Dead to the Max (Max Starr, #1)

“The janitors. Someone’s been moving stuff around in the office. I just wondered if they clean every night.”


Of course, they did. Her trash was always emptied in the morning. She was, however, more interested in Remy’s reaction to the fact that she knew the contents of her office had been searched. Because, golly gee whiz, wasn’t it coincidental that her office was searched right after she’d told Remy about Wendy’s detailed notes?

A flicker of impatience thinned his lips, but Remy gave no sudden start of fear, no bead of sweat on his upper forehead, no throat-clearing. “They’re supposed to clean every night. Is something missing?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Frigging illegals were looking for the petty cash box.”

“No, I don’t—” Damn. He’d manipulated her neatly, forcing her to defend the janitors and deflecting the original issue.

He pounded his fist on the top of the filing cabinet. Wendy’s spider plant bounced. “I’ll get a new service.”

“It was just once—”

“They’re robbing me blind.”

“Remy, I—” Max stopped to look at him. His mustache twitched. She could have sworn he’d smiled but managed to hide it before she could be sure.

Remy Hackett had just won the round.

He had not lost his cool, he had not admitted a thing, and he’d railroaded her, turning her own subtlety against her. It was not a satisfying feeling for a woman who was definitely into satisfaction.

She’d be back. The next time, Remy would be on the run.



*



“You should feel what you’re supposed to ask. You’re blocking yourself, Max.”

“I’m just not a mind reader like you think I am.”

“You are when it comes to Nicholas Drake.”

“That’s woman’s intuition.”

“That’s called falling for the wrong guy. Foolish women do it all the time.”

If he’d been in the passenger seat beside her, even at the risk of causing an accident, Max would have elbowed him. She didn’t care that he wouldn’t have felt it.

“Don’t call me stupid, Cameron.” He knew how she felt about that word, and he used it to needle her.

“I didn’t use it. You just wanted to hear it that way. Maybe because you know I’m right.”

Which is why he gave her that morphmare about Witt, to make his fricking point.

“Would you kindly get off my case. I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

She planned to pay a surprise condolence visit to Hal Gregory. He hadn’t called her since his wife’s funeral. Max was afraid she might have lost her edge with him. Time to get it back.

“You didn’t ask where Remy was the night Lilah died.”

“I will, dammit.” She wouldn’t admit that the changes in her office had thrown her off. “For right now, he knows I know he searched Wendy’s stuff. It’s enough.”

The top on the car was down. The sun was warm, and her bones lost some of the chill that pervaded them. She’d been cold all day in the office. Could have been the murderous company she’d been keeping lately.

Or the onslaught of sensual daydreams and nightmares that heated her while she experienced them, but left her cold and empty in the light of day.

“Someone else could have made the search.” Cameron prodded.

“Remy and I have the only two keys.”

“As far as you know.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Wouldn’t the warehouse manager have needed a key in case you weren’t around?”

“We don’t have a warehouse manager. The position’s vacant.”

“It wasn’t. Did Nick give back his keys?”

“If he didn’t, you can sure as hell bet Remy had the locks changed.”

“Always jumping to Nickie’s defense, aren’t you?”

Max sighed, not wanting to argue. “I’m being logical. Like you said, if it was Nick, why, of any other night he could have gone through my office, would he choose last night? The night after I told Remy that Wendy kept meticulous notes on everything. Answer that, Cameron.”

He didn’t. Instead he posed another question. “Why would Remy have waited until last night, of all nights, to do it, when he’s had ample opportunity since the night she died?”

“Because Remy thought Wendy was cowed. He underestimated her.” He hadn’t figured on the notes she kept.

“Ah, Max,” he breathed next to her ear. Shivers danced across her nerves endings. “Now you’re starting to percolate.”

That’s exactly what it felt like, that her brain had percolated for too long and turned to mush. “I’m tired of all these questions. I want some answers.”

She pulled into Hal Gregory’s driveway with exactly that in mind.