If he believed her when she told him Alexon’s own people had killed her uncle, then maybe he would help her disappear. But she couldn’t disappear until she’d taken down the man who’d killed her uncle. She wasn’t leaving another murder unsolved. Not when she had witnessed it with her own eyes. Not when she couldn’t get that voice out of her head. If Max didn’t want to help her, she’d do it on her own.
In the kitchen, Max spread the array of cold cuts on the counter and reached back into the fridge for the mayo and mustard. He remembered from their stay under observation that she hated mayo and loved cheese, any and all kinds. So he piled her sandwich high with three different cheeses and twice that many meats. He kept a variety of sandwich fixings available, since he rarely had the time or inclination to cook. Lettuce, no tomato and extra pickles. He topped off the mountain of fillings with a second slice of sourdough bread and garnished it with his favorite pitted olives on the side.
After preparing his own sandwich, he placed both plates on a tray, grabbed a bag of chips and snagged two beers from the fridge. He’d just placed the laden tray on the dining table when Scout descended the stairs.
She wore the same clothes, but her hair was damp from a shower. She looked good. Too good. Already he had experienced some major difficulty keeping his hands away from her. He wanted to touch her.
Her skin was as smooth and pale as cream. The blackness of her hair stood out in such stark contrast that it never failed to draw his attention. But the dark circles under her eyes reminded him of the loss she had recently suffered, and he chastised himself for allowing his thoughts to go down that path. She didn’t need a lover right now, she needed a friend. And he wanted desperately to be that for her.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still attracted to her physically. He had been since the day he’d first laid eyes on her in that jungle. In their forced isolation and with the certainty of death hanging over their heads, that attraction had mushroomed with all the force of a nuclear blast. And they’d talked … some. He knew she was alone in the world since her uncle’s death. She had no living relatives. Too busy in her P.I. and bounty-hunter business to make many friends, she had no one to turn to.
Gage.
Her ex-boyfriend’s name zoomed into the middle of his thoughts. Max tensed instantly. Who was to say she’d been alone these past four months?
With his jaw clenched so hard he could scarcely speak, he gestured to the table and said, “You should eat.” He’d suddenly lost his own appetite. It happened every single time he thought of the guy, and he didn’t even know him! Fury whipped through Max at his own stupidity.
Scout glanced at the food. “Do you have any milk?”
A scowl furrowed Max’s forehead. She liked that kind of beer, he was certain. They had discussed how much they’d wanted one when they’d thought they were spending their last days on this earth. She’d been the one to bring it up.
“Sure,” he said tightly, and headed back to the kitchen to get her a glass of milk. He hesitated at the counter, glass in hand, and cursed himself for behaving so irrationally. This jealousy he felt for a man he didn’t even know was totally out of line. She might not even be involved with the guy anymore. Then again, their own time together might have been nothing more than rebound romance.
Max swore at his inability to keep his mind on business.
He and Scout had discussed their love lives while they were baring their souls. He hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years; she had just broken off an engagement to a friend of her father’s. A guy her father had trained for special forces during his last year in the military. Gage had since left the service and was working in private security. He and Scout’s father had run into each other just weeks before his death. She’d said that Gage had been there for her just as her uncle had. A few months later he’d asked her to marry him.
Max poured the milk and exiled thoughts of Gage from his mind. Scout was not Max’s girlfriend. They’d had sex, that’s all. And now she was in trouble. He would do what he could to help her while still doing his job … nothing more. Her current or past love life had nothing to do with anything.
Gritting his teeth, he sauntered back into the living room and plopped the glass of milk down before her. “There you go,” he muttered.
She looked up at him, obviously startled by his tone. “Am I missing something?”
Max seated himself directly across from her. “We should talk about business now,” he said.
She shrugged. “Fine.” She took a bite of her sandwich, her mouth barely fitting around it, then moaned appreciatively as she chewed. After she swallowed, she licked her lips as if unwilling to miss even the most minute morsel.
Max almost choked on his beer. How could anyone make eating look that sensual?
She smiled then. “You remembered that I like mustard.”
Yes, he remembered. What did that say about him? That he was hung up on her? He forced down a bite of sandwich. No. He was not hung up on her. He just didn’t like guys named Gage.
“What is it that Alexon thinks you stole from them?” Might as well get to the heart of the matter. Alexon had hired him to find her and bring her in because she had something that belonged to them. They had failed to provide the details concerning the absconded item, and he couldn’t do his job to the best of his ability if he was left in the dark.
“Like I said.” She swallowed a gulp of milk. “You won’t believe me.”
Max leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. He wanted answers. Now. Before his mind wandered back into dangerous territory. “Try me,” he insisted again none too gently, more irritated with himself than with her.
She nibbled on a chip, then looked directly into his eyes. “It’s me they want. Just me.”
The telephone rang, the sound coming from the kitchen. Scout blinked and looked away from his intent stare. She knew she’d startled him—that had been her goal. But it was the truth … basically, anyway.
“Excuse me,” he muttered as he pushed back his chair and went to answer the phone.
He disappeared into the kitchen and the telephone stopped midring. She massaged her forehead with the tips of her fingers. How was she going to make her explanation sound credible without giving away the rest of the story? Max was too smart to swallow just any old line. She had to find a way to make him believe her enough that he would willingly go against what he’d been assigned to do.
That might be impossible.
Pierce Maxwell was dedicated to duty. She knew that kind of loyalty all too well. She suffered with the malady. It could be a royal pain when one needed to avoid the truth. She heaved a disgusted sigh and looked at her food. She needed to eat. She’d missed lunch and it was after 9:00 p.m. Nourishment was necessary to her and the baby. With that thought, she picked up her sandwich and took another bite. Somehow she would find a way to work this out. Keeping her baby safe was top priority, but bringing her uncle’s killer to justice was very important, as well.
Just then she noticed the cordless phone and base sitting in plain view on a table near the bottom of the stairs.
Why had he gone to the kitchen to answer the phone when one sat only a few feet away?
Scout pushed herself from her chair and walked over to the telephone sitting so innocently on the table. She picked up the handset and looked at the ringer selection. It was turned off. So that explained why she hadn’t heard it ring. But why hadn’t he used this one? Her finger went automatically to the talk button and she depressed it, then slowly raised the handset to her ear. A dial tone greeted her.
He’d already hung up.
His approaching steps confirmed her fears.
She quickly replaced the handset and hurried back to the dining table.
He entered the room just as she resumed her seat. She smiled stiffly.
With the carton of milk in one hand and a couple of snack cakes in the other, he said, “More milk?” He tossed the cakes on t
he table. “It’s the best dessert I can come up with on short notice.”
Guilt was written all over his face. He was hiding something from her. She shook her head in answer to his milk question. Were Alexon’s men on the way here right now? Would Max allow them to take her away if she begged him to help her? Could she risk telling him the whole truth?
“I’m afraid they’ll kill me when they’re through with me,” she said quietly, her gaze locked with his.
Max set the carton down, then took his seat across from her, his expression carefully controlled. “Why would they do that, Scout? I can’t go on guesswork. I need some answers here. I can’t help you without answers.”
It took every ounce of control she possessed not to get up and run like hell. She wanted to trust Max … but what had that call been about?
“Who phoned?” She hadn’t realized she was going to ask the question until the words were out of her mouth. She hardened her gaze, allowing him to see the distrust she felt in spite of her desire not to.
Most people probably wouldn’t have even noticed his hesitation, it was so slight. But she did.
“Douglas Cooper. He’s with the Colby Agency, as well.”
She remembered the name. Cooper was the guy who had picked up Max after Alexon released them four months ago. Cooper wasn’t exactly the kind of guy a woman forgot. Tall, dark and handsome was a cliche, but it was the best description of the man. His charm came as automatically as breathing. She knew that kind of polish and charm. Cooper came from money. Big money. Old money. It didn’t take an investigator’s eye to see that.
“I remember him. What did he want?”
Max almost laughed at the question. She wasn’t going to let her guard down easily. She didn’t trust him enough right now. Whatever had happened in the past four months, she was as skittish as a skater on thin ice.
There was no point lying and raising her suspicions even higher. She, apparently, read him more easily than he would have liked. Few people had ever been able to do that. That she could spoke volumes about the time they’d spent together. She’d watched him more closely than he’d realized, getting to know him in the same way he had her. “He asked if I had you in custody yet,” he said bluntly.
Though she hadn’t been moving prior to his frank statement, a stillness claimed her now that went far deeper than the physical.
“And what did you tell him?” Her tone was cool, but carefully controlled.
“I told him yes.”
Neither moved or spoke for one tense second that elapsed into five. The fight-or-flight instinct had grabbed her by the throat. He could see it in her eyes. She was ready to cut her losses and run. But something—some infinitesimal something—kept her still awhile longer.
“They’ll kill me,” she said finally, her voice eerily calm and as cool as a breeze blowing straight in from the Arctic. “Eventually. There won’t be a choice. I know things … too much to be allowed to live.”
“Why? Just tell me why so I can help you.” He wanted to lean forward. To place his hand over the one of hers poised on the edge of the table, ready to push her away and facilitate her escape. Instead, he remained motionless for fear of setting off the wrong chain of events. She was visibly fragile right now. He didn’t want her to feel any more vulnerable than she already was. She wanted to come off as tough and she did, on the surface. But he could see her resolve crumbling from the inside out.
“The virus.” She blinked, started to look away but changed her mind at the last second, forcing her gaze back to his. “K-141. I carry the secret to the antidote. They want it. Want me. Regardless of the price.”
His instincts prickled, rousing him to an even higher state of alert. “Why just you? Why not me, too? We’re both immune. That doesn’t make sense.”
She did look away then. Max swore softly. She was lying. At least about part of it.
“I can’t answer that.” She pushed her chair back and stood. “I only know that my uncle gave his life trying to protect me.”
Max stood in turn, matching her wary stance. “I’ll confront Alexon. Demand to know why they want you. And I’ll keep you safe until I find the truth.” He inclined his head and searched her suspicious gaze. “If you’ll let me.”
“You swear?” she pressed. Her tone had gone from icy to hot. “I can trust you? You won’t give me up to Alexon?”
“I swear.”
Something changed in her eyes then. And Max was certain for the first time since he’d tackled her in that cemetery that she finally believed him.
She started to say more, but the sound of someone pounding on the front door cut her off.
The racket came again, this time louder, and hard enough to rattle the door on its hinges. “Open up! We know you’re in there, Miss Jackson!”
“They’re here.” Her frightened gaze swung back to meet his. The words were barely more than a breath of sound. “You lied to me.”
Chapter Five
“Come with me.” Max reached for Scout, those blue eyes beseeching her to trust him, one long-fingered hand extended toward her.
But how could she?
Something slammed hard against the front door. Her attention darted in that direction. They were coming in. Another loud crash echoed from the kitchen. The back door was covered, too.
She was trapped.
“Let’s go!” Max grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
She frowned. If they went upstairs, they’d be trapped.
“Wait!” She dug in her heels.
He shot a look over his shoulder, not bothering to slow down, making her stumble after him. “There’s no time.”
He was right. If they were going to get out of this, it had to be now.
Right now.
She reassured herself as she flew up the stairs behind him that he must have a plan. Max was too smart to get himself trapped like this.
“Lock the door,” he ordered as soon as they’d skidded to a halt in the master bathroom.
“Don’t you think we—”
“Lock it!”
She quickly obeyed the roared command. When she whirled back to face him he was climbing out the bathroom window. Her confusion erupted into outright panic then.
What the heck was he doing?
She couldn’t go out the window. Her hand went to her stomach as she considered the distance to the ground.
No way.
She couldn’t risk injury to the child she carried … but how could she explain that to Max without giving away her secret?
Once fully through the opening, he moved to the right side of the window. “Come on,” he urged in a stage whisper.
She stepped closer, peeked out beneath the raised sash. Her eyes widened as she peered downward. He stood on a tiny ledge. The ground was at least twenty feet below.
“Are you nuts?” she demanded, glaring at him, furious now. He’d dragged her up here and now she was trapped. Maybe he could risk serious bodily injury, but she couldn’t.
He motioned to the other side of the window. “We can climb down the antenna tower. It’s sturdy. Completely safe,” he urged.
Her gaze swung to the triangular-shaped, steel tower that soared from the ground upward, extending some ten feet above the roofline. The tower she had no problem with. It was the twelve or so feet of narrow ledge between the window and the ladderlike structure that gave her pause.
She shook her head. “I can’t do it.” Fear surged into her throat. Her stomach knotted with apprehension.
“I’ll help you. Just get out here,” he ordered. “They’ll be in the house and up those stairs any minute now.”
Scout considered the alternative for about two seconds before scrambling through the opening. It was a good thing the builder hadn’t skimped on the windows in this house, she thought, panic hovering just under the surface of her flimsy grip on control. Some bathroom windows were far too small for a child to climb through, much less an adult.
Inor
dinately thankful for the large sash, she angled her body awkwardly, reaching downward with her foot until her toe touched the narrow ledge. Holding her breath, she eased out fully, bracing both feet in a classic ballet second position on the ledge. The fingers of her left hand gripped the edge of the window casing as she simultaneously flattened herself against the exterior wall. Her heart thundered so hard she could scarcely draw a breath. Over and over she told herself that she was okay, she wouldn’t fall. All she had to do now was move… .
Every muscle in her body froze.
“I’ve got you,” Max murmured, easing closer and grabbing hold of her arm. “Just scoot toward the tower.”
She swallowed hard, told herself she could do it. One second stretched into five before she persuaded her traitorous body to respond to the command. Slowly, one pulse-pounding inch at a time, she forced herself to move toward the tower. As soon as he had cleared the window, Max pulled down the sash. Weakness washed over her, making her knees want to buckle. She was still too far away to reach the tower. The window was closed. If she fell …
“Just a little farther and you can reach out and grab on,” Max urged. “I won’t let you fall.”
She wanted to glare at him and tell him what she thought of his escape route, but she didn’t dare make any sudden moves. There was nothing to hold on to, nothing to keep her plastered against that wall except absolute stillness and sheer force of will.
She had no intention of moving again.
“They’re coming,” Max urged. “Please, Scout, trust me. I won’t let you fall.”
Fear burned through her veins. He was right. She could hear the stampede of boots on the stairs. What good would it do her to protect her child from one threat only to fall victim to another?
They had to get out of here.
Holding her breath and keeping her gaze fixed on the tower, she inched toward it.
“Reach out and grab a rung,” Max told her. “I’ve got you.” He held on tight to her left arm.
Scout extended her right arm, straining, reaching. Her heart stilled in her chest as she stretched the last required fraction of an inch. Max held her tightly in his strong grip. Her fingers latched onto the cool metal. The breath she’d been holding hissed from her lungs. Her fingers curled around the steel, then she swung a foot onto a lower rung. Before she allowed herself time to fully consider the danger, she had climbed halfway to the ground. Max followed closely.
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