Maximum Witch

chapter Fourteen


Willa rolled over in bed, automatically reaching for Max. Instead of his nice warm body, she ended up hugging his pillow instead. Frowning, she lifted onto her elbow. The rich aroma of chicory made her nose twitch. Okay, either Max had snuck off to use the bathroom, or he was out in the kitchen, enjoying Aurele’s world-class coffee.

She threw the covers off and hurried to the closet, where she found one of Aurele’s old fuzzy robes. She slipped on the garment and belted it while she padded into the hallway. A peek inside the guest bath confirmed no Max, although the water beading on the shower stall confirmed that he’d been in there recently.

Aurele glanced up from her mug as Willa entered the kitchen. “Morning.”

Crossing to Aurele, she kissed her on the cheek. Aurele sniffled. “Does this mean you forgive me for lying to you about everything?”

“You did it to protect me. It’d be pretty damn petty to hold it against you.” She walked to the cupboard and fetched her favorite coffee cup, the one with the caption I don’t do mornings suspended over a purple alligator. “Have you seen Max? I thought he’d be out here with you.”

“He left a few minutes ago.”

Willa’s eyebrows slashed low at Aurele’s calm pronouncement. “Where did he go?”

“He decided a visit to the Duke of Atlanta would be more productive and persuasive than a phone call.”

“Oh really.” She filled her cup, splashing a small amount of coffee onto the counter. Grumbling, she grabbed a dishtowel and wiped up the mess. “How convenient that he came to that epiphany while I was still sleeping.” Another thought occurred to her and she banged her fist on the Formica. “Damn it, he took my car, didn’t he? Now I’m really ticked.”

“Dear, it wouldn’t have been a good idea for you to go with him.”

“Why? It’s not like the duke would even know who I was.”

“No, but he might become curious. Particularly considering the reason for Max’s visit.”

Begrudgingly admitting that Aurele had a point, Willa sat in the opposite seat and sipped her coffee. Inhaling the fragrant steam, she eyed the other woman. “Max told me that my mother forfeited her crown when she married my father. Did…did she ever regret making that choice?” She’d spent a better part of the night with the ghost of Max’s conversation tormenting her brain, making her wonder about the sacrifices her mother had made. Estelle Jameson had seemed blissfully happy. But then again, maybe what she was remembering was merely an implant. Maybe the truth would remain forever submerged within the murky recesses of her subconscious, never to surface. She swallowed, her doubts more bitter than the coffee scalding her tongue.

Aurele reached across the table and clasped Willa’s hand. “Your mother loved your father, just as she loved you. She never would have traded either of you. Not even for the throne.”

“Max seems to think I should reclaim the legacy she lost. That is, if Reva is ever brought to trial. Since that appears highly unlikely, it’s pretty much a moot point.”

Aurele leaned back in her chair, her gaze assessing. “It is your birthright.”

She grimaced. “Now you sound like Max.”

“Well, he does appear to be a very intelligent young man.”

“Jeez, that was a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.”

Aurele chuckled. “Scoff all you want, but I confess I’m greatly relieved knowing you have him for a protector. The knowledge will help me sleep easier at night.”

Taking another sip of coffee, she silently agreed with Aurele’s assessment. Having Max look out for her did make her feel infinitely safer. In theory at least. Because when it came to her heart, Max was the biggest danger of all.



Max climbed from Willa’s car and visually swept the exterior of the ducal residence, taking in the enormous dolphin-shaped boxwood topiaries flanking the entrance. To the uninformed observer, the plant statuary would be taken as a whimsical touch. In reality, they were a nod to Justin Bellemuir’s mammalian side of the family, which came courtesy of his mother, Nadia. Max couldn’t help wondering what Reva thought about having the precious waters of her gene pool muddied by dolphin DNA. Hopefully it put a real twist in the bitch’s panties. Clenching his jaw, he jogged up the marble steps and rang the bell. Less than a minute later a butler answered the door and led the way to Justin’s study after Max flashed his credentials.

Justin jumped from his chair as soon as the butler ushered Max inside the mahogany-paneled room. A wide grin plastering the young duke’s mug, he accepted Max’s handshake. “Sheriff Truitt, what an unexpected pleasure.”

“I apologize for showing up at your door without calling first.”

“No need. You know you’re welcome anytime.”

He knew Justin wasn’t only being polite. Unlike many of the other royals, the Duke of Atlanta didn’t stand on formality. And he was genuinely a nice guy. Obviously Reva’s evilness had skipped a few generations, thank the gods.

“Please, have a seat.” Justin indicated the high-backed leather chair facing his desk. “Would you care for coffee or anything?”

“No thanks.” Max settled into the chair. His gaze roved to the bronze sculpture of Poseidon resting on the pedestal behind Justin. It was just one of the many rare and expensive pieces of art on display in the lavish manor. It was also one more reminder to Max of exactly how far down the totem pole he was in comparison to these people. He had no right even imagining Willa in his life. This was the world she belonged in, what she was entitled to. He had nothing to offer her besides himself, and that was pretty damn paltry in comparison to his current surroundings.

He shouldn’t have made love to her last night, no matter how mind-blowing it’d been. It only made it harder, contemplating the day he’d be forced to step aside as her lover and allow another to take his place.

“You look like you’re carrying a heavy load on your mind,” Justin said, breaking through Max’s thoughts.

“Yeah, you can definitely say that again.” Max shifted his weight, the leather creaking in protest. “I don’t really know how to go about broaching this conversation.”

Obvious confusion played across Justin’s face. “Now you’re starting to worry me.”

“Good. I think you need to be.”

Justin gave a nervous laugh. “Someone’s going to win the award for most cryptic today. Out with it, Sheriff.”

He’d rehearsed what he would say on the drive over, and in the end decided a little embellishment might go a long way toward putting the fear into the duke. “Some evidence has been brought to my attention, leading me to believe your grandmother might be attempting a breakout.”

Justin stared at him. “From what? Her coffin at the bottom of the sea?”

“We both know she’s not in any damn coffin.”

“It was merely a figure of speech. I’m fully aware that my grandmother’s body was never recovered, but thank you for having the decency to remind me.” Justin’s voice shook with emotion as he lurched to his feet. “I don’t know what twisted, perverse humor prompted you to come here and upset me with this nonsense, but I’ll kindly ask you to leave.”

He’d seen enough liars and actors in his day to tell that Justin was neither. Which left only one answer. The duke knew nothing about Reva being alive. Or where she was being held prisoner. Shit.

Max scrubbed a hand along his jaw. How he saw it, he had one of two choices. Either he bowed and scraped his way out of Justin’s study in an effort to save the job he’d probably just kissed goodbye. Or he could go balls to the wall and say f*ck it. Tell Justin what he knew about Reva and pray the duke would take him seriously. It might be their best shot at tracking the duchess down. Because without the duke’s backing, they were flying blind.

He abandoned his seat and stepped closer to the edge of the desk, strategically blocking the only exit available to Justin. If nothing else, the duke would be forced to listen before his damn security guards came to drag Max away. “I know this is going to sound far-fetched or crazy, but I have it on good authority that your grandmother wasn’t one of the victims in the royal massacre.”

Justin gazed at him for a long moment, his lips tight. “You’re right about one thing. That is far-fetched.” The onyx cufflinks gracing the duke’s button-down shirt glinted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Did this mysterious source who provided you this incredible information also explain how the devil my grandmother was able to escape the murderer? Or why she would stay in hiding all these years, from her own family, no less?”

Here goes nothing. “Yes. Because Reva was the murderer.”

Justin stiffened, his facial muscles freezing in shock. A fraction of a second later, his paralysis broke, replaced by blistering anger. “How dare you accuse my grandmother of something so despicable. An innocent woman incapable of even defending her good name.”

“Someone in your family damn well knows the truth of what happened. It takes an extravagant amount of money to hide a murderer’s guilt. Maybe you better start asking some questions of your own.” He reached in his rear pocket for his wallet. Pulling out his card, he tossed it on the ink blotter centered upon Justin’s desk. “When you come to your senses, call me. Before it’s too late.”





The drive back to Aurele’s was a testimony in frustration as Max replayed his meeting with Justin. Frankly, he didn’t give a rat’s ass anymore if he was demoted from sheriff or kicked out of the field completely. What did a job title matter when people’s lives—hell, the entire human population—were facing possible extinction? He glanced at his cell phone, the temptation to call his dad nearly crippling. The old man’s investigative mind would be a handy tool to have at the moment. Between the two of them, they could probably narrow down the possible locations where Reva was being held. But his dad was also no dummy. He’d demand to know who Max’s source of information was. It wouldn’t take much for Grayson Truitt to put two and two together and realize it had to be one of the two other missing victims—Aurele and Willa.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his dad. There wasn’t anyone he trusted more. Other than his mom. And Boone. But who knew how f*cking deep this conspiracy went? He couldn’t risk exposing his parents to danger if his dad started poking his tail fin where it didn’t belong. Which would be precisely the thing his old man would do. Shit, like father like son. After all, Max had already stirred up a hornet’s nest of trouble by taking his information to Justin. It’d been a necessary evil, yes. One that he hoped wouldn’t backfire on them.

Growling, he tossed his cell into the console’s cup holder. Fifteen minutes later he braked to a stop in Aurele’s drive. Inside the house, he found the two women camped at the kitchen table. They looked at him expectantly as he set Willa’s keys on the counter.

“How did it go?” Aurele asked, her expression worried.

“The duke didn’t even know his grandmother was alive. Someone else in the family must be footing her confinement bills.”

Aurele hunched over her cup and blew at the waft of steam. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I figured a while back that Justin wasn’t the one behind it. He’s too good a man.”

Max gaped at the elder shark. “You’ve been keeping tabs on the Bellemuirs.” He stated it more as fact than inquiry.

“Why else do you think I’ve been living in Atlanta this whole time? I wouldn’t stick this close to the scene of the crime and put myself in danger just for the fun of it.”

Willa frowned. “Hold on a sec. What do you mean by the scene of the crime? I thought you said my parents were murdered on Atlantis.”

“Dear, you’re practically sitting right smack-dab in the middle of Atlantis.”

“What?” Willa looked dazed by the news. Understandable.

“Wait, this will go much smoother with props.” Aurele abandoned her seat and walked down the hall. Meanwhile Willa stared at him in bemusement.

He crossed to her and hunkered in front of her chair. Her fists were clenched in her lap, and she hadn’t lost that I’ve-just-been-hit-by-a-two-by-four expression. He picked up her hands and smoothed his thumbs over her knuckles. He knew there must be a thousand questions swirling in her mind. Hopefully whatever Aurele was up to would fill in some of the blanks. “I’m sorry I snuck out on you this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it. Right now I’m too preoccupied with wrapping my head around the fact that we’re apparently sitting in Atlantis’s kitchen.”

He chuckled. “Not quite. When Aurele returns she’ll explain it in better terms.”

The scuff of soles marked Aurele’s re-entrance into the room. A large scroll was tucked in the crook of her arm. She joined them at the table and unrolled one section of the ancient parchment.

Willa leaned over the document. Her glasses slipped down her nose, and she tucked them back in place before peering at Aurele. “What’s this?”

“A map of Atlantis.”

“But it’s enormous. Practically bigger than the—”

“Atlantic?” Aurele supplied. “Hmm, amazing coincidence.” She pulled down another section of the scroll, a tissue-thin vellum that overlaid the original map.

He watched Willa’s face, waiting for the exact moment everything registered with her. Her reaction didn’t disappoint. Eyes going comically wide, she jerked her head up. “Are you telling me the entire eastern seaboard is really the freaking lost city of Atlantis?”

Aurele smiled patiently. “Not in the way you’re thinking. Furthermore, the city of Atlantis has never been lost. It’s simply been in between.” She stirred the air with her fingers for emphasis.

Willa’s eyes became hooded like she suspected Aurele was trying to sneak a fast one past her. “In between what?”

“Dimensions. A thin veil separates Atlantis from this earth. The ocean is a gathering of the two existences, where our waters meet and unite both worlds. You’re right in the sense that other than the palace and the university, most of the city is in ruins. It’s been the case for many centuries. Hence the reason many of the non-water-locked Atlanteans have chosen to reside at least on a semipermanent basis within the earth realm.”

“Non-water-locked? What does that even mean?”

He decided to let Aurele’s voice have a rest by stepping in with the relatively simple explanation. “Basically there are two types of Atlanteans. Those who are able to acquire legs when on land, and those who can’t.”

“This is so damn weird,” Willa groused.

“Dear, you’ve been to purgatory. Atlantis is far less strange than that trip.”

“Okay, you might have a point.” Willa rubbed her temples. “So hypothetically speaking, if I wanted to visit Atlantis, I could? I mean, without actually going into the ocean? Because there’s no way in hell that’s happening.”

Gripping the edge of the table, Max straightened. “There’s a portal on the Duke of Atlanta’s property. It’s accessed in a reflecting pool. Position the sundial correctly and it triggers the doorway.” He took in the confusion stamped on Willa’s features and wished that he could show her firsthand the wonder of Atlantis and the royal palace that she’d once called home but didn’t remember. It would be impossible though without cobbling a good lie to give the duke for busting onto his property with a strange woman. Particularly after what went down this morning.

He glanced at his watch, a trickle of guilt washing over him at the necessity of dragging Willa away when she obviously had so many unanswered questions. But if they didn’t leave soon, he’d be late relieving Fritz from his shift. He returned to the counter and snagged Willa’s keys. She met his gaze and lifted from her seat. “Are we going?”

“Afraid so. I’m on duty tonight. Fortunately, I’m only playing watchdog to whatever miscreants my men brought in overnight.” Remembering Ronnie’s bailout yesterday, he grimaced. Hopefully the stupid-ass eel hadn’t gotten himself thrown back in the tank. He didn’t have the patience to deal with The Shock Factor any time soon. “You can keep me company.”

Planting her hands on her hips, she sidled toward him. “You’re only suggesting that because you don’t want to let me out of your sight.”

“That’s only one of the reasons.” Tugging her closer, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “The other is I have this sudden fantasy to spread you out on the kitchen table at work and make a meal out of you.”

“That’s not very sanitary,” Aurele piped up.

Willa sent her a glare. “I thought you said your hearing is going.”

“I did?” Aurele scratched her chin. “Must have meant my memory.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Stop calling me names and get over here and hug me.”

Dutifully obeying Aurele’s command, Willa rushed across the tile and embraced the older woman. “I don’t like leaving you here on your own. Not with everything going on.”

“I’ll be fine.” Aurele peered at Max. “You take care of my girl.”

“With my very life.”

Aurele gave a single nod. “Go on then. I’ve got my surveillance of the Bellemuirs to get back to.”

“And I’ll do my own digging at work. With any luck, one of us will turn up something on where they’re keeping Reva.”

After one last round of hugs and kisses, he and Willa said goodbye to Aurele and hopped into the Taurus. She was more than willing to grant him driving duty this time around. He half-expected her to be chatty, full of questions that he might not have answers for, but the drive back to Savannah proved to be no less quiet compared to last night’s trip. Only this time the strain came not from Willa’s brewing anger over his insistence about meeting her aunt. No, now the truth was out there, and it was even more astonishing and explosive than either of them could have imagined.

He fiddled with the radio, hoping to ease the silence. Willa coaxed his hand away from the knob before she clicked it off and turned toward him. “I know what you promised Aurele, but the truth is you can’t watch me every second of the day. It’s not feasible, and I don’t expect it of you. Not to mention, there’s my job to consider. I doubt my bosses would take kindly to having a shark pacing in front of my desk, threatening to bite a chunk out of anyone who looked at me funny.”

“We’ll cross that road when we come to it.”

“Max, no. I’m putting my foot down right now. I don’t want a twenty-four-hour bodyguard.”

“Too bad. You’re damn well getting one. If I have to enlist Boone to watch over you when I can’t, then it means you’ll be getting two.”

She scowled. “You are infuriating and bossy.”

“Yep. Get used to it.”

“All I can say is it’s a damn good thing you’re an awesome cook. It redeems all your other aggravating traits.”

“You forgot to mention that I’m also incredible in the sack.” He flashed a grin and waggled his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes but at least it got her to quit arguing. They stopped on the outskirts of Savannah and grabbed a late lunch through the drive-thru window at Mickey D’s. He wolfed down his double cheeseburger and half the carton of fries before Willa made it through a quarter of her chicken sandwich. He noticed she ate it with far less enthusiasm than she usually displayed. “Not hungry?”

She nibbled listlessly on a limp French fry. “Surprisingly, no. Maybe my appetite is permanently shot.”

He hoped not. It was too enjoyable watching her savor her food. Almost as pleasurable as seeing her suck his cock deep into her throat. He bit back a moan and shifted around, trying to ease the sudden pressure behind his fly.

Willa glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Her gaze dropped to his lap and a knowing smile curved her mouth. “You were having dirty thoughts, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but they were about you. Does that get me off the hook?”

“Mm, maybe.” The last word came out on a kittenish purr that made his cock throb even more. “Depends on whether or not you’re going to tell me exactly what you were thinking.”

There was no way in hell he could give her a blow-by-blow of her blowing him without needing to pull the car over and take care of business. Preferably with Willa straddling his cock while he f*cked her to a mind-blowing orgasm in the driver’s seat. “How about I give you a rain check for later?”

“Party pooper.” Adjusting her seat belt, she slouched deeper into the upholstery. She nibbled her thumb, her expression pensive. “Can I ask you something?”

“Baby, I already told you I’m not spilling my dirty thoughts right now.”

“I know. This isn’t about that.”

“Okay. Then shoot.”

She plucked at the edge of her seat belt. “Do you think it’s odd to hear voices…that shouldn’t be there?”

“Be where?”

Willa was quiet for so long, he didn’t think she was going to answer. Finally she said with wavering uncertainty, “Your head.”

He slashed his gaze toward her and she turned bright red.

“You think I’m crazy now, don’t you?”

“Uh, no.”

She twitched her nose. “Has anyone told you that you really suck at lying?”

The truth was he didn’t think she was necessarily crazy. But telling someone you heard strange voices in your head? That was bound to throw anyone for a loop. “What do these voices say?”

She squinted at him. “Are you asking that just to humor me?”

“No. I’m honestly curious.”

“Well, the night you rescued me? It told me to jump your bones.”

He choked on a cough.

“It also told me you possessed what I needed.” She slid him a sidelong glance.

“I think I’m starting to like this voice.”

“This is no joke, Max. You don’t know what it’s like having no control over your thoughts or actions.” Her lips trembled. “To be at the mercy of an invisible puppeteer.”

Her obvious anguish tore at him. He wished he could offer some comfort, but he didn’t know the words to give her. Reaching across the console, he squeezed her knee. “Maybe the voice means you no harm. In fact, it sounds like it’s trying to help you. Or tell you something.” A tingle broke out on the nape of his neck, his first clue that he might be on to something. “How long have you been hearing it?”

“Technically, I didn’t hear it until that night. Before then, it was more of a nonverbal thing.”

“You mean like telepathy?”

She scrunched her forehead. “Sort of. Sometimes I’ll get flashes of odd images too. Almost like snapshots.”

“Memories?”

“They’re not mine.”

The tingling intensified and he tightened his grip on the wheel, trying not to get too excited by the possibility poking at him. “How do you know that?”

“I—I guess I don’t.”

He couldn’t hold back his theory any longer. “Sweetheart, what if the strange voice isn’t some disembodied hallucination, but you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Think about it. The mind sweeper erased all traces of everything that wasn’t human about you.”

“Okay,” she said, stringing out the word. “I’m following you so far.”

“But you can’t completely destroy a basic part of someone’s psyche. The core of what they are. Maybe you can submerge it. Beat it into submission. But sooner or later, it’s going to surface and seek the other half of itself and do everything it can to become a whole unit.”

Rather than look impressed by his theory, Willa’s expression turned horrified. “That crazy broad is going to try to take over my body?”

“Willa, that crazy broad is you.” He quickly reevaluated what he’d just said. “That came out wrong, but you know what I mean. Bottom line, there’s no reason to fear your nymph side. Sure, they can be a little mischievous at times. And their appetites tend toward the…lusty.”

Her eyes nearly bugged from their sockets as that part registered. A moment later a distressed wail bleated from her. “Oh my goddess. I’m a nymphomaniac.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling. Somehow he doubted she would find it the least bit funny. “Look on the bright side. Now you know how the term originated.”

“Thanks. That was very helpful.”

“Damn, you’re incredibly sexy when you’re sarcastic.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Jeez, you’re even more mentally unstable than I am.”

This time he allowed himself to laugh. “Keep throwing out those zingers, and I will find a pull off so I can f*ck you against the steering wheel.”

She snorted. “No doubt that would thrill my inner nympho to no end.”

They crossed onto the bypass leading to Tybee. This time of day most of the tourists were already soaking up rays on the beaches, leaving the roadways relatively free of traffic. Fine by him. The sooner he got to the station and sent Fritz packing, the quicker he could be on top of Willa. In Willa.

He stomped his foot on the gas, and she shot him a look. “In a hurry to get to work?”

Oh yeah, baby.

Less than ten minutes later he roared into the lot of the stationhouse. He noticed a woman standing by the front door, blocking it. She turned, revealing possibly one of the most stunningly beautiful faces he’d ever seen.

A strangled yelp came from Willa. “Sh-she was in my dream.”

He shifted his focus between Willa and the stranger. Suddenly the woman’s features went from beautiful to ugly in zero seconds flat, her eyes blacker than midnight. Opening her mouth, she screeched an ear-splitting cacophony, exploding the stationhouse windows.