Power to the Max (Max Starr, #4)

She might want to, but she wouldn’t do it tonight. And Angela had given her the perfect out. A plan was forming.

“I won’t use your room. But what about my car?” That would be safe from bugging. She could get Witt into her car, then pretend that she was unzipping his pants and doing the do. Unless Angela or Hammerhead stood right beside the car, they’d never know Max hadn’t performed.

Angela tipped her head. “I suppose you could blow him in a car. What do you drive?”

“A Miata.”

Angela looked briefly at Witt, then smirked. “That guy wouldn’t even fit into one of those little jobs.”

Besides, Max didn’t even know where the valet had parked it. Was she supposed to go outside, ask for her car, then park it herself in the underground garage? That wouldn’t work.

“How about—” Max’s mind whirled. She’d almost suggested Witt’s truck, but she wasn’t supposed to know him. “What do you drive?”

“The Hammer drove me tonight.”

“Hammerhead. What about his car then?” Yeah, it would work. And since it was her suggestion, they wouldn’t have time to bug it or anything. She’d be safe. Witt would be safe.

Angela glanced from Max to Witt to Hammerhead. “I’ll be out there. We have to know for sure. But I won’t let your guy see me.”

Yes. The plan would work. A sudden rush of relief turned Max almost boneless. “Okay. Just don’t embarrass me by getting too close.”

“You’re a real sport. I swear you’re going to get hooked on the high.”

Little did Angela know that Max was already hooked on Witt. Twisting and turning and struggling on the end of line, yeah, but she had to admit, he’d hooked her. “Afterwards I want my information.”

Angela smiled. “You got it.” Then she reached into her purse for a small pen and one of her business cards. A few moments of writing, then she said, “Be right back.”

Winding through the tables to Hammerhead’s side, she left the card as she swept by on her way to the bar. After reading, Hammerhead reached into his back pocket, then slid something to the edge of his table.

Angela returned with a full glass of wine. “He put the keys at the edge of his table. Pick them up on your way out. Try not to be noticeable.” She once again opened her purse, then pushed something across the table, and lifted Max’s limp hand to set a small foil packet in it. “It’s got a big backseat. Lincoln Continental. Black. Second floor of the garage. And use the condom, even if it’s just a blowjob. Working girls can never be too careful.”

Max remembered another Lincoln from another case and felt a moment of discomfort before she pushed it aside. Couldn’t be helped.

She patted Max’s hand. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

And then she was gone, leaving Max with her heart’s desire. Witt. And power.

*

“A drink from the gentleman.” The waitress left the champagne cocktail at Max’s elbow.

She couldn’t be sure how long she’d been sitting there in a daze. Witt raised his glass. She raised hers, half-wishing he’d told her he wouldn’t be a party to her little scheme. It was absurd. He should have told her that. He was the one with the sensible cop mentality. But he hadn’t. The bastard probably wanted to see it through only to find out what Angela and Hammerhead wanted.

The bubbles tickled her nose. The sparkling wine went straight to her head. Witt rose, beer mug in his hand, and sidled through the tables, turning heads and making women sigh.

The condom packet’s edge bit into the flesh of Max’s palm. She hadn’t even realized she was squeezing her hand into a fist. She quickly shoved it inside her purse. No way could she let Witt see it.

He sat. Pulled the chair close so that his knee brushed hers. So that she couldn’t breathe without taking in his scent, yeasty beer, musk, and male. “What are you wearing?”

She worked her way up. Fuck-me heels. Thigh-high stockings. No panties, just the bodysuit which could easily be unsnapped. “A new suit.”

“Didn’t think I’d seen it before.” He leaned back, looked beneath the table to the hem of her black silk skirt above her knee. Was he checking for panties? Max shivered as a thrill of anticipation streaked through her, ending with a tingle of her clitoris.

The outfit wasn’t so much a suit as a sexy, feminine package, the silk body blouse embellished with black braid and the sleeves see-through. A huge step up from a business suit, nothing overt, yet sexy for what it didn’t show.