Burn Down the Night (Everything I Left Unsaid #3)- Molly O'Keefe Page 0,91

that.”

His hand cupped my waist, burned through the fabric of my shirt to the skin beneath until I felt branded by him. Oh, I was in pieces.

“You and me are so alike,” he said. “Everything is either-or. It’s one or the other. Us or them. Sacrificing ourselves for our family because that’s all we have to give up. But I’m not giving you up, Joan. Not yet. And you’re not alone. That’s my promise. You are not alone.”

Never in my life had I had this much support. This much help. A web of people standing around me helping me avert disaster. The impulse to fight it was not small. It was huge, in fact. It was nearly a tidal wave. I could smash Max’s kindness with a few well-chosen words. I could kick Fern and Eric until they turned their faces away. I knew how to do it.

But forcing myself not to was not as hard as I thought. I took one breath, and then another, and then when Max tugged I followed and I stepped right up to that warm chest, wide and strong. Its dark tattoos hidden under his shirt. His bright heart hidden under his tattoos.

He put his arms around me, holding me—just…holding me and it was the best thing I’d felt in years.

And it did not occur to me to ask what he was giving up for me.

“And that kiss, babe,” he whispered. “A kiss like that, I want to see where that goes.”

I laughed against his chest, because I did, too.

Someone cleared their throat behind us, and I stepped back and turned to find Eric and Aunt Fern. Eric looked very pleased and I had to assume it wasn’t because Max and I were hugging it out in the middle of the cocktail party.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But I have good news. The FBI have been aware of Lagan for the past year, they’ve got an informant on the inside of the compound.”

“They do? Who?” I asked, trying to think who was that brave. Gwen, maybe? Gwen was a tough cookie.

“They’re not giving me that kind of information,” Eric said. “But they’re eager to talk to you. They’d like to meet with you in Charlotte on Monday morning. Eight a.m.”

“Really?”

“They’re taking this very seriously.”

“It’s a good thing,” Fern said, to what must have been my stunned expression.

“Then why Monday?” I asked. “Why can’t we go now? I’ll tell them what I know and they can—”

“Because you need time to talk to a lawyer,” Max said, his arm still over my shoulder.

Right. A lawyer. For the deal-cutting.

Fern and Eric glanced at each other. “Yeah. I’ve made arrangements for you to meet with a guy I know in Tampa. He’s good. The best really—”

“That sounds like there’s a but coming.”

“But,” Eric smiled ruefully, “he’s expensive.”

I felt myself bristle. Because I’d go into the deepest debt I could to save Jennifer, but it’s not like there were tons of people ready to loan me money.

“And,” Fern jumped in, “I’m going to cover the costs for you.”

“Aunt Fern,” I breathed. “It’s going to be so expensive.”

“It will be,” she said. “But I’ve got the money.”

My head fell forward. It was just too heavy to hold up.

“He’s ready to meet with you tomorrow at ten thirty in his Tampa offices,” Eric said. “I’ve given him the gist of the situation, but you have a lot to talk about. Here’s his card.”

Eric handed me a little white card of really nice paper.

Darren Jackson, Attorney-at-law.

There was an address and phone number.

“Okay,” I said. “This…this—” It was so much and I was completely overwhelmed. Max’s arm over my shoulder felt very much like the only thing keeping me on my feet.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” I said. “All of you.”

“Well,” said Fern. “You can take this seriously as your one chance to really help Jennifer and not sabotage it.”

“Fern!” Eric chastised and Max all but hissed at her, pulling me closer to him.

“No,” I said, jumping to Fern’s defense. “That’s fair. That’s…legit. I’m pretty good at sabotaging things when I put my mind to it.”

“You…you can’t sabotage this,” Eric said. “I can’t guarantee there’s a second chance with this opportunity. Darren—”

“I understand that,” I said. “And I won’t.”

I made myself look straight into Aunt Fern’s eyes. “I promise,” I told her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t kind.”

“I’ve done plenty to deserve it. Don’t sweat it.”

I promised to call both of them when I got back from Tampa, to tell them