Private Affair

by Rebecca York

“I don’t know. We went separate ways.”

  “Well, suppose I spray the place with bullets?” Davidson said.

  Max looked down at Olivia and gave her a look that warned her to stay below ground. Then he clicked off the phone because he didn’t need it to hear what was going on outside.

  As Jack kept the guy talking, Max climbed the ladder to ground level and moved to the corner where the siding was loose. Gently he pushed at it and looked out, seeing two sets of men’s legs and wondering if he could get out before Davidson shot him. And also wondering why he wasn’t seeing Shane.

  “Hard to shoot the cabin and keep me covered,” Jack said.

  “I can kill you first.”

  “You could, and go to jail for life. Did you like it in the slammer so much that you want to die there?”

  “I won’t get caught this time.”

  “The Baltimore cops already know you’re after Max. They’ll get you.”

  “And you’ll be dead.”

  Jack raised his voice. “This is kind of an explosive situation.”

  Max knew what that meant. Shane must have gone into the woods to carry out the emergency plan they’d previously discussed. Although they hadn’t needed it for Masters, they needed it now.

  Max glanced back to make sure Olivia was still in the tunnel. He wanted to tell her to lie down, but he’d give himself away.

  Outside, Davidson asked Jack, “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  For answer, an explosion shook the ground, and Max was hurled against the wall. Assuming the men outside were similarly thrown off balance, he righted himself and dived through the hole in the siding in time to see Davidson bring his gun hand up, aiming at Jack, who shot first, and the ex-con went down.

  He saw Shane running out of the woods.

  “Everything all right?” he called.

  “Yeah,” both Max and Jack answered.

  “And Olivia?” Shane asked.

  “Right here.”

  She crawled out of the back of the cabin and looked at the man lying on the ground.

  “Davidson? The man who cut you?”

  “Yeah. He’s not going to bother anyone again,” Jack answered, then turned to Max.

  “What about Masters?”

  “The same. He had Olivia down in that hole. She whacked him with the chain he’d used to tether her. When he went after her with a knife, I shot him.”

  Jack and Shane nodded. Maybe they could tell they weren’t getting the whole story, but they didn’t push for more.

  “And now?” Jack asked.

  Before he could answer, uniformed cops swarmed out of the woods, surrounding them.

  Chapter 30

  “Christ, not again,” Max muttered, raising his hands. He wasn’t sure what had brought the cops. Maybe the guard hadn’t checked in.

  As he put down his gun and raised his hands, the other men did the same, and Olivia raised hers as well.

  Max had been hoping they could get the hell out of there before they were discovered. He understood now that that had been wishful thinking, born of his desire to protect Olivia from any more trauma.

  He glanced at her and mouthed, “Hang in there.”

  She gave a little nod.

  Behind the uniformed officers was a slim, blond man in a sports jacket and crisp white shirt who came striding forward. Max breathed out a little sigh, partly from relief and partly from weariness. It was a Howard County detective, a guy named Fisher, and Max had also worked with him. Unlike Hamilton, he was one of the good guys. Which didn’t mean he was just going to let them walk away from three dead bodies without a lot of explanations. Hopefully he wouldn’t know that Jack had been at Larson’s house, where there were two more.

  Fisher started by inquiring, “Weren’t the four of you at that murder scene a few days ago?” Before anyone could answer, he added, “What the hell is going on now? We got a call about a gunshot up here.”

  So that was how they had gotten here so fast, Max thought as he watched the detective looking at the men on the ground.

  Before Max could answer, Olivia spoke. “Like at my house, this is about the murders of people in my Donley High reunion class.”

  The detective swung to her, taking in her bedraggled appearance. “Do I know you?”

  “I’m Olivia Winters, a member of the ten-year reunion class.”

  “And that famous model.”

  “Is that relevant?”

  “Maybe it’s more relevant that trouble is following you around.”

  Max jumped into the conversation. “The man who killed Claire Lowden kidnapped Ms. Winters and brought her here. It was Troy Masters. We figured it out and came to rescue her. When we got here, the security guard was already dead.”

  Fisher looked at the two dead men on the ground. “Neither one of these is Masters.”

  “The guard must have discovered Masters dragging Ms. Winters here. The other guy is Damon Davidson—the ex-con who cut me up yesterday in Baltimore,” Max supplied.

  “The guy who put you in the hospital?” Fisher clarified.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you left against doctor’s orders.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “We’ve kept you on our radar.”

  Max sighed. “Okay. I found out Ms. Winters had been kidnapped—presumably by Masters,” he said, leaving out the other suspect.

  “And you didn’t call the police for help?”

  “Not after the help I was getting from Hamilton,” Max snapped.

  Fisher gave him a long look. “Hamilton is dead.”

  The information drew a gasp from Olivia, who hadn’t known about the two previous murders. “How?” she asked.

  “He and Tommy Larson were found dead at Larson’s home.”

  The blood had drained from Olivia’s face. “Oh no.”

  Max saw Fisher take in her reaction.

  “So the next question is, where’s Troy Masters?” he asked.

  “In an underground room beneath the cabin.” Max gestured behind himself and decided that the only way they were going to get out of this was to tell the truth—or most of it. “He was holding Ms. Winters there. When he came at her with a knife, I shot him.”

  “He’s dead?” Fisher asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think we’re going down to headquarters,” Fisher said.

  “Good idea. I think I need to sit down,” Max answered. He could feel the stimulant he’d taken wearing off.

  Olivia gave him a worried look.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  He was still thinking their best chance of getting out of this was to tell the truth. But he was sure there was one thing Olivia wanted to leave out.

  “I got to Ms. Winters as Masters was trying to rape her,” he said.

  The detective’s gaze swung to her, and she nodded. Then her bottom lip began to tremble.

  Max looked at the cops who were still surrounding them. “She needs to sit down, too.”

  Once again they were taken to Howard County police headquarters in separate cars, although under friendlier circumstances.

  This time Olivia went in first. Then Max, followed by Shane and Jack. As Max told his story to Fisher, he gathered that the detective didn’t think much of the way Hamilton had handled the case.

  Max was running on fumes, and he’d hoped they could go right back to the hotel, but when they stepped outside, a crowd of reporters was waiting for them.

  “The reunion killer is dead?” a man from one of the local television stations shouted.

  “Yes,” Shane answered.

  “And Ms. Winters was a target?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “He kidnapped you?” someone else asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell us what that was like?”

  Max glanced at her, seeing the rigid set of her jaw. “Ms. Winters needs to rest,” he said. “Get the rest of the story from the cops.”

 
; “I’ll have something to say later,” she told the crowd.

  “Were you trying to throw them a bone?” Max asked when they’d climbed into the back of Shane’s SUV.

  “Actually I was thinking about something I want to say, but not now,” she said wearily.

  “So we’re going back to the hotel?” Shane asked.

  “Yeah. I need some sleep,” Max said.

  When Olivia finally unlocked the door, Max was swaying on his feet.

  “You need to get back in bed,” she told him.

  “I know. After a shower,” he answered, hearing the exhausted sound of his own voice.

  He knew that he and Olivia had to talk, and that the three Rockfort men needed to compare notes about the lead-up to the scene at the cabin, but he couldn’t do either one right now.

  He threw off his clothes, took a quick shower, and pulled on shorts before climbing under the covers, and he didn’t wake until hours later, when he realized Olivia wasn’t with him.

  He lay still for a few minutes, testing his body. He seemed to be in pretty good shape, all things considered. But where was Olivia? After their conversation in the hospital, he’d hoped the two of them would stay together. Now he wondered if her experience in the underground room had changed things. And what had she told Fisher?

  Max had only been with her and Masters at the end of the ordeal, which left her free to tell the detective any version of the facts she wanted.

  Hoping he would find her in the living room, he pushed himself up, pulled on a T-shirt and jeans that were still in his carry bag, and went into the next room. To his relief, Olivia was there with the TV turned low, listening to an account of “the reunion murders.”

  “You want to watch?” she asked.

  “I’ve had enough of it.”

  She clicked the remote and he sat down next to her, slid closer, and waited.

  “Shane stopped by and brought me some breakfast.”

  “I slept all night?”

  “Right. I left some sticky buns for you. And there’s a coffeepot in the room.”

  “Good.” He was still speaking in sentences of one syllable as he reached for the tray and picked up a bun, munching on it. Olivia brought him coffee, and he drank some, wondering when the conversation would turn serious.

  When he was finished with the bun, he licked his fingers and wiped them on a paper napkin.

  “That was good.”

  She gave him a little smile. “You’re not too talkative this morning.”

  “Neither are you.”

  “You’re up for a serious discussion?”

  “Yeah.”

  He thought she might say something personal, instead she went back to the case.

  “When Shane was here, he had some stuff to say about Troy Masters.”

  “Such as?”

  “He never did really well in any of the businesses he started. There was a cleaning service and a restaurant that both went bust. He put on a show of being successful, but mostly he was living on investments he inherited from his family.”

  Max nodded. They hadn’t dug into his background at that level because he had simply been one of several suspects until the past few days.

  “Maybe his rampage was triggered by some recent financial failures. Up until the past year, he had been doing pretty well with the investment income. It seems he’d lost a lot of money in the stock market—partly from the market downturn and partly because of some wrong decisions. Probably he couldn’t cope with the failure.”

  “That could have contributed,” Max agreed. “But most people who fail in business or investments don’t need to start killing.”

  He heard Olivia swallow. “I’d like to forget about Troy Masters, but he’s always going to be part of my past.” She looked at Max, then away. “On the way over to police headquarters, I thought about what I was going to say to Fisher. But I didn’t decide until I was in the interview room.”

  He waited for her to continue.

  “I told Fisher I was raped in high school by Masters and raped again yesterday.”

  His breath caught. “I didn’t know if you were going to say anything about that.”

  She gave him a direct look. “And I told Fisher you took away the condom so I wouldn’t have to talk about the rape if I didn’t want to.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said nobody else had to know the details. Troy is dead, and nobody’s going to prosecute him.”

  She laid her head on Max’s shoulder, and he put his arm around her. “I also decided Fisher had to know that Troy was killing people to hide what he’d done in high school. Not just to me, but to that girl in Baltimore.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It could have just been about her, but I realized his raping me was part of it.”

  “How did Fisher react to all that?”

  “I think it helped him understand.”

  “Good.”

  She swallowed hard. “Something you don’t know. Troy told me that Angela wasn’t really raped at all. That she just said she was so we’d keep quiet together.”

  Anger flashed through him. “Nice of him. It might or might not be true.”

  “I know. I hope he was lying.”

  “Yeah.” He dragged in a breath and exhaled. “Don’t let what he said mess with your head—or interfere with your life.”

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “Good. Because you have better things to do.” He brought his mouth to hers, moving his lips, showing her the depth of his feelings for her.

  When they broke apart, he said in a husky voice, “We both need to get him out of our minds, and I know how we can do it.”

  “I think we’re on the same wavelength.”

  He stood and took her hand and led her back to the bedroom. He needed to love her, and he ached to make it good for her, to wipe out the awful things that had happened—and to show her how much she meant to him.

  His tongue played with the seam of her lips, and she opened for him so that he could explore the line of her teeth, then stroke the sensitive tissue on the inside of her lips.

  When his tongue dipped farther into her mouth, tasting her, he felt hot, needy sensations curling through him.

  She moved her hands over his back, and he stroked her, too, his fingers gliding over her ribs, then the sides of her breasts.

  When he found her nipples, they were rigid, poking out against her shirt.

  But he saw her eyes were squeezed tightly closed.

  “Did he touch you there?” he whispered.

  “No. I did it. To get his attention.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “But…”

  “Let’s get that out of your mind.”

  He kissed her again, trying to show her how much he loved her, how much he wanted her.

  And when she tangled her hands in his hair, holding his mouth to hers, he smiled against her lips.

  Still kissing him, she eased a little away so that she could slip her hands under his T-shirt and stroke his chest, finding his nipples, circling them with her fingers, making them tighten.

  “Why did you put your clothes on when you got up?” she whispered.

  “In case someone knocked at the door. My mistake.” He pulled the shirt over his head and reached for the button at the top of his jeans. But he left on his briefs as he kicked the pants away.

  She was wearing a knit top and twill pants. He pulled the top over her head, waiting to see her reaction. When she smiled at him, he reached around to unsnap her bra and get it out of the way so that he could lower his mouth to one of her breasts.

  Her breath caught as he licked at her nipple, then sucked it into his mouth, loving the pebbled texture.

  “Yes,” she murmured as she clasped her palms around his head.

  He was burning with the need for her, but he went slowly, making sure she was with him every step of the way. He removed her slacks but left on her panties for the time being as he took her do
wn to the surface of the bed, then gathered her close, still a little worried that he might be going too fast after what had happened with Masters.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Good. Really good.”

  He continued to stroke her and kiss her, thrilled as he sensed her passion rising to meet his.

  They both got rid of their remaining clothing, and when she whispered, “Do it now,” he parted her legs and eased inside her.

  Her eyes met his, and neither of them moved for a long moment. Then she raised her hips, and he responded, losing himself in the joy of making love with her. He held back, waiting for her to climax. And when he felt her contract around him, he let go, coming in a burst of intense feeling and emotion.

  Shifting to the side, he held her close.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “A pleasure.”

  They drifted in each other’s arms for a while, until he said, “I’d like to stay in bed with you all day, but the guys are going to want to talk about yesterday. And probably Shane wants to share more of his research.”

  “I know.”

  “We’ll make it quick,” he promised.

  They got dressed, and Max was about to call his partners when he heard a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” he called out.

  “Jerry Ellison.”

  “Who?”

  Olivia stepped up beside him, a stunned look on her face. “My agent. The guy you talked to on the phone.”

  “What do you want?” Max demanded.

  “I want to talk to Olivia.”

  Max glanced at her. When she nodded, he opened the door and a short, balding man wearing a gray turtleneck and dark slacks stepped into the room.

  This was the famous Jerry Ellison? The guy who had been so important in Olivia’s career for ten years? If you passed him on the street, you wouldn’t give him a second look.

  Still, Max felt his nerves twang like banjo strings as he waited to find out what Ellison and Olivia were going to say to each other. The man was looking at her, taking in her mussed hair. He probably had a pretty good idea of what they’d been doing a little while ago.

  “How did you find me?” Olivia asked.

  “Not too hard. There’s a crowd of reporters down there chomping for red meat.”

  She made a sound of distress. “I thought they hadn’t figured out where we were.”