving. What if she regrets the move?”
“Then you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.”
“Truly? I want her with me in New York. I like it here, but I would go stir-crazy. Still, it’s not an impossible commute.”
“Spoken like someone who has never commuted in their life.” He touched her softly, almost tenderly. “I have to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.” Her heart thudded. “Anything.” She was still trying to keep the conversation light, because this entire week had been filled with darkness. She didn’t know if she could handle more sorrow.
Ryan hesitated.
Max said, “Now you have me worried. You’re way too serious. Did something happen with the case? With the authentication of the Degas?”
“No, everything is amazing. My colleagues raided Colter’s house in Dallas. There were dozens of pieces of art, some exceptional reproductions—we’d call them forgeries if he was trying to sell them—and some originals, most stolen. There are a couple we don’t have the provenance for and Colter’s accomplice Vance is cooperating, so I’m optimistic we’ll find all the answers. And we have thousands of pages of notes, datebooks, and the like that will take time to go through. But I’m working on it.”
“That’s good news.”
“The Degas is the piece stolen from the museum in Dallas. And the Caravaggio was authenticated as well—you were right.”
“I usually am.”
Now he smiled. “And that’s why I’m falling in love with you.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“I have to get it out there in the open. We haven’t talked a lot about your past relationships or mine or how open you are to a relationship at all, but I think we’re amazing together, and I want more.”
“I … well, honestly, I don’t have a good track record.”
“That’s clear. You’re not married, you’re not living with anyone.”
“Yes, but it’s me.”
“Because you’re smart? A lot of men don’t like smart women. I can assure you, that’s not a problem for me. Because you’re stubborn? It’s sometimes annoying, but mostly charming.”
“Charming,” she said flatly.
“Because you’re independent? Good. That goes hand in hand with being smart. You have a career, you know what you want, you get it. Because you’re rich? I don’t care about money either way, and I make a good living. I can’t fly off to Paris or Edinburgh at the drop of a hat, but I own my house on the beach in Virginia, have no debt, and am already saving up for my retirement. Have been since I was twenty-two because I was an econ major and never believed that Social Security would be around when I hit sixty-five or seventy. Plus I have a pension. So I certainly don’t love you for your money because I get by j
ust fine on my own.”
“You don’t have to—”
“What? Tell you why you’re desirable?”
Max was rarely, if ever, at a loss for words.
Ryan pulled her down onto the couch. “Smart. Stubborn. Damn sexy. Maybe you take too many risks, but I’m okay with that. I haven’t stopped thinking about last weekend. I get horny just thinking about when we shared a bed. I have been anticipating making love to you since I left. But it’s not fair to you—or to me—to have these feelings and not express them.”
She kissed him, her fingers found their way to his hair. “Are you going to cut your hair?”
“No.”
She smiled. “What if I told you it was a deal-breaker?”
“I’d still say no. I like my hair. Most men who are forty don’t have hair as good as mine. If you want me to cut it, it means you have no taste.”
She laughed. She laughed a lot more around Ryan than she had around any of her other boyfriends.
She shouldn’t compare Ryan to anyone else. It wasn’t fair to Ryan, or to any of the men who came before him. He was an original, one of a kind, and she was definitely interested. More than a little interested.
“And there’s something else.” He kissed her, then adjusted their position so he was leaning back into the corner of the couch and she was lying right next to him, close. “I was offered a position as SSA of my own white-collar crime squad with an emphasis on art and securities fraud. In the New York City field office. I’ve wanted it for a while, but because I’m sort of unorthodox in how I approach my job, I’ve been passed over twice for promotions. This case bumped me to the top of the list. I don’t want you to think that I’m taking it just to be closer to you. I mean, if for some ridiculous reason you want to dump me, there’s a few million other women in New York who would be very happy and lucky to have me. But this offer came now. I start in three weeks, and I want to see you as much as I can. And being in New York will make that a lot easier.” He paused. “Though if you end up staying here, I suppose it’s me who will be traveling to see you.”
Max rarely feared anything, but suddenly she was scared. “I’ve only had long-distance relationships.”
“Because they’re safe,” he said. “You’ll always have an excuse to walk away, and it’s not that hard to leave when you’re a thousand miles away from the guy you’re sleeping with. This isn’t going to be safe, Max. This is going to be fun, it’s going to be hot, and it’s going to last.”
“You can’t know that.” Was that why she was scared? Because nothing lasted in her life?
“You overthink everything. Sometimes, that’s a terrific trait. Other times, not so much. We all have baggage. Some more than others. I was raised in a great home. We had very little, and my mom worked her ass off. She was tired a lot, but she loved us, and we took care of one another. But just because my dad was a jerk who left her and didn’t help one iota doesn’t mean that I think it’s okay to do the same thing, or that I think every relationship is destined to fail. I can see how your rather unusual upbringing clouds your perception of everything.”
“I’m clearheaded. I go into situations without any preconceived notions—I go in and look at the evidence, find the truth, and reveal it.”
“It’s cute that you believe that.”
“Now you’re insulting me?” She arched her eyebrow. “You aren’t perfect, Agent Maguire.”
He mock frowned. “Surely, you jest.”
“That whole number code theory on the postcards—it meant nothing.”
He didn’t say anything.
“It didn’t,” Max insisted. “It had nothing to do with the Degas or Colter or the other paintings.”
“Well,” he said slowly, “you’re right about that. I just don’t think that the dates mean nothing. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
“But you will,” she said with a smile. “And people think I’m arrogant.”
“Yes, you dig for the truth and you’re really good at finding it, so yes, you’re a bit arrogant, but very much deserved.”
“Glad you see that,” Max said. Although Ryan wasn’t arrogant, not like she was. He was extremely confident, and she liked that.
“But you’re cynical.”
“And you’re not?” As she said it she realized she had not once thought of Ryan as cynical. Fun, smart, capable, excitable, but certainly not a cynic.
“I don’t think just because you’ve never had a healthy relationship doesn’t mean you’re damaged goods.”
“I wouldn’t say never had a healthy relationship.”
Ryan shrugged, kissed her spontaneously. “Not never. You have one now.”
“Do I?”
“I usually get what I want.”
“So do I.”
“I want you. You good?”
Was she? She’d never met anyone like Ryan before. With all the men she’d been involved with, it was either a game for control—like Marco trying to change her and challenge her all the time, or trust, like Nick, who kept half his life closed off from her. She’d been involved with others, some she liked a lot, some who were good in bed, and some who were simply interesting. But she had never had what Ryan was suggesting they try to have—a healthy relationship. And she realized that not only did she deserve it, she was ready to try.
She smiled slowly. “I’m very good.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Are you up for it?”
“For you? Anytime.” He scooped her up.
“You’ve got to stop carrying me. I’m not a little petite nothing.”
“You’re perfect, as I’m sure you would agree.” He kissed her. “And I like surprising you. I don’t think it happens very often.”
He walked up the stairs with her and she pointed to the guest room where she was staying, small, but more than adequate.
He closed the door and dropped her to her feet.
“You and me, Max Revere.” He kissed her as he backed her toward the bed. “We are going to be great.”
ALSO BY ALLISON BRENNAN
Breaking Point
Shattered
Make Them Pay
The Lost Girls
Poisonous
No Good Deed
Best Laid Plans
Compulsion
Dead Heat
Notorious
Cold Snap
Stolen
Stalked
Silenced
If I Should Die
Kiss Me, Kill Me
Love Me to Death
Carnal Sin
Original Sin
Cutting Edge
Fatal Secrets
Sudden Death
Playing Dead
Tempting Evil
Killing Fear
Fear No Evil
See No Evil
Speak No Evil
The Kill
The Hunt
The Prey
About the Author
ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than thirty novels. Most recently, she was nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by the International Thriller Writers, and is a two-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award by Kiss of Death. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Northern California with her husband, five kids, and assorted pets. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Also by Allison Brennan
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ABANDONED. Copyright © 2018 by Allison Brennan. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover photographs: door © Margie Hurwich / Arcangel; texture © Syomao / Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Brennan, Allison, author.
Title: Abandoned / Allison Brennan.
Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2018. | Series: Max Revere novels; 5
Identifiers: LCCN 2018004423 | ISBN 9781250164483 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250164506 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Women journalists—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3602.R4495 A63 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018004423
eISBN 9781250164506
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
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