by Hart, Holly
Carson shoulders into Max’s space. “This is high school all over again. You and Kate in your perfect little bubble; the rest of us—”
“Sit your ass down.”
Carson doesn’t.
“I said sit down!” He shoves Carson hard enough to send a regular man flying. Even Carson staggers half a step. Wes cowers, shifting away from them.
“You wanna take this outside? ‘Cause I can still kick your ass. Any time, any place.”
Max shoves him again. “Think so?”
“Know so.” Carson smacks his shoulder. Max stands his ground. This is getting ugly. And ridiculous.
“The blackmailer’s still alive.” I don’t remember standing up, but I am.
Max turns to face me, eyes dull and flat. Carson’s rolling his shoulders, still spoiling for a fight. Whatever. It’s been a long day, and I want it behind me.
“All right.” I count off my points on my fingers. “First, we found Dev’s drive in the garbage disposal. It’s pretty cut up. He probably thought it was bricked. Second, he....” I meet Max’s eyes. He nods, almost imperceptibly. “He wanted to live. He had plans for the future. Projects lined up into next year. And from what we saw in his townhouse...he died hard. Didn’t want to go through with it.”
Carson opens his mouth. Nope.
“Third, blackmail’s all about the payoff. No one’s going to set up all this, and not stick around for the fallout.”
Whatever Carson was about to say, it seems he’s thought better of it. He finally sits down, kicking his feet up on the table. Max turns to the window, ignoring his baiting.
“I think it is two people,” says Wes. “Whoever shot the video, and an accomplice. Maybe one of us, maybe not. One to deliver Dev’s drive, and the rest of yours; one to do mine and Kate’s. I mean, would you trust that job to a stranger?”
Kyle’s nodding. “Good point.”
Max drops back into his seat. “So we’re looking for two people who knew us in high school, stayed intimately connected with our lives, and have some kind of axe to grind.” He drops his gaze. “And Dev—he might have set them off somehow.”
No one says anything. Out in the hall, the lights dim, probably on a timer.
Max sighs. “We need more information, so Kyle—”
“Yeah?”
“You’ve got contacts in the entertainment industry, right?”
“Not like Dev had, but sure. News anchors, press, a few celebrities.” He preens a little.
“So you’ll put out feelers over the next, let’s say....three days. Find out what you can. Anyone Dev might’ve clashed with—feuds, rivalries, problems on set.”
“I’ll be—”
“Wes. You’ll go through his computer. He used the same password for everything, so dig deep. Get into his history. His e-mail. His finances. Anything strikes you as odd, out of place....”
“On it.”
“Carson—and Rachel, when she gets back—you’ll be with me and Kate. Going through his house. Cleaning up the mess.”
Carson pulls a face, but says nothing. He did kind of ask for that.
“And we all need to work on our lists. Everyone we still know from home. People we went to school with, mostly, but don’t limit it to that. And put a star next to anyone you see more than once a year. We’ll come back together in three days’ time—sooner, if any of us hits paydirt.” His face darkens. “And if we can’t figure it out by then, we’ll need to talk damage control. Might want to start thinking about that.”
Kyle tosses back the last of his water. “So, is this you giving us the bum’s rush?”
Max pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a long day. And we won’t make much more headway with what we’ve got. No point in sticking around here.”
I stay in my seat as everyone gathers their things. Wes shoots me a surprised look: really? I shake my head, not wanting to get into it now. He shrugs and pats my shoulder.
Carson’s last to leave, dawdling just long enough to make it awkward. He’s smirking as he passes us by. I look away when he tips me a wink. Once again, I find myself wondering what happened. He wasn’t this irritating in high school.
The elevator doors bump closed. Max leans back in his chair, laughing. It’s not a cheery sound. “Didn’t I call it?”
“You did.” What he said was get ready to duck and cover.
“So.... What now?”
I don’t know. I slept pretty well last night, all things considered, but it feels like I’ve been up for a week. When I try to concentrate, all I can think of is Max, Dev’s last moments, Matt’s house going up in a column of smoke, Max.... Max. I lean back and let my eyelids droop.
“You look like I feel.” Max yawns and stretches. “Like a grenade went off in my head. Feels like there’s something I’m missing, but.... Fuck. I hate this day.”
“This day, or Carson?”
“Both. Well, not really. Carson’s not that bad. He’s just....”
“Abrasive?”
“Yeah. That.” He sighs. “Worse, since last year. He and his wife—I don’t know the details. But she kicked him out for a while. Dev took him in, actually.”
“They were close?” That’s a surprise. They had a whole oil-and-water thing going on in high school.
“Yeah....” Max reaches across the table. We’re not close enough to touch, but he’s looking at my hand. “They started hanging out after Carson—did you hear about his injury?”
I nod. Wes told me. A stray round to the back—friendly fire. He lost a kidney.
“Well, Dev went to visit him, and they...yeah. They’d been hanging out. It’s Kyle he hates now.”
“And maybe you, after tonight.”
Max chuckles. “Could be. Though, honestly, I think tonight was just...him blaming Dev for leaving him behind. And the rest of us for not doing anything to stop him.”
“Probably himself, as well.”
Max gives me a long look. “I’m with him on that.”
Yeah. Me, too. If I weren’t so tired, I might cry: ten years, I’ve been blaming the blackmailer for stealing my life, but the note only said I couldn’t marry Max. It didn’t say I had to cut myself off from everyone. I could’ve picked up the phone any time. Any time at all. Might not have changed anything, but what if it had?
And then there’s my note—my original note. I can’t decide whether speaking up now would make things better or worse. Probably worse. Even if Max forgave me, what if the blackmailer found out? Would he turn us in, as promised? Or is the old game over, now a new one’s begun?
I can’t take the chance. Not with so little to gain. My note doesn’t tell us anything new. Doesn’t change what’s happening now. All it would do is muddy the waters between me and Max, at a time when the last thing we need is distractions.
“Kate?”
“Hm?”
“You spaced out for a while.” He peers out the window. “Something interesting out there?”
“This isn’t how I pictured myself looking down on Manhattan.” It has a beauty all its own, nothing like London’s—and nothing like I imagined it. A pang shoots through my heart: even if I moved here, I’d never live that rags-to-riches dream. I’d never feel what Max felt, clawing his way to the top.
Max gets up, offering his hand. “Let me take you back to your hotel.” He’s smiling, but he looks distant. Wistful, maybe. When I take his hand, he starts like he wasn’t expecting it. His expression sharpens, and I’d swear he leans in just a little, pulls me closer. His grip tightens. I gasp, and just like that, he lets go. “Well. Where are you staying?”
“The Plaza.”
“Not far, then.” Halfway to the elevator, he takes my arm. This time, I keep my surprise to myself. I shouldn’t indulge, but he’s like a granite plateau in a stretch of quicksand: the promise of safety. Stealing a moment of comfort... What can it hurt?
The elevator feels both cramped and entirely too spacious. He’s standing far closer than he shou
ld be, crowding me against the wall. “You were strong today.” His eyes bore into mine. “At Dev’s, and with Carson. You took control.”
“You, too.”
“We could’ve been—” He cuts himself off with a hiss. I hold my breath, desperate to hear the rest. Could’ve been what?
“Oh, hell.” Max leans in and brushes his lips against mine—barely the suggestion of a kiss. I respond eagerly, surging up against him. That’s all it takes. A deep groan escapes him, and he pins me to the wall. His hands find their old familiar places: one in my hair, the other on my hip. And mine—I’m doing the same. The hair at the nape of his neck’s short and spiky now: he’s started shaving there. His chest’s hard and sculpted, but his heart’s pounding like it always did. His lips are just as warm. And the desire burning in my belly...that’s transformed into something white-hot and aching, between passion and pain. I want him. I’m desperate for him. But—
He pulls back, panting. His pupils are huge, mouth stained with my lipstick. I grasp at his shirt, crumpling the silk in my fist, but it’s no use. I can’t have him. The lighted numbers are dwindling—fifteen...fourteen...and my hand drops to my side.
“We can’t.” Max turns away, straightening his jacket.
I let my head fall back against the wall. I can still feel the ghost of his touch. Still taste his kiss.
“We’re exhausted. Emotional. It’s not a good idea.” He licks his lips.
“Yeah.” We’d regret it in the morning. And every morning to follow, for a long, long time. “Still....”
He laughs—a quiet heh, completely devoid of humor. The doors hiss open and the chill of the parking garage floods in. If the moment wasn’t over already, it is now. Max keeps his distance as he walks me to his car. It’s a Tesla: I’d kill for a test drive, but not now. Not tonight. I’m numb to the core, tired to the point of sickness. I sink into the passenger seat without a word.
Chapter 13
Max
* * *
Kate’s been keeping her distance all day. She grabbed a stack of boxes and vanished upstairs the minute we got here, and I haven’t seen her since. Probably for the best. Last night was a mistake, but it’s out of my system. Whatever else she’s become, she’s still the girl who left me nothing but silence and anger and unanswered questions. Who went out of her way to avoid me, year after year.
Fashion Week, 2012—that was her first New York show. I went, hating myself the whole time. Watched it all, detesting how good it was, only to storm out in a rage when Kate never appeared. She wasn’t there next time, either, and after that, I quit showing up.
That familiar ember of hate flares and subsides. It’s harder to loathe her, confronted with the reality of her. She’s become the woman I knew she would: strong, smart, and sensitive. If it was independence she needed to get there, she could’ve told me. I’d have waited.
Maybe she tried.
I don’t remember her trying, but I was young and in love. I saw what I wanted to see—and she let me. And she’s still letting me. Last night—that was her chance to come clean. My guard was down. So was hers...or so I thought.
I scrub aggressively at a patch of yellowed grout. There it is, that familiar rage, boiling in my gut. I feed off that to keep going. My arm starts to ache, and I redouble my efforts, gritting my teeth through the cramp.
Carson’s been scarce as well, keeping to the barely-used sixth floor. I wouldn’t mind some company—even his—but I can’t blame him. He lived here quite a while. Place must be full of memories.
Kyle shows up around two, balancing an armful of deli platters. I follow him to the dining room, mouth watering. Got so caught up in the past, and in the sundries of Dev’s life, I never thought to order lunch.
He pulls the cover off an antipasto plate. “Don’t worry. I made sure the anchovies didn’t touch anything else.” I snort at the sight of an island of anchovy-wrapped capers, cordoned off from the real food by a moat of baby carrots. I grab some olives and stuffed pepperoncini and pull up a chair.
“Get anywhere with your Hollywood friends?”
Kyle shoots me a look. I keep my expression neutral: I am mocking, but he doesn’t need to know that. He unwraps a strip of prosciutto from a melon slice and pops it in his mouth. “I’ve put out feelers. Just a matter of waiting.”
I look away as he sucks on the melon. No manners at all. Once a fratboy.... “Rachel’s not back yet?”
“No, she is.” He spoons some anchovies onto his plate. “Actually, that’s why I came by.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. This is, uh.... Harder on her than it looks. Being a congressman’s wife—that’s a lot of pressure, to start with, and she’s....” He’s scowling. Stabbing at his anchovies like they’ve personally offended him. “So last year, she tries to get back into teaching. Total cold shoulder—they see that Abernathy name, and she’s through. Like she’s the one who couldn’t push those education reforms through. And we’re so close. Or we were.” He drops his fork with a clatter.
“You still are. We’re going to get this guy.”
His frown only deepens. “Anyway. The teaching thing falls flat, so she decides she wants another baby. Only this time, it has to be mine, biologically. So we’re doing IVF. Only....” He shakes his head. “It’s been a mess.”
“Sorry.” That can’t be easy on him, either.
“A hundred times, I’ve been on the verge of begging her to stop. Every time it doesn’t work, it destroys her all over again. And the hormones, the egg harvesting—she’s... It’s worse than when she was actually pregnant.” He gulps his coffee. “She’s sick. Angry. Crying all the time. I told her to get some rest.”
I nod. “Whatever she needs. We’re making great headway here.” We’re not, but one extra body wouldn’t change much.
Kyle finally relaxes. “Thanks. I wouldn’t bring it up, but I was hoping you’d talk to Kate, as well. Rachel feels terrible about going after her the other night. She wants this over so bad....”
“Yeah. I get that.”
There’s a crash from the stairs, Something shatters, and Kate’s voice rings out: “Cocksucker!”
Kyle’s eyebrows shoot up, and we both burst out laughing.
“Always did have a way with words.” Kyle shakes his head.
“We’re in here—Kyle brought food!”
Kate appears in the archway, shamefaced. “Didn’t think anyone was down here. Ooh—what’d you bring?” She grabs a bocconcini and tomato skewer and takes a bite of cheese. “Oh, that’s good.” Her eyes flutter shut. I look away—too late. I’m already picturing that rapturous expression in another context.
“How’s it coming up there?”
“I’m, oh, maybe a tenth of the way through the library. Carson’s killing it, though. He’s been separating out anything that could be donated or sold—anything the family wouldn’t want.”
I grunt. “We should’ve thought of that.” I always forget Carson has that side to him, that sweet, thoughtful streak. He buries it so deep....
“He found something else. In the bathroom by the gym.”
My appetite dries up. There’s something in her expression.... I drop my cracker back on my plate, half-nibbled.
“Just a minute.” She disappears into the foyer and returns with a box of pharmacy bottles. “Not sure what all of these do, but these are for anxiety—and these, and these—and this could be for anxiety or depression.”
Kyle picks up one of the bottles. “This is recent. Just filled.”
“Most of them are.”
“So he was suffering, even before....” I hate this so much. “I had no idea. He never said a word. Never acted, y’know...nervous. Or depressed.”
Kate sits down, brushing dust off her pants. “I was going to ask about that. If you guys knew. Carson didn’t say much, but he seemed, I don’t know. Disturbed.”
Kyle shakes his head. “Not me. He seemed like the same old Dev, last I saw him.”
“So, he—” Kate looks up, blinking hard. “So the blackmailer—it’d be safe to assume he knew about this. That he...that he picked Dev on purpose.”
I push my plate away from me. My stomach’s roiling. She’s right. But the implication’s despicable. “Cold-hearted fuck. When I get my hands on him....”
Kyle pushes away from the table. “I swear, every time I think we’ve scraped the bottom of the barrel with this guy—boom. New low.” He pulls his coat back on. “We need to end this fast. Don’t know about you two, but I have no interest in seeing what comes next.”
“Amen to that.” I get up, myself. “I’m not out of ideas, on my end. This guy has a life. A history. An online presence. I’ll find him.”
“You better.” Carson comes slouching in, surly as always. He grabs a pepper and gulps it down. “Saw the pills, huh?”
“Yeah.”
He snakes another couple of peppers and a wrapped sandwich. “Well, I’m on a roll, so I’ll be heading back up.”
Kate watches him go, eyebrows raised. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s embarrassed about last night.”
Probably is. I would be.
“Well, I’d best be getting back to Rachel. But I’ll be back tomorrow.” Kyle snags a sandwich for himself and buttons up his coat. “Don’t work yourselves too hard.”
And then it’s just us. Me and Kate. I catch her eye, and for a moment, it’s back, that irresistible magnetism from last night. Her eyes are narrowed, lips slightly parted, like she’s ready to eat me alive.
“Kate—”
She steps away from the table, biting her lip. “I should, uh—”
“Yeah, I’d better....” I busy myself with the food. I can feel myself turning red. Blushing like a schoolboy. What the actual fuck.
By the time I’m done with the plates, she’s cleaned up the stairs and made herself scarce. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Chapter 14
Kate
* * *
Wes catches up to me at the Champagne Bar. He plops down next to me, regarding me over the rim of his mint julep. Even here, in the snobbiest place this side of the pond, he’s managed to find himself a coffee straw. He takes a tiny sip and cocks an eyebrow.