“Thought about that one for a while, have you?”
“A few times,” she admits without shame. “I’ve had the opportunity, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was too worried they would find their way home with me.” She shudders. “How are you going to make sure he leaves?”
I take the small, disposable phone from my inner pocket and pull up the only programmed number, courtesy of Iron, and hand it over to Max. She flips the thing over a few times, looking at the cheap phone.
“I need you to call him,” I instruct. If we’re correct, and he’s the one who hired someone to kill her, then he knows about her anyway and he won’t feel as threatened by a woman. I tell her exactly what I want her to say, making sure she knows not to adlib at all.
“I’ve got it,” she tells me stoically as we make our way back to the car.
“I can get someone else to call, Max,” I offer once we’re seated in the car.
She just stares at the phone in her hand as if it might turn into a snake and bite her. “No. I can do it.” She makes sure to look at me while she speaks.
“I’m sorry you have to, but I think he would panic if I called, or any man for that matter,” I reason, though I still feel like shit about it.
“You’re right—this is better.” Her thumb shifts to the little green phone button.
“You remember what to say?”
“Yes, and I won’t say anything else.” Her thumb plunges down, and within a breath, loud ringing echoes through the small speaker of the phone.
The line is answered after two rings, but there’s no greeting, and Max gets straight to the point. “Be at Rockefeller Park in one hour.”
“Who is this? How did you get this number?”
“At the fountain, or you’ll end up just like Edward.” The way she sneers Edward’s name should tell him exactly who is on the other end of the line. The utter hatred she conveyed with the single word was perfect, though not planned for. Max hangs up the phone without another word. He could call her bluff, but a man with as many secrets as Ian possesses has too much to lose, so I’m banking on him showing.
I reach for the phone, and Max dumps it into my hand as if she can’t get rid of it fast enough. Her lips are still curled up in disgust. I should have had someone else call. Any of the girls from the club would have done it.
I glance at the clock. I need at least twenty minutes to get to Rockefeller Park, even though it’s not far away. I need to park and watch for him to arrive, so that only leaves me about thirty minutes. It’s not much time, but it’s enough for what I’m about to offer, even though it goes against my every instinct.
“I can get you a room for a few hours so you don’t have to risk running into him or even seeing him,” I propose.
Max snaps her head to the side and glares at me. “You are not getting rid of me.” Every word is articulated slowly.
“I’m not trying to get rid of you. I need to pro—”
“Do you know what I’ve done? Who I am?” she interrupts.
“Everything you’ve needed to do to survive,” I answer without hesitation.
“Then you know I don’t need to be protected from seeing him or anything else.” Her shoulders relax a little.
“Yeah, but I would if you would let me,” I confess, knowing it to be true. If I thought it would hurt her to be near him, then I would risk her escaping from me, just so I could prevent her from experiencing that hell.
Her blue eyes roam over me. I unconsciously turn my head to the side to obscure my scars from her sight. Her eyes narrow as if she knows exactly why I did it when it wasn’t even a mindful thought for me.
“Don’t hide from me. I don’t hide from you.” Her words are soft and slightly accusatory.
I return her gaze straight on now, but the muscle in my jaw tics in annoyance with myself. After holding her gaze for a long moment, I exit the car and toss the useless plastic phone inside a trash bin before returning.
“Do you think he’ll come?” Max asks, dropping our previous conversation. She’s running her hands up and down over the denim on her thighs. I can’t tell if she’s nervous or excited.
“He’ll come.” I’m confident it will only be a matter of time before we see his white Mercedes exit the garage.
“What’s the plan when he gets there?”
“We need to make sure he comes alone, or at least that there’s no one watching his car, and then plant the tracker.”
