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Ten
Max waiteduntil Abby was asleep to slip out of bed. She’d had a long day — a difficult day — and he had no desire to add to the worry he’d seen in her eyes when she’d told him about her visit withRosie.
He’d had to fight to keep his control when she’d told him. He’d wanted to rage, to tell her that putting herself anywhere in Jason’s orbit was dangerous, that she should know better after everything that hadhappened.
But they’d agreed not to have secrets and he didn’t want to give her any incentive to think she needed them. He’d forced himself to breathe while she recounted the conversation with Jason’s executive assistant, had reminded himself that Rosie was harmless, that according to Abby, the other woman was so worried she probably wouldn’t even tell Jason about themeeting.
The tactics had worked well enough to keep his anger under control — but justbarely.
He watched her sleep as he pulled on his sweats and slid his phone into one of the pockets. She looked so young in repose, her skin like porcelain in the moonlight, one arm bent above her head like a kid who’d fallen asleep fast and hard. Despite his sleeplessness, he was tempted to crawl back into bed just to feel her next to him, but in the end he gave into his restlessness and continued downstairs to the living room where he poured himself adrink.
He took it out onto the terrace and sat in one of the lounge chairs. It was almost one in the morning, the sky inky overhead, the city glowing in the distance. It was comfortably warm rather than hot, the city’s only nod to the end ofsummer.
Of all the things Abby had told him about her meeting with Rosie, it was the fact that Jason was carrying a gun that unsettled Max the most. It shouldn’t have been surprising given Jason’s declining character — or the decline in his ability to keep up the facade of having character — but somehow Max still couldn’t imagineit.
Firing the weapon during the meeting with DeLuca at the Tangier and carrying it around all the time — being prepared to use it all the time — were two differentthings.
He wondered if Jason had been properly trained to use the weapon or if it was something he carried to make himself feel better, then thought about Bruce Frazier and decided Jason definitely knew how to useit.
Bruce had been trained in the military. He might be a mercenary with no moral compass, but he wouldn’t arm a client unless he was damn sure the guy wasn’t going to accidentally shoot a hole through his foot — or someone else’sface.
Max would have to keep it in mind when he created a strategy for breaching the Tangier. It wasn’t good enough to plan on taking out Jason’s guards — Jason himself was more dangerous now, and Max couldn’t assume he’d be given a pass the next time he was staring down the barrel of Jason’sgun.
It was a moment that haunted him: Jason pointing the gun at him, his eyes glassy and unreadable, the moment he’d turned the gun on Nicoinstead.
Why had he done it? Nico was nothing to Jason: it was Max hedespised.
Wasn’tit?
He wasn’t sure anymore. Something had moved between them in that moment — the invisible thread of their childhood, their memories, their shared experiences. Was that what had stopped Jason from pulling the trigger? Did he still harbor some kind of affection forMax?
He didn’t know, but he couldn’t count on getting lucky twice. He would have Carlos contact the cyberlab in New York — Damian Cavallo, the leader of the New York territory, ran a lab almost as extensive as Christophe’s in Paris — and tell them to keep looking for information on Jason’s whereabouts over the summer. That knowledge could yield information that would be helpful to themnow.
He drained the rest of his drink and was setting down the empty glass when his phone rang. It wasn’t as unusual as it once was to get late night calls. In the early days of bringing DeLuca’s businesses online for the Syndicate, Max had rarely slept through the night. He’d gotten used to the odd businesshours.
“Yeah?” he said into the phone, wondering why an unknown caller was dialing him instead of Carlos after he’d made it clear that everything was supposed to go through his newunderboss.
“Did you missme?”
The voice stopped himcold.
“It was a lot quieter, I’ll give youthat.”
Max kept his voice even, determined not to give in to the rage coursing through his body. This was the man who had sent someone to burn down Abby’s house, who had used her as a pawn againstMax.
Jason chuckled on the other end of the phone. It sounded so close Max wouldn’t have been surprised to turn around and find Jason standing behind him on theterrace.
“I’ve always thought quiet was overrated,” Jasonsaid.
“Not in this case,” Max said. “How was yourvacation?”
He was trying to keep Jason talking, hoping he might divulge some detail that would help Max get a handle on his activities over the last three months, something that might give him insight into Jason’s current state ofmind.
Jason’s sigh was exaggerated. “Not as restful as I would have liked, I’mafraid.”
“No long hours in the sun with an umbrelladrink?”
“Business always comes first,” Jason said. “You know that. What about you? I hear you’ve beenbusy.”
