Power to the Max (Max Starr, #4)

“Only because I can’t convince you I’d tell the truth, Max. I will tell you what you want to know. If...” He came forward swiftly, startlingly her into jumping back. He didn’t touch her, only rested his elbows on his knees, fully, proudly exposing his engorged penis, his thumb massaging a drop of pre-cum into the slit at the top.

She allowed derision, not aversion, to color her tone and her features. “Do you really think your pathetic”—she glanced down to his crotch with a contemptuous smile on her lips—“display is going to intimidate me?” He merely smiled, an indication that he liked the fight in her. She pushed harder. “People are catching on to the real you. Baxter Newton knows you’re evil.”

He sighed, suddenly clasping his hands behind his head and flopping back against the sofa cushions. His cock bobbed and swayed as he settled. “Ah, Baxter.” He tipped his head up to look at her. “He’s trying so hard to pretend his daughter isn’t a murderer, Max.” He looked at his fingernails, smiled as if he approved of their sheen. “I helped him by lying for her.”

“Did he ask you to lie?” She already knew, had from the moment she’d envisioned Julia at the office door. They were all lying. Every one of them. Their alibis were collusive. “What price did you put on the alibi?”

“Now wouldn’t that spoil your fun if I told you everything?”

She shook her head. “I’m not having fun.”

Bud rose. Her gaze rose with him. He pulled his robe closed and stepped forward. Max put one foot back, then stopped herself.

“Such a pity,” he said. “I’ll give you a few nuggets, Max. I introduced Julia to Angela. I told our poor beautiful Julia what would happen in her office that night, between her husband and her lover.” He sneered at the word. “And I made sure Baxter knew she was missing from her little soiree, pointed out that we hadn’t seen her in a long, long time. Then I showed him the video.” His lips spread in a self-satisfied smile. She didn’t bother to ask how he’d managed the timing of that one. “Later he practically begged me to lie, Max. A foolproof plan, don’t you agree? I’ve got them all by the balls.” He raised a hand, squeezed it shut like a vise, and bared his teeth.

What was he really after? To keep Angela as his blackmail stooge? No. He’d already said how easily he could replace her. Maybe he wanted nothing more than that power position. Over Angela, Julia, and Baxter. And anyone else he’d managed to immortalize over the years.

“How did you get to be such a monster?” Cameron had told her. Perhaps it was true. The victim can only expunge his victimhood by becoming master.

Bud merely smiled, one side of his lip rising higher than the other. “Baxter won’t break the alibi to save his daughter. Julia won’t break it to save herself. And I got what I wanted all along.”

What, she wanted to scream at him.

Bud pushed closer. Max stood her ground. “Except for one thing,” he breathed the words against her neck.

She put a hand on his chest and said, “Back off, dirt bag.” Then she shoved him back the one step he’d taken.

“Don’t you want to know what else I want?” he purred.

“I couldn’t care less.” She didn’t need to ask.

“You.”

“You’ll never have me.” Her voice rang strong, sure.

“Oh, but I will. And I did, in a manner of speaking.” He paused, letting fear of the unknown sink in. “Why do you think Hammerhead and my naughty little Angela let you get so close to them?”

Because he’d told them to. “No,” she still tried to deny. God, fool that she was, she’d been manipulated, too, fallen so easily in with his plan.

He retreated, stretched his neck, and puffed up his chest with a deep breath. An alien blackness colored his inescapable gaze. “Who do you think watched you last night to make sure you carried through on your promise to Angela?”

Oh God. She was going to throw up.

He preened. “Yes, Max, I was the one who watched your steamy little scene in the backseat of my friend’s Lincoln. I think I might even have come at the precise moment your lover did.”

God. That was worse even than watching him stroke himself.

*

Max couldn’t think, couldn’t scream. She could only do what she’d sworn she wouldn’t: run. She didn’t remember making it to her car, starting it, and peeling out. She only remembered fishtailing on the road, narrowly missing an oncoming car as she struggled to correct.

Gut-wrenching fear assailed her. Hammerhead had outfitted the hotel room and the car with a video camera. They’d anticipated that she’d balk at a room and led her into making the choice they wanted.

Please God, let him have only watched. Please don’t let him have recorded Witt.