a hedonistic trip back to the Towers as he stood to pull out her chair, but negated that suggestion. “Work it is.”
Max’s cell rang. With a regretful glance at the screen, he grumbled, “I have to take this. Have a good afternoon, Wife.” Brushing his lips against her cheek as she used his solid shoulder to gain unsteady feet, he smiled then turned his attention to the caller.
Cee Cee sighed. Back to their separate lives.
She wound her way through the endless loops of the buffet line and the dark interior of the restaurant, now standing room only, grateful to suck a deep breath when back in the sunlight again. Distracted by thoughts of the afternoon delight that might have been, she began a slow walk back toward the District office, a wave of tourists practically carrying her across the first intersection.
Just as she reached the broken curb, a vehicle swerved into the crosswalk, incurring shouts from alarmed pedestrians. The rear door flew open, a large figure reached out, and Charlotte Caissie disappeared inside.
– – –
Max waited until after Cee Cee was out of sight before he turned his attention to his call.
The low purr of his aunt’s voice sucked the oxygen from his lungs, replacing it with fire. “Michael tells me you want to talk.”
“Indeed, I do. Your games are getting too dangerous for those around me. I want them to stop.”
“You know what I want.”
“Enlighten me.”
He could hear her harsh inhale at that bold drawl and allowed a slight smile. Their stalemate was wearing on her, too.
“Your father’s letters,” she bit out.
“All this,” he drawled, “for an old love letter to your sister?”
“And the one he wrote to you,” she snapped. “You have them?”
“I do.”
“Bring them with you.” A distracted pause then her low, vile chuckle. “I just picked up something you’ll want to exchange for them.”
Charlotte!
“Where is she?” Aware of startled looks from those around him, he lowered his voice to a soft growl. “If you’ve harmed her—”
“She’ll be close by. A bit of insurance to make sure you don’t break the rules. Perhaps you’ll be able to take her home with you, a happy family once more. That’s up to you and whether or not you behave. Sunset. Don’t be late. Or foolish. Come alone.”
The connection ended before he could ask for an explanation.
Heart battering against his ribs, Max cued his mate’s phone. Nothing. Not even voice mail. After running outside to anxiously scan the street, not seeing her confident figure striding through the crowds, he rang Babineau who advised he hadn’t heard from her and promised to see she called him back. Max knew she wouldn’t.
The bitch had her.
He’d had one job, just one—to keep the love of his life safe. That he might not have a chance to apologize for his miscalculation ate through him like paint remover, stripping away the glossy surface he’d spread with best intentions to leave a raw truth. He’d failed her. Failed them. And he had one slim chance to make that right.
Hope battled dread as his cell chimed again. He snatched it up with a curt, “Savoie.”
A beat of silence, then Philo Tibideaux’s wry, “Am I interrupting sumpthin’?”
“What is it?” Max snapped, striding through the crowd. A path cleared as if his mood created a negative energy force field.
“Seeing how we’re almost family, I told the Terriots I’d fill you in on today’s doings.” And before Max could protest that he had enough issues of his own at moment, he led with a sucker punch. “The Terriot king is dead.”
Jerking as if he’d stepped on a live rail, Max blurted, “Cale? How?”
“No, no. The crazy one. Bram.”
As Max restarted his circulatory system with a gulping breath, Philo rattled off his and Rico’s plan to integrate new Terriot recruits into the Patrol with the old king’s spies where they’d discovered Bram’s trap in time to foil it. Permanently. When he’d finished, Tibideaux waited for the expected congratulations . . . or at least a grunt of acknowledgment at their success, then growled, “Well, there. Now ya know. I’ll letcha get back to . . . whatever.”
Max’s thoughts began to clear, growing still and sharp again.
Like family . . .
“I need your help.”
– – –
With Tibideaux on his way to the River Road house, Max went up to the bedroom he dreaded entering. Because she wasn’t there and might not return to bring color and joy and meaning back into his once black-and-white life.
He passed on a shower, fearing to lose