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His chin tipped back, and his nostrils flared. “I was being a disrespectful little shit, so my father burned some respect into me,” he seethed, flinging the words at me like daggers. “I was a worthless bastard back then: I had no sense of duty or loyalty. I was drunk—like I always was—and I accused my father of being responsible for my mom’s death. When I was the one responsible. Me.” Shame colored his cheeks, and twin white flames flickered over his night-black eyes.
“That’s not true,” I countered, my voice wavering with tears. Pain for him pierced my heart. “You told me the Russians stabbed you. You almost died. There was nothing you could’ve done.” My own rage swelled. “Is your father the one who ordered my mother’s murder?” I demanded. “Because if everything you’ve said is true, then it is his fault that the Russians came after your mom. You did nothing wrong, Max. And your father…” My stomach churned, and I swallowed down bile. “He burned you? He did this to you?”
I touched the ruined flesh on his brow, and he flinched away, his face twisting with anguish. Suddenly, he drew me into a tight hug, bracing one hand between my shoulders to hold me close.
“Allie.” He rasped my name, and something wet warmed my cheek. They weren’t my tears.
I wrapped my arms around him and tucked my face against his chest, clinging to him. His heartbeat hammered beneath my ear, as though he’d been sprinting a mile. He didn’t have to answer; he didn’t have to say aloud that his father had burned his beautiful face. I knew the truth now.
And the truth had cut too close to the awful suspicions that’d assailed me all day.
“So, you believe me now?” Max rumbled. “You believe that your father colluded with the Russian Bratva to murder my mother?”
I cringed, but I only pressed myself deeper into his arms. “I don’t want to believe it,” I whispered. “But Mike told me that my dad had an anonymous Russian informant that broke the Mafia case for him. You said he worked with the Russian Bratva to bring down the Mafia. He didn’t keep a record of the man’s identity. Why would he keep it secret? And now, I think the Ivanovs might have Bratva ties. They’re my dad’s biggest donors. They’ve paid him millions. And today…” I choked on the admission, unable to put the awfulness of it into words.
“Tell me what happened.” He soothed me, stroking my back with his big, warm hand.
I blew out a shuddering breath. “I tried to pull my mom’s autopsy and the arson report, but they were missing. How could they be missing? The D.A.’s office said something about losing the files, but how could they lose the files about the mayor’s wife’s death? I wanted to prove to myself that she died in an accidental fire, but now I can’t. I can’t prove that my father is innocent, Max.”
I sobbed into his chest, and he let me cry for a few minutes.
I felt him hold his breath for a moment, as though debating saying something. Then he admitted, “I have the original autopsy and arson report.”
I stiffened, but he kept me caged against his chest. “You took the records?”
“No. Kelvin McCrae had them. He confessed to me that your father asked him to make the reports go away, but McCrae held onto them as insurance. That’s how I found out that your mother was murdered and that my family was responsible. I have the evidence, Allie. But I don’t want you to have to see it.” He kissed my forehead, and I burrowed deeper into his arms. “Do you believe me now?” he murmured against my skin. “Do you believe that your father is guilty of everything I’ve told you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “I don’t want to believe it.”
His chest rose and fell on a long sigh. His heart still beat too fast beneath my cheek. The conversation had shredded me, but I’d asked him to lay his soul bare too. I tipped my head back so I could look up into his face. His scar didn’t mar his beauty. Not for me. It was a mark of his pain, agony that’d been inflicted by his own father.
My eyes stung as tears for his suffering welled. I threaded my fingers through his glossy curls, allowing my fingertips to brush over the indelible proof of his family’s cruelty. We hadn’t resolved everything between us, but Max had let down his guard to share his darkest secret with me.
It was more than enough for now. Tugging gently on his hair, I urged his mouth toward mine. As soon as our lips touched, he released a low groan from deep in his chest: a sound of longing and release. He’d purged a fraction of the pain and rage that constantly tormented him, and the experience had left him raw and aching.
