“Damn.” Eli whistled. “Real bad.”
Caleb grabbed some clothes from the cupboard across from the bed. “Sure you don’t need some help?”
Lucas shook his head, waiting until the door closed to change—a painstaking process that took him way too long. He was sweating right through his clean shirt and hurting all over by the time he finished, and that was with Eli checking on him twice.
As much as his body wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, he couldn’t afford to waste any more time here.
God, he needed to get to Max before Blackwater.
He didn’t know when finding Max became more about helping her get her life back and less about Cara’s death and Blackwater’s dealings, but somewhere along the way that’s exactly what happened.
Probably right around the time that the connection between the two of them deepened into something he wasn’t ready to let go of.
Not today. Maybe not ever.
Ten days.
Ten days since Lucas had been shot. Ten days since she’d run through the woods after flagging down a car only to find he’d vanished. She thought at first she’d gotten lost and misread the markers she’d left to find her way back to him, then she’d seen the blood.
For ten minutes she’d searched the area, terrified Snake or Edward Blackwater had found him and tossed his body in the river. Only when she crossed paths with two hunters who, after berating her for running around the woods during deer season without an orange hunting vest, mentioned an injured man being found earlier.
Relief had nearly broken her, and seeing her distress, the hunters had offered her a ride to the closest hospital where they were sure Lucas had been taken.
That had been ten days ago, and after making sure he was okay, she had contented herself with only calling the hospital to check on him. As much as she wanted to see him, to stay right there next to him, she wanted him safe and alive more.
Being anywhere near her, especially with Blackwater more determined than ever to get to her could only end up hurting him more. Until she found a way to nail the drug and arms dealer, she would keep her distance. Maybe that way she could keep him safe.
More than once he’d risked himself for her, and she refused to let him do it again. He was better off far away from her. People kept getting hurt when they got involved with her—Glen, Jillian, Cara and now Lucas.
Bringing down Blackwater on her own seemed impossible, but she wasn’t willing to spend another day looking over her shoulder, wondering if he’d finally caught up with her. If she didn’t find a way to clear her name, Blackwater would win. She couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let him ruin everything she’d worked so hard to build.
Her father had been so proud of her the day she’d graduated from the academy, his eyes shining with unshed tears when he’d said that CJ would have cheered the loudest for her. How could she let memories like that be shadowed by the pity and scorn her family would have been living under since she’d run?
They didn’t deserve to be whispered about behind their backs. Glen didn’t deserve to be tainted by the same brush that marked her as dirty.
She’d fix it. All of it.
It had taken her days to hitch her way back to New York, but she was finally ready to make some kind of move. One that started with getting back inside the warehouse.
The only problem was the number of guards Blackwater had watching the property and her lack of familiarity with the warehouse beyond the few details she could remember from the night Cara died.
With very few people on the streets she could trust, she had no choice but to ask Glen for information, and she’d been careful never to stay on the phone for too long. She wanted to be a hundred percent certain her location at the B&B hadn’t been tracked through her conversation with Glen, but if Lucas was right and Blackwater suspected she knew where his missing weapon was, he’d undoubtedly find a way to tap Glen’s phone at the precinct.
She and Glen had only spoken twice since her return, but she’d agreed to meet him in a couple hours after learning he was continuing to investigate the witnesses who had claimed she killed Cara. Seeing as he stubbornly refused to listen when she insisted he stop digging into it during their brief phone conversations, she was counting on a personal visit convincing him.
Shivering from the late October cold snap, Max tucked her chin into her borrowed jacket as she hit the last block leading to her cousin’s apartment. She had finally gotten in touch with Sherri and apologized for the damage to her shop and for scaring the crap out of her friend by not letting her know she was okay sooner—the latter of which Sherri wasn’t going to forgive her for anytime soon apparently. She’d had Sherri call Max’s cousin Ashley, who lived in France part of the year, and ask about a friend subletting the place.
With Sherri personally vouching for the mystery tenant, Ashley had agreed and made arrangement for keys to be left, which Max had picked up three days ago. Although no one had any reason to be watching Ashley’s place, Max had been careful to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
Her stomach rumbled as she dug the key out of her pocket and let herself into the apartment building. By the time she climbed the three flights of stairs, she swore she could feel every single hour since she’d left Lucas in the woods bearing down on her.
Letting herself into the apartment, Max surveyed the stark white walls and open concept design, wishing she was in her own cramped cluttered apartment instead. Although here she could appreciate the security that came in knowing there were very few places an assailant could hide in plain sight if they managed to follow her home.
Drawing a weapon she’d stolen from her father’s lockbox—and getting in and out of there without being noticed hadn’t been easy—she did a sweep of the apartment to confirm she was indeed alone, then unzipped her jacket and left it on the table.
She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and scanned the notes she’d been making, trying to figure out a way to get into the warehouse that didn’t involve strolling right up to the front door.
She dug Cara’s lip gloss from her pocket and rolled it back and forth in her palm, staring at the pages in front of her until she couldn’t ignore her hunger any longer. Two pieces of toast—even if they were slathered in strawberry jam—were a far cry from the lobster dinner she and Lucas had shared.
God, she hoped he was doing okay. No matter how many times she tried reassuring herself that they hadn’t known each other long, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t thinking about him—missing him—so much it made her heart hurt.
Worried, tired and more than a little convinced she’d foolishly given more of herself to Lucas than she counted on, she headed for the shower. Her most recent recon of the warehouse had ended with running smack into a wino, one in the midst of taking a swig from his pint of rum, the contents of which had been splashed down the front of her in the process.
The wino hadn’t been impressed.
Setting her gun on the back of the toilet, next to the shower, she stripped down and hopped in, letting the hot water wash away both the rum and whispers of doubt that she wasn’t going to beat Blackwater.
When she finished and changed into a clean shirt of Ashley’s, she glanced at the bed, wondering if she had time for a quick nap.
Something in the hallway creaked, and she pivoted around, snatching her gun off the bed. Pulse pounding, she crossed to the door and checked the line of sight to the kitchen.
The hallway was empty.
Trusting her gut and not the voice that wondered if she suffered from chronic paranoia, she started down the hall, then paused, sensing movement directly behind her.
Spinning to meet the threat, she lead with her fist, not hearing the sound of her name until her hand had already connected with Lucas’s face.
Goddamn it.
Lucas’s head snapped back, but the pain that flared across his jaw wasn’t as bad as his side when he twisted to dodge the blow. With his hand pre
ssed to his still healing side, he backed up, giving her plenty of room.
He would have called out her name earlier, but thought he’d recognized one the guys who walked into her building a few minutes ago as one of Blackwater’s. If the guy had ID’d Max and got in ahead of Lucas, he hadn’t wanted to give the guy any kind of heads up.
Apparently, though, he was the only one who needed advance notice. Christ, she had a good throwing arm.
“Lucas?” Max asked.
Shaking off the pain, he straightened. “Surprised to see me I take it.”
Max stilled, an unreadable expression clouding her face. “What the hell are you doing here? And why didn’t you knock? You scared the crap out of me.”
As far as reunions went, this wasn’t how Lucas had envisioned this one going down. Her arms around his neck maybe, her mouth on his—definitely. An aching jaw and a gun between them? Not a chance.
“I think you can put that down now.”
She glanced at the weapon in her hand. “I could have shot you, you ass.” Her words were laced with more worry than anger, so he chanced pressing his luck and got right into her personal space.
Her gaze landed on his jaw. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Good thing you hit like a girl.”
She rolled her eyes, and he pulled her close, opening his mouth over hers. At least now he knew he hadn’t imagined how good kissing her felt, or how much he’d missed her. He’d known her staying away from the hospital had been the right call, but every moment since then he’d been so worried about her.
Who cared that she was strong and resourceful and determined? He’d wanted her close so he could see with his own eyes that she was okay. If anything had happened to her…
She murmured a little protest against his lips, and he forced himself to give her a little room to breathe, but didn’t release her entirely. He wasn’t ready for that yet.
Eyes closed, she held onto him, her free hand cupping his face and erasing anything negative Joe might have said about Max when his boss had cautioned him against going after her.
Max finally drew back, her attention sliding down his chest.
It didn’t take a lot of imagination to know she was thinking of his gunshot wound. “Max—”
“I should get some ice for your face.” She turned and walked away from him.
Lucas followed her into the kitchen, wanting to tell her…what exactly? How much he’d missed her, was glad to see her, that the last ten days had been the longest in his life?
Max motioned for him to take a seat, and turned to grab something from the freezer. Ice probably. If he hadn’t glimpsed that little flutter of panic in her eyes a heartbeat before he’d kissed her, he would have insisted he didn’t need anything but her to make him feel better.
Sensing she needed something to keep her hands busy, though, he kept quiet.
“How did you find me?”
“You were spotted near Blackwater’s warehouse last night.” He’d been both relieved and angered to know someone had spotted her. Relieved that she was safe, and angered that she hadn’t been careful enough to avoid notice entirely.
Any one of Blackwater’s snitches could have ID’d her and followed her back to the apartment. One of them had probably come too damn close to exactly that tonight.
She pulled an ice pack from the freezer. “How come you haven’t gone after the weapon?”
“Big warehouse and lots of places to check without knowing where to start.”
Her fingers faltered as she folded the pack up in a dish towel. “So you need me,” she guessed, something in her tone rubbing him the wrong way.
“Need you to tell me where it is, yes.”
“So you can go in and get it,” she finished, finally meeting his gaze.
“That’s the plan.” Among other things. Things he didn’t want Max anywhere near when they went down.
She pressed the pack to his face, and he closed his hand over hers. “I want in.”
“That’s not part of the plan.”
Her eyes narrowed at the corners, but she didn’t pull away from him. “You wanted my help.”
“Coming back here to handle Blackwater on your own wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Anger flared in her eyes. “I was just supposed to cooperate and do everything that you told me to, right?”
Why did it seem like answering such a straightforward question was so incredibly complicated?
He set the ice on the counter. “How about we start over.”
She shook her head. “I need to get in touch with Glen. I don’t want him anywhere near that warehouse when you guys make your move.”
Lucas frowned. “Why would he be near the warehouse?”
“I’d like to think he’s steering clear of it, but just in case he’s following leads he thinks will help me, I need to give him a heads up.”
“Are you sure you can trust him?”
She crossed her arms. “You tell me. I’m sure you’ve probably investigated him by now. Right?”
He nodded, not feeling the least bit apologetic for doing his job.
“Look, I realize that I can’t be sure about anything anymore—”
Now why did it feel like he was suddenly being lumped in with that?
“—but Glen has been looking out for me too long not to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Fair enough.” He let it go for now, really wanting to get back to the part where she was in his arms and tucked against him. Safe.
All too soon they would need to talk about the case’s location inside the warehouse, but for a few more minutes he just wanted to indulge in being close enough he could reach out and touch her.
Max reached for the phone, and he did his best to be patient while she left a short message for Glen to meet her an hour sooner if possible.
He’d strategically placed himself behind her, and when she hung up the phone, she turned around and nearly ran into him. Her eyes drifted up, studying him through thick dark lashes.
He cupped her cheek. “So did you miss me at all, Max?”
A soft, sexy smile—the one he’d been dreaming about—touched her lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He grinned, murmured, “Hell, yeah,” against her lips, and slid his mouth over hers.
Each time he kissed her, he expected the feeling to be less powerful, less consuming and each time he was never so happy to be disappointed.
Much too soon she pulled away from him. “We should go. Glen will be waiting for us.”
Deciding it would be good to meet this guy in person, Lucas nodded. “But when we get back, there are a few things we need to settle between us.”
“Us,” she repeated. “Like the weapon’s location?”
“Us. As in you and me.” No matter what happened with the weapon and Blackwater, he wasn’t leaving her again until he knew where they stood.
Max tried hard to concentrate on the menu in her hand and not think about what Lucas planned on saying when they got back to her cousin’s apartment. Not even the inviting smells wafting out of the run-down diner’s kitchen, a place she and Glen had stumbled across after a stakeout a couple years back, managed to tempt her to think about food over the man opposite her.
Every time she looked at him she felt her insides slide together in a warm wave that made her want to get as close to him as she could. But as much as she wanted him here, she couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t found her and was far away from New York.
Her gaze drifted to his chest, and she fought the urge to run her hand over him to make sure he really was okay.
“So you say the pancakes are good?” Lucas’s voice pulled her mind from the guilt still swirling in her stomach.
“The best in the city,” Glen finished, sliding into the empty seat next to her.
Before she could get a word out, his arms went around her, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Glad to see you’re in one piece.” Glen nodded t
o Lucas, his practiced cop smile revealing only polite curiosity. “Who’s your friend?”
Setting aside her menu, she made a quick introduction that didn’t fully satisfy Glen.
“Lucas…” Glen trailed off meaningfully, not missing the fact she hadn’t mentioned his last name.
“McAllister,” Lucas finished, setting his own menu aside and staring just as intently at Glen.
“How about we put away the testosterone until recess,” Max suggested.
They both glanced at her then back at each other, both equally guarded and just a little bit suspicious.
Glen took a sip of the coffee the waitress had left for him as he continued to size up Lucas like he would a suspect during interrogation. Before she could tell him to knock it off, he looked at her. “I’m glad you called actually. There’s talk that Blackwater has a new deal going down. Something big, apparently.”
“Who’s your source?”
Glen didn’t even pretend to contemplate answering without waiting for her to nod that they could trust Lucas. “It’s one of Wade’s informants.”
“Wade Cummings? The narcotics detective Max was engaged to?”
“His informant thinks it might have something to do with a deal that went bad a few months back,” Glen continued.
Max sat straighter in her seat. “Like the night Cara was killed.”
“Or,” Lucas interjected, “Blackwater knows Max is back in town and wants to find a way to draw her out.”
Glen nodded. “We can’t rule out the possibility.”
“Not when it’s personal after what she did to him.”
Frowning, Glen glanced at her for an explanation. “What does he mean?”
“She gave Blackwater that scar over his eye,” Lucas answered before she could get a word in.
Surprised by that, Glen shot her an incredulous look, and then went right back to his conversation with Lucas. “She did that?”
“She happens to be right here,” Max said through her teeth, not bothering to hide how annoyed she was that they were talking like she wasn’t even in the room.
Trust Me: The Lassiter Group, Book 1 Page 19
